#*side eyes the wattpad fic where she originated* don’t mind that just look at the sexy woman | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

rachelandfinn · 2 years ago

Photo

🧜‍♀️ one yes 🧜‍♀️

a gLee fanfic about love at first sound

Maria in West Side Story was one of the three roles she needed to play before she died, and she never really had any stipulations as to how she ended up playing those roles, did she? ghost singer!rachel AU.

fandom: gLee characters: rachel berry, finn hudson, tina kurt mercedes sam blaine frida ryder in supporting roles ship: finchel, finn/frida (temporary), klaine (background) genre: romance themes: may possibly be funny?, fluff, slice of life-ish, canon-typical finn falling in love with rachel’s voice first and the rest of her second, rachel-centric, alternating povs, mistaken identities, first meetings, pre-relationship, getting together word count: 14.4k rating: T+

read it on ffnet, ao3, wattpad, or below!

~~~

A/N: This fic was inspired by my research into West Side Story. I never much liked the movie, but there’s no denying its iconic status; with such status comes intrigue. Natalie Wood may have played Maria on screen, but she certainly didn’t sing for her. Wouldn’t Rachel know that?

I came up with this idea in 2018, wrote a little bit of it in 2019, and didn’t pick it up again until April this year. (Why am I publishing it so late? Because I am a sucky beta, even to myself.) I’m happy to finally finish and share it! It was originally almost entirely in Finn’s pov, but Rachel is such an attention hog. I think the story is stronger for it in any case; and hey, now I’ve developed a voice for Rachel! I love the idea that she constantly has song lyrics in her head or that she supplies background music to her own life events.

~~~

Rachel saw how her best friend/agent’s face fell as she walked towards the outdoor seating of the trendy Amsterdam Ave cafe where Tina was waiting for her. She was planning on hiding the fact her latest audition failed for as long as possible, but if Tina could tell just from one look at her… No wonder she couldn’t book a role.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Rachel said in lieu of a greeting.

The thing she liked about Tina was that she was effortlessly supportive. It did not occur to a person like Tina Cohen-Chang to press a topic immediately after the other person said ‘I don’t want to talk about it.’

The thing she didn’t like about Tina was that she did not let something go either. It’s what made her a fantastic agent and an even better best friend, but Rachel won’t let herself think that until after her customary three-day-long post-failure funk.

“I know you have your heart set on the stage, but how about the screen instead? Word on the street is that they’re trying to cast a modern remake of West Side Story. That could be perfect for you, Rachel!” Tina encouraged in that sweet voice of hers, mindful enough of Rachel’s mood to at least wait until after the check had been paid to bring up the idea.

Rachel took a breath, ready to wholeheartedly refute, but on second thought: Maria in West Side Story was one of the three roles she needed to play before she died. It might not have been under the bright lights of Broadway, but she never really had any stipulations as to how she ended up playing those roles, did she?

“Why do I have the feeling you’ve already signed me up for an audition time?” she asked with put-upon acrimony.

Tina smiled as she handed over a business card with a DTL written on the back in her neat, curlicue handwriting.

That was how Rachel found herself with swallowed pride and dry tongue, watching with anxious eyes as her competition got called in to audition while waiting for her turn in the dingy hallway of some random office building just off of Columbus Circle.

(All my life is just despair…)

“Rachel Berry?” someone called out at last.

“That's me!” Rachel gave herself a second to breathe before going up to the audition room. She offered a grin to the overworked assistant before stepping in.

A panel of people talked amongst themselves at the far end of the room, and they looked unimpressed with her as soon as she walked in. Unfortunately, that was something to which she was accustomed.

“Hello,” she began bravely anyway as she stepped onto the marked spot in front of their table. “My name is Rachel Berry, and I will be auditioning for the role of Maria.” They nodded politely and asked her to begin.

Rachel’s strategy was to always begin with her song, and she never auditioned with a song her character actually sang. Instead, she chose songs that could reasonably have been in her character’s playlist. It gave her more flexibility to show off her range while demonstrating she understood the character’s heart. That latter point was important because for all of the singing and dancing and breath control lessons her fathers paid for her in her youth, not one of those ever included an acting class. (She was working on it!)

The former was important because Rachel was playing a long con. Regardless of how an audition ended, they might think of her again for future works if she impressed them enough. She had to believe they’d remember her voice if she sang a song where she sounded best.

For once, it seemed to work. After her sixteen bars of My Man were up, one of them asked “Do you know Tonight?”

What kind of aspiring Maria would she be if she didn’t? She turned to the pianist. “A flat, please.”

They even asked her to read for them afterward—a huge deal. In most auditions, she didn’t even get that far; and even if she did, they settled for hearing her monologue instead of the character’s own words. The fact that she got a chance to actually act as Maria in front of them? Something like optimism dared to bloom in her chest.

She was bid adieu with an ‘Expect to hear from us in two weeks.’

Still, she refused to get her hopes up. All she told Tina at brunch the next morning was that she actually managed to finish the audition. (That didn’t always happen.) Even when she did end up hearing from them two weeks later (that didn’t always happen either), she reminded herself of all the times she wished the director would tell just her ‘no’ in person.

“We like your sound,” the director said on the phone, “but not your look.”

“Pardon me?” It always came down to her looks, to her immense chagrin.

“Here's what we propose,” he said as though she didn’t speak at all. “How about you come in and dub over the singing voice of the actress we cast? She’s actually Hispanic—you know how being PC is important for PR these days—but she just doesn’t have the voice you do.”

Well of course she didn’t, but the compliment didn’t hold any weight compared to everything else he said. “Dub over the singing voice? What, like a ghost singer?”

“Don’t sound so shocked, kid. Natalie Wood didn’t do her own singing in the 1961 film either. So, what do you say?” he asked as though he hadn’t revealed the steadfast foundations of Rachel’s entire personality were actually built on sand.

Her first instinct told her to reject the offer on principle. Rachel Berry did not ghost sing. It was all of her or none at all.

(What’s the difference if I say…)

… But this was the closest she’s ever been to a successful audition, a voice that sounded suspiciously like Tina's said in her head. The gradually cheaper and less-vegan food items in her fridge were a testament to that, and she found herself asking for some time to think about it.

“We don’t normally do this, but we really like your sound… How’s about you let us know by the end of the week? If we don’t hear from you then, we’ll move on to our second choice.”

Rachel agreed, and Tina did not appreciate it. “Rachel!” the agent exclaimed when Rachel told her the news the next morning. “This is the closest you’ve ever been to a successful audition!”

“That’s exactly what I thought you’d say,” Rachel muttered to herself.

(I’ll go away…)

“Rachel,” Tina admonished. “You’re always complaining about how you can’t get a break. Here it is! In fact, I'd call it your big break. It doesn’t matter how many no’s you hear…”

“... All I need is one yes,” Rachel finished despondently, very familiar with Tina's pep talk. She received them often.

Tina smiled as though she already successfully convinced Rachel. The only thing Rachel was convinced about was that Tina must be delusional if she thought Rachel was going to take this job.

That night, she called the director back, thinking she was the truly delusional one. “I’ll do it.”

(When I know I’ll come back on my knees one day…)

~~~

Once the movie’s production team emailed Rachel the contract, she and Tina made a wine night out of signing and faxing it back. Her studio apartment in Washington Heights was barely big enough for her; but having two extra people inside it, happily celebrating her milestone success, made the space feel filled with love instead of overly cramped. Their mutual friend Mercedes may have shown up just for the wine, but she actually ended up being the most lucid and helpful.

“Am I drunk, or does this say Rachel won’t get credit for her work?”

“WHAT?!” “Where???”

Mercedes pointed out a clause in the contract that Rachel and Tina stopped poring over ages ago in favour of painting each other’s toenails. They awkwardly crawled over to where Mercedes was sitting on the floor even as she read aloud, “By signing this contract, bla bla bla, the TALENT agrees to waive their right to nominal album accreditation. ‘Talent’ is in all caps. Why do contracts do that?”

“Tina!” Rachel despaired, looking over to her friend demanding some sort of explanation and ignoring Mercedes’ drunken ramblings. The theme song to Jaws was ringing in her ears.

Tina took the copy from Mercedes’ grasp and looked over it for a moment. “You’d also be paid 75 dollars an hour on top of the industry standard 0.3% of album royalties. Rachel, most session musicians only make 30.”

Being treated like a session musician was such a far cry from the top billing status she dreamed of, even when she agreed to this lip-sync farce in the first place.

“Tina, we can’t let this happen. I need the credit, on both the album and the movie! How can I put this on my resume if they don’t credit me?! I’d be laughed out of every audition room I ever enter if I have a stupid ‘(uncredited)’ qualifier next to West Side Story, and then I’ll never be able to become a Broadway actress, and then—”

“—I’ll call them tomorrow,” Tina assured, if only to stop her friend and client from devolving into a full-blown Rachel Berry Meltdown™, which wouldn’t have been helped by four glasses of wine.

In the end, she and the management team agreed to movie credits in exchange for giving up album royalties, contrary to Tina’s advice. Rachel was perfectly fine with this trade-off. Nowadays, being anonymous was worse than being poor.

~~~

A few weeks later, Rachel had the opportunity to go to the filming site, which she took because she clearly loved to torture herself. (She wasn’t just talking about the ghost singing business either. Why else would she willingly suffer through the MTA’s weekend schedule and make two transfers just to end up in Long Island City?)

The Broadway stage may have been her ultimate dream, but a sound stage was nothing to scoff at either. After security at Silvercup Studios let her through, she easily wandered through the single-floor until she found the sets for Anita’s apartment and the bridal shop. They were back-to-back on a big, raised platform that spanned the width of the studio, connected by a single door in the shared wall. Through the magic of editing, no one would ever be able to glimpse into the yonder set if a character had to make an exit through that door. Rachel made her way around the setup, letting herself imagine what it would have been like to work here and mourn the lost opportunity.

Just when it began to hurt just a bit too much and she thought should continue nursing her wounds back home, she heard someone rehearsing lines she’s known by heart since she was 7 years old.

“‘One month have I been in this country.’ No… ‘One month have I been in this country!’ Yeah, let’s do that. ‘One month have I been in this country! Do I ever even touch excitement?’”

Following the voice led Rachel to a corner of the studio the farthest from the entrance. She found a round-faced girl seated on heavy-duty storage boxes, a sheaf of papers in hand and outfitted in a springy, floral dress. She looked to be a few years younger than Rachel and so obviously slimmer, the kind of genetic thin that no amount of healthy eating and cardio can achieve.

Having a big mouth must be a more forgivable sin than a big nose.

Rachel continued to listen to her rehearse her lines. Her voice was deeper with a slight urban accent, and Rachel could guess why the production team was going through the lengths they were. Maria needed to sound like lightness and innocence, and this girl must not be able to affect those qualities when she sang.

Rachel had been standing still for so long, sizing up the wench that stole her chance for fame, and got caught.

“Oh, is it my turn at hair and makeup?” the girl asked, hopping off of the crate once she noticed Rachel and scrambling to grab the things she left scattered at her feet.

“No! No,” Rachel hurried to stop her, stalling to give herself time to figure out what to say. “Hi, my name is Rachel Berry. I’m just… touring the set for the day,” she fibbed.

Just as her brain was conjuring up her backstory—she’s an apprentice to a woman named Ida who worked in risk management—the girl’s eyes lit up in recognition. Her friendly smile froze a little, but she still shook Rachel’s hand. “Rachel! Hi, yeah, the music director mentioned you. I didn’t think we’d get to meet, much more so soon! I’m Frida, Frida Romero.”

She didn’t expect that Frida had even heard of her, but her surprise was quickly overtaken by the sadistic pleasure that came from ascertaining that this Frida Romero girl wasn’t pleased to meet the person who’ll be dubbing over her singing voice. Her lips curled into a satisfied smirk; but before she could challenge Frida into an impromptu singing showdown to the tune of Anything You Can Do (I Can Do Better), a rude and impatient voice called out to them.

“Pinoy Pacman, Kelley wanted you in the hair and make-up trailer, like, ten minutes ago—wait a minute, did you bring a friend onto set?! The director told me yesterday I couldn’t bring my girlfriend onto set yet, but you’re allowed to have Manhands here visit from wherever your hobbit hole hometown is? This is homophobic!”

Rachel instinctively and self-consciously looked down at her hands as Frida sighed with barely concealed annoyance. “Santana, this isn’t a friend. Rachel works on the movie,” she corrects the newcomer.

Santana’s ire seemed to evaporate on the spot, but her generally disagreeable disposition did not follow. “Oh, good. I’m pretty sure my rider said I needed freshly baked breadsticks in my trailer at all times, and I haven’t even seen dollar-store animal crackers in there since filming started. Go do something about that, will you?”

Rachel opened her mouth, ready to vehemently dispel the offensive notion that she was hired help, but Santana was already sauntering somewhere else.

“That was Anita.”

Rachel whirled on Frida. “That was Anita?!” If Rachel were cast in the film, that was the person she was supposed to consider her best friend, her greatest source of comfort, the closest thing she had to family in this brand new country?! For a split second, Rachel felt vindicated that Frida was the one who had to work with such a disagreeable person. It was almost enough to make her feel grateful she didn’t get the part.

Almost.

Frida only sighed in response as she gathered her things so she could continue to get ready for shooting. “Well, I better go. It was nice to meet you, Rachel. Hope you have fun on set today,” she said, giving a small wave before departing, not stopping to hear whether Rachel would respond.

Once Frida was out of sight, Rachel looked around at the sound stage one last time and took active note of the fact that as exciting as it would have been to work here, there simply was nothing in her chest stirring the way there was when she imagined standing on a stage before a crowd.

It was definitely time to go home.

~~~

Rachel didn’t hear about the movie in an official capacity again until principal photography was close to wrapping up a few months later. Now that Frida was done filming her singing scenes, Rachel was called in for soundtrack recording.

She resolved not to let her frustration with her circumstances prevent her from learning as much as she could from the experience. Recording for the soundtrack would put her in an actual, professional recording studio. Broadway casts recorded in those all of the time!

The pep in her step as she commuted to Hell’s Kitchen lasted into the building, up the elevator, and through the studio space where the music director met her. They talked shop for the first hour, asking if Rachel had ever sung in a studio before and working with her to set up a recording schedule for the next week. Apparently the producers elected to dub over Tony’s voice as well, so the MD wanted to record them together to help with the mixing process.

“He’s coming in today; you’ll get a chance to meet him. The name’s Blaine Anderson, and he makes for a really good Tony,” the music director commented.

Strangely, hearing about another ghost singer made Rachel feel relieved. She didn’t realise it before then, but she felt rather stranded the past few weeks, like no one could understand just how hard it was for her to take this job. But this Blaine person? He might get it.

Before going into the recording booth, the MD explained how they wanted to spend the rest of the day. “I’m not the kind of person that knows what I want without hearing it first, so all I’m gonna ask you to do today is sing and try your best to match Frida’s videography. I’ll give you more direction after I hear what I’m working with.”

Rachel would love to leave the studio today without giving the MD any reason to correct her singing, but she reminded herself of her intention to learn. Even if she disagreed with anything, she would take it with grace and perform as requested.

Easier said than done.

Rachel has had the West Side Story soundtrack memorised since she was 7. As she grew up, she had a very specific idea of how she would perform Maria’s duets once she was able to realise her childhood dream. It would perfectly blend the intentions of the original score and the movie version most people would be familiar with while showing off her own technical prowess. It would be epic, powerful, EGOT-worthy.

Frida clearly had no such designs.

The music director asked Rachel to sing along to Frida’s video once through without stopping just so that they both could see how much is different between the two performances—and Frida had sung it all wrong.

She took her breaths at the worst moments. Her face portrayed longing when she should have sounded hopeful. Why was she trying to belt there!?

Rachel hadn’t been so frustrated at participating in a performance since her high school show choir director tried to win Regionals with a performance of Sing! from A Chorus Line led by the tone-deaf dancer kid and his girlfriend.

(It’s a terrifying thing…)

If all of Frida’s takes were like this, Rachel would be in the studio a lot longer than the producers probably anticipated. A quick glance out of the soundbooth showed her the MD was having similar thoughts.

After an hour, they took a break so that Rachel could drink water and sit down for a bit. She went out to the main receiving area of the studio to sit on the couches there instead of the ones behind the mixing station of her recording booth, thinking it would do her some good to minimise the amount of time spent in the room that would be her personal torture chamber for the foreseeable future. She made a mental note to wear her sneakers next time she came in so that all the standing around would be easier on her back.

Then, a neatly-dressed man on the shorter side exited the elevators by the reception desk. He took a seat a few cushions away from Rachel on the couch, and Rachel’s sixth sense was tingling.

She shifted closer and asked, “Excuse me, are you Blaine Anderson?”

Blaine snapped his head up in shock from where he was perusing his phone, confirming Rachel’s suspicion before he offered an eager hand in greeting and a, “Yes! Hi… Have we met?”

“I’m Rachel Berry. I’m singing for Maria.”

She meant to sound confident and excited, but the way the politeness on Blaine’s face instantaneously smoothed into sympathy left Rachel feeling like she needed to cry.

“It’s a little unfair, isn’t it?” he asked. No clarification needed.

He understood it too.

“It’s more than a little unfair,” she admitted, throat closing up in reflex as she tried to blink away the pressure behind her eyes.

He put a comforting hand on her shoulder and gave a wan smile, which she returned with appreciation.

It helped, to have someone to commiserate with.

~~~

Rachel attended the premiere. Of course she did. Even though it was not her name on all of the promotional materials, even though she didn’t get to walk the red carpet, even though no one would care to know who she was, she intended to revel in the fact that this night was hers as much as it was everyone else’s. More importantly, whatever success this movie saw would be hers as much as everyone else’s, too.

Who knew how long it would be until the night she first performed on a Broadway stage or got invited to the Tony’s? (Not long, she hoped.) Until then, this was the biggest night of her life, and she intended to treat it as such. She invited Tina as her plus-one; and together they agonised for weeks over what to wear and how to do their hair, they practised their smiles in the mirror, they role-played how they would react if they got to meet any of their celebrity crushes or Broadway idols.

Closer to the date, the nightmares began.

Some were of her being turned away at the door because her name wasn’t on the list, and she’d scream her voice hoarse as she demanded to be let in and be recognised, and her voice never recovered so she was forced to live out the rest of her life mute and miserable. Other ones featured attendants booing as soon as her voice pumped through the speakers instead of Frida’s, and somehow all of them knew a) that it was her and b) where she sat in the theatre, and they all threw their drinks and food and playbills at her with basketball-star-level accuracy. One time, Rachel even dreamed she was a teenaged mermaid that traded her voice for legs so that she could attempt to romance a handsome land-dweller, and the sea witch that brokered the deal had stolen her voice and tried to move in on her guy and also looked a lot like Frida.

The actual night, of course, was not as eventful.

She wasn’t shuffled in through a back door like she thought she might have been as a low-ranked member of the crew. Instead, she and Tina got to walk right through the main doors; they just had to circumvent the glitz and excitement of the red carpet, which started at Columbus Avenue, half-circled the fountain in Josie Robertson Plaza, and led to the Metropolitan Opera House.

They arrived a cool thirty minutes before the movie was set to begin, giving them enough time to take selfies within the Opera House’s iconic atrium and order drinks and snacks to enjoy while they watched.

As the movie progressed, Rachel scooted further and further to the edge of her seat. There was still a chance for the second-most common of her nightmares to come true.

On screen, Tony snuck onto Maria’s fireplace in that adorably rogue way of his, and they flirted as they reaffirmed their star-crossed love for each other, and then…

Only you. You’re the only thing I see, forever…

The cheering shocked her with its immediacy. The crowd quieted down just as quickly, and Tina held her hand tight, and she was crying. She kept crying for the entire duration of the song, and she was brave enough to let out a little hiccup when the applause and whistles and shouts of encouragement filled the theatre during the final note.

They loved her.

The stress melted out of her along with her tears, and only a giddy happiness was left to fill her body. She looked over at Tina and couldn’t help the relieved laughter at the sight of twin streaks of wet flowing down her friend’s own cheeks. She squeezed Tina’s hand, grateful for her best friend’s presence and her agent’s guidance. From the way she squeezed back, Rachel could tell Tina could tell.

When the movie ended, there was more raucous applause, but there was just as much activity as well. Many of the people around them began leaving for home or for the reception party in the opera house’s atrium, the hall buzzing with conversation and praise.

The two of them eagerly waited in their seats for the credits to roll through. Her name may not have been on any of the promotion materials, her name may not have been the one called out on the red carpet, but her name would be forever immortalised in the credits. It was the only public validation she’d get, and she couldn’t wait.

Ravhel took her phone out of her purse, excited to take a picture of the screen, and she could see Tina do the same by her side. They both figured that her name would appear in the musicians’ section, but then those names came and went without comment. A quick glance to her left showed that Tina was just as confused as she was, but she couldn’t afford to get distracted. Her name should appear any second now.

And finally, it did. Alphabetised by first name in the fucking Special Thanks To section.

…

Patty Simcox

Rachel Berry

Tyrone Griffiths

…

She stood up from her seat, chest and eyes burning with indignation.

“Rachel!” Tina called out after her as she stormed out of her row. “Rachel, where are you going?” Tina hurried after her, getting close enough to reach out for Rachel’s arm, but Rachel shrugged her off immediately.

“Home!” Her voice broke on the shouted syllable. “I’m going home, Tina. No one cares that I’m here or about what I did. They made that very, very clear.” Rachel gestured pathetically to the screen while sniffling and trying to stymie her tears. She was crying so much tonight. “My name is all the way at the end with the miscellaneous help. Like, who the hell is Patty Simcox?!”

Rachel’s cries were getting the attention of the venue staff and the handful of others that remained for the credits, so Tina rushed them out the closest exit and into the hallway where she remembered the bathroom being.

“It was a mistake to come here,” Rachel wailed as she let Tina drag her along.

Once safely sequestered away in the bathroom, Tina shook her friend by the shoulders. “Rachel Barbra Berry, were we in the same movie theatre just now? Didn’t you hear that applause when Tonight started? They loved you.”

Of course she did, as fleeting as the applause was, but did that matter? Rachel only shrugged in response.

“No, seriously, listen to me. They loved you. The applause at the beginning and end of the film? That was for everyone else: Frida, the guy who played Tony, the movie people who agreed to fund a remake. But the cheering for Tonight? That was for you and you alone, Rachel. Couldn’t you tell? They started freaking out as soon as the song started! The entire audience was just waiting to hear Maria sing, and it was your voice that played through the speakers. That applause was for you. They care, Rachel; they just don’t know it yet.”

She was still in Tina’s hold, but her mind went back to just an hour ago. She remembered the joy that came with being celebrated, but she remembered relief, too. Whatever fears Rachel had about not being enough dissipated with the first clap of hands. She struggled to hold onto that feeling while the disappointment threatened to crush her spirit.

“When?” she murmured.

Tina’s grasp on her shoulders softened. “Huh?”

Rachel pulled her attention from middle distance and looked into Tina’s eyes. “When will they know that they care?”

Tina smiled at her, equal parts confident and comforting. “You’ll get a chance to tell them. You’ll say it at every audition; you’ll tell your future coworkers during a break in rehearsals; and when you finally get nominated for leading a Broadway show, you’ll tell everyone at Radio City Music Hall, too. I’m sure of it.”

Rachel huffed out air in something approximating a laugh. “That sounded good. How long have you been practising that?” she asked with a congested accent.

Tina reached behind her to get a paper towel for Rachel to blow her nose into. “A few days, admittedly. I had some variations prepared, just in case.”

Rachel nodded distractedly, embarrassment starting to flood in now that she was coming back into awareness of herself. “Can you help me clean myself up? It’ll be hard enough going back out there having just made a spectacle of myself without also looking like an extra from Rocky Horror.”

Tina beamed at her. “So, we’re staying?” she asked as she spilled the contents of her clutch onto the bathroom counter to get the emergency make-up stashed away there. Beside her, Rachel did the same.

“It would be a waste of perfectly free champagne if we didn’t,” she said with a grateful smile.

~~~

“What do you mean you’re not going to the premiere?!” Kurt screeched into his ear.

Finn annoyedly shifted the phone to his other shoulder, scrubbing the remnants of oil off his hands as he made his way out of the autogarage where he worked. He signaled to his roommate and coworker that he was taking five, and Sam waved him off.

“Exactly what you just said: I’m not going. What’s the point?”

“I go through all that effort to get you work on this movie, and this is how you thank me? By abandoning me on the biggest night of my career thus far?!”

“Kurt, you did costuming on the movie! That’s a big deal, and I would never try to pretend it’s not… But all I did was play the drums for a little extra cash because their orchestra guy picked the wrong week to go on vacation. It was nice of them to invite me just because I helped out, but this was just another job to me. If you really don’t want to go alone… it can’t be that hard to find a date.”

“This is not an I-need-an-emergency-plus-one-to-my-ex’s-wedding situation, Finn! I will not rely on Grindr to find me a date for West Side Story’s world premiere!!!”

“I’m pretty sure I’m working that night anyway.”

“I can’t believe you would think that I wouldn’t have already checked your work schedule with Sam before I called you.” Dammit, Sam.

“We don’t even get to walk the red carpet! I don’t understand why I have to go just because you’re going.”

“Finn Hudson, if you don’t go with me, I’m telling Carole that you’ve been dating someone and that that’s why you haven’t gone back home to visit yet this year.”

Finn reactively broke out into a sweat. His mother was not a demanding woman, which made it all the harder to deny her the two things she’s ever asked for: a steady girlfriend and a visit home, neither of which have interested him lately. “That’s not even remotely true! You wouldn’t.”

“Do not try me.”

“Fine. Fine! I’ll go to the stupid premiere, god.”

Kurt cheered on the other end, and Finn wished they were still living together so that he could sneak a red sock into the washing machine next time Kurt tried to wash his white clothes.

“If you check your email, you will see that I’ve already sent you a list of links so that you can buy an appropriate outfit for the evening. Do not order anything in a colour that was not linked to you, or I will make you regret it. Have a good day at work, big brother!” Kurt ended the call in that cheeky way he’d been doing since high school even though his birthday was three months before Finn’s.

And that was how Finn found himself in one of the plush, leather-upholstered seats of the Metropolitan Opera House at Lincoln Center watching the remake of a movie of a Broadway show he didn’t even like. Why would anyone base a musical on Shakespeare’s worst play?

He didn’t even bother fighting sleep once the overture stopped playing and the movie began in earnest. He’d seen the 1961 movie; he knew how it went. Sometime later, in his hazy consciousness, he recognised that Tony managed to stalk Maria home, and they were fighting against their ill-advised lust for each other, and then…

Only you. You’re the only thing I see, forever…

Finn’s eyes shot awake, and it wasn’t because of the sudden cheers from the audience.

In my eyes, in my world, and in everything I do... Nothing else but you, ever.

Whoever played Maria knows how to sing. This movie just got a lot more interesting.

If there was yet another thing he could begrudge West Side Story, it was that Maria didn’t get her own solo. Everytime she sang, her voice would inevitably be cut off by someone else’s. If these production people were thinking with their brains at all, they would have created a whole new song for Maria as soon as they heard the actress’ voice. That’s what he would have done.

Finally, the film ended in its tragic way, but Finn didn’t join everyone else in their tears or their excitement for the after-party. His butt remained seated, and his eyes tracked on the screen, desperately waiting for the credits to roll.

The first two names that appeared in the stylised credit sequence were Ryder Lynn and Frida Romero, and he had a good feeling that Ryder wasn’t the one who played Maria.

Frida Romero.

He sank back in his seat and turned the name over in his head, tuning out Kurt’s blubbering about how fantastic the movie was and how pretty the costumes looked on screen and how proud he is of everyone.

As far as celebrity crushes went, it could honestly be worse. At least she wasn’t playing in an animated movie when he heard her sing. A sudden obsession with West Side Story’s soundtrack would be much easier to explain.

It wasn’t until a girl and her friend started making a ruckus a few rows ahead of him that Kurt and Finn decided it was time to join everyone else at the afterparty, exchanging weirded out looks as they left the theatre.

The lobby wasn’t as decked out as Finn expected it to be, but perhaps one of the benefits of holding a film premiere at such a historic and famous venue was that the event organisers didn’t have to try too hard to decorate the space. The location was the decoration.

Waitstaff kept hors d'oeuvres and drinks in a constant flow, but Finn couldn’t wait to get out of there and get a real meal. Forget balsamic-drizzled caprese on a stick and flutes of too-bitter champagne; he wanted a medium rare burger and a light beer.

His dinner would have to wait, unfortunately. He was Kurt’s ride back to Queens, but Kurt had wandered off fifteen minutes ago when he saw some coworkers from costuming. With no chance that Kurt would pick up if Finn called, he resigned himself to biding his time in an out-of-the-way alcove on the less-crowded third floor until Kurt decided they could go home.

It would be a lot worse if he didn’t have something to look forward to.

The grand staircase in the atrium that allowed patrons who weren’t rich enough to afford first-floor seating was made up of two curved staircases that met at a platform midway between the ground floor and the second floor. From that platform, a single, shorter staircase connected to the above level.

Though the view from the midway platform was limited, anyone anywhere in the multi-leveled lobby had an unobstructed view of the platform itself, which made it the perfect location for speeches, toasts, and planned performances of duet medleys from a film everyone in attendance had just finished watching.

He could definitely stand to wait a bit if it meant getting to hear Frida’s voice live.

He bided his time with some rounds of Angry Birds until feedback echoed through the antechamber. It was time.

Frida Romero and Ryder Lynn walked up to the midway platform on opposite staircases, a move that was obviously staged but nevertheless dramatically and visually impactful. Once in front of the microphones on the landing, the two bowed before the gathered crowd and began singing.

The eager smile on Finn’s face froze a bit, but he recovered quickly. Frida sounded pretty different from what she sounded like on the film, but he reasoned it was because she was singing live and because the atrium was still buzzing with conversation. It wasn’t as completely quiet as it should have been out of respect for what he confidently would say was the greatest voice of their generation.

The duet ended to earnest applause, and Finn tried not to be too disappointed. He decided to look for Kurt instead. Surely, he was done gushing about sequins or gossipping about red carpet looks or whatever it was people who worked in fashion talked about when they were together.

The third floor was a bust, so he descended to the second floor to continue this search. As he walked through the crowd, Finn reached out for a champagne flute from a passing waiter, but someone else’s hand touched the stem at the same time.

“Shit!” “Oh my god!” the two parties cried out as both hands abruptly let go of the glass, letting it break and spill sticky, fizzy drink on the marble flooring.

“I’m so sorry! Can I help you clean it up?” the other person asked, and holy shit that was Frida Romero.

The waiter had on their best customer service smile, but the annoyance was clear in their voice when they asked the two of them to step back and allow someone to clean up the spill. Finn didn’t need to be told twice, so he gently took Frida’s arm by the elbow and encouraged her to back up and away from the scene of the crime along with him.

“We’d better do as they ask,” he recommended gently as he tried to shield her from the attention of nosy passers-by. He brought them to the quieter hallway where the elevator banks were before he remembered himself and let the poor girl go. He whirled to face her, apology at the ready, but then he noticed she barely reached his shoulders even in heels. He was so doomed.

“Ah, sorry,” he said while nervously rubbing at his neck. “I didn’t mean to manhandle you there. I was just focused on getting us away from the waiter who looked ready to stab us in the eye with shards of champagne glass.”

Frida chuckled a little, and Finn couldn’t help but smile at the sound. “No, it’s okay,” she assured. “Honestly, I was having a bit of an out-of-body experience all night. The last few minutes were really helping me come back to myself.”

Finn furrowed his eyebrows. “Did something go wrong?”

“No! Nothing’s wrong!” Frida denied vehemently. “This is a dream come true, honestly! … It’s just all happening so fast. In the span of two minutes, I met Vanessa Hudgens, Annaleigh Ashford, and Rita Moreno. I didn’t get to even process one famous person before meeting the next. I only get this night once, and I wanted to savour it, but… Ugh. Oh my god, sorry. I should not be telling you this stuff. Not only do I sound totally out-of-touch, but this is so not your problem.”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Finn hurried to assure her. “You definitely sound like you need a breather. Do you want me to get you some water or something? I promise not to drop the glass this time.”

Frida huffed out a laugh. “That’s nice of you, but no thanks. I should really be getting back out there…”

“Oh, yeah, of course. I totally get it. You’re the main attraction.”

To his surprise, Frida snorted. “Am I, really?”

“Uh, yeah. I heard you sing tonight… Not Tonight the song, I meant this evening… But obviously you performed Tonight tonight, you’re in the show… What I’m trying to say here is I think you’re really talented.”

Back in high school, Finn’s relationships wouldn’t last long because he had serious foot-in-mouth syndrome. He thought he got over that in the years since then, but apparently all it took was one pretty girl to reinfect him.

Said pretty girl faced him with an appraising gaze, but her fingers were nervously playing with the straps of her purse. “You really think so?”

Finn nodded emphatically, hoping she could tell he was being earnest. “And I’m not the only one. They chose you to headline the movie, didn’t they?”

Frida didn’t look wholly convinced, but the air around her changed. She twisted her mouth into a sarcastic smile, and the serious tone of the conversation shifted. “That they did. Not doing too bad for a Hoosier, huh?”

Finn brightened. “You’re from Indiana? I’m from Ohio!”

“No way? And we met here, in New York City?”

“I know, right?” Finn was going to launch into how much he missed the county fair back home, which just happened this past weekend and was fresh on his mind still, but he was interrupted.

“Frida, there you are! We’ve been looking all over for you. I know they told us we wouldn’t have to do interviews at the party, but the director owed somebody a favour, I guess? I don’t know, but we’re needed down on the main level.”

“Gotcha. Thanks, Ryder. Give me a second? I’ll be right there.”

Before he left, Ryder Lynn gave Finn a judgemental look that he couldn’t help but return. To his satisfaction, Finn had a few good inches and maybe twenty pounds on the guy. (Not that he actually planned on fighting him for Frida's affections, but he was just pointing out that he could if he needed to.)

“So, uh, I gotta go.” Frida gestured needlessly to where Ryder had just been standing. Finn smiled as he stamped down his disappointment. He was lucky enough to have monopolised so much of her time, and he knew it. “Totally. It was nice meeting you, Frida.”

She tilted her head at him. “I never caught your name.”

“Ah, right. Finn Hudson. I actually played percussion in the orchestra for the soundtrack; that’s how I got invited.”

“‘Finn Hudson,’” she repeated. “Ugh, I’m never gonna remember that. Write it down for me?”

She fished in her purse for her phone and handed it over. He didn’t think much of her request, but then he looked down to see an open contact form on her phone. He snapped his focus back up and was greeted with a decidedly flirtatious gaze. He smirked at her, a look he knew made him particularly attractive, and input his information.

“See you later,” he said as he handed her phone back.

Frida left with a wave and a wink. “Sooner than you think.”

~~~

As much as she had hoped for the opposite, Rachel’s life didn’t get a whole lot better after the movie came out.

It was, as expected, a smashing success. Everyone thought it was high-time for a West Side Story remake, and the numbers showed. $67 million on opening weekend alone; #1 movie in America for three weeks in a row; 8.7 on Metacritic and 84% on Rotten Tomatoes.

Overheard conversations on the subway featured plans to watch the movie that weekend; the high school down the block began advertising West Side Story as their spring musical; Frida and whoever played Tony got invited to be presenters at the Tonys. The Tonys!

And there Rachel was, sitting in her shoebox Washington Heights apartment with the radio unplugged and blinds drawn, watching only pre-recorded TV shows or movies on DVD. It was the only way to avoid hearing a peep of the commercials or avoid catching a glimpse of the billboard on the apartment complex a few blocks down from hers.

It was all so unfair.

Tina told her that this movie could be the cause of her big break. As it currently stood, it looked more like the cause of her big breakdown.

She had been ignoring any and all attempts of contact from her friends. Mercedes’ offers to go to brunch were ignored; Tina’s emails containing her recommendations to Rachel for potential casting calls were unopened. Her precious iPod mini was stored in her safe along with her birth certificate and passport so that she wouldn’t accidentally hear the 1961 soundtrack on shuffle.

It was an exhausting and depressive lifestyle that she maintained steadfastly for weeks… then she got her first paycheck.

“Rachel?” Tina answered the phone in bewilderment.

“Tina, call Mercedes right now. We’re going out.”

“What!?”

“Yep, and I’m buying us a round!”

“Hold on. I don’t hear from you in almost a month, and you just invite me out on a weeknight out of the blue? I feel like I deserve more of an explanation.”

“I got my first paycheck from West Side Story, Tina, and there is a comma in the number.”

“... We’ll meet you at Ellie’s in an hour.”

As melodramatic as the musical theatre community was known to be, they also knew how to take a joke. Ellie’s Starlite Dinner was one such joke. A flagrant rip-off of the famous diner with the singing waiters just off of Time Square, Ellie’s was a karaoke bar that stripped the original concept of everything except the main draw: singing on furniture.

They had a limited menu but a fully-stocked bar. Guests sat in diner booths to enjoy that evening’s entertainment, and performers only had to stand up on their own tables or chairs when it was their turn to sing. It was a genius idea that allowed them to fit more seating into the space. Singers had to sign a waiver absolving the establishment of responsibility if they drunkenly fell and had to pay a whopping $15 per song, but any given night was still a lively and fully-booked affair.

Rachel desperately wanted to sing, a feeling that had abandoned her for a while. The first thing she, Tina, and Mercedes did once they met up was join the line for the request DJ. Unfortunately, they were informed of the 100 minute wait time and decided to simply sit back and vibe for the evening.

It was a good time nevertheless. She was in such a good mood that when she stood up to fetch another round, she didn’t even mind when a tall, slim man around her age knocked into her and spilled his cocktail on her dress.

“I’m sorry for bumping into you, but I’m not sorry for your outfit. Please tell me you’re dressed like that because you lost a bet,” he said in lieu of an introduction.

“I like it! It has pockets!” Rachel defended over the noise of someone trying to sing both parts of My Boo.

The man tutted as he shook his head. “The things women will suffer through for pockets.”

“Rachel?” someone’s surprised voice cut in.

“Blaine!” Rachel squealed when she recognized him, pulling him in for a sloppy hug and forgetting to care about her dress.

“You two know each other?” Slim Jim questioned with a raised eyebrow.

“Remember how I told you I’m the voice of Tony? You’re looking at the voice of Maria.”

“Small world,” Blaine’s companion commented with a considering frown. There was something weird in his voice, but Rachel was not sober enough to figure out what or even remember such a minute detail come morning.

By the time Rachel came back from the bathroom, bladder empty and dress halfway-salvaged, Tina and Mercedes had invited the two men to share their booth for the evening. They learned the new party was Blaine’s boyfriend, Kurt. They were casually-yet-enthusiastically talking on a dating app and decided to take it seriously when they learned they both worked on the same movie. (“Almost like fate!” Blaine commented, prompting collective aw’s from the girls.)

The five became fast friends that night, and Rachel considered it a good omen. First the paycheck, then new friends? What was gonna happen next, another successful audition?

The next morning, Tina emailed her with a new casting opportunity happening that day, another movie-musical adaptation, and Rachel felt like the universe was trying to tell her something.

She drank her tea, did her scales, and corralled her headshot and resume from where they were hidden underneath take-out menus and weeks-old coupon flyers addressed to ‘Current Resident’ before heading out the door.

Rachel’s good mood lasted until she walked into the audition room, where she was hit with the familiar and unwelcome feeling that it would end before it began.

“Hello,” she began bravely anyway as she stepped onto the marked spot in front of the panel of directors. “My name is Rachel Berry, and I will be auditioning for the role of Anastasia.”

Someone moved their wrist in a gesture she understood to mean ‘You can begin now,’ so she started with It’s All Coming Back to Me Now for her first—and likely last—song, based on the fact that the panel of directors barely glanced at her even while she sang.

Her final note echoed a bit when she concluded, then one director raised his head to look at her. She reminded herself of all the times she wished the director would tell just her ‘no’ in person.

“Were you really the voice of Maria in the West Side Story movie?”

“Pardon me?” she asked, surprised to hear more than one syllable coming out of his mouth.

He gestured to her resume in front of him, and his peers furrowed their brows and began reviewing their own copies in earnest. At least someone here bothered to read her resume. “It says here you provided the singing voice for Maria in the West Side Story remake. Is that true?”

Finally understanding the question, she smirked. “Tonight, A flat please,” she directed to the pianist in lieu of a response.

She still got rejected at the end of the audition, but it felt different this time. She could see in their faces that they’d take note of her, that they’d remember her voice. It wasn’t the answer she wanted, but it would be a lie to say this audition wasn’t a success either.

Like Tina said, all it took was one yes.

~~~

“Hey, Huddy, going out for lunch?” Sam asked as Finn exited the locker room, having changed out of his work overalls and into not-smelly, not-oily attire.

“Yeah, I have plans with Frida. Tell the boss I’m taking a long lunch for me?” Finn said as he walked into the customer bathroom. He left the door open so his voice could carry while he checked his reflection in the mirror.

Finn could hear Sam pull himself out from under the 2017 Ford Focus that a customer was scheduled to pick up later today. “So things are getting better then?”

Finn sighed.

He and Frida started dating less than a week after the West Side Story premiere. In those first few weeks, it felt really good to have someone else around who understood why he loved living in New York City but would always miss home just a little bit. Frida still had all of the small-town charm with none of the small-mindedness, and she loved to poke fun at the fact that she did end up dating the high school quarterback, albeit not the one from her own high school. “If only the cheer team could see me now,” she would say.

It was nice, really… for the times they were able to be together.

The movie just got more and more famous as their relationship went on. Frida ended up being so busy that if he wanted to see her lately, he’d have to watch an interview where she’d flirt with the Ryder guy for the course of the video.

Not to say that he’d actively ruin her momentum just to get to spend some time with her—he’s not selfish enough to ask that of her—but he’s an actions guy, man. The fact that there’s not really anything he can do to achieve his desired goal, more time with Frida, left him undeniably frustrated. The emotion unfortunately coloured more of what little time he did get with her than he’d like, so they’ve been a little strained lately.

On top of that, there’s the thing he kept holding himself back from bringing up: she didn’t sound anything like her singing voice. He sorta figured it was like when British people lost their accents when they sang; but even when she sings live, why didn’t she sound the way she did in the movie? He could tell the audio wasn’t touched-up at all, so what was the disconnect?

He wasn’t going to ask her any of that, of course. They’ve only hit the three month mark just last week. It was still kinda early for confrontations like that according to the unwritten dating playbook he’s been following since college.

“They are,” he lied with a small smile, meeting Sam’s eyes through the mirror before grabbing his stuff from his locker.

He plugged his earphones in, left the autogarage, and took the subway from Pelham Parkway to Central Park North. When he got to the non-chain, fast-food restaurant (his request since he’d already spend most of his lunch break commuting) and noticed she hadn’t arrived yet, he sent off a quick text and waited outside.

Before long, Frida was waving a hand in his face to catch his attention without startling him too much. “Hey, whatcha listening to?” she greeted with a smile.

He pulled his iPod out of his pocket and turned the screen towards her. “I’ll be honest: One Hand, One Heart isn’t my favourite, but you sound too good not to have it in my library.” He swooped down to peck her on the cheek, a plausibly deniable expression of endearment in case there were any paparazzi around. They walked into the restaurant and waited in line.

“How long have you been practising that?”

“Practising what?” he asked distractedly as he perused the snacks shelf behind the cashier. He wondered if they had Sour Patch Kids.

“You know, the whole ‘pulling up my girlfriend’s movie’s soundtrack on my iPod so that when she asks me what I’m listening to, I look supportive’ trick.”

He tore his attention back towards Frida in alarm. “Oh my god, no! It’s not a trick. I legitimately listen to the West Side Story soundtrack all the time. Ask Sam!”

She froze in what he thought was embarrassment. “You do?”

He chewed on his bottom lip for a second. He had to make her believe him, so now was as good of a time as any to admit, “I never told you this before, but when I attended the premiere, when I first heard you sing, that’s the moment I… well, I started falling for you.”

Frida didn’t blush or even smile. Actually, she looked pretty stricken, so he backpedaled. “Ah, that might seem like a lot, and it might have been too soon to say that. It’s not any less true, but don’t worry there’s no pressure here. And not in the way guys usually mean you-have-like-a-week-to-say-it-back-or-else-I’m-dumping-you when they say ‘no pressure,’ haha,” he babbled.

The smile she tried to give him was as strained as her impassive face, and he wished more than anything that he could redo the last five minutes of his life.

Blessedly their turn to order came next, which gave them a chance to break the awkward atmosphere. After they collected their drinks and picked a place to sit and wait for their food, Frida finally looked at him.

Her face looked serious, determined, resigned. For a split second, he even thought she might break up with him, and he knew the first emotion he felt wouldn’t have been heartbreak.

“Finn, that isn’t me singing on the soundtrack.”

His heart may not have broken, but his world sure did shatter.

~~~

Sam smacked him upside the head as they walked home from work. “So you broke up with Hollywood's sweetheart because she can’t sing? Are you actually the dumbest person alive?”

Sam raised his hand intending to hit him again, and Finn tried to fend him off. “No. I never thought that; it wasn’t like that! Besides, she broke up with me! Stop hitting me, oh my god.”

When he was sure Sam would keep his hands to himself, he continued, “I wasn’t gonna let that ruin what we had, honestly, but… like, what did we have? I approached her under a misunderstanding, she liked me because I was the first person who ‘understood’ that about her… Too much about our first impressions was wrong.”

“You were three months into the relationship. First impressions shouldn’t even matter at this point!” Sam argued.

“Come on, man. You knew we were already on the rocks. It’s not really a surprise we didn’t last after that came to light.”

Sam didn’t have a way to respond to that, so Finn let them lapse into silence. A choice snippet of the conversation from earlier in the day played in his mind.

(“When you said I sounded great that night, you weren’t talking about mine and Ryder’s duet, huh?” It didn’t sound like a question, but he answered it anyway.

“No,” he said with a shake of his head. There was no point in lying.

“I thought you were talking about the duet.” Frida sniffed, and he could see the rims of her eyes were getting pink, but there were no tears yet. He’d only ever seen her cry on screen. “Right up until we performed, there were so. many. people telling me how great I sounded in the movie. No one had—” She swallowed. “—No one said it again, not afterwards, not until you did… I should have known. I think… I think I did know, but I wanted to believe.”

He had kept quiet while she vented, not knowing what to say so choosing to say nothing at all, but here his words came easily. “I meant what I said that night. You’re really talented. I still think so.”

“More talented than the girl who was actually singing?”

There was no point in lying, but there was no point in being mean either. “They chose you to headline the movie, didn’t they?” he said instead.

Frida shut her eyes and breathed deep. When she looked up at him again, he knew it was goodbye. “That they did. Not doing too bad for a Hoosier, huh?”)

Sam’s sudden question startled him out of the memory. “So, what? You stay celibate until you find your Ariel?”

“... What?” Was Sam talking all this time, and Finn just happened to tune in at the most out-of-context part?

“You know, like in The Little Mermaid? Frida was Vanessa a.k.a. Ursula who stole Ariel’s voice to—don’t give me that look, you know I have a little sister!”

He couldn’t be sure Sam did this on purpose, but it felt good to laugh right now. “Did you just compare my ex to a sea witch from a Disney movie?”

Sam slugged him in the shoulder good-naturedly. “Whatever. So, what are you gonna do now?”

Finn just shrugged. “There’s nothing to do. I go back to how it was before. Meeting Frida was a fun and unexpected surprise, but it’s not like I was actively looking for a girlfriend or anything. I wasn’t lonely or anything, and I don’t feel lonely now either.”

When they made it back to their East Tremont apartment, the conversation naturally dropped. Finn grabbed them some beers, Sam turned the tv on, and they settled in to watch the Braves play the Nationals even though neither of them were big on baseball.

At the next commercial break, Sam said, “If it were me, I'd be begging for Frida back.”

Finn took a sip from his beer. “Hey, she’s single now, and you’re both from Indiana. Worth a shot.”

~~~

As soon as Rachel walked out of the building, the call was already going through. She impatiently paced to the closest Starbucks as she waited for the other end of the line to pick up.

Finally, “Rachel?”

She didn’t waste a second. “Tina, I got it!”

A gasp. “No way?!”

“Yes, way!” Even after walking two long city blocks, she still had the energy to dance a celebratory shimmy on the street. There was no need for embarrassment in New York; Rachel hardly counted as the most memorable sight any of the passers-by would see that day.

“Oh my god!? Rachel?!?! I am so happy for you! I told you! All you needed was one yes!”

Rachel couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled out of her.

(Hearts leap in a giddy whirl…)

“As always, you were right,” Rachel teased, but she abandoned that quickly. “Oh my god, I’m so happy, too; I’m so excited! I don’t even know what to say right now!!”

“When do you start?”

Rachel struggled to sort her emotions out enough to access her recent memories. “I’m gonna get an email today with the words and the information, then I’m meeting the director tomorrow. Oh my god, should you be coming with me to that?”

“I can if you want me to!” Tina probably meant to sound supportive; but even as preoccupied as Rachel right now, she could tell Tina was excited to do more as an agent than direct Rachel to auditions that turned out to be duds. “That’s kinda fast; that’s so exciting!”

Rachel was gonna give her the biggest hug ever the next time she saw Tina. “Thank you! Thank you, thank you. Not just for coming with me tomorrow, but for everything. I really needed someone like you in my corner.”

“Of course, Rachel! I absolutely live for the moment one of my clients gets some good professional news. Wanna go out tonight to celebrate? You get Mercedes; I’ll ask Kurt and Blaine?”

As if she needed the reminder Tina was the best friend on top of being the best agent. “Oh my god, yes! Ellie’s at 8?”

“Sounds good to me!”

“Yes! Yay!” Rachel just needed to scream, so she did. “Ahhh!! I still can’t believe I got it!”

“It was a matter of time, Rachel.” Tina said it so matter-of-factly; Rachel loved this girl. But then, “… Uh, by the way. What is it that you got?”

~~~

“Thanks, but no thanks.” Finn held back a sigh. He wondered why he let Kurt talk him into weekly phone calls even though they live in the same city and see each other a totally respectable amount of times.

“Finn! Come on, it’ll be fun,” Kurt nagged in his ear.

“Sure, maybe, but who goes to karaoke on a weeknight? I have a session tomorrow.” Not a lie this time. The studio that normally booked him for session drumming was recording a demo for someone who won a sponsored singing contest from one of the radio stations. He’d be listening to this singer cover songs for hours tomorrow; he didn’t need to pay to go to karaoke tonight for the same experience.

“Sure, at ten. Honestly, I'm surprised to hear excuses like that from McKinley High’s biggest advocate of the boot and rally methodology.”

Finn allowed himself to smile at the memories of the Friday football game tailgates that turned into weekend-long house parties. “Listen, I'm really just not interested,” he maintained.

Kurt got quiet on the other end, and Finn wondered if maybe this was his chance to hang up. Then, “Is this about Frida?”

Finn groaned.

“Finn, it’s been two weeks already… Are you sure you don’t want to talk about it? Maybe if you finally tell me what happened—you know, if you lean on me, your brother—I can help you get over her!”

Finn wasn’t avoiding talking about it necessarily, but he never brought it up either because he really didn’t think it was a big deal. The relationship was relatively short, Finn held no lingering resentment, and it was a clean break. Besides, Frida was famous. If anyone were winning the post-break up game, it was her.

He sighed. “Kurt, I am only telling you the story so that you believe me when I say: there is nothing to get over.”

He gave Kurt the same spiel he told Sam. If Kurt became as indignant over the break-up as his roommate had been… well, it wasn’t like he could reach through the phone and smack Finn. When he wrapped up, he was expecting some platitudes, maybe an admonishment. Instead, Kurt said, “Finn. I promise you, you want to go to karaoke tonight.”

Finn was poised to reject again, but something about the serious way Kurt said it, like he knew something Finn didn’t, made Finn agree against his better judgement.

~~~

Whoever this guy is, he must be cute, Rachel thought to herself while she watched Tina and Mercedes giggle and text.

She and Mercedes had arrived at Ellie’s before everyone else did and paid for several songs at once. Since they were buying in bulk, their slots would be spread out throughout the next 60 minutes, and they would just have to be surprised when it was their turn. Songs and drinks ordered, they claimed a booth and made small talk about Mercedes’ most recent personal styling client and the karaokers while they waited. It was the early crowd, so the energy was balanced by people going up to sing who were sober enough to actually think they’re good and people in the booths who were sober enough to recognise the singers were just okay.

In the middle of someone’s performance of Call Me Maybe, Tina texted Mercedes saying Kurt would be bringing his brother along, and then Mercedes became buried in her phone.

Luckily Tina arrived not long after. To their credit, they really tried their best to pay attention to her; but they were way more preoccupied with texting Kurt to find out more about his brother. It didn’t take a genius to figure out they were looking forward to meeting him, and she'd be lying if she said she wasn't curious. She even considered asking to join the group chat they had going just so she could be in the loop too, but Kurt wasn’t really her type even if he weren’t gay. She didn’t want to get anyone’s hopes up in case the family resemblance was strong.

"How much longer until they get here?" Rachel asked just to break up the routine.

Mercedes' phone lit up before Tina's did, and they giggled again. "They just got off the subway!”

“Since you’re going to see him soon anyway, how about you put your phones away and buy me a drink? We are here to celebrate my new gig tonight.”

“If you’re the one with the job, shouldn’t you be the one paying?” Mercedes teased.

“Tina gets a cut, too!”

“Way to throw me under the bus.”

“I’ll buy a drink for whoever wants to duet Dog Days Are Over with me,” Mercedes offered.

“Me!” Tina shouted before Rachel could, and she slapped her hand on the table in complaint. “But my dog days are the ones that are over!”

Tina laughed as she handed Mercedes her credit card. “Don’t worry, Florence. Mercedes will open a tab under my name, and I’ll get your drinks.”

“Not if I get them first! What are we having?” a new voice piped up from behind Rachel.

“Blaine!” Tina cheered, flying out of her seat to give him a hug.

Rachel turned in her seat to face with her Meeting New People Smile #2 at the ready…

… Which dropped as soon as she caught sight of the newcomer accompanying Kurt and Blaine. He was tall—taller than Kurt—with his hair gelled up in a way that showed he cared enough to style it but without trying too hard to be neat. His hands were in his vest pockets, and one corner of his lips was quirked up in a boyish smile.

(I took no time with the fall…)

“Ladies, meet my brother, Finn,” Kurt introduced, and Rachel knew she was doomed.

She should have asked the join the group chat when she had the chance.

~~~

Finn had the feeling that tonight was supposed to be a set-up, and he still wasn’t interested, but Kurt had sounded so serious earlier. As in, he seriously thought that one of the girls he’d meet tonight would be perfect for Finn.

On the subway ride over, he told himself he was just curious. Surely in the decade since they’ve become brothers, Kurt would know his type by now, right? But as he settled into the booth with the people he’d be spending the rest of his evening with, he really wondered what the hell Kurt was thinking.

Sure, the Asian girl had a sweet smile, and the Black girl ended up being hilarious, but the last one…

Whenever someone wasn’t talking to her, she was staring at him like she was auditioning for the lead role in Swimfan, and she had been ever since she first saw him. If he’s being honest with himself, her body was smokin’ (if you're not into boobs), but the intensity of her aura was enough to cancel that out. Besides, he’s very into boobs.

He spent the near-term doing his best to interact with the other two normal-seeming girls, but they kept finding ways to loop in the last girl—ugh, he wished he weren’t so weirded out that he missed Kurt’s introductions—into the conversation.

He knew he shouldn’t have come tonight.

“Next on the mic, give it up for Booth #5 with Take Me or Leave Me!”

“That’s us!” the Asian girl cheered while Swimfan accepted the microphones from the staff.

“Just like high school?” she offered to the Black girl, and they climbed onto the benches with matching smirks, obviously remembering some inside joke Finn didn’t care to get introduced to.

For a split second, he was genuinely confused at the song choice—if Finn was remembering Kurt’s movie-musical lessons correctly, wasn’t this originally sung between a lesbian couple in a fight?—but then he felt relief. He wouldn’t be expected to participate in conversation for the next three-ish minutes. He excused himself to get another beer, seeing that the bar was crowded enough that it could easily be prolonged to six or seven.

The song’s opening piano played, and then he stopped mid-step.

Every single day, I walk down the street…

Just like the first time, just like it did every time he pressed play on his iPod, a singer’s voice made his heart twinge. Sure, this girl was just dueting with her friend, exaggeratedly playing the role of Maureen, singing with a playful overtone to her voice… But there was an undeniable joy of performing underlining her stage presence. She sang the way playing the drums made him feel.

What were the odds that there were two people out there who had this effect on him? And one of them was barely 10 meters away.

The duo finished, but he was still in so much shock that he didn’t notice their other friend had joined him near the bar. "So what do you think?"

Finn didn’t know what part of his emotions he could verbalise first, so he blurted out the only coherent thought he had. "She sounds like Maria."

Tina smirked, not that Finn noticed because he was still staring at a certain happy occupant of Booth #5. "I would hope so. She is Maria.”

He snapped his head to look at her so hard his neck cracked. "What."

~~~

Finn hadn’t stopped looking at her since he came back from the bar, and she was glad for the constantly shifting, multicoloured lights at Ellie’s to help hide how flustered she was. Despite her status as an eligible bachelorette, she’d never had someone return her interest in him before. Not like this, and definitely not this quickly.

“If you're not going to talk to him, I'm going to make you talk to him.” So Tina had noticed, too.

She snuck a glance across the booth and saw that the ‘him’ in question was engrossed in conversation with Blaine, so she felt confident she could respond to Tina without getting caught. “I’m talking to him! Earlier I asked him to pass me my purse so I could get the next songs.”

“Rachel!” And yeah, she knew that wouldn’t count, too.

“What do I even say, Tina?”

“Better figure it out soon because I have a fashion emergency!!” She raised her voice during the second half of her statement so that she could be heard above the noise of the other patrons and the person on stage butchering Girls Just Wanna Have Fun.

“Did somebody say ‘fashion emergency’? Mercedes, we need a girl’s room, stat,” Kurt announced melodramatically.

Mercedes grabbed Tina, who grinned at Rachel with something approximating evil in her eyes. “I got her! Let’s go,” Mercedes directed.

The threesome hurried off in the opposite direction of the bathroom. For his part, Blaine didn’t have a shtick, or maybe he didn’t think it was worth it. He just shook his head and said, “Sorry, Rachel,” with a shrug before making himself scarce.

Rachel turned around in her seat to gape at her quickly-retreating so-called friends. “I can’t believe they have the gall to abandon me when we’re supposed to be out tonight celebrating me!” she exclaimed aloud.

“What are we celebrating?” Finn asked from her side.

Rachel whirled in her seat to find that Finn moved to her side of the booth just to talk to her, and she didn’t fight the warmth that spread in her chest. He was direct but not in a demanding way, and she liked it a lot. “I landed a commercial today. I'll be singing a jingle for a second hand car chain up in Westchester.” Pride, understated but evident, coloured her voice.

“No way! That’s so awesome. Congrats… Rachel, right?”

“Yes! Rachel Berry, nice to meet you. And you’re Kurt's brother, Finn Hummel.”

Finn grinned. “Actually, Finn Hudson. We’ve been step brothers since high school, but we’re as good as blood-related by this point.”

Rachel perked up, her earlier annoyance completely forgotten in favour of a conversation with a cute boy and being semi-right. A blood-related sibling of Kurt would not have caught her attention, as she suspected. “That makes sense! I was wondering why you two didn’t look alike, but I wasn’t going to ask.”

“Nah, we’re used to it. Plus, we’ve definitely taken advantage of that before. The mall back home used to host a tonne of sweepstakes, but they always limited one entry per household. What we’d do is just use our actual address but add different apartment numbers to it so that we wouldn’t get caught. No one ever checks! Between our different last names and the fact we barely look alike, we doubled our chances at, like, at least a hundred sweepstakes.”

“Did you end up winning anything?” Rachel asked amusedly.

Finn puffed out his chest with pride. “We won a one-hundred dollar Visa gift card once, and I’ve been chasing that high ever since.”

“A hundred dollars can get you far when you’re in high school,” she agreed with a teasing grin.

“Hey, I wouldn’t say no to a hundred dollars right now either.”

Rachel snorted. “No kidding. I think I spent a hundred just booking our songs for tonight.”

“Passing the mic back to Booth #5, here’s You’re the One That I Want!” the MC conveniently announced.

Finn looked over at her with a smirk. “Ready to get your money’s worth?”

“You sing?” Rachel asked, bewildered and delighted, as she accepted the microphones from the staff. In response, Finn merely plucked one of the mics from her hand and stood up.

I got chills! They’re multiplying…

He didn’t miss a beat. He didn’t even glance at the tv screens positioned on the walls so that patrons could read the lyrics no matter which direction they turned. Instead, his focus was directed downwards, entirely on her. From her vantage point, he looked like a rock star who came to the edge of the stage to interact with the audience, and she was definitely a fan.

He raised his eyebrows at her as his verse drew to a close, and she rose to the challenge.

You better step up! she sang as she hopped up onto the bench. Even with the boost, she was only a few inches taller than him.

Rachel loved performing. She knew it was what she was meant to do ever since her dads took her to watch Annie on Broadway when she was four. When she sang in front of a crowd, it was exhilarating, like Elphaba finding out she might meet The Wizard one day.

Though never once did it feel like this: raw, unfiltered, connective, and yes, electrifying. His voice was untrained, but it suited him. He could clearly do so much more than carry a tune in a bucket, and his power and confidence went a long way in making up for the rest.

His smirk made her smile wider. Was she imagining things, or were they flirting? Sure, there was the teasing push and pull of the lyrics, and then there was the way she caught Finn’s gaze at her hips when she danced. It felt like the end of Act 1 to a show written exactly for her. Maybe it was the song, maybe it was the atmosphere, maybe it was just Finn.

You’re the one that I want!

The song ended to resounding cheers; but for once, the applause of the crowd meant nothing, not when Finn looked at her like he was doing. It seemed like it should be so familiar. She took a step, unsure what she was walking towards but bolstered by the fact Finn did the same…

And the moment was broken.

“Oh my god, we leave you alone for five minutes and come back to the two of you going at it like teenagers at Rydell High?”

The staff took back the microphones; the next song started up; and with one last glance to Finn, she let herself get swept up in their friends’ return.

Despite their obvious scheme to give the two of them some quality time, no one let them have a chance to talk alone again for the rest of the evening. It was almost frustrating, but she was still having the night of her life.

Besides, she had a commercial to sing for tomorrow! Anything else is really just a cherry on top.

It wasn’t until after eleven that they finally left Ellie’s in search of some food. They rowdily descended upon the closest Duane Reade for snacks and sandwiches before exiting back out to the mild Manhattan night, laughing and walking and chewing. The entire night kind of felt like something she could have done in high school (like, if she had more friends and if she actually allowed herself to drink before she graduated), but this was so much more fun anyway.

During a natural lull in conversation, Finn announced, “Ah, I should head back now. I have a long commute to the Bronx and a gig in the morning,” with a check to his phone’s clock.

“Noooo!” Blaine whined, drunkenly koala-ing onto Finn’s arm in protest.

“Stay out a little longer and take a cab!” Tina suggested from Finn’s other arm.

Rachel watched with amusement as Finn gently extricated himself from their grasps, and their eyes met. Her smile turned shy as she averted her gaze… just to catch Tina’s.

She smirked, and Rachel knew she was either going to hate or love whatever came out of that girl’s mouth next.

“Well, we can’t let you go home alone. Girl code, you understand,” Tina explained very seriously. “Rachel, you’re heading uptown, too, aren’t you? You can go together!”

Even as her gut reaction was to decline as politely as possible, Rachel reminded herself that a chance to talk alone with Finn was what she’d been wanting all night. Tina was literally pushing Finn and her together, and all she had to do was agree.

She peered up at Finn and basfully offered, “I can take the 1, 2, or 3.”

He smiled at her, a thin, genuine curve that softened his sharp face into something boyish, and that was it. She was officially in love with Finn Hudson. “I live on the 2.”

They bade the rest of their party goodbye and walked in mutual silence to the subway station, but her anxious heart wouldn’t let her stay quiet for long.

“So, you said you had a gig in the morning? What do you do?”

Finn’s movements took on a noticeable energy from the new topic, and she congratulated herself for choosing so well. “I play the drums! Well, actually, I work in an autogarage full time, but the hours are flexible enough to let me pick up some session work whenever a studio needs a drummer.”

He was musically inclined! She should have known. An image flashed through her mind of a sweaty Finn Hudson with his t-shirt sleeves rolled up to his shoulders, rhythmically beating on the drums in a soundproofed room. “That’s amazing! How long have you been playing?”

“Forever, really. My mom got me a kit when I was, like, seven just so that I’d have something to do at home while she was at work. It was cheaper than a babysitter: if the neighbours could hear me playing—and they could,” he interjected with a sardonic smile, “I obviously wasn’t in any harm.”

She wanted to ask more about his time growing up—based on the stories he told, she had an inkling he and Kurt were also Midwestern, and her sixth sense was never wrong about things like this—but Finn spoke up again. “Actually, uh, I worked on the West Side Story soundtrack.”

She almost tripped. “You did!?” What were the odds?

Finn nodded, and she finally noticed his excitement was more akin to anxiousness. “And, you know, because I worked on the movie, I was able to go to the premiere a few months back, at the Metropolitan Opera House. I wasn’t going to originally, but, of course, Kurt forced me. I, uh… I actually fell asleep,” he admitted.

She wanted to laugh, to be offended, to react at all; but there was something to his voice, like he was walking off a plank towards certain doom. It was only because they had stopped that she could recognise she was holding her breath.

He turned in his spot and faced her straight on, steeling himself to confess whatever it was this conversation was leading to. Rachel offhandedly noticed that she had yet to see Finn’s eyes clearly tonight, always tinted as they were by the party lights of Ellie’s or the penumbra of a nearby streetlamp. They should have spent more time in the clinical lighting of the Duane Reade.

“And then I heard you sing.”

She inhaled sharply.

“I don’t know how to say this, but you touched something in me. Right here.”

Perhaps because of the seriousness of the previous moment, it took Rachel all that she had not to laugh at the poor, earnest, embarrassed boy who put his hand on the left side of his chest. Without really thinking about it, she stepped forward and reached for his wrist. “Your heart’s on the other side of your chest,” she corrected, gentle and amused.

“Oh.” Is this her type? Boys who didn’t pass biology? “It’s beating really hard.”

The longer her hand stayed on his against his chest, the more his words sunk in. “How did you know it was me?” she asked, voice no louder than a distant radio and eyes trained on their hands.

“Tina told me,” he admitted, and she should have known that too. This whole saga from beginning to end had Tina written all over it.

He adjusted his hand to hold hers, and that’s when she raised her attention upwards. “But I heard it myself tonight, when you sang with Mercedes. I would know that voice anywhere, and now I know it’s you.”

He was looking at her again, the same way he did in the bar after their duet. She felt brave enough now, and less inebriated too, to recognise what it was. “Do you want to kiss me?”

Finn seemed to freeze, and she berated herself for being so stupid. She’d always been too much, too fast. Sure, he seemed interested in her tonight; and yeah, they had amazing musical chemistry; but that didn’t necessarily mean anything. What if he didn’t want it to mean anything? He’d try to let her down gently, which would of course just make her fall for him more, before offering to set her up with his friend who would probably be just as handsome but lacking that certain je ne sais quois that made Finn so attractive to her. But Rachel would be too embarrassed to say no, so she’d end up dating his friend, which meant spending more time with Finn but not with Finn, and that would hurt too much. No, she should not date Finn’s friend, even if he offered to set him up with her. There are other guys, Rachel Berry, she told herself, willing herself to cut this shame spiral short. She would find someone else to get over her crush on Finn; she promised herself. Just like Tina always said: It didn’t matter how many no's she heard, all she needed was one—

“Yes.”

~~~

A/N (10.22.2022): Sheeeeeesh, I haven’t written prose in past tense in a long time. It was a good challenge!

I know, I know. We Finchel fans love the “You can kiss me if you want to.” / “I want to.” exchange. A classic! I hope you can forgive me for giving it a facelift for the purposes of this fanfic though, haha. By the way, do we actually know where Sam transferred from aside from ‘some all-boys school’??? For the purposes of this fanfic (Part 2), he’s from Indiana lol.

Thanks for reading; hope you guys enjoyed!

#glee #glee fanfiction #finchel #finn hudson #rachel berry #rach*

3 notes · View notes

onlyfreds · 4 years ago

Text

Walk Through Hell with You | F.W.

Title: Walk Through Hell with You (Percy Jackson/Demigod! AU)

Requested: Yes

Summary: Fred and Y/N can manage to walk through hell, as long as they stay together.

Warning/s: Mentions of injuries, mentions of death, weapons (swords, daggers), a little bit of evil Fred, some sad scenes

A/N: This is part 2 of my fic: “As Long as We’re Together”. And just to clear some things up: I saw a reblog on @theweasleyslut’s blog on how some lines were exactly from the books. Like Holly said, I do take lines from the original books and sometimes I rephrase them. I do not claim them as my own words. I have seen lots of fanfic writers (both on Wattpad and Tumblr) use lines/exact wording of scenes from the book. Again, I don’t claim them as my own words.Thought I would just make that clear.

As Long as We’re Together

Barely escaping from the monsters, Fred and Y/N run through the Mansion of Night with their eyes closed, not wanting to see any of its horrors that would surely be worse than gazing upon the gods’ true divine form.

They kept on running, until Y/N hears flowing water. Water was Fred’s strong point, with hope igniting in her system, Y/N speeded towards the source.

For being a daughter of Athena, that was a pretty dumb idea on her part.

She assumed that the river was directly in front of her, not at the bottom of a chasm.

If Fred wasn’t with her, she would’ve died.

Just as her foot hit the edge of the drop-off, Fred immediately pulled her back into his embrace.

“You, okay?” He asked, catching his breath from their run.

Y/N breathed in his scent, calming herself down a little, “Yeah. How did you know?”

“I didn’t open my eyes,” He reassured, “But I could sense it, there’s a cliff and the other side is about twenty feet away.”

Y/N nodded, she often teased Fred for being an oblivious idiot sometimes, but she forgot that he could be quite smart.

That’s when she started to hear the voices.

“Murderer.” They whispered as her mind started to flood with images.

She saw Zoe Nightshade, who died while joining the rescue operation to save her. Bianca Di Angelo, who died in the same mission. Silena Beauregard, who lost her life in the Battle of Manhattan just a few months ago.

And the worst and most painful one of all: Luke Castellan.

“You could’ve prevented their deaths.” The voices told her, “His blood is on your hands.”

“I didn’t have a choice!” She thought, trying to fight the voices, “It wasn’t my fault!”

The force had thrown her straight to the wall, blood dripping down from the corner of her mouth.

“Family Luke.” Y/N managed to croak out, “You promised.”

Fred looked at his old friend, whose body was now hosting Kronos. The bane of the gods.

At Y/N’s words, Luke faltered, lowering his sword, his golden eyes returning to the blue ones they once were.

“Y/N.” He breathed out, as he tried to run to her side.

Fred pointed his sword at him, “Don’t you even think about, coming near her.”

Luke fell to his knees, his eyes shining gold before turning back to blue.

“Fred please,” He begged, “I am the only one who can control him, I know where the spot is but I don’t have much time.”

That’s when Hermione’s words came running back to him, “You are not the hero of the prophecy.” She told him, “It will greatly affect what you do.”

He looked down at Y/N’s dagger that was in his hand and everything clicked.

The cursed blade wasn’t his sword, but Y/N’s dagger, and it was cursed because it symbolized the promise Luke made to her: That they would be always be there for each other and they would always be a family. Luke breaking that promise, cursed her blade.

Fred looked up at Luke, who begged, “Please.”

Fred wasn’t the hero of the prophecy, and he knew what to do. He, just like Y/N, had to believe in Luke that he would be able to set things right.

He turned the blade around in his palm, the point facing him as he offered the hilt to Luke, who took it.

George stared at him, “Are you-“

“Mad? Off my rocker?” Fred continued, “Yeah.”

Luke unlatched a part of his armor, and stabbed the blade on the spot right under his arm. It was that deep, but he yelled in pain as his eyes flashed gold again.

The next thing the demigods knew, Luke was lying on the floor, blood gushing out of his wound.

“Nice blade you got there.” He croaked out as Y/N and Fred appeared by his side.

“We’ll get you some help.” Fred said trying to grab Luke’s arm but it burned hotter than fire.

The latter shook his head, “Don’t. Just promise me one thing Fred. Me, Ethan, all the unclaimed, don’t let it happen again.”

Fred licked his lips, “I promise.”

Luke then turned his gaze back to the girl by his side, “Did you ever love me?”

Fred and Y/N shared a look, “No.” She whispered, shaking her head, “I only saw you as a brother.”

And with that, Luke closed his eyes.

The gods then suddenly barged through the door, in full battle gear, expecting a battle.

They didn’t expect to see three demigods surrounding a dead boy.

“We need a shroud.” Fred announced, his voice cracking, “A shroud for the son of Hermes.”

“Jump in.” The voices urged, “Share his punishment.”

Fred gripped her arm, “Don’t listen.”

“But-“

“I know.” His voice sounded as brittle as ice, “They’re telling me the same stuff. I think… I think this moat must be the border of Night’s territory. If we get across, we should be okay. We’ll have to jump.”

“You said it was twenty feet.” His girlfriend answered.

Fred sighed, “Yeah. You’ll have to trust me. Put your arms around my neck and hang on.”

With her eyes closed, she could only guess how he managed it. Maybe he used the force of the river somehow. Maybe he was scared out of his mind and charged with adrenaline. Fred leaped with more strength than Y/N could have thought possible. The two of them sailed through the air as the river churned and wailed beneath them, splashing their bare ankles with stinging brine.

“It’s good to open your eyes.” Fred said.

Y/N opened her eyes, adjusting slightly to the light, she wanted to ask Fred how he had managed to jump that far when she decided against it.

She knew that she was lucky to have Fred by her side. If she had fallen without him, she either would’ve gone insane or died immediately.

Tartarus was really no place for demigods. Not only because the place itself was toxic, but because Tartarus had the capability of making even the sweetest person transform into a vile monster.

And Y/N had witnessed that first-hand how a sweetheart and gentleman like her boyfriend was almost turned into monster.

Fred and Y/N watched in horror as the trail of poison started to make it’s way towards them as the goddess Akhlys laughed miserably.

“You will feed the eternal darkness.” Akhlys said, “You will die in the arms of Night!”

Fred was dimly aware of Y/N desperately throwing anything she could at the goddess. The white-green poison kept on pooling, little streams trickling from the plants as the venomous lake got larger.

Lakes, Fred suddenly thought, streams, water.

An idea clicked in his mind; poison must be made partially made of water. Maybe he could control it. But Poseidon was the god of the sea. Not of every liquid everywhere.

But then again, Tartarus had its own rules. Drinking fire was your only hope to survive, the air was more toxic than acid. Heck, the ground itself was the body of a god.

So, if that was possible, then why not try? He had nothing left to lose.

He glared at the flowing poison, concentrating so hard that something inside him broke, as if a glass ball shattered inside him.

Warmth flowed through his system; the poison tide stopped.

The fumes blew away from him, going back towards the goddess.

Akhlys shrieked in surprise, “What is this?!”

��Poison.” Fred said, “That’s your specialty, right?”

As he stood there, the anger boiled hotter in his blood. The sight of the suffocating goddess fueling him more.

Oh good, he thought, more water.

He started to choke the goddess in her own tears, as she stumbled back, gasping for air.

“Freddie!” He heard a small voice call him.

Y/N was staring at him and even with the death mist surrounding her, Fred could see that she was terrified. And it took him a minute to realize that she was scared of him.

“Stop.” She pleaded; her voice hoarse.

Fred didn’t want to stop. He wanted the goddess to drown in her own poison. He wanted to see how much misery the goddess of Misery could take.

“Fred please.” Y/N begged, the anguish in her eyes causing Fred’s anger to fade.

Akhlys fell to her knees, looking up at the two demigods in fear before running of in the direction she came from.

As soon as she had fled, the pools of poison evaporated.

Y/N stumbled towards Fred, “Freddie, please don’t ever…” Her voice broke out in a sob, “Some things aren’t meant to be controlled. Please.”

His whole body tingled with power, but the anger had vanished. The broken glass inside him started to smooth at the edges.

Fred let out a shaky breath, pressing a kiss on Y/N’s forehead, “Okay. I’m sorry for scaring you.”

Y/N shuddered at the memory. Out of everything she had witnessed, seeing Fred in that way was the scariest thing of them all.

They had finally arrived at the Heart of Tartarus, where the doors of death lie. Where their hope of getting out of hell lie.

The death mist did a wonderful job obscuring them from the eyes of the other monster and titans. Bob, the titan who Fred had befriended and helped them through most of their journey, nervously walked among the other Titans.

Fred and Y/N stood at either side of the door, ready to cut the chains and set it free.

That’s when a roar echoed through the place, the god of pit himself, Tartarus, took form.

Never in Y/N’s life, did she ever see Fred drop his sword. But at that moment, as he gaped at the god, his sword just dropped to the ground.

That’s when the fight broke out.

The monster started to attack; Bob fought against them. Even starting to fight against the god of the pit himself.

Fred and Y/N fought together, just like they did numerous times before, stabbing, slicing, narrowly avoiding the monster. But they kept coming back.

Even if the cavalry arrived in the form of Damasen and the drakon, it still wasn’t enough.

Fred knew that both of them would never make it. One of them had to press the elevator button for twelve minutes for the other to successfully escape.

He had to convince Y/N to go without him.

“Are you mad?” She told him, “I’m not going anywhere without you.”

“But-“ Fred tried to argue.

“No!” She protested, “You promised, that we’re staying together.”

“You’re impossible.” Fred said.

Y/N smiled, “I love you too.”

Bob then limped towards the couple, golden ichor flowing from his wounds, “You two go.” He said, “I’ll push the button.”

Fred gawked at him, “Bob you’re in no condition-“

“Freddie.” Y/N’s voice threatened to break. She hated herself for letting Bob do this, but she knew that it was the only way, “We have to.”

Fred tried to protest, “We can’t just leave them!”

Bob clapped him on the shoulder, slightly knocking him over, “I can still press the button.”

‘Besides,” Bob continued, “it is your destiny to return to the world, put an end to this madness of Gaea.”

The battle continued on in the background, monsters being thrown left and right, Damasen still fighting against his father.

“Bob please don’t.” Fred said, his eyes pleading, “He’ll destroy you permanently. No coming back. No regeneration.”

The titan shrugged, “Who knows what it’ll be. You have to go now; I can buy you some time. Twelve minutes, I can give you that.”

“Fred, hold the doors.” Y/N said, trying to keep her tears at bay. She then jumped and threw her arms around the titan.

“Monsters are eternal.” She told him, trying to keep herself from sobbing like a baby, “We will remember you and Damasen as heroes, as the best Titan and the best giant. We’ll tell our children. We’ll keep your story alive. Someday, you will regenerate.”

Bob ruffled her hair, the evidence of his smile appearing around his eyes, “That is good. Until then, tell the stars and sun hello for me. Be strong. This may not be the last sacrifice you have to make in order to stop the Earth mother.”

He pushed her away gently, “We’re running out of time. Go.”

Y/N grabbed Fred’s arm as she dragged him into the elevator car. The both of them looking up at Bob for one last time before the elevator doors closed.

The both of them pushed each side of the door with all their remaining energy, to make sure that no one would interrupt their passage.

“I’m sorry.” Y/N muttered after a short moment of silence, thinking that Fred was angry at her.

“It’s not your fault.” Fred said, “It’s Gaea’s. We have to make their sacrifice worth it.”

“And we will.” She reassured, “We will not fail.”

Twelve minutes felt like hours, they finally heard a small ding and the elevator doors opened up.

Out of pure exhaustion, the only thing Fred and Y/N were capable of doing were just falling onto the floor. The last thing they saw before they blacked out was two figures surrounded in mist.

When the couple was finally welcomed back into consciousness, they smiled as their friends gathered around them.

They got out of the temple before it could collapse as they settled in the grass just nearby the Argo II.

Y/N laid her head on Fred’s shoulder as they listened to their friends recount their journey to the House of Hades. The both of them relieved to be sitting under the sun, breathing clean air and eating real food.

“So,” Harry said, “What about you two? Tartarus has got to be the real story.”

The couple shared a look.

“Maybe some other time.” Fred said with a small shrug.

“I don’t think I want to recount everything that happened there yet.” Y/N said as she took another sip of water.

Soon enough, the group found out that Luna had arrived in the midst of their absence. Her eyes were slightly puffy as her horse just died.

She then agreed to join them per Y/N’s request.

“It’s nice to see you two back in the world of the living.” She joked, nodding to Fred and Y/N.

Fred laughed, “Yeah, thank the gods we finally got out.”

“He had help.” Y/N added with a small shrug.

“Of course.” Luna agreed with a small smile, “I doubt that Fred would be able to get out of a paper bag without you.”

Y/N smiled, “True.”

“Hey!” Fred complained as the group bursted into laughter.

Y/N rested her head on Fred’s shoulder as he wrapped an arm around her waist and placed a kiss on her forehead.

They have just got back from hell and was expected to fight against the Earth mother.

But at the end of the day, what mattered to Fred and Y/N was: they were together.

𝚃𝚊𝚐𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝:

@lumosandnoxwriting @gostupid-godumb @famdomhideout @nova-darling @gaycatlord-stuff @pandaxnienke @escapingrealitybyreading @catching-the-train-to-hogwarts (Send a Message/Ask or fill out my taglist form if you want to be added!)

#fredweasley #fred weasley fanfiction #fredweasleyimagines #fred weasley fluff #fredweasleyfanfic #fredweasleyoneshots #fredweasleysmut #fred weasley angst #fred weasley blurb #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x y/n #fred weasley x you #hpimagines #hponeshots

78 notes · View notes

sapphicdt · 4 years ago

Text

Just Like You Used To

hihi i usually hate sad fics because i personally read fics for comfort but i wrote this out of impulse and because i needed a good cliche Snape x Reader thingy to cry to so i apologize if this comes out as too cringey and wattpad-y. this was quite poorly written but i still hope you like it.

(italics for the flashbacks :) )

warnings: angst, minor typos

word count: 1.8k

The musky earth smell of the dungeons hit your nose like the perfume of an older lady when she went in to hug you.

You had not been here since the end of the war, and neither did anyone else. Minerva had not gone down there either. You had seen how the usually composed professor’s demeanor would shift behind her eyes into a raging sea, whenever she would be indirectly reminded of him.

It was funny how life worked; one moment, you were helping him clean the cauldrons in his classroom, and the next you were to sweep off the dust from his abandoned office.

“Miss L/N, you are going to freeze your ears off if you do not get back in here” he said to you as you were walking around in the snow without your coat, prancing about in the cold like a child on Christmas morning. “Sorry, professor. It was too beautiful out to miss.” you responded meekly. He rolled his eyes. “Silly girl” he said, and ushered you back in.

As the both of you walked side by side, the silence was broken when he asked “How was your day?’. He said it very quietly, like asking such a question was humiliating, and that it would destroy his usually stoic bearing. You sighed and said “It was alright. But it did snow so it got better. What about you, professor?”. He stayed quiet for a while before responding with a little grunt of an “It was okay”. You giggled in response.

He walked you back to your dorm, not saying anything else.

Time flew and you had started spending more time with the professor. According to you, it was because “He was your new bestie”. He would roll his eyes whenever you would jokingly refer to him as that whenever your friends would ask why you hung around him so much.

It was true; you did see him as a friend, and although you wished to yell out to the world how much you would do for this man, you did not want to get slapped in the face by rejection and humiliation. After all, his doors were closed, and heart belonged to the late mother of The Boy Who Lived. Everyone knew this.

On one of your visits to his office, you were both sitting in silence, doing your own things, before you said “Professor, If I’m going to be honest, I would just like to say that I am going to miss you.”. “What do you mean, Miss L/N?” he responded. “I am graduating soon, and I’m just going to miss going to your office, studying here with you in arms reach, having class with you, having you as my teacher, and just-” somehow, the oxygen in the room has disappeared, and you found it hard to usher out what you were going to say next. “Seeing you everyday” you finally breathed out. You expected a him to throw a fit, to slap you, yell at you about how this was highly inappropriate and that he did not want to see you ever again, for him to spit at you for how stupid you were. But none of that came; everything but all of that. He was quiet for a moment, as he was every time you said something inherently nice. But then he said “I’m afraid I will miss your company too, Y/N”. You had the smile of an idiot plastered on your face for the rest of the afternoon.

Months flew by, and it was April, you had seen him again on his way back from his meetings, and wanted to tell him something for you had not been able to talk to him at all ever since the war started. He seemed so tired and somehow even more irritable and angrier than he had been before, so you left him alone. But today, you decided that it would be worth a shot to try and reconnect, so you walked up to him and said “Hello, professor.”. He looked at you and if you looked with a telescope, you could see his gaze softened, but only behind his eyes. Because that made fucking sense. “Good afternoon, Miss L/N. Is there anything I can help you with?” he responded. “No, professor. I just wanted to see how you were doing. After all, we haven’t talked in a long while.” you replied, a bit more blunt than you had intended, and you feared he was going to do something that would make you regret it after. But he did not. “Would you like to come to my office, just like before? We can talk there.” he said. You smiled sadly, and walked with him to his office.

He sat you down, and gave you a cup of tea, and made sure you were comfortable. Like he used to. “Now, how are you, Y/N?”. You had not known how much this man meant to you until this very moment. You could not hold anything back anymore. You burst into a sobbing mess, hiccuping trying to drink the tea. You could not pinpoint exactly why you were crying so much, but you just were.

He was taken aback for a moment. He had seen many students cry at Hogwarts, especially after having been scolded by him, but this was different; you were in his office, and he just asked you a simple question. Not knowing what to do, he hesitantly patted your shoulder. He was not used to comforting people when they were sad. But although he had done it to you in many unconscious and indirect ways in the past when you were silently having a bad day, he just was not used to actively doing it. Your sobs ceased a bit and he asked you “Y/N, where is this coming from? What happened?”. You sniffed and hiccuped a bit before blatantly saying “I just miss you, professor, is all.”. He did not know what to say to say to this, and was still quite startled, then you cut his thoughts off when you said “I just wish all of this would end even just before I graduate so I could spend my last few afternoons in Hogwarts here in your office, like I had originally planned.”. “It will end soon, Y/N” he said and fiddled with his tea cup, and hesitantly pulled you into a hug. This somehow made you want to cry even more, and the next words that came out of your mouth were so unexpected, you wanted the ground to swallow you whole. “I think I love you, professor.”. He pulled away and lifted up your chin to look in your eyes. You felt him in your head, but you were too tired and sad to push him out, so you just let him search. After what seemed like an eternity, you felt your mind left alone again and he just moved his hands down your shoulder. With a sigh, he then said “I think you ought to be heading back to your dorm, Miss. I do have somewhere to go to.”. You stood up and wiped the snot off of your face, and headed out the door. Before you closed it, you said to him “I hope to come here again soon, professor.” and you left his office, and walked back to your dorm.

You stood in front of the wooden door of his office, tears now pouring freely down your cheeks. You knocked and you were wishing in the back of your head that you would hear him call you in, or see the shadow of his feet when he went to open the door, or see him towering over you with his usual stoic demeanor, or with those beautiful onyx eyes you came to love, looking back at you.

You felt silly, and touched the handle of the door, before pushing it open. You stepped in, and everything was left as it was the last time you came here; his half filled ink jar, half graded exams, half filled bottle of whiskey. But if there was anything about this man that was not halved, would be his passion. Oh Lord did this hurt.

It was like he knew his office would be returned to, just not by him.

You had been standing in the middle of the room for quite longer than you intended, so you snapped out of it and walked to his desk. You felt the wooden frame as you came across an unclosed envelope. “To whom this may concern” was all the back had read, You opened it and read through it.

It was addressed to you. He was apologizing for not giving you a proper answer for what you said the last time you visited him. He was sorry for all the times he brushed you off before, during all the times you wanted to talk to him. All of that said, you were still able to use whatever was left of your composure. Then came the end of the letter

“......I am sorry it had to end this way. And I am so sorry for leaving you like this. Please don’t weep for me. I do not want to see you crying like that.

But although I am gone, I hope you think about me when you see a sparrow flying across the dusk of winter, when you smell the faint waft of parchment, or even hear the dripping down here in the dungeons. I too wish you could still sit with me here in my office while you read, just like you used to.

Nothing I say can satisfy you now, but what you said that April afternoon was not something I expected. I will admit that. But rest assured my dear, that I will not allow you to live the rest of your life not being reciprocated what you said.

So with the little time I have left of writing this, I hope you know that I love you very, very much.

Yours,

Professor Snape.”

Your chest was aching and your sobs were now very vocal. Through broken breaths and shaky legs, you stood up from the squatting position you were in and sat down on his chair.

Time had passed, and before you knew it, you had fallen asleep in his office. You looked at the grandfather clock at the corner of the room and you had fallen asleep for quite a long time because what used to be noon, was now 3 in the afternoon.

You took the letter from his desk and walked out of his office, back to your dorm.

You would rather anything else than to have lost him like this, or in any way at all. You wished everything was a dream and you could go back to the days where everything was happy. But this was the reality, he was dead and was never coming back.

It was now evening and dinner was over, but you did not go to eat. You stayed in your room and slept, too tired from crying, and from everything else in general. You reached to your nightstand and read the letter again, tracing over the print of the last sentence. And somehow, those words brought you great comfort, just like he used to.

#severus snape #severus snape x reader #severus snape x y/n #severus snape x you #severus #snape #harry potter #Alan Rickman #snape fic #harry potter fic #pro snape

43 notes · View notes

g0ldengubler · 4 years ago

Text

(*i do not own this gif*)

A/N: (from wattpad): heyyy...how y'all doin? ugh i'm not too happy with the sex scene (even though i'm grateful that a friend of mine helped me with one of the paragraphs) but this is the best i can do right now with the mental state i'm in. pls bare with me with posting, my personal life has gone downhill so fast it's crazy. i wanted to get this up on halloween but it sadly didn't happen. i do apologize. but i hope ur excited for this fic! thank u so much for reading ilyyyyyyy :) (from tumblr): ok last post until tonight! sorry for the spam, i only had this so far so i thought why not throw it all on here now lol. but ok enjoy :)

Category: smut

CW: daddy kink; degradation (from both men to clover); penetration (female receiving); oral (m+f recieving and giving); drunk sex; praise kink; this chapter is not full of smut but you don't have to read the smut if you're uncomfortable

Word Count: 3235

positions | prologue

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

~Clover's POV~

~Two Years Later~

It's been two years since I joined the team, and I've never felt more at home than I did on my first week. Luke, Spencer and I have been named, 'The Golden Trio' thanks to Penelope. We've been stuck like glue ever since I beat them in poker, like the best friends I always wanted but never had. Because of what happen when I was a kid, I always stayed close to my dad and never felt the need to make friends. Sure, I'd have people that I'd see 5 days a week at school, but nothing as close as we were. During our days off, we'd get drunk and have a poker night or a chess night, teaching Luke how to play but he never seemed to understand it, so we'd slowly switch to UNO or Cards Against Humanity.

Today, Halloween of all days, was just another paperwork day. Sure, being out in the field was exciting, saving American citizens like how Emily saved me, but I found relaxation in looking over files and sending my behavioral advice. Everything was calm in the office with everyone doing their work, and some days we'd watch a movie in the conference room or play games when we either got done with our work early or, as Garcia would say, "All serial killers have taken the day off. Maybe even went to therapy."

As I walked back to my desk after turning in the last of my files to Emily, Rossi came out of his office and stood at the railing. "Everyone," he announced, "I think it's safe to say that for the first in several years, we do not have a case on Halloween night!"

Everyone cheered, especially Spencer. Halloween was his favorite holiday, you learned. He was very passionate about its spooky nature by dressing up in a scary mask at work, before having to take it off because of a case. He would pout when he would see Emily, Rossi, or Garcia come out, telling the team that we had a case. This year, however, I noticed a grin on his face that stretched from ear to ear.

"In honor of that, I will be throwing a party at my house and you're all invited. But don't think you could run away from my grandmother's recipe!"

I turned over to Spencer, who's desk was right next to mine, a curious grin growing on my face. "So doc, what are you going to be for Halloween?"

He leaned back in his chair and looked over to me, his left elbow pressed against the armrest. "I was originally going to go as Tom Baker's Doctor Who since I still have the cosplay from when Garcia and I tried going to a convention, but with how my hair looks now, I think I'll go as a mad scientist or, if I want to be more specific, Einstein himself."

"I can see you dressing up as Einstein," I smiled, "Hell, you could even go as Dr.Emmett Brown, himself."

"Who?"

I looked back at him, jaw falling to my desk. "You know, from Back to the Future?"

He still looked confused.

"Don't worry about it, Clover," Luke said as he walked over and sat at the desk in front of me, "What he doesn't know won't hurt him."

"Now I'm curious about this movie." Spencer said, his curious face getting curiouser and curiouser.

"Maybe we can sneak away from the party tonight at some point and watch it." I wink at him and the two began chuckling.

"Those movie's are the closest to nerd I'll ever get." said Luke, which sparked Spencer's interest even more.

"So what are you going to be tonight, Kingsley?"

I looked over at him with a smirk."Oh, Alvez, THAT is a surprise."

~That Night~

"They did the monnnster mash!"

Music was coming from all over the backyard and in the house. Everyone from the BAU was dressed up in their spooky (or sexy...or cutest) best and was dancing the night away with champagne in their hands. I had walked in a little bit late compared to everyone else, which somehow Rossi didn't give me a sassy but funny remark about it. Rossi and Krystall dressed up as Bonnie and Clyde, Tara, along with Jj, Emily, and Garcia, went as nuns, and Matt went as Rickey while his wife, Kristy, was Lucy.

Luke ended up going as Magic Mike, not because he was full of himself, that was way out of line for him, but because the team would joke that he could become a stripper if he had to and played along. Spencer was, indeed, Albert Einstein. Garcia must've helped him with his hair, getting it to stick out like Einstein's and spraying gray hairspray in his hair. Both looked really good in their costumes, I couldn't complain.

I walked in as a sexy devil. I'm not scared to dress sexy when I could. I was comfortable in my body and I wasn't doing it to get someone's attention. I just love to feel myself from time to time, almost like a confidence boost if I needed it. I walked over to my two dudes and saw their eyes bulging out of their heads as they turned around to see. I was in a tight red crop top that showed off the girlies, with red short shorts, black fishnet tights, and red heels. I had horns on the top of my head thanks to a headband, and a tail that was attached to my shorts. The two were completely shocked, but were the respectful men that I always knew they were.

As the night went on, I was kind of getting bored. While I loved being surrounded by my coworkers turned family, I wanted to get wasted. It was Halloween night for crying out loud, but I didn't like being drunk in front of a lot of people. Even when I would go to the club, I would just have one drink and then dance with everyone on the dance floor. I didn't trust my drunk self, not physically but just how my personality changes. It embarrassed me to no end, so I only trusted a few people. Two of them, obviously, being Spencer and Luke.

At one point, I was sitting on the couch in the living room by myself. Luke and Spencer came in and sat down next to me, asking me if I was ok. When I explained to them what I was feeling, they both grinned in unison as they looked at one another, then back at me. I knew exactly what they were thinking, and they were in for it. We said goodbye to everyone, grabbed our coats, and headed out the door where we all met up at Luke's place.

When we walked in, Spencer and I sat on his couch getting Back to the Future ready while Luke made us all drinks. As we watched, we ended up leaving our glasses on the table and started taking turns drinking the vodka bottle, numb to the burning sensation. After taking the last shot in the bottle, I set it down and lay back against the back of the couch and blacked out, letting the alcohol take over my mind and body. The last thing I remember was leaning my head against Spencer's shoulder, while my feet were on Luke's lap...

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

Clover was giggling on Spencer's shoulder as her foot slowly rubbed over Luke's lap. Luke shifted his position on the couch, trying not to notice what that was doing to him. Not like he had a foot fetish or anything, but the amount of friction caused his pants grow tighter by the minute. Spencer, who had never been this drunk before in his life, started playing with her hair as he moved his arm around her. Spencer could tell that she was just as drunk as he was, but he didn't expect her to lay her hand on his chest, playing with the necklace he had around his neck. He tried to focus his attention to Back to the Future III, but once she started playing with the gold piece of metal with her mouth, he couldn't help but to look down at her, her eyes never leaving his.

He looked over to Luke, who had moved Clover's foot over and started palming himself through his pants. Spencer quickly looked away, trying not to give in to his own urges. He moved his focus back to Clover, who's eyes were still locked on him. Before he could do anything, she let go of the necklace and began to slowly move her hand down Spencer's chest.

"I know why Luke moved my foot away," she whispered as her hand gently fell on his lap. She moved her fingers ever so lightly over the bulge that was growing in his pants. She had also moved her foot back onto to Luke's bulge, rubbing over it softly.

The two looked at each other, almost in confusion at first. But then, they silently agreed that they were up for it, as Clover clearly was as well. Luke moved her foot off of it and stood up, pausing the movie as Spencer moved her hand out of the way and lifted her head up as he started to get up. He takes her hand and helps her up, grabbing Luke's hand before wobbling their way into his room. She jumped onto the bed as Spencer shut the door, letting the light from the moon and street lamps illuminate the room. The two stood in front of her before she motioned her finger for them to come over.

"You're one hell of a brat, Kingsley." Luke slurred as the two quickly walked over to her, plopping down on either side of her on the bed.

Clover leans in and kisses Luke while Spencer went for her neck, cupping her left breast and massaging it. The touch alone had a moan leave her lips and into Luke's as he moved his tongue on her bottom lip, asking for entrance. As their tongues melded together, Spencer moved the fabric of her top over and took her breast out of the cup of her bra, leaning in and began licking her nipple before taking the whole thing in his mouth sucking it. Clover broke the kiss and let out a whimper, which made both men chuckle as she leaned both of her arms behind her on the bed for support.

Luke looks over to Spencer as he lets go of her breast and looks up to Luke. "Do you think she'll stop being a brat if we do something like this?" Luke asks before moving his fingers down to her core, rubbing over her shorts. Clover bites her lip to hold in a gasp, which Luke wasn't too pleased by.

"Are you going to behave, little one?" Spencer asks as he plays with the waistband of her shorts, his lips ghosting her cheek.

Clover nods, still holding in a moan just from being touched. Luke grabs ahold of her jaw and quickly turns her face to look at him. "Use your words, princesa."

"Please," she whines.

Spencer has Clover buck her hips as he pulled her shorts and tights off of her. They notice how turned on she was on her panties and both lean in, biting and sucking on either side of her neck. Spencer's fingers linger the inside of her thighs while Luke went back to rubbing her through the cloth. She moves her hips against his fingers, begging for more.

"You were such a tease just a few minutes ago, and now look at you. So helpless and needy in a matter of seconds." says Spencer in between kisses.

Hearing that made Clover take her panties off in a swift, but quick, motion. She couldn't take it anymore, she needed their touch.

"Eager little girl, aren't you?" Luke chuckled.

It took a minute for her to realize that Spencer went straight in, sticking two fingers inside her and pumping slowly while Luke rubbed her pussy. Her brain had turned into mush full of pleasure that when they went in, she couldn't help but let out a loud moan. They sped up their movements, making her let out a silent scream.

"Fuck, daddy!" She gasped out.

The two were shocked, but didn't complain about the name. "Which one of us is daddy, kitten?" Spencer asked.

"You can't think straight, can you?" Luke asked.

Clover pulls Spencer in by his tie while pulling Luke in at the same time by his belt. "Shut up," she says breathy, "just shut up and fuck me."

"Don't go back to being a brat now," says Luke finally after a moment of silence, "You are going to behave or you'll be punished. And I don't think you'll like what we'll do."

Spencer continues to finger her quickly and deeply, curling his fingers as he hit her gspot every time while Luke rubs faster on her clit. Clover falls onto the bed as wave of pleasure hit her like a train. She closed her walls around Spencers fingers, getting closer and closer to release as he sped up his pace even more.

"Cum for me, little girl, I want you cum so hard on daddy's fingers."

Spencer connects his lips back to her neck as she screamed, letting the waves of pleasure shoot through her body. Luke rubs her slowly to let her ride out her orgasm as Spencer pulls his fingers out and sticks them in his mouth. The way he cleaned her off made her ache all over again, wanting more and more. She didn't want this to end; This was the most pleasure she's ever had.

Luke looks over as Spencer finished devouring her, removing his fingers from his mouth with a small pop. "She tastes so sweet."

Without a single word, Luke gets off the bed and kneels in front of it, pulling Clover by her knees closer to him. As Spencer started making out with her, Luke dives right in between her thighs, licking a single thick stripe up her core, making her moan through the kiss. As their tongues fought like swords in their mouths, Spencer starts to unbuckle his belt and pulled his pants with his boxers in a swift motion, letting his cock spring free. Before it could hit his stomach, however, she grabs onto it with her left hand and starting pumping him slowly. He groans into her mouth before breaking apart, watching her stroke his aching cock.

"Please, daddy. I need your cock so bad fUCK!"

Neither of the two knew who she was talking to, but they did know that it didn't matter. Luke gets up from the floor and takes his costume off while Spencer moved his position so that his knees were on the bed. Clover moves up a bit so that Luke could get back on. The two pump themselves a few times before they pushed themselves in. She took Spencer's cock in her mouth as Spencer grabs a handful of her hair, slowly pushing her down as Luke thrust. As soon as she was comfortable of their size, Luke began thrusting slowly. Clover moaned and grind against him, begging for more, which he happily obliged. Spencer groaned under his breath when she moaned, making him buck his hips forward, shoving his cock down her throat. She gagged on it, tears piercing her eyes.

Clover was at this moment, and maybe even every moment after this, beneath them. Spencer and Luke were exercising their rights to dominate, belittle, and humiliate her. Her holes were filled as her mind quickly unraveled from the rush of pleasure from every minute pulsation. She couldn't even follow their taunts anymore, and the only bit of rationale that she could muster was to be the best sex doll for her two dominators. Her pussy ached for more punishment as they admonished her sloppy performance. She moaned hungrily as she was ravaged, playing the broken slut; no, she was their broken slut. Eagerly enjoying their obvious amusement.

The knot in her stomach was getting tighter and tighter again. She knew Luke was just edging her, making her wait to cum until he was ready. He looked to Spencer, who was holding on for dear life, almost getting into some sort of sub space of his own as the look on his face was begging for release. Clover felt both of their cocks twitch inside her, letting her know they were close.

"Cum for us, princesa," Luke growls, "just one more time for daddy. I know you want to, baby."

Clover turned into a screaming, moaning mess as she came all over Luke's cock, making a huge mess on the bed. That was the last straw for the two men, as they both released inside her, filling her over the edge. The two pulled themselves out, Spencer laying next to Clover (who was showing him that she swallowed every last drop of him) while Luke watched his cum pool out from her, enjoying the view before he lay on the other side of her. Clover wiggled her arms through theirs, focusing on something to cuddle her way into. Spencer quickly grabbed tissues from his side of the bed and cleaned her up.

"You did so good, Clover." says Spencer. He throws the used tissues away in the waste bin beside him and turns back to see tears prickling from her eyes again. "Ssh ssh, it's ok," he coos as he wraps his arms around her. Spencer's soft praises mixed with Luke's gentle hand playing with her hair helped her come back down from the cloudy headspace she was in. She felt cared for and safe with them comforting her.

Clover snuggles into Spencer as Luke's arm wrapped around her waist, spooning behind her. Spencer kissed the top of her head as she nestled her head on his chest, letting the sleepiness that alcohol gave take over them.

As she drifted off to sleep, Clover hoped that she wouldn't forget this perfect night.

98 notes · View notes

forgottenyogurtgods · 3 years ago

Text

Author stuff: Sorry about the late posting. I explain what’s been going on at the bottom.

Summary: A simple collection of quick fics for somewhat interconnected. 100 prompts, 100 Saturdays.

Master List

Oh! You Pretty Things

Prompt 15 — 92. Innocence

He wasn't sure why, but he was drawn to her. There was just… something there that pulled him in. One look and he was drowning in those eyes of her’s, her voice a siren’s song. And he never wanted to leave.

He had always noticed her, though she had become more prominent as of late. Her bravery shining through when she helped him and Ladybug with the Evillustrator. After spending time with her and playing video games, he saw a whole different side of her. And then with Manon and the dolls... He almost forgot to ask where she lived, which would have completely blown his cover.

So, when he found his way to her rooftop terrace, he of course hesitated to knock on the trapdoor. In fact, he was just about to when she noticed him.

“Chat Noir?” she said, her eyes wider and bigger and bluer than he'd ever seen them before. She spoke slowly and cautiously. “What are you doing here? Is there an akuma in the neighborhood?”

“No, no, Princess,” he said, feeling the nickname slip out before he could control himself. “I was just… catching up on everyone in your class. They've all been akumatized, except for you and one other student.”

“Yeah, and?” She raised herself up onto the terrace, him helping her, though she didn't really need it.

“And I wanted to make sure you didn't have any plans on becoming one?”

“I don't think anyone plans on becoming an akuma, it just sort of happens.”

He scratched the back of his neck. Well, that was a stupid lie. She, no doubt, saw right through him.

“Mind telling me why you're actually here before I call animal control?”

“I was… honestly just passing by, and I thought of you.”

“Hmm, continue.”

“That's… that's really it. I was passing by, and I thought of you.”

“So you decided to creepily stare down into my bedroom for two minutes before I went over to see what you were doing.”

He flushed at that.

“I wasn't, ah, I was just trying to, um, I wasn't sure how to —”

She started giggling. He felt a tug in his abdomen at the sound. It was so sweet and special. He wanted to cherish it forever.

Gah! When did he start feeling this way about his quiet, little classmate?

“It's alright, Chat,” she said. “You're lucky I wasn't changing or something.”

He turned even more red — if that was possible. He didn't want to think about the “changing” part — Marinette in her underwear was not someplace he wanted his mind to, gah! And the “or something”? He didn't want to know what that was. Nope, not at all. Any thoughts beyond her innocently sleeping in that bed.

“I'm just going to, ah, go now,” he said. “You… You seem fine. Perfectly alright. So, I, uh, yeah.”

“But you haven't told me any puns,” she said, pouting a little.

“Pardon?”

“Puns, whenever I see you, you tell me a pun. I mean, they're really annoying and terrible, but they're growing on me.”

He blinked at her. She looked so innocent at the moment. He gave her a slow smile.

“I will be sure to save up a great many for your ears only, Princess.”

“...I'm going to regret saying anything, aren't I?”

“Not at all, Princess. Not at all.”

Also available on

Ao3

Wattpad

FanFiction.net

Author stuff cont'd.: Couple of things happened in my personal life — mostly work related.

The one coworker who works overnights has COVID. The other woman who works overnights doesn't want to work anything other than her assigned nights (she spends the rest of her time out partying and comes in hours late). The backup for overnights picked up her old shift at her original location, so we won't have her to rely on.

On the positive side, I have a new manager to help me out in my department and a few people have been hired to work the front desk. Training is all they really need now, which that's a huge weight off a lot of our shoulders.

Another thing is the fact that I decided to try out how I take my vitamins. The website I get them from recommends that you take it on an empty stomach. Despite the fact that it is in a fat soluble capsule. (It also suggested taking the water soluble vitamins with food — which I don't recommend.) Nope. Not good. Messed with my whole being.

So, I'm back to taking the vitamin that helps with stress with the other fat soluble capsules.

Between that nonsense, I've just been feeling more depressed recently. It probably has to do with the fact that I'm working nights and not getting enough vitamin D, like I used to. I added it to my monthly vitamin package.

Anyway, I'll be updating as normal. I just had to take a little break for my mental health.

#miraculous ladybug #miraculous ladybug fanfiction #miraculous fanfic #miraculous ladybug fanfic #miraculous tales of ladybug and chat noir #ml fanfic #ml fanfiction #mlb fanfic #mlb fanfiction #mlb pretty things

6 notes · View notes

scribeofmorpheus · 4 years ago

Text

Himmeløyne [22/?]

Pairing: Loki Odinson x Reader

Catch Up Here | Masterlist

Warnings: None

A/N: I have started my first original gothic story (it'll be much darker than this fic but can I offer you werewolves, vampires, 1970s Europe aesthetic as an incentive?). It's on Wattpad and I intend to update it every Wednesday, but I never stick to update schedules so... Here ya go: OUR LADY OF DARKNESS

Taglist is open! Reblog, comment or leave a like please ☺

~Y/N

The end of the abyss—that frightful stream of continuous fall and forceful uplift—it finally had an end. It was a large door. Smell of rain and storms, with the slick glisten of wet rock hugging the archway. A dark type of stone, jagged and natural, the door seemed to be carved into the side of a mountain. But the mirage ended where the rock began, there were no walls. No infrastructure. Just the green of the mirror world and two hunkering doors. The archway was carved in the shape of a snake; same as the kind that embellished the rigging of ships, tongue curled, eyes made of rings within rings.

A sequence of lettering—foreign, yet oh, so familiar—hovered in the mist, your mind scrambling to make sense of the words.

“Oracle, what is this place?”

The whisper was quiet, for a brief moment you worried that you were truly on your own in this stretch of emptiness.

I sense… something has been concealed from me. Its magic is fevered, dusted in loss. Pain. Desire. It is out of place. Out of time. The conjurer’s magic has the same energy as yours, only… stronger.

“Stronger?” You shuddered at the thought. After a pause, you asked: “You don’t see the door?”

Door? What door?

“What of the letters?”

I—No, I see nothing. Describe it to me.

“There’s a serpent on the door.”

A serpent? Does he eat his tail?

“No, his head marks the start of the archway, but his mouth is facing the ground.”

Then it is incomplete. An incantation must be needed to complete the image. What of the lettering?

“These letters, they’re different than common tongue or Asgardian runes. They aren’t Jotun either. They look… I don’t know. They look so familiar.”

Reach for them.

“What?”

Familiar magic has a tendency to want to be understood, that is why it feels familiar. Touch it.

You stuck your hand up, jumping on your tippy-toes to try and grab the incorporeal words floating above your head. In defiance, they simply rose higher up, further out of reach.

Do not reach with your body, Child of the Sky. Reach with your magic.

With an exhale, you stuck both hands high up in the air, conjuring the bristle of energy that raced across your spine during spellcasting. Remembering through muscle and memory of what it was like to be in control of your magic. Of what it was like to revel in its deliciousness, its wildness, its link to Loki. A swirl of warmth took shelter in your belly, that warmth you’d grown to love before it was ripped from you and replaced by the cold of Odin’s incantation.

Suddenly, the words began to sink, lowering themselves like feathers, at first, then with the heft of an arrow, and finally, a stone.

With a crash, the words burst into fire and embers, each ember digging into your skin in a sensory overload that formed echoes in the mist.

A version of you,—the shade whose voice you heard in the abyss—older, magic glowing a different hue of blue, in strange clothing, stood by the door. You were witnessing the construction of the doorway. Every splinter, fibre, rock and sand particle materialised as though you were undoing the wroth of a sandstorm to make way for a rock giant. A woman, with firebrand hair and soft features, stood beside you, she looked drained, weary. She had magic too, it was the colour of blood. The colour of fire. It flickered in and out around her body, as if fighting to take over.

There was a young boy clasping onto the shade’s hand. Aloof in expression, a scaly growth the colour of white sands on his elbows, ankles, neck and cheeks. He was a beautiful child, hair as soft as down, curls that fluffed in a way you could never get yours too. Eyes of a pure and deep blue. Ocean surface during a thunderstorm blue.

He looked at the shade the same way little Sigrid had when she’d waved her plump, little hand goodbye before following after the hunters. It made you yearn for something so pure with a fierce heart.

“There, that should do it,” the shade said as the door materialised from thin air. “Now, we need a seal so no one who wanders can know of this place.”

“Is this absolutely necessary?” the woman asked, hugging her frame as if she were cold.

“I don’t like it any more than you do, but this is the only way I know for certain that what we’re doing now happens.” The shade’s voice felt dark, wizened in years, the same way Frigga spoke of grave matters. “This fortress is the only way he survived in my time. If we can’t change things, as the sorcerer said, then the least we can do is ensure things continue on their set path.”

“He’ll be trapped… for who knows how long? Centuries? Millennia? He’s just a boy.”

“He’s more than that,” the shade got down on one knee to look at the boy. From that angle, you could see the mangled, L shaped scars over each of her shoulder blades. They resembled the scars birds would suffer when their wings were ripped for medicines. “This is the only way he stays safe. I’ve already cemented the other enchantments. Time will not be felt here. He will not feel sadness or regret or the bitterness of solitude. He will sleep, as I once did, except… he will not be aware. And he will dream of only happy things. Then, when the time comes, I will jump. I’ll take him back with me.”

The firebrand woman showed doubt for the first time, “How do you know?”

“Because I’ve already done it.” The shade touched the other magic bearer’s shoulder, a comradery there. A closeness built from time and triumph, much like that kindred fire you shared with Sif. “Now, a phrase. A word. Anything to bind this lock to. Something unique.”

“Why don’t you choose it?” “Because I know myself. It has to be something I’d never choose so that she never knows it, and no mind reader can ever guess it should they stumble upon this place.”

“Vision,” the woman’s lips quivered with loss, but there was a bloom of hope in the tweak of her lips as your shade repeated the word.

The biting of the magic ended, and suddenly, you were alone again.

What happened? Child of the Sky? Are you there?

“I’m right here, Oracle,” you choked out, a tightness in your throat.

You were gone. One instant here, the next… nowhere. Somewhere. Between.

“I know how to open the door,” you took several steps back and then cleared your throat. With conviction and authority, you calmly said: “Vision.”

What did the magic reveal to you?

Your head was spinning from the fabrics of this mirror universe being so amateurishly tailored, so lacking in its design and purpose. The more you discovered, the more you began to doubt if this world was ancient; or if it was barely into its adolescence. “I do not quite understand it, yet. You said you were imprisoned here?”

Yes. I have been without body or memory for as long as I can remember.

The snake on the door began to slither till its mouth was at the top, and its tail was tucked firmly in its jaws. Then its eyes glowed the same colour as the child’s, thunderstorm blue. With a groan and a strike of something loud, the door peeled back. Beyond its threshold was a mutation of worlds, all collided in exquisite syzygy; aligned, misaligned, human, Asgardian, Jotun, and even the liquid blackness of space with pepper spots for stars.

“And how long ago was that?”

I—I do not… Centuries? Millennia? Aeons?

To busy your mind of doubt and fear as you stepped past the threshold and heard the door seal shut behind you, you toyed with the idea of understanding more of this world. “You said you could hear the beginning of your name… What was it?”

The whisper grew soft, warm. It sounded like ‘see’. Or was it the sea? Sea? Sea. Sea!

A garden shifted into the plane, then with a breath, a lake, then a cave, then a temple, then a waterfall, then a tower made of metal and glass. The world wasn’t fixed to a temporal setting, nor a specific location in space. It was like watching fire tell a story; brief, bright and constant.

Sea! Sea! Sea! Sea!

At the epicentre, laying on a stone tablet with a curtain of gold—that same curtain from the healing chamber—wrapped around like a fleece, was the child. Unaged. Beautiful. Asleep. He had no scaly growths like in the visions.

You took your steps with trepidation. Almost afraid to make a whisper even though the Oracle chanted ‘Sea!’ over and over. Its voice morphing into the very faint intones of a voice you knew all too well.

The world began to peel away the closer you got to the child. A presence was syphoning the magic, transmuting it for another purpose. A purpose that you now realised was meant to happen. Soon, a figure of pure light, with large wings of utmost magnificence, formed from the siphoned magics of the world. The Oracle was gaining form. The fleece turned grey and the boy began to stir. The magic of the sleep spell was broken.

You approached him slowly. Hands seeking out his aura. Then, in the most silver of voices you’d ever heard, he said, “You came. You said you’d come.” A smile of familiarity adorned his freckled laugh lines.

Sea! Sea! Sea! Sea!

“Do you know me?”

He nodded.

Sea! Sea! Sea! Sea!

“How?”

“From now.”

Sea! Sea! Sea! Sea!

“What’s your name?”

He seemed confused. Reeling back from the line you’d cast him for with that question. Bait in hook, he fished in the muddy waters that were your consciousness. You could feel his magic, abrasive as sand between toes, cool and wet, but also warm and sea-salt thick. He replied, “You haven’t given it to me yet. But you will return hers to her.”

He pointed to the Oracle’s figure, pulsating into a more corporeal form. The boy opened his hand and you knew instantly what he needed you to do before you thought to ask. A reflex. His magic extended to yours, carrying thought, and the very genesis of thought in its energy. You placed your face close so his hand could cover the cavity where your eye used to be.

Sugar. Berries picked from the wild thickets. A prick into padded thumb. Ooze of blood. A slight sting, then a scab and finally nothing, no marks, no evidence of the thorn in your thumb. He was projecting images of what he envisioned as he healed you. What the berries would taste like; apples. “You can open your eyes now. It was gold when we met. I kept it the same.”

Feeling no different than before, you opened both eyes for the first time since you stepped into Verdenspeil. With a tickle, the runes drawn on your hand and forehead sloughed off like skin cells. You could see the world without them. You could see through both eyes again. The shifting world shifted to a hexagon of mirrors. One, the sky shifting blue of your mother, the other, the ancient, world piercing gold of your father, your face held two eyes again.

“It’s… beautiful,” you looked down at the boy with your eyes. He showed teeth with his grin, pleased with himself. Pleased with your laugh of awe. “There was a boy in my village. Half as beautiful as you are. Half as joyful, with a smile and constellations marking his nose and cheeks too. He showed me kindness. His name was Baldrick. I shall call you Baldrick.”

“Now that you have spoken my name, remind her of who she is,” the boy said, glancing at the Oracle. “You know. You know but cannot believe.”

A gasp left your mouth. A mix of hope and disbelief. With the new eye, you could see the face of the Oracle beneath the light, beneath the enchantment that kept her hidden.

Sea! Sea! Sea! Sea!

“S-Sigrid.”

The Oracle hushed before exploding into a million, tiny pieces of energy. Out of the explosion was your mother, winged as the Valkyrie from legend, wearing the armour you had seen in the mirror prior to entering Verdenspeil.

“Y/N,” she said, lowering to the ground. Her hand cupped your face. You could barely feel her. “I have waited so long for this moment.”

“Mother,” you hugged her close.

A swirl of black formed once the mirrors of the world broke. Sigrid looked at you with panic.

“Listen, there isn’t time. Take the boy, “Sigrid removed a bracelet and cast it into the black-hole. A portal began to form, leading to what looked like a stone temple. “Take him and jump, it’ll lead you to the one with answers.”

“I don’t understand! Why can’t you come with us? How are you alive?”

“I’m not alive dear, sweet child. But I can promise this isn’t the last you’ll see of me. We will meet again, soon. I promise. But you must go, the world has fulfilled its purpose. There is no reason for it to exist anymore. It has already began to unravel.”

The mist began to turn sour, choking like poison.

You coughed, breathing through your sleeve, “But, as the Oracle, you said I had to take you to the source.”

“You are the source. You and the boy. Your magics are entangled. The maze was a lie, one devised by you. This world isn’t ancient, it is young. A deception. I am the deceiver. My purpose was to ensure none but you found the boy and the portal to Mímir’s tomb. You enchanted this world so all would walk along the lighted paths until they reached a portal that would return them to a random space within the nine realms. You enchanted this world with your memories, so only you could follow them. Hear them.” Sigrid handed you a four-pronged dagger, “Take this you’ll need it.” She kissed your cheek, then her form started unravelling with the world too. Through transference, she gave you her armour, it was lighter than you'd expected, and it fit to cover your proportions through magical effect.

“Why can’t you come with us?” you reached your hand out to Baldrick. He took it with ease.

“I am not meant for the lands of the living,” she lamented. “Go! Before the world takes you with it.”

You rushed to the portal, but before you could step through you asked one last question: “What did you mean by ‘sins of the father’?”

“The war,” Sigrid fluttered her wings to hover in the green mist. “It was a lie. The Jotuns, they didn’t start it. We—the Himmel Kvinner—there’s a reason why only the women in our family inherited the gift. It’s not just power. It’s essence. A woman’s essence. Odin didn’t know we would develop magic from the artefact, but none of us were able to understand the complexity of her spell. Until you. You will discover the reason behind it all. You told me you did. I suspect it is because you are not fully mortal." Bitterly, she added as her body turned to mist as well, "You will bring the heavens to its knees. And your fate is that none shall remember it.”

One of Sigrid’s wings dissipated, she faltered in the air, then shouted: “Go!”

“I love you,” you whispered before hurtling through the undulating expanse of the portal.

“I know…” you heard her whisper back as Verdenspeil was destroyed.

#loki #loki x reader #loki marvel #loki laufeyson x reader #loki odinson #tom hiddleston #himmeløyne #norse mythology #loki x you #loki x y/n #marvel imagine #loki imagine #tom hiddlestone imagine

21 notes · View notes

beybladefanfictions · 3 years ago

Text

L-Drago’s Return - Chapter 1

(Description: Sequel to Ryuga's Return. Read that first or you're going to be extremely confused. Five months have passed since L-Drago’s disappearance and Ryuga has gotten used to his new life without his Beyblade. However, he discovers that there might be a way to get L-Drago back after all…)

(Thank you to Wattpad User *insert name here* for giving me many of the ideas for this fic. It wouldn't have been possible without them. Go check out their Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/ryugasama20/)

Ryuga's POV

“Oh, too bad.” Kenta placed a familiar card on the floor. “Two new cards for you, Ryuga.” He cast a glance at his friend, smirking triumphantly.

Ryuga glared at him. “Why you little…”

Beside him, Madoka and Gingka giggled, hiding their own cards behind their hands. Ryuga let out a sigh, drawing two new cards. That made five total. With his turn skipped over, it was Madoka’s turn.

“Oh, what do you know?” She placed her final card down on top of the pile. “I win again!”

Kenta and Gingka groaned in unison. Madoka just chuckled and stood up, going to grab her laptop from nearby.

“You always win,” Gingka muttered, shuffling his hand of cards.

“Either her or Kenta,” Ryuga added, rolling his eyes.

Kenta chuckled into his hand. “It’s not our fault we’re so good.”

“Play for second place?” Gingka asked, casting a glance at Ryuga and Kenta.

“Sure.” Kenta nodded.

Madoka sat back on the floor with the rest of them, gazing at her laptop. Her attention seemed to be fixed on it all day. Ryuga gazed at everyone's cards. Gingka had about a dozen, Kenta had three cards, and Ryuga himself had five cards. He gazed at his deck, smiling. Gingka and Kenta played two normal cards, keeping the colour green. *Perfect for my plan.* Ryuga placed a reverse card down.

“Your turn again,” he nodded to Kenta.

“Uh… thanks, Ryuga.” Kenta put down a yellow card, the same number as the past card.

“Uno!” Kenta and Gingka shouted in unison.

“Ha! You draw six!” Gingka exclaimed, pointing at Kenta accusingly.

“No!” Kenta snapped back. “We said it at the exact same time! That doesn’t count.”

“I agree,” Madoka replied with a nod. “Carry on as normal.”

“Humph." Gingka placed another card down on the pile.

Ryuga smirked, “Activate trap card.” He placed a ‘plus four’ card down on top of the pile.

Kenta let out a gasp. “How could you use my own catchphrase against me?!” he exclaimed, placing his hand on his forehead.

“It’s not even your catchphrase,” Gingka chuckled as Kenta drew his cards.

“Whose catchphrase is it?” Madoka asked, tilting her head to the side.

Ryuga, Gingka, and Kenta all glanced at her then turned to each other with wide eyes. Gingka smiled and shrugged.

“What colour?” he asked, glancing at Ryuga.

Ryuga glanced at his cards. “Red.”

Kenta let out a groan, sinking to the ground. “Dangit! That’s the one colour I don’t have!”

“I’d say ‘sorry,’ but I’m not,” Ryuga smirked as he spoke. “You had that coming.”

Kenta sat up, glaring at him. “Oh, I am so getting back at you!”

Ryuga just smiled. Uno was like Beyblade in a way: you showed no mercy, even to your friends. The three of them continued the game for a while before Ryuga placed his final card on the pile.

“Dangit,” Kenta grunted, glaring at the ground.

“Well, at least I beat you two,” Ryuga replied with a shrug.

“Yeah, yeah.” Gingka turned to Kenta. “Well, Kenta, looks like it’s just us. Wanna keep going?”

Kenta had a dangerous look on his face. His smirk was wider than a valley and he was struggling to hold back his giggles.

“Kenta, wha-”

Kenta slapped a card onto the pile. “Skip your turn!” He began slamming more cards down on the ground in rapid succession. “Skip again, skip, reverse to me, oh, draw two cards. UNO!” He held up his final card in two fingers. “DRAW! MONSTER CARD!” He slammed the final card onto the pile: a seven.

Gingka was shivering, staring at Kenta with eyes the size of dinner plates.

“Wha- what just happened?” Madoka asked, her wide eyes fixed on the scene.

Ryuga snorted with laughter. “Good job getting destroyed, Gingka.”

“Ah- ah-” Gingka’s eye twitched. He shook his head clear, shivering as he swept the cards into a stack. “I think that’s enough Uno for today,” he replied with a nervous chuckle.

“What's next for game night?” Kenta asked, his gaze shifting between the others.

Gingka looked through his stack of games. “Well, I brought Jenga, Chutes and Ladders, Monopoly…"

“Monopoly?! Kenta gasped, shuddering. “Why would you bring Monopoly?"

“Yeah, that sounds dangerous,” Madoka muttered, her eyes glued to her laptop screen.

Ryuga tilted his head to the side. “What's wrong with Monopoly?"

“That game is the worst," Kenta answered, his eyes narrowed at the game box. “I'm pretty sure people have killed each other over it.”

“Humans kill each other over everything,” Ryuga replied, rolling his eyes.

“Ha! True,” Madoka remarked, still not looking up from her screen.

“Hey, what's got you so interested in your laptop today?” Kenta asked, scooting toward her.

“Oh, uh…” Madoka pulled her laptop into her chest. “I've just been researching something. You guys might be interested, especially you, Ryuga.”

Ryuga bit his lip. *Why am I getting singled out?*

“What is it?” he asked.

“Yeah, show us.” Gingka scooted closer.

Madoka placed the screen on the ground where they could all see it. Kenta and Gingka leaned forward. Ryuga looked over Kenta’s small head to see the screen. On Madoka’s screen, was a symbol in the shape of a dragon’s head, an Asian dragon by the look of it. It looked a bit like L-Drago.

“It’s the symbol of an ancient civilization called the ‘Dragon Clan,’” Madoka explained, gesturing to the image.

“Dragon Clan?” Kenta and Gingka both turned to Ryuga.

“Yeah, that’s why the name caught my eye,” Madoka replied, scrolling down the page.

“Is this ‘Dragon Clan’ where you’re from Ryuga?” Gingka asked, tilting his head to the side.

“Ancient civilization,” Ryuga emphasized Madoka’s words, rolling his eyes. “I’m seventeen, not five thousand.”

Kenta smirked. “Could've fooled me.”

Ryuga lightly pushed Kenta over, who just giggled.

“Actually, Ryuga,” Madoka cut in sternly. “It's possible you could be a descendant of this Dragon Clan.” She pointed at her screen. “It says here that they specialized in dragon-type beys.”

“So?" Ryuga raised an eyebrow.

“Well, there are only a few Dragon beys,” Gingka cut in. He rested his finger on his chin. “L-Drago, Omega Dragonis, and the Jet Black Dragon, which the WBBA made.”

“Omega Dragonis?” Ryuga and Kenta asked in unison.

“Oh, that's Ryuto’s bey,” Gingka answered, “We met him on Mist Mountain.”

“Right! Ryuto! He looked a lot like you, Ryuga. It’s possible you’re both descendants of this ancient clan.” Madoka’s eyes were glowing. “That’s so cool!”

Ryuga shrugged. “It’s possible, I guess.”

“Still not convinced? Their leader was called a Dragon Emperor.”

“WHAT?!” Everyone gasped in unison.

Ryuga stiffened. *You are the Dragon Emperor, Ryuga.* Doji’s words echoed in his mind, making him shiver. *The Dragon Emperor is the only one who can control the forbidden bey, L-Drago.* Ryuga’s heart pounded a million kilometres an hour. He grunted, shaking his head in a vain attempt to escape his memories.

“All this time, I thought he made it up…” Ryuga murmured, struggling to keep his voice from trembling. “That must be why he sought me out. He knew somehow.”

*Doji never would have been able to use me to get to L-Drago if I weren’t the descendant of some ancient clan?! Is that what I’m hearing?!*

“What are you talking about?” Madoka asked, tilting her head to the side.

Gingka looked away, his eyes narrowed. “Doji…”

Ryuga stiffened. “I don't care about my past!” he snapped, glaring at his friends. “Madoka, why did you bring this up?!”

“You mean you don't see the connection?” Madoka asked, seemingly unfazed by his outburst. “Dragon Clan? L-Drago? They could be the original creators of L-Drago. They definitely had it at one point and it’s rumoured here that they may have created a backup of it.”

Ryuga’s eyes widened. “A backup of L-Drago?”

Over the past few months, Ryuga had grown accustomed to his life without L-Drago, and his longing for his bey had finally started to ease. Now, with those words, it came back like a boomerang to the heart. This was hope, genuine hope, that L-Drago could return after all, and Ryuga could return to his old life.

“Then you could get it back!” Kenta gasped, somehow speaking Ryuga’s thoughts aloud.

“It wouldn’t be exactly the same,” Madoka explained, casting a glance at Gingka. “It would probably be like how Gingka got Galaxy Pegasus.”

*So it would be the same in spirit, just built differently?!* Excitement continued to grow in his heart.

“Where can we find this ‘backup for L-Drago’?” Ryuga asked.

“I’m not sure,” Madoka admitted, gazing at her screen. “The Dragon Clan lived in very remote locations, far from civilization. I could do some digging, but it might take a while.”

“Please do!” Gingka cut in, putting an arm around Ryuga. “I want another chance to battle Ryuga!” Ryuga pushed Gingka off.

“Me too!” Kenta added, gazing at Ryuga with a determined smile. “We have a score to settle now!”

Ryuga couldn’t help but smile as well. *I could get back at him for the loss I suffered when I had the Jet Black Dragon!*

“Guys, don’t get your hopes up!” Madoka insisted, “It’s not for sure yet! I don’t know if I can even find any ruins of this city or if this backup for sure exists. It could just be a rumour.”

“Then let me know if you find anything,” Ryuga replied, dipping his head.

“I’ll do my best,” Madoka assured him.

There was a loud ringing sound out of nowhere. Gingka glanced at his phone.

“Oh, uh, my dad wants me home,” he informed, pulling the games he brought into a stack.

“Guess that’s the end of game night then…” Madoka replied, standing up.

“Same time next week?" Kenta gazed at the others with a hopeful smile.

“Yes!" Gingka exclaimed, nodding eagerly.

“Sure,” Madoka replied, dipping her head. The three of them gazed at Ryuga expectantly.

He shrugged. “Okay.”

“Great!” Kenta beamed. “Let’s go home! I bet dinner's ready by now.”

Ryuga dipped his head, following Gingka and Kenta out of the shop. Gingka however split from them quickly. *A new L-Drago?!* Ryuga couldn’t get the idea out of his mind. He thought he had accepted months ago that he couldn’t get L-Drago back. It seemed so final and impossible. Now, however, there was a real chance he could get it back. The void Beyblade had left behind in his life, while of course not fully gone, had begun to shrink. He enjoyed his new life, including his new home and friends. However, one thing constantly plagued his mind: *I've gone soft.* Ryuga didn't need friends or a place to stay in his old life, he was able to survive on his own. Not to mention, he had been the strongest blader.

Ryuga longed to prove that he was still as tough as he once was but he felt he had no way to prove that and his attachment to his friends kept him here indefinitely. Part of him found that humiliating. No one else seemed to care that he had been tamed like an animal in a zoo. *If I get L-Drago back, I can prove I'm not weak.* The idea inevitably got his hopes up. *Don't get your hopes up.* Madoka’s words seemed to taunt him. *Why would you tell me that if you didn’t want me to get my hopes up?!*

Kenta pushed the door to the house open. Ryuga followed him inside. Kenta's parents were both in the kitchen, cooking something Ryuga had never had by the smell of it.

“Hey, kiddos!” Kenta's dad greeted with a wave.

“How was your game night?” Kenta's mom asked.

“It was fun,” Kenta smirked triumphantly. “I beat everyone at Uno.”

“Yeah!” Kenta's dad held a hand up. “That's my boy!”

Kenta jumped up to high five him, the two of them cheering. *I won a few times too,* Ryuga thought, rolling his eyes. He sat on the couch with his phone. *I suppose I could do some research of my own on this 'Dragon Clan.'*

“Alright, food's ready!" Kenta's mother called, before Ryuga could look at much of anything.

*Guess I'll do it later,* he thought, placing his phone aside. On the table Kenta's mother placed yet another weird new food; Ryuga thought he would be used to seeing those by now. This time it was a bunch of misshapen fried… things.

“What are those?” Ryuga asked, sitting in his usual spot beside Kenta.

“It's pakora,” Kenta's mother answered. “An Indian food. Here, try it.” She handed him a piece.

Ryuga took it and ate it in one bite.

“Oh, I love these!” Kenta exclaimed, taking a handful from the tray.

“Well?” Kenta’s mom prompted, gazing hopefully at Ryuga. “Do you like it?”

Ryuga shrugged. “It's okay.” *A little bland.* He kept the second part to himself.

“Here. We made two batches.” Kenta's dad sat down, sliding a second tray onto the table. “These are spicier.”

Ryuga perked up at the word “spicier,” immediately taking one. He licked his lips.

“Thanks,” Ryuga replied, grabbing more.

Kenta's dad chuckled, turning to his wife. “Told you he'd like the spicy ones more,” he remarked, holding a hand up.

Kenta's mom let out a sigh, handing him a piece of yen. He took it with a smirk.

“Guess we should try cooking more Indian food,” Kenta’s dad remarked, pocketing the yen.

“Why is it always spicy food with you?” Kenta asked, raising an eyebrow. Ryuga shrugged, placing about ten pieces of pakora on a plate. Kenta smirked. “Is it because you’re Dragon Clan?”

Ryuga let out a sigh. “Kenta, it’s not funny.”

“Well, if you’re gonna make fun of me for being short, I might as well make fun of you for something too!” Kenta exclaimed, bristling with annoyance.

“What is Dragon Clan?” Kenta’s mom cut in.

Kenta turned to her with a smile. “Oh, it’s this ancient civilization Madoka’s researching. Ryuga’s totally one of their descendants.”

“How do you know?” Kenta’s dad asked, suddenly curious.

“We don’t,” Ryuga argued, turning to Kenta. “It’s just a theory.”

*I’m not telling the history enthusiast that I accidentally appropriated a title from some ancient civilization,* he thought, glaring at Kenta and hoping he would get the message.

“A theory with evidence!” Kenta insisted, his eyes narrowed as well.

“To be honest…" Kenta's dad spoke up, prompting them to turn to him. “I've never heard of this 'Dragon Clan' but I'm sure you could figure out for sure if you're one of their descendants with a DNA test and maybe a background check.”

Ryuga stiffened. “No thanks.”

Kenta's mom rolled her eyes. “Honey, he does not need to do a background check on himself.”

“Hey, you never know,” Kenta's dad replied with a shrug.

Ryuga shifted in place. Kenta's dad was silly sometimes but in this case, he was actually right. Ryuga didn't know a thing about his past and what he did know, he tried his best not to remember.

“Where are you from, Ryuga?” Kenta’s dad asked.

“Japan.”

“Ah- well, yeah bu- o-o-okay.” Kenta’s dad looked down at the table, looking somewhat ashamed.

Kenta’s mother chuckled. “Oh gosh, you broke him, Ryuga,” she remarked, resting a hand on her husband's shoulder.

Kenta giggled into his hand. Ryuga smiled. As everyone finished their dinner, they slowly began to go their separate ways. Kenta and his dad stayed at the table. Ryuga went to get his phone while Kenta’s mother went straight toward the fridge.

She let out a sigh. “Tamaki, Kenta, whichever one of you is stealing my chocolate, will you please come forward already? This is getting ridiculous.”

She held up the nearly empty box of chocolates, in which there were only two left. Ryuga tried not to smile.

“Honey, I'm telling you it's not me,” Kenta’s dad insisted, gently, “You would know.”

“And I swear I didn't either!” Kenta exclaimed, jumping to his feet.

“It has to be one of you…” Kenta's mom cast a glance at Ryuga.

“Don't look at me,” Ryuga replied, unplugging his phone. “I don't eat stuff that sweet.”

*Or at least I wouldn't have in my old life,* he added bitterly to himself.

“Yeah,” Kenta agreed, casting a glance at his dad. “It's probably dad.”

“Or it's no one,” Kenta's dad suggested, tilting his head to the side.

“I swear they're disappearing faster… Ugh, I must be going crazy.” Kenta's mom grabbed one of the two chocolates. “Well, I know for sure there's only one left so if it disappears, then I'll know for a fact someone's stealing them.” Her eyes narrowed at her husband. “I've got my eye on you, love.”

“Don't you always?” Kenta’s dad asked, with a smirk.

“Oh, ha, ha.” Kenta's mom rolled her eyes before the two of them shared a quick kiss.

“Ugh!” Kenta exclaimed.

Ryuga rolled his eyes, making his way toward the basement.

“Ryuga.” He stopped at the sounds of Kenta’s voice. “Wanna finish Yugioh?” he asked.

“Not tonight,” Ryuga replied, “I wanted to do some research.”

“Oh…” Kenta seemed a bit disappointed before smiling again. “Okay.”

“Research…” Kenta’s dad nodded, muttering to himself. “Yes, that sounds good…”

Everyone turned to him.

“What? I want to know about that ‘Dragon Clan’ Ryuga mentioned. So much new history to learn…” Kenta’s dad’s eyes were glowing.

Ryuga rolled his eyes. He made his way downstairs to his room, otherwise known as the basement. It still had plenty of space to walk around but along with a bed, there was also a bean bag and a dresser with a mirror on it. Ryuga sat on the bean bag with his phone. *Finally, I can research this…*

'The Dragon Clan, formerly known as the Highlanders, lived in the wild untamed regions of Japan. They specialized in Dragon-type beys, including the forbidden bey, L-Drago. It is rumoured they created this infamous bey, along with a backup, though this has yet to be confirmed. Their group slowly decreased over time, scattering to the far reaches of the globe far from civilization. A few of their descendants may still be around, using the dragon type beys of their ancestors.'

Ryuga rolled his eyes. *Great, a bunch of stuff I already knew. Real helpful.* He went through several different websites, not finding where specifically the Dragon Clan lived or anything about the backup of L-Drago. *Perhaps it is just a rumour…* Ryuga shook his head. *I have to keep trying. If there’s any way I can bring back L-Drago, any at all…* Ryuga let out a sigh. *Oh, who am I kidding? This is ridiculous. I thought I accepted months ago that I'm always just going to be a shadow of my former self!*

Ryuga glanced at the time on his phone. 7:43 pm. *This is going nowhere…* He stared at the twelve tabs of nothing he had open for a few moments. *Yeah, forget this. I’m getting that chocolate.*

Placing his phone aside, Ryuga made his way upstairs, making sure to keep his steps light. He slowly pushed the door open. All the lights in the main room were off, drowning the room in a still darkness. Ryuga stepped lightly into the kitchen. Making sure nothing moved in the dark, he grabbed the last chocolate out of the fridge.

“Aha!”

A light shone in Ryuga's face. He staggered back, dropping the chocolate as he shielded his eyes.

“Wait, Ryuga?!” It was Kenta's mother. She lowered the flashlight, flicking the light switch on. “You're the one who's been eating my chocolate?!”

Ryuga froze, just now registering the situation.

“No…” He picked the chocolate up off the floor.

“Woooow.” Kenta's mother covered her mouth as she chuckled. “You could've just asked instead of lying, you know.”

Ryuga looked away, his shame practically spearing him open. *This is almost as bad as that chopsticks fiasco!*

“Can I still have it then?” he muttered.

“Sure, sweetie. Guess I'll have to buy some for you too, then.”

“Mhm… thanks…” Ryuga started to walk away, eating the chocolate.

“Hey.” Ryuga froze, glancing back at Kenta’s mom as she spoke. “Next time just tell the truth. You should know better than to lie.” Her tone was stern, but still, she didn’t raise her voice.

Ryuga dipped his head. “Okay.” He turned and walked away.

#beyblade #beyblade metal saga #beyblade metal fight #fanfictions #ryuga #ryuga kishatu #kenta yumiya #madoka amano #gingka hagane #I wish there were tags for Kenta's parents #also yes Kenta's dad is named after the Tamaki from OHSHC #I'm trying to set the parents apart more in this story #so giving them names seemed like the first step in that #Kenta's mom's name is not Haruhi before you ask #but she is also named after someone

9 notes · View notes

milkybunbuns · 4 years ago

Text

i. new beginnings → perfection masterlist → next

w/c: 3.3k

warnings: bnha spoilers ahead (season 1 episode 5 mainly)

a/n: this series will follow closely with the anime although I might be missing parts of it since it’s been a while since I watched BNHA. also i went overboard with this aishhh, though I don’t think future chapters will be so long oh and I couldn’t be original so I stole the quirk idea from one of my old fics on wattpad and added more abilities to it haha

“Aww comee onn you really can’t be sending me to UA, you know how much I like being at home with you!”, you whined at Keigo, grabbing tightly onto his arm and digging the soles of your feet into the carpet of the living room.

The said man sighed, facepalming, “Look nuggie, I would never do anything to make you uncomfortable but you’re gonna have to interact with people if you’re going to become a popular pro hero in the future like me!!”

“But can’t you just keep home schooling and training me?”

“I would, but I have hero work to do as well at the agency and I wouldn’t have enough time to help you out”, you pouted and kept your ground in the living room. It had already been a fussy morning with Keigo chasing you everywhere to get you to put on your uniform. With a final rub of his temples he spoke up again, “I’ll let you buy anything at the grocery store tonight?”

You looked up at him and stuck a pinky out, “Pinky promise?”

“Yup!!” and before you could even respond he scooped you up, already flying out of the building and flying towards what you assumed was the direction of UA.

“Please warn me next time!”, you yelled over the wind as you held on tightly, you would use your quirk but you still didn’t have a licence and you were still learning how to fly through narrow spaces. Crashing into a building didn’t sound very appetising at the moment. It wasn’t too long before you spotted the easily recognisable glass building of UA, Keigo slowing down for a landing and allowing you to get off.

“Alright I’ll see you later nuggie!”, he waved cheerily, already getting ready to take off.

You just nervously responded with an “uh-huh”, while examining the surroundings, students bustling everywhere. Alright 1-A it was, I should probably ask someone, maybe someone who looks nice. Hmm, how about that purple-haired boy, yeah, he looks like a senior and doesn’t look too bad. You briskly walked up to the purple haired male with elf ears, “Err, hii-”

He looked up at you with shock and you could see bullets of sweat dripping off his forehead, “u-uh h-h-hi”, he meekly responded, looking like he was going to die any second.

Just as you were about to ask for directions to 1-A, too cherry voices called out to the boy in front of you, “Woah, you’re socialising Tamaki! Great job!”, a blonde boy with blue eyes strolled up to his friend, grinning brightly and giving him two thumbs up.”

“Hey Mirio! Wait up!!”, you turned around, immediately spotting a light blue haired girl rushing towards her friends waving happily. She must’ve noticed you standing there awkwardly and quickly came to your rescue, “Hi!! I’m Nejire and that’s Tamaki and Mirio! You must be a first year here!”, she smiled at you gently, pointing to the respective people as she introduced you to them.

“Nice to meet you Nejire-senpai, I’m L/n Y/n. Also do you know where 1-A is, I’m kinda lost”, you had enrolled as L/n Y/n instead of Takami Y/n as to not reveal the last name of Hawks since it was meant to be kept secret for some reason he didn’t tell you about.

“Speak no more, we’ll guide you there since we’re the big 3 after all!”

“Huh, what’s the big 3?”

“Oh, it’s basically 3 students in their third years who are talented and I guess you could say that’s us. Come on Mirio and Tamaki, let’s help bring this student to her class.”

Mirio took your right side, while Nejire led on in front, pointing out different buildings and Tamaki in the back.

“I’m Mirio! Great to meet you!”, he reached a hand to shake with you which you quickly did, “Same here Mirio-senpai, I’m L/n Y/n.”

“You’ll be seeing us around the school plenty, so if you ever have any questions, feel free to ask us or any of the teaching staff, they’re always happy to help! Well, I guess I can’t really say the same about Mr. Aizawa..”

“Oh, isn’t Mr. Aizawa, Eraserhead?”

“Yeah, he is and as a matter of fact, I’m pretty sure he’s going to be your teacher this year.”

“That’s uhh wonderful, he sounds like a great guy!”, you replied awkwardly trying to sound cheery.

“Don’t worry too much, you’ll do fine”, he patted you on the back reassuringly and at the same moment, Nejire announced that you had arrived at 1A.

“Thank you Nejire, Mirio and Tamaki-senpai”, you bowed to them, before they sought you off, heading for their own classes. Pushing the door open, the room was already bustling with students and you scanned your eyes over the room finding a seat between a spiky red hair boy and a green haired girl who looked a bit like a frog. Honestly, the random desk at the back seemed wonderful at first, but you remembered how Keigo had encouraged you to sit around more social people and they seemed social enough. It was probably the least you could do after he went through all the convincing with Nezu and some other things to get you to UA without having to take any tests.

You were really relieved when neither of them didn’t bother to talk to you, or notice you maybe, and continued on chatting to their friends. It seemed like you were just on time, the bell ringing and yet not any sight of any teacher. Frowning slightly, you were about to get up and go to the staff room which Nejire had pointed out earlier to search for Aizawa-sensei.

Luckily, he arrived in some sort of yellow sleeping bag which slightly resembled a cocoon, announcing in a sorta lazy and flat tone, “Go somewhere else if you want to play at being friends. This is the hero course.”

The room quickly quieted down and became silent as everyone averted their attention to Aizawa, “It took 8 seconds before you quieted down. You kids aren’t rational enough. I’m your homeroom teacher Shota Aizawa. Nice to meet you. This is sudden, but put this on”, he presented a UA PE uniform out of thin air, or maybe he had it hidden inside his sleeping bag that whole time? “And meet me at the field after.”

Without any hesitation, everyone got up and grabbed their PE uniform from the desk which had their names on the packaging, likely to have been pre-ordered and filed out of the classroom towards the lockers. You grabbed yours, grimacing as a blond spiky haired boy shoved past you, resisting the temptation to yell at him and give him a piece of your mind. Like what, how can someone be so rude!

Upon arrival at the locker rooms, you didn’t really try to socialise with anyone, nor did they, I mean, your locker was in the back corner so they probably wouldn’t notice you anyways which was fine to you. To draw the least attention towards yourself, you waited until all the other girls had headed out happily chatting among themselves, then followed closely behind them and out onto the field where pretty much everyone was already assembled.

“We’ll be having a quirk assessment test”, well there came the flat recognisable tone of Aizawa, he would definitely be an interesting teacher, that’s all you could say for him. Everyone either goraned or shrieked in horrification at this announcement, quirk assessment on the first day? Well damn, okay, thought first day would be a bit more chill. Kinda ironic for someone who seems like he can’t be bothered to do much himself.

“But what about the entrance ceremony or orientation?”, some girl piped up, yup definitely a bubbly one, she should be pretty easy to make friends with.

Okay at this point Aizawa was just getting a bit too blunt, “If you’re going to become a hero you don’t have time for such leisurely events. UA’s selling points is that it’s ways aren’t traditional, which is the same as how the teachers teach.” You watched him carefully as he skimmed over the class, landing on the rude blond spiky kid from earlier, “Bakugo, you finished top of the practical test, didn’t you? What was your furthest throw in middle school?” So Bakugo is his name, I’ll just stay away from him.

The said boy looked up cockily, a shit eating grin on his face, “67 meters.”

“Okay, then try throw this ball, but you can use your quirk.”

“Sure”, he grabbed the ball, leaning back on one foot in the circle and yelling “DIE!” as the ball flew off. It wasn’t took long before a beep came from a device that Aizawa was holding, showing 705.2 meters.

“Know your maximum first, that’s the most rational way to forming the foundations of a hero”, he seriously seemed to have something with things being done rationally...

A chorus of woah’s were heard throughout the class, well that sure did blow up that Bakugo’s ego. His ego must’ve been too big for his own good.

“This is going to be fun!”, an alien looking girl exclaimed punching her fist in the air.

Followed by a black haired boy excitedly looking on, “So we get to use our quirks as much as we want!”

And yet again, the mood came crashing down as Aizawa spoke up again, “It looks fun, huh? You have three years to become a hero, you think it’ll be all fun and games? Sure, then whoever comes last in the 8 tests will be expelled. Welcome to UA’s hero course!”, earning another screech form the class including yourself. Alright Y/n, you are NOT wasting this change Keigo gave you and you better do well in this!

“Let’s begin shall we? Starting with the 50m dash.”

The first two up were blue haired boy and the frog looking girl who sat next to you in class and before you could even blink, the blue haired boy was already off, speeding past the finish line. His quirk must’ve something to do with speed, so don’t panic Y/n, there’s only so much you can do with speed, you encouraged yourself determinedly looking on. And maybe you were a bit tooo busy encouraging yourself when you noticed the same bubbly brown haired girl patted you on the back.

“Hey, it’s your turn. Also, I’m Ochaco Uraraka, nice to meet you!”

“Thanks Ochaco-san, I’m L/n Y/n. We can continue to chat after these tests, sorry”, you apologetically looked at her before rushing towards the starting line. Beside you, was a white and red haired male with a red scar over his left eye. Okay that’s edgy, time to focus! You activated your quirk allowing wings to grow on your back through the use of light energy which was absorbed through two horns on your head.

Ready

Set

Go!

You flapped your wings as fast as you could making it in 4 seconds which wasn’t too much faster than the guy behind you gliding along with ice. Your brain quickly put together what his quirk was, white represents ice and red must represent fire. Wonder why he didn’t use his fire like the explosions of that Bakugo boy, it would’ve been much faster than skating.

Then came the grip test which you absolutely flunked, only coming in at 43kg which was pretty much the lowest in the class. Well what can some damn light energy do to help increase your grip? All it’ll do is burn your hands off.

After came the standing long jump with you passed with breeze, just flying to clear the sandbox and with the repeated side steps you simply used pure speed to get through it. And at last, came the ball throw the one which you were most excited for since you had a great plan to get a good score. When it came up to your turn you grabbed the ball tightly throwing it up in the air gently right above you, then activating your quirk and encasing it in a bright bubble made of light energy, then sent it off, controlling the bubble to keep going forwards without leaving the circle at all. You concentrated hard, thinking about the ball in your mind and it got more difficult to control until you couldn’t visualise it’s location anymore and let it drop. A beep was heard as Aizawa presented you with his device, showing 1638 meters.

Satisfied with your work, you smiled a bit and got back to your place.

“Midoriya, your turn”, the green haired boy nervously walked forwards, grabbing onto the ball and throwing it. You almost scoffed, if you didn’t feel the teeniest bad for the poor boy who had seemed so confused. Something was surely off about him, how did someone who can barely even use or control their quirk get into UA... He was given another chance, getting almost the same as Bakugo, except his hand turned a weird purple colour. That must be one powerful quirk for one weak body, you grimaced at his injury.

“Ow, that’s gotta hurt, Aizawa-sensei sure is harsh”, Ochaco frowned at the scene in front.

“I mean yeah he is, but not gonna lie, if I was in Aizawa’s spot I’d seriously be wondering how he got in, though he does have some potential with a quirk as powerful as his.”

“I’m sure he’ll get better, hopefully he’s not last, I’m really hoping that Mineta kid gets expelled, I already don’t really like him just by the looks of him.”

“Either it’s a crush or just you dislike Mineta, but then again, you shouldn’t be judging a book by its cover.”

“Eh what make sure you think that!”, she panicked cheeks flushed, “Its just that Mineta guy really seems like a perv.”

“Well, in that case, I guess it’s kinda his own fault, first impressions are key.”

“That’s true I guess.”

The two of you were snapped out of your conversation when Aizawa’s voice rang through the field, pulling up a projection, or was it a hologram? Anyways, you quickly skimmed through the board, searching for your name and you were glad to see you had landed a decent spot, coming in 3rd, just behind the Todoroki kid. And in last came Midoriya, ow, that’s seriously gotta be a huge blow to his self esteem.

“No ones actually gonna get expelled, it was just a rational deception to get you all to go beyond.”

“It was clear it was a rational deception”, Momo who you had seen on the top of the board piped up unhelpfully.

“Ughhh well that’s just greaaat”, you groaned into your hands “and now we appear to have a smartie genius know it all in our class as well”, you muttered annoyed as Ochaco sweat dropped patting your back slowly.

“L/n, you should not be so disrespectful to your classmates!”, Iida reprimanded, chopping his arms up and down.

“Okay thank you thank you.”

Finally school had been dismissed and you stood outside the gates of UA, impatiently tapping your feet as you waited for Keigo to come pick you up as other students made their own way home. It had been 10 minutes already and the bird brain still hadn’t picked you up! Welll, he didn’t really ever specify that he would come pick you up, you just kinda assumed? Frowning, you activated your quirk, not give one hec about the no quirk in public rule since walking home would take forever and you didn’t have that kind of time smh. Flapping your wings and stretching your arms, you prepared to take off and far into the sky where the police wouldn’t be able to see you flying around.

“What are you doing using your quirk in public without a licence?”, a loud voice boomed, stopping you in your tracks.

“Oh hi Endeavour-san!”, you smiled a bit, continuing to ignore his words and continue what you were going to do. You were really great at being annoying and ignoring people, just a trait you picked up from Hawks I guess.

Endeavour deadpanned, “You’re not allowed to be using your quirk and I know you don’t have a licence, so you need to go and take public transport or walk like everyone else.” He was completely ignored as you started floating a bit, “Well, I’ll be off then! Have a wonderful evening Endeavour-san and Todoroki-san.”

You flew off, but before you could get anywhere, Endeavour was already pulling you down by your foot, I mean, considering how strong he is, it succeeded. “Okay then Mr.Smartie, how am I meant to get home now without my quirk huh? I have no clue how public transport works”, you sneered at him, huffing and crossing your arms unimpressed.

“Go walk home.”

“But it takes a long time.”

“Then go figure out the public transport time schedules.”

At this point, you were sick and tired of him and Todoroki looked pretty annoyed as well, so you decided to do everyone a favour. You grabbed Todoroki by the wrist running off and dragging him while waving back at Endeavour, “I promise I’ll return him in one piece! You don’t need to worry!!”

Endeavour was about to chase after you, but you were already gone and out of sight, whatever, he had to return to his patrol anyways. It could also be good training for Shoto to deal with the annoying villains, not saying you were a villain, but you sure did fit that annoying standard.

“Your welcome”, you yawned lazily, staring up at the sky while walking. Todoroki was still confused but if being with you let him get away from being with his father he was more than glad too. Plus, he could use this chance to find any weaknesses about you, you seemed quite strong and could be someone to look out for in the UA sports festival.

“How did you talk to my father like that? Most people would’ve never had the guts to do it.”

“Wellll, for one, I’m not most people and I know him pretty well, I’ve talked to him a lot of times on his patrols. There’s almost nothing scary about him, he’s just a big fire guy walking around with an angry voice, but it’s not like he can harm any of us, he’s a hero.”

Todoroki felt his blood boil at what you had said, Endeavour was no hero, driving his mother to the end of her wits, training him harshly from a young age, some hero. But the rational part of his brain won over the emotional part, explaining that you were an outsider and had no clue as to their personal lives. Todoroki was intrigued with your quirk, he wanted to learn more about what it could do, all he knew so far was that you had the ability to create wings, bubbles made of light energy and not very much else. Considering you were the sister of Hawks (Endeavour had told him, I guess that’s something that Endeavour is useful for), he honestly expected more, but you could be holding back. He considered asking you more about your quirk but that would probably make you put walls up around yourself and see him as a threat. It was probably just best to wait and see your full potential.

You noticed it had become silent and nobody had anything to say, enveloping both of you in an awkward silence. Well, you were pretty sure you were the only one feeling awkward. You made up some lame excuse and sent Todoorki off on his way, glad to be out off the awkward silence. UA wasn’t that bad, you supposed.

#mha #bnha #boku no academia #my hero academia #todoroki x y/n #todoroki x you #todoroki x reader #mha todoroki #bnha shoto todoroki #shoto #shoto todoroki #todoroki #todoroki shoto #wing hero hawks #hawks #mha hawks #keigo takami

21 notes · View notes

chuckbass-love · 4 years ago

Note

Could you do a fic where Steve or Chris falls in love with an exotic dancer? ❤️

Hi, i hope i’ve done a good job with this. I’ve done it as Steve and i hope you love it

Dirty Dancer

GIF NOT MINE!!! Credit to whoever made this gif, if anyone knows who made it pls let me know so I can give credit. I genuinely just search gifs up on google and I never manage to find out where the original gif is from bc of so many people re posting gifs. I never wanna give credit to the wrong person! So if this gif is yours or if it’s someone you know then let me know and I’ll credit them. Thank you💗

Disclaimer: My work is not to be posted anywhere else other than MY Tumblr, Wattpad and Ao3 without my permission. However, reblogs are welcome.

Warning: Fluff, light smut, explicit language (sorta)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Dancer!Reader

Summary: It’s Steve’s first time at the strip club and your first week as a stripper...

You never thought it would come to this, stripping for money and yet here you are, your first week in your new job. It paid well and you need the money for school. You’ve always had a talent for dancing so why not put it to good use.

You were already racking up some regulars that were quickly becoming obsessed with you and the way your body moved up and down the pole, you were informed by the other girls that having regulars come to you within just one week of being here was rare. You must really be good.

It was the last night of your first week here and although at first you felt a sense of shame for doing this, it soon faded when you got the hang of things. Plus the money was insane.

As soon as you get to the dressing room to change into your clothes your boss approaches you. Telling you that you’re working the private dance rooms tonight, which means you’ll have to do the rounds on the floor to see if anyone wants one. You didn’t hate this but you didn’t love it either. Money is money.

“Someone’s looking sexy” a familiar voice calls out to you as you check yourself out in the mirror, you turn around to see your colleague Jessica in the doorway.

“Well i mean, this is average but you... Dam” she giggles as she walks over to you to help you put your heels on.

Once you’re ready you head out onto the club floor, it’s packed in here. Time to work your magic.

As you strut around, flashing a couple of winks to some of the randy men, you spot a group entering the club. 3 guys. All 3 of them are fine as hell but there’s a rule here. You have to let them get a drink and sit down first before you approach them, if they come to you first then it’s fine.

“Sam, i don’t even know why you brought me here” the tall blonde one chuckles as he looks around the room whilst leaning on the bar, his eyes flicker over to you, meeting your gaze. You look away instantly and strut off.

Steve had never been to a strip club before neither had Bucky and Sam was determined to teach the two of them a thing or two. They get their drinks and find a seat. Right by the stage. You spot them all joking around but your attention is mainly on the tall blonde, he’s your type. You don’t stand a chance though after all, you’re just a dancer and he’s a regular guy.

“Excuse me” a voice calls out, breaking you from your daydream to see if it was calling to you, he was. You approach the group of guys with a friendly smile.

“Do you do private dances?” you nod in response to his question and he nudges the blonde.

“Sorry, i don’t mean to be rude, i’m Sam, this is Bucky and Steve. Steve here would love a private dance” his name is even cuter. Steve.

You grin as you hold your hand out for him to take it, Sam pushes him up and out of his seat, handing him some money. His hand grips onto yours and you lead him to the back room, locking the door to signal it being engaged.

He takes his jacket off, taking a seat down onto the chair in a huff. You can’t help but notice that he seems off.

“Is everything okay?” you ask nervously “I’m fine, honestly i am” you shrug it off as you remove your cover up, your low cleavage purple dress catches his eye.

You strut over to him, the music playing quietly in the background. Your back faces him as your hips start to grind in a circle, your ass brushing over his crotch, you feel him start to get hard.

He rests his hands on your waist, stopping you mid dance.

“Okay what’s up?” you stand up, sighing. “Nothing it’s just, do you mind if i ask you something?” you sit down next to him, motioning for him to go ahead.

“Why do you do this and doesn’t your boyfriend hate it?” you look down at your hands before bringing them back up to his blue eyes.

“I don’t have a boyfriend and i dunno, i love to dance and i need the money for school” you shrug and he rests a hand over yours.

“Shall i continue now or not?” you really liked him, he was attractive and very obviously not the douche bag type. You respected that about him. He nods and you go back to your previous position before turning around to straddle his lap.

You take his hands and rest them onto your ass whilst you continue to grind your crotch on his, teasing him further.

Minutes later, the time is up. He grabs his jacket from the table and you place your cover up over your shoulders. You both exit and he returns to his table with his boys. They lean in closer to ask him if it was good and he grins at them.

The rest of the night consists of private dances to all the major dick heads in the club, some try to get a little too handsy, leading you to snap at them. You have to make sure they know their place.

It’s now 2am and your shift is over, you head back to the locker room, changing out of your stripping attire and back into your high waisted denim shorts and jumper.

You slip on your converse and collect your money on your way out. As you walk out onto the streets, the cold hair hits you like wave. It feels good, you flick your hair out of your face and start to walk to find a cab.

“Hello again” you jump out your skin, turning around to see him. Steve. He’s leant against the wall outside the club, his mates are nowhere to be seen.

“Hi, your mates left you?” he looks around as he walks closer. “Sure does seem that way, they left with some girls” you continue to walk and talk with him.

“So is this what you normally look like when you’re not stripping” you can hear his nerves in his voice.

“Pretty much, not exactly sexy bu-”

“Oh i beg to differ” you freeze in your spot

“If you’re looking for a hookup, i don’t do that okay? i just want to go home” you don’t mean for it to come out as snappy as it does but you can see he’s not at all fazed by your random outburst.

“I’m not after a hookup, just company i guess. I don’t really wanna be alone again tonight and besides i like you” he what?

You can’t believe your ears, he likes you. But why? You’re a stripper, you just snapped at him and you’re probably not even his type.

“Yeah right. You don’t even know me” you laugh, continuing to walk with him

“No seriously, like i know we only met tonight but i think you’re great” you both come to a halt as you stand near a cab.

“Look, come back to my place? no funny business or whatever you want. I just want to get to know you better” it’s too tempting to pass up. You reluctantly agree, getting into the cab with him.

You soon arrive at his place, it’s a nice but small apartment and it suits him, very chilled decor. A double bed in the room with Egyptian cotton sheets. You sit down on the edge of the bed, removing your shoes.

“So, how did-” you cut him off

“No no, if you want to get to know me more, at least let me ask stuff too” he holds his hands up in surrender, signalling for you to go ahead.

“So, Steve. What do you do?” he tenses up a little at the question

“I can’t really answer that” but why not? “Okay then, what’s your last name?” he smirks “Rogers”

“Steve Rogers, i recognise that name. Wait, aren’t you Captain America?” everyone went on a hype a year ago, The Avengers was all anyone spoke about.

“Indeed” he joins you on the edge of the bed

“So i gave Captain America a lap dance earlier. Wow. Guess i can tick that off the old bucket list” you both break into laughter at your joke.

“How old are you?”

“I’m 21″ he seems shocked.

“I’d have guessed 25 but not because you look old. You don’t look ol-”

You can’t hold it any longer, he looks so good. You press your lips to his in a sudden kiss.

Once you pull away he sits there in a state of shock.

“You really don’t know a thing about women do you Rogers?” your little giggle comes out and he shakes his head in admission to your question. He seems so innocent. It’s obvious that he’s a virgin.

His body language screams it.

“I’m exhausted” you stand up from the bed “maybe i should go home, i know-”

“Stay, there’s enough room for the two of us in my bed and it’s a little late to be travelling home alone” he wasn’t wrong. He stands up too, taking a white shirt from his drawer, throwing it over to you.

“Wear this” you smile, walking into the bathroom to change and get ready for bed. You walk out to find him, in nothing but his boxers. He’s ripped, his body looks like it was sculpted by gods. You quickly look away and shuffle past him nervously, making your way to the bed.

He finishes up in the bathroom then steps out of his room to lock up.

You both get into bed and adjust the pillows to how you like them.

You lay there, facing each other talking for a while until you feel yourself getting sleepier.

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

The sunlight flashes through the blinds, instantly waking you up. You rub your eyes as you look at Steve next to you. He looks so peaceful. You quietly get out of bed and head into the living room to find your bag, you check your phone to see it’s 7:00am. You should probably go, you collect your things and shove your shorts on with his shirt too. It’s too comfortable to take off and you figure he won’t miss it.

You unlock the door and make your way out, hailing a cab to get you back home.

Steve reaches his hand to the other side of the bed, only to discover that you’re not there. He sits up, looking around the room.

He searches around the small apartment, you’re nowhere to be seen.

Great, you walked out.

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

You arrive at work again, it’s your third week here now. You were really getting good with your moves and the money is flooding in.

It’s only a short one tonight, a dance on the stage and a couple of private dances. As you take your money from your stage slot and walk into the locker room, Jessica is waiting for you. You shove the money into your bag.

“There’s some dude out there asking for you” you turn to face her “wait what?”

“Yeah, tall blonde, very hot” It’s him again.

He’s made a couple of visits to the club since you walked out on him that morning, before he woke up.

Each time he comes in, he asks for you. You’ve gotten to know him a bit and you’re starting to like him but the thought of him settling for you when he could have a woman who was more together was horrible. You didn’t feel good enough for his attention.

“You again” you call out and his face lights up.

“Me again. Look can we talk?” you roll your eyes and lead him to the private dance room.

“You can’t keep coming here just to talk Steve. I gave you my number for that” he pulls you close to him, taking you by surprise.

“Let me take you out on a date” your eyes widen at his offer.

“Please” you wrap your arms around his neck loosely and his hands fall to your waist.

“Fine, you can take me out” he smiles down at you and you walk away from him.

“How about tomorrow?” you agree, winking at him before exiting.

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

It was time for your date with Steve, you decide on wearing a little black dress with some matching black heels. You strut up to him as he’s leaning on his motorcycle, greeting him with a hug, he presses a kiss to your cheek as he hands you the spare helmet. You get onto the bike, making sure to grip onto him real tight during the ride to the location.

The bike comes to a halt and he parks up at the side of the road. You look around, taking your helmet off to discover that you’re outside of a restaurant. Italian to be exact. He rests his hand on the small of your back and you both walk in. He’s wearing black pants, a white shirt and a jacket, smart-casual dress sense. Not too formal.

Once the waiter seats the two of you, you speak up.

“How come you wanted to take me out?” you rest your head in your hands, giving full eye contact.

“You’re attractive and funny and like i’ve stated plenty of times i just want to know more” he sure knows the lines.

“I like you but why do i get the impression that you struggle to believe that? That someone could actually want you”

“Because i’m not the girl worthy of being treated like this”

“Why not? Because you work at that club? You said yourself, it’s for school”

“You deserve a lot better than a girl like me okay” he shakes his head as your drinks arrive. You take one sip and look around. This place is fancy. Too fancy for you. You stand up from the table.

“I gotta go, this was a mistake” you storm out, he follows closely behind.

“Y/N WAIT” he runs over to you, you stay still as he stands in your way.

“Steve, i think you have the wrong girl here. I’m not your ty-” he crashes his lips to yours.

His tongue swipes across your bottom lip and you moan slightly making way for his tongue to enter your mouth.

“Stop with the ‘i’m not good enough’ routine. I’m a grown ass man and i can decide who i want to date”

You feel the tears brimming. You’ve never really felt worthy of love and now a guy who is quite literally perfect is telling you he wants to date you.

“I see this going somewhere but it can only go somewhere if you let it. If you truly don’t want to then i’ll leave you alone, i’ll stop bugging you but if you want to give it a shot then i’ll be thrilled”

You look up at him, his blue eyes meeting yours, making you melt. He’s so attractive and sweet.

A silence falls upon the two of you whilst he awaits your decision.

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

That was a couple months back. You still work at the club to help with school fees and supplies but you don’t work as often.

“Steve stop” you squeal as your boyfriend tickles you, leaving you with no option but to squeal and writhe around.

“Okay okay” he holds his hands up in surrender.

“How about this instead. Do you like this more huh?” he leans down, taking your sweet spot into his mouth, sucking and biting at it.

You let out a breathy moan, letting his hands roam your body.

“Those men might get a small part of you, but i get all of you” he peppers kisses down to your sex until his face is inches away from your clit. His mouth attacks you, sucking and licking your folds.

“As sweet as ever”

“Please Steve, just fuck me already” you whine and he chuckles, it vibrates on your clit.

“Of course my lady” he rests his tip at your entrance, soaking it in your arousal before pushing in slowly.

“Fuck, just like that” he flips you over so you’re straddling him.

“Ride me” he instructs, you do as you’re told.

The slow movements on his length have him turning into a moaning shambles. You know he won’t last long with you doing him like this. But you don’t care.

“Make yourself cum baby” you pick up the speed, bouncing up and down rapidly, chasing your high and pushing for him to reach his.

You’ve been teasing each other all day. You’d bend over on purpose in front of him, extracting a grunt from his mouth in the process. He’d adjust his size in his jeans in front of you, making sure you saw it every time.

“Cum on my dick baby girl, come on” his words send you over into your high. Your pussy pulsates at the feeling whilst you milk him for everything.

You feel him spill into you, filling you up just the way you like.

“I’ll never grow tired of that” his chest heaves

“Me neither”

“I love you Y/N” you stare down at him, happy tears brim in your eyes at his words.

“What?” you know what he said but you just want to hear it again.

“I’ll admit, you had me wrapped around your finger the second we locked eyes for the first time. It’s clear you’d spent so many years doubting yourself and not believing anyone when they slipped you even the smallest of compliments but i meant every one i gave you and i mean it now when i say i love you”

“Steve, i love you too”

#steverogers #steve rogers #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers smut #chris evans #chris evans smut #chris evans fluff #captainamerica #captain america #captain america civil war #captain america first avenger #captain america winter soldier #steve rogers x reader #request #smut #fluff

123 notes · View notes

anonbebe97me · 4 years ago

Text

𝕄𝕒𝕜𝕖 𝕚𝕥 𝕎𝕠𝕣𝕜 (Ch.9: Hawaii.)

A/N: This was a fic I’d originally posted on Wattpad last year. Hope you guys enjoy!

Description: Working for Mr.Yoo Kihyun was an absolute nightmare; Y/N hated everything about him, and was convinced he was either part demon or at least some sort of reptilian hybrid- never in a million years would she have expected to learn that he was, indeed only human, and even worse; that he might even be…likeable?

Link To: || 1 || 2 || 3 || 4 || 5 || 6 || 7 || 8

My eyes opened slowly as I stretched my arms and legs out, feeling the coolness of my comforter against my face. I took a moment to adjust my vision, but then I caught sight of my suitcase next to my feet at the other end of the bed.

"I OVERSLEPT!" I shot out of bed and ran to the bathroom, shoving my toothbrush into my mouth.

I brushed my teeth as I walked around my apartment, grabbing the outfit that I was smart to lay out the night before. I checked the time.

45 minutes.

I grabbed my suitcase, backpack, my phone, and my keys and then headed out the door. In the Uber on my way to the airport, my phone vibrated in my hand.

Kihyun: Where are you? We were supposed to meet half an hour ago to check in.

I bit my lip and tried to sound casual.

Me: I'm on my way already, just overslept. Be there in a bit!

I put my phone in the zipper of my backpack and decided to not worry myself with Kihyun, knowing that he'd just make me more nervous about getting there on time.

10 minutes left.

"Uhm...sir? Is there any way we could speed this up? I'm gonna be late for my flight," I leaned forward, trying to sound extra polite.

"Sorry, miss. We would be there in two minutes if it weren't for this crazy traffic."

I felt the panic rise in my chest, but I tried not to freak out, "I understand... thank you..."

Finally, traffic let up a little and we were moving faster. When my driver pulled up to the airport entrance, I swung the car door open and yanked my suitcase out of the backseat.

"Thank you!" I yelled before slamming the door and running inside.

I ran over to the area where people were waiting in lines to check their bags into the plane, and all the way at the end, I spotted Kihyun, who was checking his phone and looking around, tapping his foot. I took advantage of the fact that I was wearing my sneakers and I ran all the way to where he was. When he saw me, he rolled his eyes.

"You're late."

Out of breath, I put up my index finger.

"But..." Breath, "I made it," Breath.

He sighed, "Come on," He grabbed the handle of his suitcase, and just as I was about to grab mine, he reached out his hand, "I got it."

"No, it's okay. I can-"

"I said I got it," He was aggressive as he snatched the handle out of my hand, but I didn't recoil the way I usually would.

Is he actually doing something nice?

We approached the counter and checked our luggage in, and were handed our boarding passes. We were able to relax a little more as we walked over to the metal detectors.

"You sure you didn't wanna just check that in?" Kihyun asked, pointing to my backpack.

"Actually, my wallet and the documents are in here. I don't want to risk losing it. Precious cargo, right?" I held onto the strap.

He nodded, "I guess that's smart."

We placed our shoes and belts into the plastic tubs for them to go through the metal detectors, and then we went through the machines ourselves.

Finally, we got to a table where they would do a search of the carry-ons. A TSA grabbed my backpack from the bin and placed it in front of herself, carefully unzipping it with gloved hands. She saw my wallet, the documents, and my small makeup bag. She was about to pass it back to me, but then pulled her arm back,

"Whoops, forgot to check the pockets-" She stuck her hand into the side pocket of my backpack, and immediately, my heart started pounding in my chest as I remembered what it contained.

My teeny, tiny, pink bikini.

My face was red and hot as she pulled out the skimpy bathing suit. I glanced at Kihyun, who was almost as red as I was, with his mouth hung slightly.

"All done," The TSA shoved the little pink shoe string back into the backpack, a slight blush on her face.

I wanted to die right then and there.

WHY DID I LET THEM TALK ME INTO PACKING THAT STUPID THING!?

"Thanks..." I muttered, slightly sarcastically as I grabbed the backpack and walked past Kihyun.

We walked in silence and I avoided eye contact at all costs. He cleared his throat to say something, but I put up my hand to stop him, "I wasn't planning on wearing it. I know we're gonna be too busy to even swim, and I really don't even wear things like that. I bought it when I was drunk in Hawaii and-"

"I was gonna ask if you wanted some Starbucks...?" He tightened his lips, the corner of his mouth curling up as he stifled a smile.

"Oh-" Again, my face was burning.

"Come on," He chuckled, "I'll buy."

I let out a deep sigh and followed him over to the Starbucks in the waiting area. We ordered and waited on the side for the coffees to be ready. We stood in silence. My eyes wandered around the room, and he kept track of the time.

"We only have about five minutes until we're called," He said, beginning to tap his foot again.

"You seem nervous," I said carefully, not wanting to set him off.

He furrowed his brows, "Nervous? I don't get nervous."

I raised my eyebrows and turned my head as a smirk creeped up onto my face.

"Kihyun? Your drinks are ready," The barista's voice was forcefully low and flirtatious as she called out his name.

I watched as she put on her best smile, but he was too busy checking his phone to notice, "Thank you."

Instinctively, I scoffed at her efforts.

"What?" He asked.

"Oh, nothing. Let's go," I walked ahead of him over to the seats closest to our terminal.

We waited for only a minute or so, and then we heard a woman's voice over the speaker,

"10AM flight to Seoul, South Korea now boarding."

Kihyun sighed as he stood up and held out his hand. I stared at him for a moment, confused.

Does he want me to take his hand?

He rolled his eyes, "I'm not asking you to dance. I'm trying to carry your backpack."

"Oh, right. Thanks." I handed him my backpack and we walked over to the growing group of people lining up.

When we got inside the plane, Kihyun put my backpack in the overhead compartment and then ducked his head to look at me, "Scoot to the window seat so I can sit in the middle."

I scoot down one seat and turned to look out of the window, feeling excited to be able to look out when we took off.

"Maybe I should've fought you for the window seat," His voice was close to my ear, and it sent shivers down my spine.

"We can switch if you want-"

He smiled and shook his head, "I'm kidding. I've had the window seat a million times- once won't kill me."

I smiled, "Thanks..."

"I wonder when they'll get here," I said, motioning to the empty seat next to him.

Kihyun shrugged, "Not sure. But hopefully he's not too loud because I'm already tired."

He put his head back on the seat and shut his eyes. I nodded and continued to look out the window.

It wasn't until after the flight attendant was through with the instructions that I realized that the third person never came, but when I turned to Kihyun to let him know he could scoot over, I noticed he was fast asleep. Even as the plane rumbled as we took off, Kihyun's stirred not once. Meanwhile, i was silently flipping out- I've always hated planes. I had to be partially drunk just to board the stupid plane when I went to Hawaii with Lizzie and Karina.

"It's gonna be a long flight..." I muttered.

I opened my eyes slowly. The plane was dark, and only the little reading lights above us were on.

"What the..." I looked over and saw Kihyun's head resting on my shoulder. My eyes widened, and I wasn't quite sure how to react. I looked around, and everyone was in their own world- some were asleep, some reading, some having quiet conversations- but everyone was minding their own business.

Would it be so wrong if I just let him sleep...?

I checked the time on my phone, and yawned.

Eight hours in.

My eyes still felt heavy, and as soon as I leaned my head back, I was back under.

"Y/N...." My name was whispered in my ear so deliciously, I almost thought it was part of my dream.

"Y/N..." Kihyun's was a little louder, and my eyes opened.

I looked up at him through sleepy eyes and immediately, my eyes widened at the realization that my head was on his shoulder now. I quickly sat up and cleared my throat, "Sorry..."

He chuckled, "Don't worry about it. I didn't wanna wake you up when the flight attendant was walking through so I ordered for us," He pulled down my folding table and then his own.

"Oh...thanks," I yawned, still waking up.

I looked out of the window at the vast ocean below us. It was beautiful, but I still found myself wanting to puke.

"Not a fan of planes?" He asked, leaning over to look with me.

I shook my head, "Nope. I make it policy to always stay on land."

He laughed, "Good policy. I don't really like flying either."

I raised an eyebrow, "Really? You seem completely fine."

"Well, you're clearly a nervous wreck, so one of us has to be fine, right?" He smiled.

His smile made my heart flutter.

After we'd eaten our meals, I found myself desperately needing to pee, but I didn't want to make him move.

"Uhm, Mr.Yoo?" I bit my lip.

"Mm?" He looked over at me.

"I have to..." I cleared my throat, slightly embarrassed, "use the bathroom..."

"Oh, sorry-" He reached to undo his buckle, but I put my hand up,

"No, it's okay. You don't need to get up." I undid my buckle and stood up.

Crap. Should I face forward? Or should I do it with my back to him?

I didn't really decide before my body started scooting out, my face toward him.

Suddenly, the plane shook in a moment of turbulence, causing me to fall forward onto Kihyun.

"Sorry!" I squealed.

Kihyun's expression was a mix of surprise and embarrassment.

I managed to quickly get up and then get out of our row. I kept my head down as I walked all the way over to the bathroom.

I looked in the small mirror and groaned.

I can't believe that happened.

I splashed water onto my face and took a deep breath as I readied myself to go back out.

When I'd reached our row, Kihyun motioned for me to wait while he got out of his seat so that I could go in. I blushed, replaying my fall in my head. When I'd settled into my seat, I waited for Kihyun to take back his seat, but he sat in the third seat, closest the aisle.

I felt incredibly embarrassed.

I made him uncomfortable...

I sunk in my seat, and my heart sunk with me.

"Y/N..." I heard his voice close to my ear again.

"Hmm?" I opened my eyes and looked over.

"Come on, it's time to go." He stood up and stretched.

I stretched my arms and then stood up as well.

A few people went by before us, but once he got my backpack, we were both making our way oit of the plane.

It was windy and the air was thick with smog.

I coughed, feeling the air coat my throat.

"Yup. It's Korea," He sighed.

We silently stood in long lines, presenting our passports and documentation and then we waited for our luggage. He passed me my backpack and then carried both of our suitcases to the front of the airport, where a man in a black uniform stood holding a sign that read, "Yoo Ki-hyun".

We walked over to the man who smiled as soon as he saw Kihyun. Kihyun smiled back and they greeted each other.

I stood to the side and waited for them to finish. Kihyun glanced at me and then motioned for me to come forward. He seemed to introduce me, and the man and I bowed to each other.

I didn't speak much Korean, but I tried my best to use what I did know, "Annyeonghaseyo."

Kihyun looked at me with a pleasantly surprised expression, but then turned his attention back to the man and started walking, motioning for me to follow them.

I was quiet next to Kihyun in the back seat as I listened to him carry a conversation with the driver. It was strange to see Kihyun speaking so kindly to him. Occasionally, Kihyun would glance over at me and I could almost see the corner of his mouth turn upward.

"Woah..." My mouth hung open slightly as we pulled up to the ginormous hotel. It was beautiful- much nicer than any place I'd ever stayed in.

"What?" Kihyun asked as he unbuckled himself.

"It's so beautiful..." I said, opening the car door.

Kihyun got out of the car and then walked around to my side.

"Oh come on..." He briefly examined the hotel and then looked back at me, "I'm sure Hawaii had much nicer views..." He smirked.

I blushed, my mind flashing back to the bikini.

"Come on, let's go check in."

#monsta x #mx #monstax #smut #fluff #angst #monsta x scenarios #shownu #wonho #minhyuk #kihyun #hyungwon #jooheon #changkyun #im #im changkyun #fanfic #fanfiction #kpop #kpop stan

52 notes · View notes

nekoannie-chan · 4 years ago

Text

No option

Pairing: Steve Rogers X Mutant enhanced!Reader & Brock Rumlow X Sinthea Schmidt

Word count: 1117 words.

Summary: For two years you and your best friend were planning you revenge, now the plan was for Steve to be on your side.

Warnings: Reader is HYDRA.

A/N: This is my entry to the @fangirlovestuff‘s Birthday Challenge with prompt #19:

“Partners in crime.”

Also my entry to the @hidden-behind-the-fourth-wall‘s 500 Follower Challenge with song lyric:

“I’d rather laugh with the sinners than cry with the saints, the sinners are much more fun.”

My native language is Spanish so I wanna improve my writing skills in English if you notice any mistake please let me know and I will correct it.

I don’t give any kind of permission that my fics be posted in other platforms or languages (I translate myself my work) or the use of my graphics (my dividers are included in this), I did them exclusively for my fics, please respect my work and don’t steal it. There are some people here who make dividers that anyone can use, mine is not this type, please look for the other’s people. The only exception is the ones I gifted ‘cuz now belong to someone else. If you find any of my works on a different platform and is not one of my accounts, please let me know. Reblogs and comments are always welcome.

DISCLAIMER: I don’t own Marvel’s characters (unfortunately), except for the original characters and the story.

My other media where I publish: Wattpad, Ao3, ffnet.

If you like it please vote, comment, and give me feedback to improve my skills and reblog.

Tags: @sinceimetyou @navybrat817 @angrythingstarlight @shield-agent78 @saiyanprincessswanie @charmed-asylum @pandaxnienke @real-fbi @smokeandnailz @adriannajackson

You last checked the list, you already carried everything you needed, you walked the streets trying to keep your profile low, you had stayed hidden from a few months before, however as you went through a newspaper stand you stopped, and a headline had caught your eye, smiled.

"We were trying hard when everything was easier," you thought as you bought the paper. You rushed to where you lived, you needed to tell your best friend the news, in the end, the last plan had been successful, now they would probably never look for them again.

"Brock, I have great news!" You exclaimed when you walked into the house.

"Unless you've found a mutant who can heal wounds or the Avengers are dead, it's not great news," Brock growled.

"Almost," you responded by putting the paper in front of him.

Brock opened his eyes surprised as he read the header, a crooked smile appeared on his face.

"I always thought you were the best, even before Strucker subjected you to experimentation.”

"That only enhanced my powers, I suppose we should tell your girlfriend...”

"Sin's too busy, rather we should think we'll do now that they're separated.”

"Maybe it's time for my come back, Steve's probably very desperate and he'd do anything, in the end now he's one of the most wanted fugitives," you said.

"That means they're not going to look for us anymore.”

"No, that means you're legally dead and I'm still missing.”

"The only thing I would worry about would be Maximoff...”

"Maximoff is no match for me, I've been in her mind, its chaos, she thinks his twin is dead, well everyone believes that not counting that our plan worked perfectly," you interrupted him. “It would also be nice if we got the Soldier back...”

“First Rogers and then the Soldier will be easy.”

"Then we have work to do.”

One week took you to find out Steve's new location, you already knew all the details of what happened in the Civil War, then you would figure how to get Barnes out of Wakanda without anyone else noticing or if things went well you would do it with Steve's help.

"Y/N, are you sure about this?” Brock questioned.

"Of course, they think they've already defeated HYDRA, but they've all done what we wanted.”

You were walking down the street, you knew that was the day Steve went to the market to buy some food and find out what was going on. Steve was watching the paper holding a person at the front table, they were still looking for him, they probably would do it all his life, he wasn't sure when he could stand running, contacting the others was complicated, if they weren't careful, they could leave some trace and find them. He wasn't sure if they'd go back to the Raft, although they'd most certainly take them to another prison more safely to prevent them from escaping again.

He turned and felt his heart beating fast, blinked several times, couldn't believe what he had just seen, you were missing for just over two years, he immediately got up, left the money to pay the food and hastened his step, all that time he thought you were dead, he didn't know if it was a hallucination or if you were there.

“Y/N!” He called you.

You stopped when you heard your name, you turned slowly until you face him.

"Steve, it's been a long time.”

"Where have you been? I thought that day...”

"I had to run away, you may not understand, but my best friend and I have been hiding all this time," you replied.

"That is not possible, Rumlow is dead and because of him, they created the Sokovia Accords.”

"Dead? No, I can assure you he is not.”

Steve didn't understand what was going on, yet he agreed to go with you, when he got to the house and saw Brock practically pounced him, you managed to separate them.

"What's wrong with you, Steve?”

"It's all his fault...”

“What? But we've been here the last few months.”

"How do you explain Lagos?” Steve exasperated.

"What happened in Lagos?”

"Rumlow, don't ask stupid things...”

"Steve, we don't know what you're talking about, Brock doesn't get out of here, and don’t you see his condition?”

Steve showed you the videos of that incident, both you and Brock pretended to be surprised, of course, they knew what had happened, and that was the first part of his revenge plan.

"Steve, that's not Brock, I'm pretty sure that was a trap, there are mutants who can change their shape, they can even look like people we know," you explained.

"What you mean?”

"Probably, maybe Ross just needed a pretext for the Accords," you replied.

"We did belong to HYDRA, but we had a good reason," Brock said.

"I can't find any reason for that," Steve refuted.

"Brock and I were neighbours since we were kids, we've known each other all our lives, my parents died, they'd send me to an orphanage, and I decided to escape, while Brock's father beat him, that's when we ran away.”

"Two children alone in the world is not the safest thing, a HYDRA agent found us and that's when we found a new home," Brock continued.

"But you were able to choose...”

"And that's what we did, after the battle at the Triskelion I escaped, but I found out Brock was in the hospital, the doctors said it was a miracle that he survived, then we hid, we knew everyone would look for us.”

"I thought you were dead, I was looking for you too, you could have asked me for help," Steve complained.

“I’d rather laugh with the sinners than cry with the saints, the sinners are much more fun.”

"Rogers you're wrong, they weren't even going to listen to us, they'd immediately lock us up in the Raft.”

"I can’t leave my best friend behind. Steve, you're wanted too, you're a runaway like us, you're nothing to them but a criminal," you said.

"Accept it, we are now partners in crime," Brock said.

“Partners in crime”, it didn't sound so bad to Steve, you were right, now it didn't matter what he did in the past for his country, all they cared about now was that he hadn't signed the Accords. You put your hand on Steve's forehead and entered his mind, very easily you started manipulating everything that was there, and Captain America no longer existed and would never come back.

“What is the next step?” Brock questioned.

"Make the Roxxon Company explode, I hear you have... a very interesting experiment," you responded as you smiled.

#BTFW500challenge #fangirlovestuffbdaychallenge #Steve Rogers #steve rogers x reader #reader is hydra #steve rogers one shot #steve rogers fic

20 notes · View notes

wayward-mikaelson · 4 years ago

Text

Centuries--Three

Word Count: 2255

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Characters: Sam, Dean, Cas, Jack, Reader, Crowley (Mentioned), Maggie (Mentioned), Hezekiah (OG, Mentioned), Farid (OG)

About: The Reader and Dean go out after learning from Cas that she is on both Heavens and Hells most wanted list. They are then cornered by a few demons where they learn about another missing piece of the Readers missing memories. One that has both Dean and Reader agreeing that Sam mustn’t know about.

Warnings: Language, Tease (Sexual), Fluff, Angst, Fighting, Blood and Gore, Panic Attack,

A/N: I am noticing that I am changing my original story line a bit. I really hope you all like it!!!!

A/N 2: Tag all your fave accounts/friends who love SPN!!!

A/N 3: If you want to be tagged in of my fics, Let me know below or send me a DM!!!

Forever Tag List: @hobby27 @donnaintx @myinconnelly1 @magssteenkamp @elansaidaris @440mxs-wife @squirrelnotsam

Dean/Jensen Tag List: @akshi8278 @sandlee44

*18+ CONTENT. ANYONE YOUNGER THAN 18 WILL NEED TO MOVE ON. I DON’T WANT TO RISK MY ACCOUNT BEING THANOSED.

**PLEASE DO NOT COPY AND PASTE MY WORK ANYWHERE WITHOUT MY PERMISSION OR WITHOUT GIVING ME THE PROPER CREDIT. I WORK TOO HARD ON MY STORIES TO HAVE THEM STOLEN.

***THIS WORK IS ALSO POSTED ON IG, WATTPAD, AND AO3. PLEASE GO SHOW THEM SOME LOVE THERE TOO.

"A whole fucking year?!" Dean asks the next morning. He sits up in bed and tousles his hair. If he weren't too annoyed and upset, I would have found the action sexy and hot. But I don't, also doesn't mean I'm not turn on by it. "And you didn't think to wake me up with this information?"

I take a deep breath. Understand what he's saying. I should have woken him up but, to be honest, I was more focused on what I was feeling when I found out I had been back for a full on year. "According to what Sam found on the phone," I say rolling out of bed. Before I get dressed, I turn back to Dean. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you. You actually looked really peaceful sleeping."

When I came back to the room, I had seen how peaceful he looked. Even when I was living the first time around...wow, I never knew I would ever have a thought like that. Dean rarely ever saw rest like that. It could have been the sex. It could have been seeing me alive and somewhat well. It could have been a combination of both.

Dean nods his head and rolls out of bed. I bite my lip as I see his entire figure. "I did sleep good," He turns back to me and smiles at me. Then he notices me staring at him. Dean leans over the bed and eyes the black underwear I'm wearing under his tshirt. "You know," he tugs at the hem of the shirt and elastic of the underwear. "Breakfast is the most important meal of the day."

I smile and playfully push his hand back. "Not now," I pull some pants on and throw my hair up in a hair tie. Turning back around dean is in my favorite red button up shirt. That damn red shirt did things to me and made me feel things that are just as dirty as the sex last night.

"Well, now that's hot." Dean's dressed and pulls me into his arms. "Maybe we can get you some fake glasses and you can teach me a few lessons." His voices purrs against my skin and I am very tempted to rip my clothes off and shove Dean on the bed. But I can't. Not this time at least. We have so much to do and get onto.

"Sweetheart," I say wrapping my arms around his neck. "When all of this over and I get a years worth of memories back, you can have me in whatever way and shape you want." I plant a soft and gentle kiss on his lips.

"I guess we should get those memories back then huh?" Dean gives my ass a little squeeze before pushing away from me. "What do you say we get some food?"

We head to the kitchen to hear Sam talking to Cas. When we enter the Kitchen we see the two of them huddled up while Jack sat a few feet from them looking at a book. He looks confused and interested at the same time. Cas looks up and stops talking.

"What's up?" I ask sitting across from Jack but the questions is aimed at Cas and Sam. They continue to look at me and not say anything. Dean picks it up too.

"Dragons are real?" Jack looks up at me with his eye brows knitted together.

"Yes," I say. "They kidnap virgins and the only way they can be killed is by a blade they forge." I take the book from him and close it. "Go to my room, its down that hall and the third door on the left. There will be better books in there for you to choose from. Grab The Lightning Thief and read it."

Jack gets up and does what I say. Once he was gone Cas sighs. "He should be reading up on all the Lore he can."

"He's a child Cas," I say. "Let him enjoy something fun." I turn towards the angel and younger Winchester. "Now, what's up that you guys had to stop talking in hushed tones. It sure has something to do with me. Let's get it all out in the open now."

It's quiet for a while. My heart races because if it was something I did and because I won't remember it, then I don't know what I would do to even forgive myself. Dean must have seen my worry because he is sitting next to me. Cas and Sam look at each other and Sam nods.

Cas takes a deep breath before speaking. "I over heard something on Angel radio," Another deep breath. "That both angels and demons are looking for you. Apparently they have had you on their radar since you came back last year. They want to know how and why. It is not pretty."

I let out a shaky breath. "Well they can get in line until we figure that out." I get up to get my blood moving. Dean attempts to grab my hand but, I push it away. "I need to get out of here and get some air." I start to feel dizzy. What did I do to get on heavens and hells most wanted list? I get to the top of the stairs and realize that Dean has my hands and his turning me towards him.

"I can't let you go out there," he says. "Not with a giant target on your back. You're on a wanted list. If any of them get you, it won't be pretty. They will torture you and I don't know what I would do if I lost you again."

I stare at Dean. I see the worry on his face. He must see the fear on mine. "You're not my parent. Dean," I whisper. "I'm full grown ass woman who can't breath in here," My voice raises through clenched teeth. "So let me go so I can get some air or I will kick your ass."

Dean drops my hands and ushers me out the door. Once outside, I put my hands on my knees and just breath. Dean standing beside me rubbing my back. "I'm sorry," He says kneeling down to look at me. "Where should we go?" He rattles the impala keys in his hands.

Within the hour, we are parked in a alley way about to rip our clothes off when there is tapping on the window. We both sigh in annoyance. I slide off Deans lap and fix up my hair and see not one but, four people standing in the alley. I look at Dean who is getting the same vibe I am. Dean opens the glove compartment and pulls out two angel blades.

"Probably not the best idea," he says as he slides a blade over to me.

"Best idea in the moment," I open the door and step out and smile at the group of demons. "What do we owe for this visit?" I give a taunting smile. The kind of smile I remember using in Hell to get what I wanted when I was a demon. Dean notices and looks me up and down.

"Crowley wants your head." one of the two females say.

"Of course he does," I say keeping the taunting smile. But what for? I wondered. "And why is that, again?" I ask.

The demons laugh. A male demon steps forward. "Don't play stupid."

"Hey!" Dean points his blade and the male stops talking. "If anyone calls YN stupid or any other names, I will be sending you back to Crowley in a tiny USPS box."

The demons look at each other. The female who spoke before, well, she walks up to me. I continue to keep my taunting smile but, from the corner of my eye I see Deans body stiffen up. "All those deals you made as a demon, all those souls that were rightfully Crowley's, have been null and void since you came back. So he's a little pisses and want's your he for it but according to the self righteous dicks they want you for information on a rogue angel you've been in cahoots with."

I loose my smile and look at Dean. I don't care about the deals being voided by whatever, what I do care about is the fact I was working with a rogue angel. Then something clicks in the back of my brain. "Hezekiah," I say under my breath.

"Ahhh yes, that's his name. The same dick that sicked you on that poor hunter chick a while back. Sliced her throat and almost bled her dry. Into a hikers camel back." She smiles wickedly and it sends a shiver down my spine.

"What?" I can barely get my voice out. I can hear Cas's words echo in my head from the day before. Maggie had been found with a throat slashed. In the woods. I look at Dean who is looking at me, there's a realization on his face when he connects the dots too. Sam mustn't know. I look back at the demon licking my lips.

"Prove it," Dean says to the demons. "Prove that it was her if you're so sure that it was her."

The demon laughs and stalks towards Dean. Making your already on edge body and mind even more on edge. I turn a bit so that I don't loose sight of the other three demons standing with weapons in their hands. "We don't have to prove anything to you," She get's too close for my liking but I don't move. I watch as the demon pulls an angel blade out and draws the tip of it up his arm to his cheek. "Farid," she calls to the male demon who basically called me stupid. "Grab YN, take her Crowley. I might have a little fun with the Winchester."

Having a flashback of that time in the field before I died going through the gates of Heaven. Everything starts to move in slow motion. I turn to see the demon, Farid, run towards me. From the corner of my eye I see Dean spin the female demon around and stab her with her own blade. She lights up and falls to the ground. I focus on the demon charging me and simply side step away and grab his arm and push him on the wall. I drive my blade into the middle of his back and watch as his body lights up. I watch as his body falls to the ground and the blood spills out of his body.

I turn to see the other two demons smoke out, leaving their vessels behind. Dean and I go and check to see if they are alive but, sadly they are not. I sit back and start to breath deeply. I feel that my body is starting to relax and my heart pace quickens. I close my eyes and try to forget what the demon told us. I did not kill Maggie. I wouldn't kill my best friend. I hope to God that I didn't. Sam will never forgive me I did.

I feel Deans hand on mine and I open my eyes. "Hey, you wouldn't kill Maggie. You want to know why I know that? You and her were always joined at the hip, the best of friends." I know Dean is trying to help but it doesn't make me feel any better.

"And if I did?" I ask letting tears fall. I can't stop thinking about it. Something deep inside me was telling me that its true. And if I did, Sam will most likely kill me.

"We will cross that bridge when we come to it," Dean brushes the tears away. Dean helps me up and leads me back to the Impala. "We will have Cas try and search hard for that forgotten memory." I nod and hug my arms around myself and close my eyes.

"We don't tell Sam about this at all," I say and see Dean nod in agreement.

Once we are back at the bunker and are inside, Cas tells us that Sam went out with Jack on a supply run. Which makes everything better. Dean catches Cas up to speed and I head to the room 7B. I stood in the door way as I remember Michael, in Deans body, sitting at the table strapped to wires. I remember that some hours before that he had stabbed me after kidnapping me.

Take a deep breath and walk into the room and grab rope and a chair. I turn to see both Dean and Cas standing in the door way. I hold the rope out and Dean approaches me and takes the rope. I sit in the chair and let him tie me up. One the way back I told Dean he would need to tie me down because for some reason if something were to snap in my head and I went into some robot killer mode, the both of us were protected.

"Okay," Dean steps aside. Cas walks up behind me and places two hands on both sides of head.

"Here goes nothing," Cas says. I feel a wave of energy run through my brain. It hurts like hell but I can't find the will to scream out in pain but, I can't possibly tell him to stop. "There is a wall up but, theres a crack. I might be able to get into it."

"Whatever you have to do," I say through the pain in my brain.

Then, my vision is clouded by a bright light.

37 notes · View notes

lilhemmo · 5 years ago

Note

how about a fix it fic where the force/sKYWALKERS remember that ben solo is like.. alive and stuff?? i was really upset with how everyone came to speak to rey but when ben needed help, they kinda just left my boi. you don't have to if you don't want to :) love youre writing by the way!

a/n: yeah i’m all about tros in which ben solo-organa-skywalker doesn’t just.. like.. flop and fade. so here ya go :) needless to say... SPOILER ALERT

ao3 | wattpad | writing tag

The way the Force grips her chest like some sort of slithering monster makes her soul ache.

Rey wonders if this is the last time she’ll see Ben Solo.

Palpatine holds onto them tightly, draining them both of whatever he can - bond, Force, energy, life - and the yellows of his eyes make her toes curl. His cackle reverberates throughout the walls of the cavern, sinister and bone-chilling.

“Ben,” she manages, turning her head to face him. She swallows and notes the tears in his eyes, “I-I’m so-”

Her throat is enclosed in a ghost-like grip, her veins protruding from her forehead and neck. The corner of his eyes wrinkle with emotion, his lip quivering in the same way it did when they touched hands for the first time on Ahch-To.

“Keep your mouth shut, granddaughter,” Palpatine’s gravelly voice snarls.

Rey fights through the bondage his Force has on her own enough to screech, “I am no family of yours!”

She can feel Ben’s fingers desperate to touch her own, to try and reach out to comfort her in some small way. The invisible grasp on his body, contorting it to stand too much upright, keeps his limbs from straying.

“I will drain you of whatever thrums through you both,” Palpatine growls, a smirk growing on his blackened, dead lips. “The Senate needs but one Sith Lord to rule it, and I am more than capable.”

“You’re a dead man,” Ben grumbles, reminiscent of his father’s deep voice in times of trouble.

Palpatine turns to the heir of his arch nemesis, the family who did him in, and pulls him closer, close enough that Ben’s nostrils are filled with the stench of death that lingers on the darksider’s cloak. His cold, once-lifeless fingers traipse over Ben’s face and it is too close to the way his father held him for the boy to allow it. Ben pulls from the darkside, reminding himself of the power Kylo Ren had to restrain, and musters enough influence over the Force to cause Palpatine to cower back, fingers shaken from the touch.

“Your family’s power flows through you - Vader, Luke, Leia, even Han,” Palpatine is almost cooing now, beckoning Ben Solo to turn into Kylo Ren at the seductive tone. “You could have been much stronger, much more influential if you would’ve allowed my words to coerce you into a full conversion, my boy. Kylo Ren could have conquered galaxies with the Emperor in his corner.”

“The darkside is strong,” Ben agrees, the effort of vocalizing enough to break a sweat on his forehead. “But it only brought me pain.”

“Pain is a weapon!” Palpatine shouts, throwing his arms in the air to force lightening from his fingertips. He laughs and it forces ice down Rey’s bone marrow. She leaks tears from either corner of her eyes, hearing the ships turn to craters outside the throne room.

Palpatine turns to the dyad, eyes alight with power, and thrusts his lightening to them. Ben’s clothes smoke and Rey’s hair catches fire as they absorb the attack.

Ben.

The boy’s eyes turn, looking for the sound of the gentle voice.

Mother?

He can hear the echo of her laughter and then she is joined by another, one that still makes his heart quiver.

Son.

Ben Solo has not cried in many years, and yet he finds himself reduced to tears as the voices of those he has lost echoes in his mind and the agony of Palpatine’s lightning strikes his heart, burying the hot energy in his soul so it may catch aflame and burn him from the inside out.

I don’t know what to do, he begs, his fists curling at his sides so his fingernails bite into his flesh. The pain is a reminder, and Palpatine is right - pain is power.

For a moment, he has clarity, and another voice speaks to him.

Ben, you can bring balance to the Force, as I once did. All you need is a little help.

The Force buckles for a moment and Palpatine falters.

Channeling his prior persona, Ben stomps his foot on the ground and calls to the saber that once belonged to his grandfather, the dead man’s voice ringing in his ears now.

Rise, Ben, Anakin’s voice is no longer distorted, like it has been Ben’s whole life, and instead it is clear and true. Solid, as Ben always imagined it might be. Rise and bring balance. Finish what I started.

All of a sudden, like a breath of fresh air pushing its way down his throat, Ben feels the presence of the Force surround him. He can breathe again, Palpatine’s claws ripped from his soul to leave a gaping wound bandaged by the Force Ghosts of the past speaking their wisdom.

The voice that rings the loudest is that of his mother - Ben, my son, she sounds as regal as ever, and a tear drips down Ben Solo’s healed cheek. He leans into the pressure of her hand against his jaw, Listen to the Force, Ben. I’m sorry we weren’t there for you when we needed to be. Hopefully we can make it up to you now.

Ben looks at Rey, her skin paling and her eyes rolling back in her head, and he taps into the darkside, anger fueling his power. He grits his teeth and turns to see the outline of his mother’s form in the distance, smiling proudly as she gives him one last token of her voice:

Help them, Ben. You’re their only hope.

A fire lights in Ben’s heart and he ignites his lightsaber, stepping forward to press into Palpatine’s territory. The pale yellow eyes of the Sith lord focus on the freshly turned lightsider, pupils narrowing as he raises a hand, poised to strike with another launch of lightning.

Ben channels the force, channels his mother, and absorbs the force of the lightning in his palm, wincing as his flesh burns. He grimaces but manages to step forward, his mother’s words echoing, pulsing behind his eyelids: You’re their only hope.

“You are right about one thing, Emperor,” Ben grits through his teeth, the lightning turning to an orb in his hands. “Pain is a weapon. You should be more careful who you wield it against.”

The lightning tickles his fingertips and Ben twirls his hand just so that the ball of energy he’s been accumulating snaps back towards it’s original owner. Palpatine screeches, releasing Rey from his hold. She tumbles to the floor, limbs a mess and skin a sickly grey.

Ben mumbles her name as the Emperor attempts to gather himself, his robes in his hands as he struggles to stand. Rey is limp, and Ben can hardly sense her side of the Bond. It is instead a dull throb at the back of his neck, trying to crawl up to the crown of his head to no avail. He blows a breath through his nose, squeezing his eyes shut and forcing what energy he can through the scarce amount of the Bond that he can feel.

Just as the Emperor turns his lightning to Ben again, Rey’s eyes peel open and she groans. She rolls onto her side and once her gaze connects with the dueling force-wielders, irises widening, she reaches out and attempts to hold Palpatine back with the small amount of Force she can muster.

“Your coming together will be your undoing,” Palpatine’s voice booms within the cavern, walls shaking and rocks tumbling. He smirks from under his hood, “It was your Bond that has allowed me to be rejuvenated. How does this make you feel?”

“I’m sick of your rambling,” Rey mutters, standing to her feet shakily. She holds out her hand and beckons Leia’s saber to her grip, turning to glance at Ben one more time, “Thank you.”

A gentle smirk makes its way over his features, lips quirking upward. Ben nods at her, eyes alight with the mischief to mirror that of his father, “Anytime, sweetheart. I’m only sorry it took so long.”

She wants to say something, but two bolts of lightning catapult in their direction, forced forward by the crippled fingers of the Emperor. He cackles, but is cut by Ben’s chokehold, a bare hand held in midair to close Palpatine’s windpipes.

The gain doesn’t last for long, Palpatine’s power pushing back against Ben’s, “I’ve lived in the darkside, young Skywalker. You cannot beat me!”

Ben is thrown backward, tumbling against the rocks, dangerously close to the edge of the pit lingering behind them like a shadow. Rey screams at the sight of him falling, his name tumbling from her lips as a prayer. She turns, tears in her eyes, and bares her lightsaber to the Emperor.

“Fight me!” she cries, beckoning him with a taunt, trying to draw his attention away from Ben as he struggles in the background.

The jab does it’s job, bringing Palpatine’s attention back to the girl wielding the saber of the General of the Resistance. She growls, her teeth pearly even in the darkness of the cavern.

“The darkside is strong within your heart, girl,” Palpatine sneers, raising his arms to ready another bout of lightning. He huffs out a laugh that sounds more like a wheeze, “Why do you not let it engulf you completely? Allow it’s power to course through your veins, to guide you as it sees fit?”

Rey rolls the lightsaber hilt between her fingers, the blue light twirling as she readies her saber, “There is no more dark and light, you blind old man! There is a balance. Ben and I have found the balance.”

“We shall see.”

Effortlessly, Palpatine strikes her again with his lightning, but Rey absorbs it with the saber. She digs her heels into the ground, willing herself to channel the Force through her muscles, allowing it to support her to stand upright.

“Yes,” a gravelly voice speaks from beside her. “We will.”

“Ben!” she gasps, tears gathering in the corner of her eyes.

The remains of the Bond throb in her spine, threading out through her nerves and veins, beating like lifeblood. The Force thrives, singing in her skin as she takes steps forward to gain ground against the Emperor. Rey feels The Balance flowing through her like a river, meanwhile strengthening her resolve.

“Skywalker,” Palpatine spits in disgust, his fingers sparking with lightning just as Ben ignites his grandfather’s saber. The blue-white light of the Sith lord’s Force attack singes Ben’s lightsaber, embers catching in his hair as the electricity flares. “Your bloodline is but a stain in the timeline. Your grandfather came from nothing, and to nothing he returned. After all, what are you but the remnant in a long line of a dying breed?”

“You’re wrong,” Ben grits, narrowing his eyes. His lower lip twitches as he grinds his feet into the rock beneath him, “I am my mother, my father, my grandfather, and my uncle. I am every bit of my bloodline. I cannot deny my family. I cannot deny the Light.”

Rey finds it easier to stand taller as he speaks, his resolve pushing their Bond forward, strengthening it and the power that they share with his confidence, with his realization.

Still, her heart grows weary under the strain.

“You’re nothing, boy! I am The Senate! I am The Sith!” Palpatine spits. His rotting mouth spews nothing but hatred, flaring against Ben’s side of the bond, his darkside counterpart wailing to be set free to unleash an eternal hell on the man who put him through a lifetime of pain. “You are nothing without me, young Skywalker. Nothing.”

The old man cackles, “I am all of the Sith, layered into one final, eternal being. The two of you are merely pawns in my game, used to your fullest ability and then tossed to the wayside when I am finished with you.”

“You’re wrong.”

The voices of the Force wrap around the both of them, sealing them in some sort of vortex of power. It settles like stardust in their bones and they talk in unison, the entirety of those who have come before them echoing like a song as they speak.

“We are The Balance.”

The two force-wielders scream with a final attempt to return the Emperor’s attack. Their lightsabers glow brighter than ever, returning the lightning instead of merely absorbing it.

The Emperor’s cackle morphs into a bloodcurdling cry as his skin begins to flake from the bone. Lightning burns his clothes, and the flames lick what remains of his marrow. He tries to bellow out one final insult, but his teeth fall from his jaw into the dirt and he’s left speechless.

And then the two that have created The Balance crumble to their knees.

Ben.

The boy grumbles, and for a moment he hears his father in his head.

Ben, wake up. It’s time.

The gentle caress of his mother’s knuckles against his cheek is what wakes him.

Mom?

He can feel her smile rather than see it. The Force hugs him tightly like a blanket and despite his broken ankle and bruised ribs, he manages to sit up.

“Rey,” he blurts, twisting his torso and forgoing the pain to try and find her body. Ben manages to crawl, half on his knees, half stumbling, until he can cradle her within his grasp.

Ben can’t help it when he looks around, trying desperately to see those voices materialize before him. The severe lack of blue outlined figures makes his heart drop into his stomach.

He remembers when Rey closed his wounds for him before, in the rain. The way her lip trembled and her fingers shook. He wishes he could go back to that moment and fix everything, fix all of it. Maybe he wouldn’t have had to run into the Emperor’s throne room with absolutely no plan and a blaster if he had fixed it all with her then.

“C’mon,” he murmurs, trying to channel every bit of her Light, of her goodness, as he wavers his palm over her abdomen. He surges her with Light. He presses every amount of sunshine left in his body into her, willing it to weave her bones back together and tie her spirit like a knot.

He thinks of her smile and of her laugh. He thinks of the way she looked when she first saw rain. He thinks of how intensely she’s looked at him, like she wanted to love him but knew he wasn’t ready yet.

He even thinks of the anger in her eyes from the forest, when he offered to be her teacher. He think of the pure rage with which she yields her saber when they’ve fought. He thinks of how she confronted the mighty Luke Skywalker when she found that he might have been responsible for helping to create Kylo Ren.

And then Ben thinks of the Balance.

Suddenly her heart is beating again.

“B-Ben?” she asks, as if too scared to be this close. She is a skittish rabbit, and he is a hungry wolf.

They have been here before. And yet it is new territory all the same.

I did want to take your hand.

The words run through his mind like a terrible holocron, repeating and repeating ever since they left her lips.

However, he does feel somewhat satisfied to feel her grip around his knuckles even though it hurts where his skin is split.

The second her lips make contact with his own, they are both thrown into a dizziness that neither of them have confronted before. Rey’s hands are on his face and his arms are locked tightly around her body as if he needs to hold her together.

She is brash in the kiss just as she is brash with everything else. Their lips are chapped and grimy but neither of them care. He brushes a thumb against her skull, practically playing with her middle hair-bun, and she smiles into the kiss.

“Ben,” she repeats as if solidifying it to be the truth.

They fall away from one another, still clutching, but some distance now.

There is quiet between them and Rey feels their Bond mending itself, stitching back together. It will take time.

But they have that now.

“We have to go,” Ben speaks quickly.

Rey realizes that the very building that might have been their prison is now going to be their doom. She looks to him, eyes wide, “I have a ship.”

He nods and then run together, one hand with a saber and the other preoccupied with each other.

“I don’t know if I can do this.”

“They’ll get used to you.”

“No, they won’t. I killed their friends.”

Rey sighs, “You cannot hide in here forever. There’s no food, no ‘fresher. You’ll die.”

“Dying seems like a much better fate.”

“So dramatic,” Rey pats him on the chest but somehow is stuck there like a magnet. Her palms rest against his pectorals and she looks him in the eyes. “We will find a place for you here.”

“And if we don’t?” he asks, bringing one of her palms to his mouth to press a kiss to the pulse point of her wrist. “Will you cast me out?”

Rey pushes herself up on her toes and kisses him again, this time more to prove a point than to enjoy it, “I will follow you. But we will try to mend this first. You were manipulated, since before your mother had given birth. That has to count for something.”

“I don’t know that they’ll see it that way, sweetheart.” Ben’s voice is kinder now, kinder than it was on Ahch-To, under the shelter of the hut when their hands touched and they saw one another’s future and past just alike. His head tilts when he addresses her, his throat bobbing while he waits for her answer.

She brushes her palm against his cheek and cradles his jaw, “You have amends to make, Ben. That much is clear. However, I don’t think your path will lead you away from this, away from what your family stood for.”

Ben resigns himself from the argument, something that is quite new for the both of them, and wraps her in his arms, “I do hope you’re right.”

“Your mother would be proud,” she murmurs against his shirt, toying with the bit of stray fabric at the back. Rey slips her palms underneath the hem and splays her fingers against his shoulder blades, “Your father, too. Han Solo believed in you. I don’t think that belief was misplaced.”

She can feel his throat bobbing against the crown of her head and it makes her smile - she’s been the only one to see him nervous in a very long time. It’s a special thought that she tucks away for later.

“All you can do is move forward, Ben.” Rey leans back to look him in the eyes. “That’s all any of us can do.”

He nods but not without toying at his lower lip, peeling at the skin that is chapped from the lightning that once overtook his body.

“My family would want me here,” Ben takes a shaky breath as he admits his thought out loud for the first time in decades. “It’s time I start listening.”

Rey beams at him, her eyes shining in the early sunlight. He wonders if she was always this recollective of a sunbeam - if she’s always been a pure beacon of light and hope.

It’s no wonder his parents adored her.

a/n: wow.. uh.. that was longer than I anticipated :) hope you love!

tagging some of my favorite writers/people: @rreyskywalkerr @southsidestory @the-reylo-void @reylotrashcompactor @kylorenaissance @mygrandmathinksimsassy @riseofkylo @shmisolo @solosheart @cosmo-gonika @reyloday @reylofic

#benrey #ben solo x rey #kylo ren x rey #kylo x rey #reylo #reylo fic #reylo one shot #tros fix it fic #tros fix it #benrey fic #my writing #kylo ren #ben solo #rey

94 notes · View notes

calenheniel · 4 years ago

Text

Queen of the Ashes, a frozen fanfic | Part VI

Frozen | Alternate Universe | Hans x Elsa | Romance, Drama | T+

They meet as children, each with a secret. Plagued by tragedy, their paths cross again many years later, and their secrets are unraveled.

Author’s Note: I realize that everyone already knows what the “twist” is going to be in this fic from the title and the many unsubtle clues I have left along the way. So I am just going to try to keep you all in suspense anyway with how exactly I’m going to get there. Coincides with Day 7 of (makeup) Helsa Week 2020. @helsa-week

Read it on: AO3 | FF.Net | Wattpad | or read below

Follow updates: #QueenoftheAshesFrozen

»»————-　❈　————-««

VI.

Breakfast was a considerably more pleasant affair the next morning, the queen demonstrating little of the animosity which had come to dominate her interactions with the prince over the previous week.

“Last night was rather interesting,” he said. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard someone try to recite Shakespearean sonnets and play the violin at the same time. Sort of impressive, in its own way.”

She laughed mid-chew, placing her fork down as she fought to swallow her bread. “Yes. Can’t blame them for trying, anyway.”

“And what about that flautist?” he added with a grin. “I’m all for contemporary, original compositions, but…”

“It sounded like a dying bird,” she finished. “A very loud, dying bird.”

The princess, perplexed by their easy rapport, was quiet as she picked at her food in-between glances at them.

The queen eyed her with a smile. “Anna? You’ve hardly touched your toast. That’s unlike you.”

The younger woman’s nose wrinkled. “I’m just surprised,” she said with a sniff, staring at her sister suspiciously. “You’re not usually so chatty in the morning.”

When the queen looked down in embarrassment, the princess quickly added: “Not that that’s a bad thing. Actually, I like the change. It’s good for us. Plus, who wants to hear me yammer on all the time? We all need a break from that, including me.”

“You don’t ‘yammer,’ Anna,” the prince protested through a half-smirk. “I like how you talk. It’s genuine and… frank.”

“He’s right,” the queen agreed, and admitted: “I can hardly hold a conversation by comparison.”

The princess waved away the comments. “I can tell when you’re lying, Elsa. And Hans—you’re a better liar than she is, but your smooth talk gives you away.”

He leveled a lopsided smile at her. “Is that right?”

“It is,” she replied, her chin raising with confidence. After a beat, she noted with a sly look: “But don’t let that stop you from giving me compliments. Even if they’re fake, I’ll take ‘em.”

The prince and the queen chuckled, and as their gazes met, their faces pinked, and they promptly directed their eyes back down at their plates, resuming their meals in silence.

The princess picked up the conversation again a few moments later, relating some anecdotes from her lessons and recent meetings with ambassadors and various nobles. Her sister and the prince nodded along, adding comments occasionally, until the clock struck nine.

The queen blinked. “I lost track of time,” she excused herself as she dabbed her lips with a napkin and rose from the table. “I have to be off, now. I’ll see you both later.”

“Elsa, wait!” her sister called, rising and rushing to her side. A small, furtive smile played on her lips. “Can we talk for a minute?”

The queen glanced at her pocket watch. “Fine. But only for a minute,” she agreed, and turned to the prince. “If you’ll excuse us, Hans.”

He bowed. “Of course.”

The princess led her older sister away to a secluded corner of a narrow hallway some distance from the dining room, her eyes bright and curious. “So? Did you two kiss and make up?” She grinned. “I saw you leave together last night at the end of the concert.”

The queen’s face flushed. “We… came to an understanding of sorts, yes,” she replied, and frowned. “But no kissing was involved.”

“An ‘understanding,’ huh?” the princess repeated, her grin growing. “What exactly does that mean, Elsa?”

“Not what you think it does, apparently,” her sister said, rolling her eyes and crossing her arms. “We just talked, that’s all.”

The princess raised her hands in surrender. “If you say so. I’m just happy you’re talking to him again.” Her eyebrows waggled with interest. “Did my little speech to you help, after all?”

The queen sighed, her expression relaxing. “Maybe a little bit,” she conceded. When the princess gave her a pointed look, she clarified: “Okay—maybe a lot. Anyway, it’s resolved now.”

“Good,” the princess nodded, smiling. “I’m glad.” She curtsied to the queen, who responded in turn, and then began to walk away. After a brief pause, she looked back at her sister over her shoulder, her smile becoming devious again. “So you won’t be mad if I tell you that I told Hans to meet you this afternoon in the rose garden, right?”

The queen stood stock-still, her skin the color of a ripe strawberry. “Anna, you…” Her hands fell to her sides, and she stuttered, flustered. “That’s the middle of the day, and you know I have—”

“Meetings and paperwork and other business, yes, I know,” her sister finished, her smile unrelenting. “Don’t worry—this won’t interfere with any of that. I checked your schedule with Kai last night while you were gone, and told him that we were going to take a walk together today for a break from all of the guests.” Her expression grew softer. “Don’t be upset with him, though; he seemed really happy about us spending time together. Otherwise, I don’t think he would’ve told me a thing.”

The queen opened her mouth to protest, but no words came out.

The princess smirked. “Anyway, he’ll be expecting you around two. Don’t keep him waiting.”

And with that, the younger woman skipped out into the hallway, humming the strange, cacophonous flautist's tune from the night before.

»» —— ««

Against her better instincts, the queen found herself walking toward the rose garden at the appointed time—though she deliberately walked very slowly so as not to be too punctual, or seem too eager.

She cursed the meeting under her breath as she traveled, as the thought of seeing him in such a place – and of her sister’s maneuvers in arranging it – had distracted her the entire morning, making her appear inattentive and careless at some of her meetings. Recalling the strange warmth of his hand, she had even smudged the ink of her signatures on various papers, and had had to send them back to be re-written.

She had sworn at various points that she would not go to meet him after all, and by noon she had convinced herself that she was going to disappoint him and the princess in order to keep her own sanity intact.

When the old steward had noticed her distraction and asked if she was feeling unwell, she had said yes; this half-truth had given her an excuse to leave her last engagement early, so that she could collect her bearings alone. In solitude, however, the temptation to go grew ever larger in her mind, to the point that when the clock struck quarter past one, she rose from her bed as if possessed, and left.

Initially passing many servants and courtiers on the way to the garden put her in a nervous state, and so the queen took a more circuitous path through discreet hallways until she reached a small side door by the servants’ quarters, exiting onto the kitchen gardens. By that time in the afternoon they were quiet, and she was able to slip relatively unnoticed around them, finding a well-trodden dirt path towards the meeting place.

A tall hedge and locked iron gate separated her from it, and she groaned a little at realizing that she had forgotten her keyring in her bedroom. She jiggled the lock on the door as she peered through the bars on it, and her surprise at seeing no one in the gardens within caused ice to spark from her fingertips, breaking the lock in twain.

The queen jumped back, startled by the sound of the iron as it clattered to the ground below, and then pressed her offending hand to her chest with a red face, exhaling deeply.

“There’s another unlocked gate further down the hedge, you know,” the familiar voice of the prince said from the other side of the hedge, and her head shot up at the intrusion. “No need to inflict more property damage.”

She sighed through her nose. “I didn’t mean to, I just—never mind,” she said, frowning. “Which way is it?”

“To your left,” he replied. “Just follow my voice.”

She continued along the hedge and onto softer grass shadowed by tall trees, keeping her hands close by her sides. Her face was still red. “I don’t know this path,” she said.

“I’m surprised to hear that,” he remarked. “I would’ve thought, being confined for so long, that you’d know every inch of this place by now.”

Her forehead wrinkled. “I was confined indoors, mostly. I’m not as familiar with the gardens, because…”

She paused when she came to the very edge of the natural wall, and she turned to face the hedge, her eyes widening as they met his. The only thing between them was a short wooden gate secured with a latch, which the prince lifted easily.

As she stepped through it and looked up, a soft gasp left her lips.

Tall arches wreathed with red roses in full bloom surrounded a dirt path just a few feet from the gate, and from the state of the vines and leaves encircling the arches, she could tell that they had not been properly pruned for some time. The shine and heat from the afternoon sun was lessened in the wildness of that space, its disuse casting an odd, green light upon the ground where sunlight filtered through the leaves.

“Your parents didn’t allow you here?” the prince resumed their conversation, standing behind her.

She glanced at him over her shoulder, then approached the side of an arch, reaching out to graze the edge of a rose before withdrawing it. “It wasn’t like that. They wanted me to come out more, actually. But… I was afraid to. I didn’t want to spoil things.”

“Spoil? You mean—”

“Well, freeze them, yes,” the queen clarified, irritated. “My mother was very fond of these gardens, though I can’t remember ever coming to this part of them.” Her gaze tightened at the rose she could not bring herself to touch. “I guess the staff haven’t kept it up since she died.”

He was quiet for a while before coming to stand at her side, regarding the same flower. “You haven’t spoken much about them.” At her warning look, he continued: “I know that their passing was unexpected and tragic. But I imagine, before then, that you must have been quite close to them.”

“I was, and I wasn’t,” she said, her lips pressing into a thin line. “They did their best to keep me safe, and love me in their own way, despite the circumstances. But I pushed them away.”

His brow lifted. “‘Loved you in their own way’?”

Her cheeks flushed. “I wasn’t an easy child to care for; I gave them many hardships. It’s a wonder that I haven’t hurt more people, and I have them to thank for that.”

He was silent at her reply, and then his hand reached out to the rose, his fingers drifting over its petals.

“You know, Elsa,” he began, “roses are actually rather difficult to grow. The conditions have to be just right, with plenty of sunshine, well-drained soil, and in areas free from pests, since they’re so susceptible to disease. Without regular attention, it’s unlikely they’d survive.” He eyed her pointedly as he added: “So it’s a wonder that these are still here, and blooming as beautifully as they are.”

The queen did not miss the look, her eyes darkening. “I’m not a rose, Hans. I don’t require sunlight, or pruning, or ‘regular attention’ to endure.” She stood taller, her chin raised, and directed a withering stare at him. “You’re prying by means of flattery, but I already told you that won’t work.”

His hands came up, yielding to her. “You’re right,” he conceded, “it was a bad comparison. Forgive me.”

She crossed her arms. “What were you trying to say, before?” she said. “It’s not like you to drop a line of questioning, once you’ve started.”

He smiled a little at the observation. “Yes, that’s true,” he agreed. The smile faded as his brows knitted together. “It’s just… you speak so poorly about yourself and your powers. Calling yourself a ‘hardship’ to your parents, saying that you pushed them away—all because of one incident from your childhood, which your sister obviously recovered from.”

“It wasn’t just that one incident,” she countered, her hands curling around her biceps. “That was the worst of them, yes, but there were many others after that which created cause for concern. You’ve seen it yourself—what happens when I get worked up, when I feel out of control.”

She pressed a hand to her forehead, cooling the skin there. “This curse is my burden to bear, alone.”

“Curse?” the prince asked. “Is that how you see it?”

She glowered at him. “What else could it be?”

He was quiet for a time, studying her irate features, and then stepped into the shadow of an archway. The green light flickered against his skin, dappled by the roses’ red. “I used to wish that I had your powers, when I was a boy,” he said, staring up at the sunbeams obscured by vines. “When my brothers would torment me, each act of cruelty more petty and vicious than the last, I fantasized about suffocating them with snowdrifts, or turning them into one of your spectacular ice statues—anything that would make them stop.”

His eyes closed tightly, lines of pain visible at the edges. “Even realizing that doing so would make me the same as them, I couldn’t help but imagine it, and it brought me some comfort during the hardest years of my childhood.”

When the prince opened his eyes again, there was a dark honesty in them that the queen had never noticed before. “I know what it’s like to feel cursed, Elsa—to feel like a burden. To feel as if I should never have been born. But I couldn’t have lived this long if I kept feeling that way about myself. And I don’t think you could’ve, either.”

Her face reddened, and her hands throbbed as they fell to her sides.

“Conceal,” she told herself, swallowing. “Don’t feel.”

“What was that?”

She blinked and stared at him, her lips parting but unable to form a reply.

“Don’t let it show.”

“Elsa?”

Snow fell lightly at first, and then all around them as if in a waking dream, and she gripped the sides of her dress tight enough to cause tears in the fabric.

Conceal, she heard the mantra again, don’t feel.

“What are you saying?”

Don’t let it show, she finished, silently mouthing the words.

Through the snow, the prince’s hand reached out to the side of the arch, forcing itself into the barbed stems.

Conceal, don’t feel, don’t let it show.

He plucked a single rose from the bush.

“Elsa.”

His voice was, at first, intermingled with her father’s, and she found it hard to focus on him through the snowdrifts, her vision obscured.

“Come back, Elsa.”

The second time she heard her name it was clearer, and as she squinted, the drifts began to dissipate.

“I’m here.”

All at once, the snow was suspended in the air, and she could clearly hear – and see – the prince in front of her, holding a single red rose. At his side, his right hand hung loosely, blood trickling from the fingers down into the earth.

She gasped at the sight, instinctively seizing the injured hand and tearing one of her gloves off, wrapping it around his pricked fingers and palm, pressing there. The snow that was suspended, as well as the drifts that covered the earth, disappeared. His skin was hot to touch.

“What were you thinking?” she exclaimed, her face still pale from shock. “You know they have thorns.”

He stood in stunned silence watching her tend to him, her thumbs pressing upon the uncovered skin of his wrist.

“Elsa, you…” he managed before growing quiet again, allowing her to focus.

She glanced up at his red face. “What? Don’t you have anything to say for yourself?”

He gaped at her, fish-like, before closing his mouth, suppressing a larger smile.

“No,” he replied softly. “I suppose I was trying to prove something, but… clearly, I just ended up making a fool out of myself.”

Some color returned to her face, and her grip on him relaxed a little. “Yes, you did,” she agreed, not looking at him.

He nodded, looking down at his hand still in hers. “I see that now,” he said, and her blush deepened. “But what about your glove?”

The queen realized what she had done, and almost recoiled from him in surprise. “I—I’ll just have it washed when I get back. I’ll tell Gerda I tripped.”

“Thank you, Elsa,” the prince said, bowing his head. “I really am grateful.”

She nodded in return, a hot tremor coursing through her hand as it finally let go of his. She caught sight of the rose still in his right hand, and pursed her lips. “You’d better let go of that, before you hurt your other hand.”

He followed her look and examined the flower in question before carefully inserting it into the chest pocket of his jacket. “There, that’s better.”

Her brow rose. “Really?”

He shrugged. “It’s a waste to throw away such a beautiful thing, even if it can hurt me.”

She blushed at the long look from the prince that accompanied his remark, and crossed her arms.

“You’re incredibly unsubtle,” she told him, frowning. “It’s very irritating.”

“Then I shall strive to be cleverer with my innuendos,” he said, a half-smirk tugging at his lips. “Wouldn’t want you to get sick of me—not just yet, anyway.” His humorous expression dissolved as he regarded her for a minute, and then his gaze returned to the glove covering his left hand, the light between the arches casting striped patterns across the stained fabric.

“It seems as though the bleeding has stopped,” he said, and unfurled it from his fingers. “Are you sure you want it back? I’m happy to clean it for you, and return it in a more presentable condition.”

She snatched the glove from his hand. “No, thank you,” she snapped, and then added more gently: “It’s just something I need to take care of on my own.”

“You’ve been saying that a lot,” the prince observed. “Needing to handle things, alone.” He continued before she could interrupt him. “And I understand that, since I’ve often thought that I had to do the same. But…”

The queen swallowed. “But?”

He smiled. “Perhaps we can rely on each other.” He glanced down at his thorn-pricked hand, and then up at her again. “It certainly paid off for me, today.”

She clutched the bloodied glove. “You’re asking a lot of me.”

He nodded. “I know. But I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t believe you were capable of it.”

Her blush faded as she stared at the rose in his pocket. “I just… don’t understand why you do.”

He cradled his injured hand thoughtfully. “Because you don’t see what I see in you.”

“No, I don’t,” she admitted, and pressed the stained glove against her stomach, her grip relaxing. Her eyes met his in the next moment, and a deep, unbidden desire was spoken.

“But I want to.”

»» —— ««

She returned to her bedroom a little while later by the same winding route she had taken to go outdoors, her sullied glove balled up in her bare left hand and pressed to her side, out of sight. She exhaled with relief once inside her door, quickly changing out of her torn dress and laying the glove on a side table.

“Your Majesty?”

She held back a sigh at the sound of her trusted steward’s voice on the other side of the door.

“Yes, Kai?”

“May we speak for a minute? I know you still have a many meetings ahead of you today, so I won’t be long.”

She grabbed the dirtied glove from the table and hid it behind her back as she opened the door, waving him in. “Come in,” she said, and nodded at the guards outside to close the doors behind him.

Her brow furrowed a little upon observing his tense expression and bearing, unused to seeing him so concerned. “Is everything all right?”

His lip twitched. “Well, Your Majesty, I heard a slightly… worrying report just now, from one of the kitchen staff.”

The queen’s eyes snapped open. “Oh?” she asked, trying to appear nonplussed. “What did they say?”

The steward’s gaze grew more pointed. “That they saw you going out the back door to the rose garden. They said it looked as if you were meeting someone down the hidden lane to the wood gate—the one your mother and father used to use, when they walked there together.”

At her twitching features, he continued: “The maid who looks after the guestrooms also mentioned that she saw Prince Hans go out not long before then into the same garden, before she lost sight of him.” He paused. “I was surprised to hear this, since I thought you were going on a walk with Princess Anna this afternoon.”

She frowned. “Are you having me followed?”

The steward was mortified by the accusation. “No, of course not, Your Majesty; I wouldn’t dare. I assure you that these reports came in to me independently, completely of the staff’s volition. I gave no orders to them.”

Her stare was still suspicious. “Fine. But what is your purpose in coming to me with these reports? What business is it of theirs, or yours, where or with whom I choose to take an afternoon walk?”

The older man rose to meet her eyes again, and swallowed. “Well, Your Majesty, as you know, your father charged me with looking after your personal well-being before he passed, and so I feel that I must speak up when I observe something that may… endanger your health and happiness.”

Her nose wrinkled. “Endanger my health and happiness.”

“Yes,” he affirmed, his posture more assured. “In this case, endangered by getting too close to a certain southern prince.” At her annoyed look, he continued: “You remember the many months we spent discussing the fires in the Isles, and their curious origins—the research you sent me to do, and that you did in turn about the prince’s family, as well as him? And now suddenly he is here as a valued guest, at the princess’s side during many social events, at family meals, and with you on private walks of the rose garden.”

His lips curled. “You know, Your Majesty, that innocent or not, he is a man of ill repute in his own lands, and is seen as suspect here in your own court, as well. There are already some rumors around him and the princess, and should word reach our guests of your meeting with him today…”

He paused at seeing his queen’s face grow more and more twisted with anger, but went on to conclude: “I can see how his appearance and manners would be charming to you both, and can understand the temptation to overlook his dubious character. But, respectfully, I do not think it wise for you and the princess to associate yourselves further with this young man, Your Majesty.”

The room crackled with an invisible energy, the queen’s power barely contained as she remained silent, her fingernails digging into her palms.

Don’t feel.

She almost spat at the words as they filled the empty air, her seething breaths cold as she swallowed them down.

Don’t let it show.

Her gaze lifted to meet his. “Before my father left on his last journey, he told me to be strong—for myself, as well as for Anna. I told him I would try in order to please him, assuming that he and my mother would be back in a few weeks.” Her expression grew dark. “I thought I could go on as I was, keeping to myself, believing Anna was better off on her own.”

She stopped for a beat, feeling her fingernails draw blood from her palms. “But I was wrong, Kai; they never came back, and Anna was left without parents, and without a sister.” Her eyes were as hard as coals. “But now I am queen, and I must protect her. And I can tell the difference between good and ill intent well enough myself.”

He swallowed again. “Your Majesty, I’m not questioning your judgment. I know you’re—”

“Good,” she interrupted, smiling thinly. “Thank you, Kai. I appreciate your concern. You can go, now.”

He was taken aback by the abrupt cut off, and even shorter dismissal; nonetheless, he bowed, and made his way towards the door. “I’ll see you this evening, Your Majesty,” he said, and left.

Alone, the queen’s hands finally relaxed, and she exhaled through her mouth, sliding down the side of her bedpost to the carpet. Closing her eyes, she lifted her left glove until it was propped up atop bent knees, her heart still racing.

When she opened them again, she saw that the blood from her palms had become intermingled with the prince’s on the fabric.

#helsa #QueenoftheAshesFrozen #frozen #frozen fanfiction #helsaweek 2020

11 notes · View notes