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sansacherie · 3 years ago

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First Kiss

The Third Month of The Year 298

“You look lovely, Rhaenys.” Aegon smiles at her as Rhaenys enters the Hall of Lamps, accompanied by her three bridesmaids and their escort of guards.

“Only lovely?” Rhaenys wrinkles her nose. “You disappoint me terribly, Aegon. You should not describe a bride as anything less than exquisite. At least, that is what my bridesmaids tell me.”

Arianne winks at her while Sansa and Daenerys giggle. In the Faith, it is often the custom for a bride such as Rhaenys to choose three bridesmaids to honour three of the seven gods- the Maiden who bring bless the marriage with lasting love, the Mother with children, and the Crone with wisdom to survive the years together. Rhaenys had agonized over who to pick among her ladies, not wanting to cause hurt, but thankfully her mother had guided her into selecting Arianne, Daenerys, and Sansa. No one can fault her for choosing family, or soon to be family in Sansa’s case, Elia reasoned.

“Your sister is playing with you, Your Grace.” Arianne drawled. He does. Aegon laughs and offers Rhaenys his arms, before lowering his voice. “You look beautiful as always, Nee-Nee. I suppose I’m just used to it.” Rhaenys smiles sadly at this resurrection of his babyhood nickname for her.

Rhaenys does feel beautiful, however. Of course, although she is not vain enough to deem herself the Maiden’s rival, she also does not find any value in lying to herself when she sees her reflection.

But this is different. The dressmakers have done well, truly. Rhaenys’ gown is a glory, a creation of red silk with long flowing sleeves that felt inviting as sin when she was helped into it earlier. Her bodice glimmers with golden thread. Resting on her black curls is a golden diadem with red rubies and an inscription in Rhoynese at the bottom.

On her wedding cloak, is a dragon whose open mouth reveals no crackling flames but instead a large golden sun that overwhelms the creature in size. The other dress that Rhaenys will change into for today is also just as beautiful, with Sansa gasping in delight upon seeing it. Although it is not demanded, it is not unusual for a bride to wear a gown favouring her new husband’s colours at their reception as if their vows were not enough to demonstrate that she was now his. But Rhaenys has no wish to offend her river lord or make him feel uncertain, so her gown is silver satin and sleeves consisting of myrish lace. Adorning the outfit is a belt made of deep red velvet with blue sapphires.

Aegon signals that they are ready, and from inside the sept proper music begins to play. Arianne lifts up Rhaenys’ cloak from the ground, while Sansa and Daenerys pick up the hems of the gown; the former looking painfully excited while Dany almost looks as nervous as Rhaenys feels.

Arianne nods at her and proudly smiles at Rhaenys in the way that Aegon did, and Rhaenys wills herself to breathe.

As a princess born, her entire life was the realm’s, shaped and nurtured with it in mind. It was the offering demanded for her birth and rank being predetermined by the Seven. It was a truth familiar to Rhaenys as a favoured story might be for a child who delights still in its thousand telling.

However, unlike that small child, Rhaenys could never be allowed to want other stories. Rhaenys is not friendless in this either, she remembers.

Her life belonged to the seven kingdoms, and so it appeared, did her first kiss.

Their kiss does not make Rhaenys forget to stand, or forget the crowd that had gathered in the royal sept to witness Lord Edmure Tully take her for his lady wife.

The number of guests is not as many as the wedding of Aegon to Lady- Queen Cassandra Baratheon, but Rhaenys’ wedding is still the first of a blood princess since that of her paternal grandmother forty years ago. Their noses bump, and his beard tickles Rhaenys chin. Nobody dares laugh to break the spell of the solemnity of the occasion, but Edmure reddens all the same.

When they turn to face the cheering crowd, Rhaenys cannot squeeze his hand- there will be a hundred times during the wedding there will be time for contact, but she gives him a bright smile, to put him at ease. “My lord, I must confess. You’ve rather exceeded the expectations of a maiden’s first kiss.”

Edmure’s eyes widen, then his generous mouth curves into a boyish grin. There is a kindness in it, and Rhaenys’ heart twists suddenly. Did her father smile at her mother on their wedding day? Despite the betrayals that he rained down on her, did he at least do that?

There is no way of knowing. Rhaenys cannot ask her father this, or a thousand other questions since she was old enough to understand how the crown prince almost brought them all to ruin. She does not want to dig up the past for her mother, who now basked in the warm present; with her adoring husband. Elia Martell paid Rhaegar Targaryen little attention in death, just as he paid her little respect and dignity in life.

II.

The Third Month of The Year

Two weeks pass before they enjoy their first misunderstanding.

“Have I done something to upset you?” Edmure asks her, in Rhaenys’ bedchamber. They have been given adjoining rooms here in the castle. They will not leave the Red Keep until the end of the month. Rhaenys is glad of it. She is not afraid to leave, but she is not necessarily anxious to either.

Rhaenys shakes her head, her sketchbook lying forgotten in her lap. “Of course not, my lord.”

Edmure frowns. “In public, whenever I try to kiss you, or take your hand- it’s almost as if I am some stranger and not your husband. You look uncomfortable.”

Rhaenys feels a flush of shame. She’d not meant to sail down this river. However, she smiles at him. “Give me your trust in this, Edmure.” Edmure’s eyes widen. Until now Rhaenys has called him Lord Edmure or my lord, while he has alternated between Princess Rhaenys or my lady, or my princess, for Rhaenys will be a princess long after she is Lady of Riverrun. “If you were a stranger kissing the king’s sister, you would know it.”

“That still does not answer my question.” It is almost an accusation.

That still does not answer my question.”

Rhaenys sighs. She must be truthful with him. “It is not because of you, I promise. It is because of me, and well- Lord Tywin.”

“Lord Tywin?” Edmure echoes her, like the sound of the ocean in one of the seashells that could be found along the beach of Dragonstone. Then he looks a little ill. “You mean to tell me that you love Tywin Lannister?” Edmure splutters.

Rhaenys cannot help but laugh; the notion is so ridiculous. Love is wasted on a man like that.

“No, my lord.” Rhaenys says gently. “It is because I cannot forget who I am, and who Tywin is. Or Mace Tyrell. You know the line of succession to the Crown, I trust. I am my brother’s heir, after any children he might have. My sons will inherit first over any sons that Viserys might give his Cersei. May the Seven permit that we have a future where Aegon lives long and has many children. I want that for him. But you and I are not foolish to think that Tywin is equally satisfied.

So, I have always been- careful. Careful with my behaviour, with how I am perceived. I told you that you were my first kiss. I- I had no wish to give Tywin palace gossip that he could use to his advantage.”

Edmure crinkles his forehead. “Surely nobody would think badly of a child for having kissing games. Cat and Lysa-,”

Rhaenys now tosses her sketchbook aside. “Forgive me my lord, but your sisters’ experience cannot be compared to mine. Their mother is not Dornish.”

Edmure looks lost. “What has that got to do with this?”

“Everything.” Rhaenys hisses, standing up now.

“People will take innocent kisses and think it proof of a Dornish woman’s wanton ways, as if there isn’t plenty in the Reach or Westerlands who were no maidens when they were married! Or men who have a dozen mistresses! I know the rumours of Ashara Dayne, my mother’s lost friend. Everyone assumes that Ashara slept with Brandon Stark, but she never did! She was younger than me when she died, and yet people simply assume that she gave him anything more than a smile. And Dany-,” Rhaenys wipes away her tears. “We were only children at the time. I don’t think Dany was any older than five. We were calling each other stupid things as children do, and my mother had entered the room when Dany called me a Dornish slut. To this day, I still don’t know where the hell she got that from. And the look on my mother’s face-,” Rhaenys stares at the floor. “My darling grandfather called her that, a few times.”

“So, because of this, I have always been careful. My mother has taught me so. Since I was a maiden flowered, being alone is not something I am used to. There has always been either my family or my ladies or my guards. I will not let myself be vulnerable to any rumours that would paint me unsuitable to be a queen; rumours that the lion and rose will try to use for their own ends.” Rhaenys is surprised by the vehemence in her voice.

She takes a deep breath, before continuing. “Secondly, it is just my nature. I appreciate that you are my husband, but I have never been comfortable with physical affection in public, specifically hugs and kisses. I endure it for proprietary’s sake. If truth be told, I am not entirely fond of being embraced.”

Edmure’s forehead creases. “Even your own kin?”

“No, that’s different.” Rhaenys corrects him. “My family is close to me. My ladies are close to me, so I obviously did not mind when we slept in the same bed, our legs tangled together like branches or held their hands as we danced or played games. And you and I will become close too, I hope.” She adds, shyly.

Edmure nods. “Thank you Rhaenys, for telling me this. I will keep that in mind.” Rhaenys’ smiles at the use of her name.

He grins. “Speaking of kisses has made me want to kiss you still, however. So – may I kiss you?” He asks tentatively. His voice makes Rhaenys remember their wedding night, and how he asked her the same thing in the dark. Their first coupling was well- it was nice, she supposes. She does not have anything to score it by. Still afterwards, she had slipped a hand between her legs, for there was nothing in scripture that forbade such things.

But a kiss is different. She nods, and Edmure gingerly brushes a curl from her face. “I hope we have a girl with hair like yours.”

His kiss is long and sweet; as sweet as the smell of rain after a month’s drought.

III.

The Sixth Month of The Year 298

“Rhaenys?”

Edmure’s worried face is illuminated in the candlelight, as he sits down on the bed beside her. Rhaenys is clutching her knees, her eyes downcast.

They have not yet reached Riverrun, thanks to the river lords who insisted on guesting them for a few days. Stars have risen in the sky for the third time here at Stone Hedge. No doubt the Brackens insisted on the third night to beat the Blackwood’s two. “By the time you do reach Riverrun, you’ll need a new wardrobe.” Desmera Redwyne had predicted, giggling.

There had been no giggling when Desmera had gone to fetch Edmure after Rhaenys had bolted up in bed, tears streaming down her face.

“Desmera need not have woken you.” Rhaenys mumbled.

“I’m not sorry she did.” Edmure counters. “My lady, you are trembling.”

Rhaenys fiddled with the end of her braid. “It was a bad dream, that’s all.”

For a heartbeat, silence rested between them. Then, Edmure spoke. “When I was a boy, my sister Catelyn once told me that you always feel better after talking about a bad dream.”

Well, what has she got to lose then? He will not leave her. “It’s a dream I’ve had before.” She confesses softly. “I’ve had it on and off since I was twelve or thirteen. In it, I’m trying to get away. But I can never far enough. They-They never change how they kill me. With a knife.”

Edmure sucks in his breath. “Rhaenys-,”

Rhaenys bites her lip. “And the strange thing is, I’m never the age that I am. In it, I wasn’t eight-and-ten. Instead, I’m a little girl. I might be four, I think.” Tears well in her eyes. “Tell me, what chance does a girl of four have against a man who wants to kill her?”

“Very little, I would judge.” Edmure softly replies. “I’m sorry. Maybe I shouldn’t have pressed you to tell me.”

“No.” Rhaenys corrects him. “Don’t be sorry. I-I do feel a little better now, as you predicted.” It is not a lie. She has never spoken about the dream to anyone else, before.

It feels freeing.

She turns and wraps her arms around Edmure, kissing him. This kiss feels different somehow. It is not as though she hasn’t been vulnerable with Lord Edmure before. She gave her maidenhood to him. She will feel a little vulnerable in Riverrun she thinks, until she can gain the respect of Edmure’s household.

But this kiss – it is a comfort. Of course, Rhaenys has been comforted before. But the solace of a mother or brother is different from that of a husband. This- the feeling of his lips against hers- is like being told a secret. But it’s not a secret designed to hurt. It’s not one where the longer it is kept hidden from the open, the worse the fallout is.

Instead, it is like being given something small, fragile. That is a precious thing, Rhaenys concludes. It is a precious thing to be given such trust.

IV.

The Eighth Month of the Year 298

“I’ve had a thought,” Edmure says, as Rhaenys massages his aching shoulders; courtesy of his sparring session.

Rhaenys had enjoyed watching that, very much.

“Oh?” Rhaenys smirks. Removing her hands from his shoulders, she cocks her head at him. “Is that unusual for you, my lord?”

To her husband’s credit, he only grins at her. Other men like Stannis Baratheon or Tywin Lannister were not so kind to such silly little japes.

“I was thinking that perhaps we could write to some of our vassals’ families and ask for some girls. For you, I mean. I know you’ve brought some from Kingslanding. But the Riverlands can’t be their home forever, while you- I think it would be good for you. Not that I don’t think you’re not doing well in your duties so far.” He adds quickly.

Rhaenys smiles warmly. “That is a wonderful idea. We should ask Maester Vyman for his counsel on who to choose. Three seems a good number, I feel. In time, perhaps we can ask for some wards. Companions for any younger sons or daughters we may have."

Edmure answers her with a kiss to the neck. Rhaenys gasps. He has never kissed her there before. Always on the lips or cheek.

She loves it.

“I hope we have a girl with hair like yours, my lady.”

Somehow, she knows that it will not be a wasteful thing to hope in this marriage.

#asoiaf #summer is for dorne #rhaenys x edmure #edmure tully #fluff #rhaenys targaryen (daughter of elia)

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passable-talent · 4 years ago

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gn!reader teaching zukie boy how to dance and loosen up n have fun and stuff like the footloose aang episode? hm? perhaps? question mark?👁👁

“footloose episode” is quite possibly the funniest and most accurate way to describe that episode and I am LAUGHing

oh, look at this, the draft i started in july and never finished because i was experiencing ✨depression✨

Firelord Zuko had come a long way since he was banished in terms of ‘comfort’. ‘Confidence’. He hadn’t been this comfortable in his own skin since before his mother disappeared, even as his own country didn’t quite back him, not all the time.

Still, though, there was evidence of his childhood trauma that weighed down his shoulders, his guard still kept high, even after all this time. He’d learned how to fix this, and his walls disguised themselves as ‘diplomacy’, instead of ‘anger’, as “maturity” instead of “rage”, as they’d been for so long. Every day, around every person, he was the perfect leader instead of being himself, and it was easy to recognize the toll it took on him.

Even if he didn’t realize how exhausting it was on the day-to-day level, he definitely realized quickly that these walls wouldn’t help him when he was at dinners, parties, as much as they would during meetings and conferences. When he needed, or wanted, to be fun and sociable, he couldn’t be quite the same person he was when negotiating treaties and trades.

Also, he didn’t know how to dance. That actually turned out to be a problem.

Having been removed from his throne during the years that would have served as his training for things of the like, the ‘proper’ things, he was nervous about the upcoming celebration for Liberation Day, a new holiday to celebrate the end of the Hundred Year War. It had been a year since he took the throne, and until this point had managed to avoid throwing such a celebration, but this party was more than that- it was a fancy soirée to appeal to some of the nobles of the nation and convince them that Zuko was in fact a good ruler. Dancing wasn’t really expected of him, sure, but among the discussion and the drinking it would probably end up happening, especially if he wanted to lead by example and convince his citizens that the days of censorship and suppression were over.

He didn’t know any traditional noble dances. He’d come across dances in his banishment, but they were earth kingdom or peasant dances, and as elitist as his guests would be, he really wanted to impress with his understanding of Fire Nation nobility.

That’s where you come in.

You were a young dance instructor in the colonies, a firebender who was born on the mainland but left home to pursue a dance career with people who were more willing to learn. You were the best in the nation, and you taught ballroom dancing, dancing blended with bending, street styles, you had any skill that anyone could ask to learn.

Your reputation around the colonies earned you a mention when the Fire Lord sent out a quiet call for a dance instructor. As quick as you could you traveled to the capital city, ready to meet the Fire Lord, but amazed that you had the opportunity to do so.

You were more nervous than you’d ever been in your life.

The Kyoshi Warriors checked you over, made sure you weren’t an assassin (apparently), and warned you what you were going to be dealing with. Zuko was always uncomfortable around new people, they said, as awkward as any teenage boy anywhere. Be nice.

You met him for lunch.

Immediately you could see the reason for his call- he was so stiff. He bowed with precision like he expected his hands to be smacked, if they strayed out of proper position. He smiled, and it looked fairly genuine, but it was quite clearly a charming smile more than a friendly one.

You discussed expectations, schedule, salary, all of the things one would at such a meeting, and all topics meant to be taken seriously. Still, you wished he’d take that tone out of his voice, that tone that said ‘I don’t know who you are, and I don’t know if I’m allowed to be comfortable.’

So you knew your first job. You’d get him to laugh.

What got him, near the end of the meal, was some silly little joke, some anecdote you were reminded of from your home in the colonies. He hadn’t talked to a colonial in a while, so he was genuinely interested in everything you said about your home- which broke the ice.

There was a little villa in the palace city you were given while you tutored him, which you stayed at after lunch that day, until your first meeting with him, later that evening. When you returned, you wore a very simple outfit- loose pants, loose shirt. Workout clothes. Very casual.

And he showed up in the entire Firelord Noble Gown Getup.

“Yeah, that’s not going to work,” you said with a little bit of a chuckle, “You have to change.” Zuko made a little expression of confusion, and considered for a moment before responding.

“This is what I’ll need to wear to the celebration. I thought I’d need to be prepared to dance in it.” You gave another laugh and approached him, looking over the outfit.

“Yeah, no. We’ll work up to that, but we’re starting with different stuff today, stuff that you definitely can’t do in that.” You crossed your arms. “Besides. This isn’t that serious. We’re here to train, you don’t have to impress me.” He nodded, and after a moment just looking at you, turned away.

“I’ll be right back.” When he returned, he was wearing something much better. It was still a little too formal. too firelord-y for your taste, but at least it was looser.

“Right,” you said with a chuckle, cracking your fingers, “get ready to regret hiring me.”

That was meant to be a joke, because you started him on a flexibility-oriented warm up. Every man you’ve ever trained moaned and whined when you made them try to touch their toes, or attempt a split, or lift their leg as high as they could. Zuko, though, could do them all- he could bring his foot way up and above his head, where under Agni had he learned that?

So the joke wasn’t so much that he was affected by the warm up, but more that you were astounded every time he successfully did what you asked. You had to resist the urge to throw something crazy at him, just to see if you could stump him.

By the end of the warm-up he’d relaxed around you, but the stress that you could almost see boiling under his skin certainly hadn’t gone away. And it showed.

Ballroom dances in the Fire Nation were very formal, very elegant. There were certain steps, certain postures. These, Zuko grasped with no problem. He had the perfect form, but somehow, it just didn’t come together for him. You couldn’t quite figure out what was going wrong, and every time you thought you’d figured it out, it wouldn’t work. It wasn’t until halfway until the celebration was planned that you came to a realization.

“Again, so I can figure this out,” you said, and he took your hand again, and stepped with you, leading the dance, making that wide circle that this particular dance was known for. This time, you tracked his footfalls, and finally it clicked.

“Oh!” you said, pulling from him, and he looked a bit more shocked than you expected.

“What?”

“No, uh- just that I figured out what feels wrong.” He lifted his chin, ready for any criticism you would give him. “I should’ve figured it out sooner. You’re just... stiff.”

“Stiff?”

“Yeah, like you’re plotting out every moment, and doing them in a step-by-step process.”

“Isn’t that what you told me to do?” You let out a frustrated breath, and tried to find the words.

“Yeah, but-” You lifted your hands, throwing them about in the air as though it would help you find your meaning. “Okay, yeah, but no matter what, this is a dance. A dance isn’t a fight, you can’t think through every single move. You’ve got to flow with it, feel it. I mean, I guess you should do that in a fight, too, but you- do you know what I mean?” Zuko brought a finger to his chin for a moment, before agreeing.

“Yeah, I think I do.”

“Okay, then let’s try it again.”

Absolutely nothing changed.

“Okay, drastic measures,” you said, grabbing him by the shoulders and making him stand straight in front of you. “We’re going to play Bunny.”

“What’s Bunny?” You took a step back, bringing your feet together.

“It’s the stupidest game you’ll ever play. First, you gotta jump- but the smallest jump ever. Barely leave the ground.” You gave him an example, and no matter how many times you’ve played this time, the motion never gets any less jarring. “It’ll feel stupid, do it anyway.”

He knocked some of his hair from his topknot when he did it, but he was laughing.

“Good, that was Small Bunny. Now, we’re going to do Big Bunny. Jump as high as you can in the air.” Since this one hardly needed a demonstration, you did it together- and he was taller, so he got just a bit higher.

Bunny was as much an icebreaker as it was a game. You’d gotten him to smile- not an instant smile, a flash of one before it disappeared, but a real, long-lasting smile.

“Okay, good.” You brought one hand up, palm to the sky, and laid the other under its elbow, offering him a dance very popular in the colonies, one you were sure he’d recognize. He did, and lifted his hand, touching his wrist to yours.

“All we do is circle, right?” He asked, and you gave him a smile.

“Yeah. Just like in a fight.” You lead, guiding him into a rhythm, the steps, the cross steps, a slow motion that he grew used to, and finally he was moving with some grace.

“You’re friends with a waterbender, right?” You asked him, and he nodded, his eyes jumping between yours and the floor, at your feet.

“Yeah, Katara.”

“Then you’ll definitely understand this. Dancing is water, but it’s not waterbending- a waterbender is in ultimate control, and the water does what she wants.” Catching him off guard, you switched hands, and the dance rotated the other way. “A dance is like a river. All of the water is moving in the same direction..” You let the thought hang, slowing him with the indicative press against his wrist, then guiding him from the rotation to a different step. “But it doesn’t all move the same. Your feet don’t move together, and they don’t move the same way your hips do, and your hips don’t move like your shoulders. There’s one river, but a thousand little currents. Take the lead.” You slipped the command in just after the lesson, and waited to see how he’d take it.

With a bit of a swirl, he guided you toward the center of the room, where he then began a slow circle. He telegraphed his movements to you, just like you’d taught him, but more you were amazed by how his motion was rounded, graceful, more than polygonal and rigid. Something had clicked in him, and he got it.

So you let him go. He lead the dance, and it stopped being a lesson. Just two friends, dancing in the empty ballroom. He changed from the colonial dance you’d started with into the more formal dance you’d prepared him with, so you came closer, fingers interlocked in the lamplight. Now that he was used to the moment, his steps aligned with yours, making it feel as though you were two of the same one mind. He’d stopped looking at your feet- he just looked at you.

Slow dancing in the middle of the room, you gave him a fond smile.

“Dare I say, dancing like this, you’ll impress every noble there. You might even impress a future spouse.” He gave back a smile, just the lightest hint of pink coloring his cheeks.

“Yeah, I think I will.” He pulled from the dance, giving you a bow as you separated, just like you’d taught him. “I want you to come to the dance. I’ll see you get an invite.”

“No, I couldn’t possibly-”

“I insist. I wouldn’t be nearly as impressive if it weren’t for you, and besides, it’s fitting that you’re there to watch your hard work pay off.” Unable to force back the smile on your face, you let out a breath.

“Fine, fine. I’ll be there.”

-🦌 Roe

want y’all to know that bunny is a thing that me and my friend nick made up in 2010 and I do use it to get people to loosen up in real life. it actually helps

tag list: @lammello @kittyddandnyla @aangsupremacy @qquell @caitff @coldlilheart @sleeping-with-the-fishes @duh-dobrik @dxcter @babyybesson

#imagines #reader insert #fire lord zuko #avatar x reader #x reader #zuko reader insert #zuko imagine #atla zuko #zuko angst #avatar zuko #prince zuko #zuko #avatar reader insert #avatar imagine #avatar imagines #avatar: the last airbender #avatar #atla #fics

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thelittlesttimelord · 3 years ago

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The Littlest Timelord: The New Doctor Chapter 14

TITLE: The Littlest Timelord: The New Doctor Chapter 14 PAIRING: No Pairing RATING: T CHAPTER: 14/? SUMMARY: With the Doctor newly regenerated, he and Elise must now navigate their new relationship. The Doctor is an old man and Elise is a headstrong young woman. She is no longer the scared little girl the Doctor saved all those years ago. Will Clara be able to keep them from killing each other?

Clara was clearly getting ready for another date when Elise and the Doctor arrived.

The Doctor was watching her laundry spinning in the washing machine while Clara checked her makeup.

“The Satanic Nebula,” the Doctor suggested. He stared at her goldfish. “Or the lagoon of lost stars. Or we could go to Brighton. I've got a whole day worked out.”

“Sorry, but as you can see, I've got plans.” Clara gestured to her outfit.

“Have you?”

“Look at me.”

“Yeah, okay.”

“No, no, no. No. Look at me.” Clara flipped her hair.

“Yep, looking.”

“Seriously?”

“I think you look beautiful,” Elise told Clara.

“Thank you, Ellie.”

“Why is your face all colored in? Are you taller?” the Doctor asked.

Clara raised her foot. “Heels.”

“What, do you have to reach a high shelf?”

“Right, got to go. Going to be late.”

“For a shelf?”

“Bye.” Just as Clara was about to leave, the phone in the TARDIS started ringing. “There you go, you've got another playmate.”

“Hardly anyone in the universe has that number.”

“Well, I've got it.”

“Yes, from some woman in a shop. We still don't know who that was.”

“Is that her now?”

“There are very few people that it could be.”

“Maybe it’s Kate,” Elise suggested. It’d been a while since they’d seen the head of UNIT.

The Doctor reached out to answer it.

“Don't,” Clara said.

“Why not?” the Doctor asked.

“Because, if you answer it, something will happen.”

“What?”

“A thing”

“Huh. It's just a phone, Clara. Nothing happens when you answer the phone.” He picked up the receiver.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The next thing they knew they were sitting at table, each holding a memory worm.

Clara and Elise screamed.

“Doctor?” Clara asked.

“Don't touch it.”

“Where are we? How did we get here?”

A man and a woman sat across from them at the table.

The man had half his head shaved with computer chips attached. “Who are you? Sorry, what's going on? I don't understand.”

The woman was dark skinned. Her cheeks transformed into the worm’s horns before fading. “Ah! What is that thing?”

“It's a memory worm,” the Doctor told her.

“What happened to your face?” Clara asked.

“Deletes your memories.”

“Did you see her face?”

“How did I get here?” the woman asked.

“The same way we all did, but we've all forgotten,” the Doctor said.

“And who are you?”

A metal case sat in the middle of the table. It played a recording.

“I am the Doctor, a Time Lord from Gallifrey. I have agreed to this memory wipe of my own free will.”

“I am Clara Oswald, human. I have agreed to this memory wipe of my own free will. Do I really have to touch that worm thing?”

“Yes, you do. And change your shoes. Elise, you’re next.”

Elise heard herself sigh. “Do I really have to do this?”

“Yes.”

“This is a bad idea. Fine. I am Elise Smith, daughter of the Doctor and River Song. I have agreed to this memory wipe of my own free will.”

“Okay, you're next, Psi.”

“I am Psi- augmented human. I have agreed to this memory wipe of my own free will.” Psi took a chip from his head and examined it.

“I am Saibra, mutant human. I have agreed to this memory wipe of my own free will.”

The case unlocked and a golden light shone from within. Two screens popped up. A golden K in a circle was shown on the screen before a hooded figure appeared.

“This is a recorded message. I am the Architect. Your last memory is of receiving a contact from an unknown agency. Me. Everything since has been erased from your minds. Now, pay close attention to this briefing.”

A planet appeared and zoomed in to show a bank. An advertisement started to play as the Architect spoke.

“This is the Bank of Karabraxos, the most secure bank in the galaxy. A fortress for the super-rich. If you can afford your own star system, this is where you keep it. No one sets foot on the planet without protocols. All movement is monitored, all air consumption regulated. DNA is authenticated at every stage. Intruders will be incinerated. Each vault, buried deep in the earth, is accessed by a drop-slot at the planet's surface. It's atomically sealed, an unbreakable lock. The atoms have all been scrambled. Your presence on this planet is unauthorized. A team will have been dispatched to terminate you.”

Someone banged on the door. “This is bank security. Open up.”

The video kept playing. “Your survival depends on following my instructions.”

“Open up and you shall be humanely disposed of.”

“There's another exit,” Saibra said.

“All the information you need is in this case,” the video said.

Psi took a chip from his head and plugged it into the case.

“What are you doing?” the Doctor asked.

“Downloading,” Psi told him.

“Ah. Augmented. Nice.”

“The Bank of Karabraxos is impregnable,” the video said.

The Doctor took a device from the case.

“Please stand away from the door. We do not wish to hurt you before incineration,” the guard ordered.

Elise rolled her eyes. How considerate.

“The Bank of Karabraxos has never been breached. You will rob the Bank of Karabraxos.”

Soon, the five of them were running down a corridor.

“Okay, okay, okay. Stop, stop, stop. Far enough,” the Doctor said, panting.

Can’t handle all the running, old man? Elise asked. She received an eyeroll in response.

“Augmented human. Computer augmented, yes? Mainframe in your head?”

“I'm a gamer. Sorry, who put you in charge?” Psi asked.

“You're a liar. That's a prison code on your neck.”

“I'm a hacker slash bank robber.”

“Good. This is a good day to be a bank robber. Mutant human. What kind of mutant?”

“Like he says, why are you in charge now?” Saibra asked.

“It's my special power. What's yours?”

Saibra sighed and took Clara’s hand. They watched as she transformed into Clara. When she let go, she was herself once again. “I touch living cells, I can replicate the owner.”

“Your face, when we first saw you...”

“I touched the worm.”

“You can replicate their clothes too?”

“I wear a hologram shell.”

“Like Christmas,” Elise said, even though only the Doctor and Clara knew what she was referencing.

The Doctor pulled out the object he took from the case. “Human cells. DNA from a customer, maybe? A disguise to get us in?”

“We're actually going to do it? Rob the bank?”

“I don't think we have a choice. We've already agreed to.”

Saibra sighed and touched her thumb to the object.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Elise had to admit that the bank was beautiful.

“How long can you maintain the image for?” the Doctor asked Saibra.

“For as long as I like.”

They entered the bank.

“Question one. Robbing banks is easy if you've got a TARDIS. So why am I not using it?” the Doctor asked.

“Question two, where is the TARDIS?” Clara countered.

“Okay, that probably should be question one.”

“Hopefully it’s not having a temper tantrum this time,” Elise said.

The Doctor turned to her. “At least we’re not stuck on a pirate ship with a murderous mermaid.”

An alarm started going off and security grills came down around all the exits. “Banking floor locking down.”

“They know we're here,” Saibra said.

“Banking floor locking down.”

A woman entered with two men dressed in suits. They walked up to a man with a briefcase.

A monster wearing an orange jumpsuit and a straight jacket entered. It had two eyestalks and was led by two armed guards.

Elise, instead of being scared, just felt sorry for the poor creature.

“What is that?” Saibra asked.

“I don't know. Hate not knowing,” the Doctor said.

“Excuse me, sir. I regret to say that your guilt has been detected,” the woman said.

“What? That, that's totally ridiculous,” the man said.

“Is it, sir? Well then, we will certainly double-check. The Teller will now scan your thoughts for any criminal intent. Good luck, sir.”

The man put down his briefcase.

“Interesting,” the Doctor said.

“What is?” Psi asked.

“The latest thing in sniffer dogs. Telepathic. It hunts guilt.”

The creature emitted a high-pitched noise that caused the man to grab his head in pain.

“What about our guilt?” Clara asked.

“Currently being drowned out,” the Doctor told her.

“What's he doing?”

“If he has a plan, he's trying not to think of it.”

“Ever tried not thinking about something?” Psi asked.

“No,” Clara said.

“You may have to,” Saibra said.

The creature roared.

“Ah, criminal intent detected. How naughty. What was your plan? Counterfeit currency in your briefcase, perhaps?” the woman asked.

“No, not at all. For God's sake,” the man said.

“It doesn't really matter, we'll establish the details later. The Teller is never wrong when it comes to guilt. Your account will now be deleted, and obviously your mind. Suppertime.”

The armored guards held onto the creature’s chains as it moved closer to the customer. It’s eyestalks came together and a ray was focused on the man’s head.

“It's wiping his mind. Turning his brain into soup,” the Doctor explained.

Elise felt tears well up in her eyes.

“Your next of kin will be informed, and incarcerated, as further inducement to honest financial transactions,” the woman said.

The man started screaming.

“We've got to help him,” Clara said.

“He's gone already. It's over,” the Doctor told her.

“He's in agony, look at him.”

“Those aren't tears, Clara. That's soup.”

The creature pulled it’s eyestalks apart.

The man stopped screaming and one of the suited men caught him. The front of his head was caved in.

“Account closed. Take him away. He's ready for his close-up. Apologies for the disturbance. Everyone have a lovely day.”

Elise was right. This was a very bad idea.

#twelfth doctor #twelfth doctor imagine #twelfth doctor fanfiction #doctor who #doctor who fanfiction #doctor who imagine #clara oswald #clara oswald imagine #the littlest timelord #the littlest timelord: the new doctor #time heist

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mortispoxi · 4 years ago

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Sam’s heart dropped into his stomach the day an invitation arrived in the mail that spoke of a dinner party those of the wealthy upper class were expected to attend. He would be required to wear formal attire for this party and since he had absolutely nothing in his wardrobe that could be considered “fancy,” he goes to Sybil for help. If anyone could help him fit into the upper echelons of society she could since she had helped him in the past with his table manners. However, Sybil isn’t up to date on men’s fashions and so she calls in a specialist who was willing to help...Havelock Vetinari.

Now, Sam wasn’t too pleased when the patrician’s carriage pulled up in front of their house the day they were to go clothes shopping and Sybil hopped in like nothing was the matter. But after some convincing from both Sybil and Vetinari, Sam begrudgingly gets in with them and they head off to the shops. The last thing Vimes wanted was another “incident,” but maybe since the patrician would be with them Sam won’t have a chance to embarrass himself in front of Vetinari at the party because he will have already done so at the store.

Needless to say, Vimes was not in much of a mood to interact with any of the salesclerks that bombarded him the moment he stepped into the shop. As the clerks hemmed and hawed over his measurements, he stopped keeping an eye on Sybil and Lord Vetinari who were wandering off to make their own selections for him. While they were searching the racks, Vetinari ended up pulling out a suit that looked like something even the Fools Guild would have rejected for being too ridiculous. He holds it up for Sybil to see and as if they were on the same wavelength, they quietly put it in the “must try on,” pile and continue to pick through clothes. When it is time for Vimes to officially try on clothes, he’s handed the huge pile that had been meticulously selected for him by various employees and by his wife and boss.

Occasionally, Sam had moments where he couldn’t figure out how to put on some of the more complex pieces and called for Sybil to help him out in the changing room. Any time pants were involved, Vetinari and the employees were treated to the unmistakable sounds of Lady Ramkin-Vimes smacking Sir Samuel’s bottom followed by the low, gruff voice of her husband telling her “not now,” before Sybil would retreat from the dressing room. He couldn’t stay mad at her forever since whenever he attempted to put on a jacket with more buttons than a clacks machine he would be forced to call her back in. Vimes absolutely refused calling upon Vetinari for assistance, since he knew if he let him in he was never going to live down the shame of having your employer see you struggling to put on a shirt while your pants were around your ankles.

After putting on a good number of outfits and getting thumbs down from his captive audience, the time finally arrived when he picked up the horrendous outfit the two had been waiting for him to put on. The moment he saw it, he realized what they had done and died a little inside knowing that there was no way they weren’t going to force him into this hideous thing. He might as well play their little game and get this over with. So, the Commander of the Watch came out in the most ugly, ruffled monstrosity on the face of the Disc and glared at his wife and boss who were struggling not to giggle. He clenched and unclenched his fists then said, “alright, get it out whatever it is you want to say.” Sybil wasted no time blurting out that he looked like he got his fashion advice from the Ankh river. Vetinari had to turn his head so he’d face the wall because he could no longer control the laughter that was bubbling up out of his throat. A trainee store clerk, who was watching this fiasco, called from the back that he looks like the personification of Foul ole Ron’s smell which caused Sybil to fall out of her chair screeching with laughter. Vetinari had finally let out a snort of laughter, making Sam grow hot with embarrassment as he shuffled off back to the dressing room to get this damn outfit off him.

Vimes was beginning to think this whole thing was just for them to make fun of him and that all hope was lost, when he finds at the bottom of the pile a nice, sensible outfit he could put on with ease. After the laughing had died down and Vetinari and Sybil were begging him to come out, Sam walked out in a stunning red suit with gold trimming and embordered flowers running up along his arms and legs. Vetinari got up, leaning heavily on his cane, and begun inspecting him slowly. It reminded Sam of a shark circling its prey in preparation for the kill; the silence was killing him. He was about to shout at the patrician to just say something when the man nodded his head in approval. Sybil’s cheering brought over a store representative who asked if they would like to purchase the outfit Sam was wearing. He barely had his mouth open when both Sybil and Lord Vetinari emphatically stated “YES!” at the exact same time.

#discworld #sam vimes #sybil ramkin #havelock vetinari #discworld headcanons #all the guests compliment vimes on his princely makeover and he ends up getting a lot of stares during the event #sybil pinching sam's cheeks: you look so handsome!#sam as she plays with this face: 'ank yo pleash shtop pinshing ma cheekshs #sybil smirking as she walks off and as she passes him she pinches his butt #sam: aye! no pinching those cheeks either!#later on in the party sam feels another pinch on his ass but as he turns around to scold sybil he sees vetinari walking past him smirking #sam: you....sneaky bastard....#mp #no editing we die like men

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lovemesomesurveys · 4 years ago

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“Like ships in the night, you keep passing me by”

Do you own a black leather jacket? A pleather one, yes. Something badass about wearing one haha.

Do you find musicians or athletes more attractive? I’ve been attracted to more musicians, but that’s cause I’m more familiar with them. I don’t see a lot of athletes as someone who doesn’t watch or care at all about sports. Although, guys in baseball uniforms are nice. haha. Oh, back when I was like 13 or 14 I remember thinking Andy Roddick, a tennis player, was hot. I saw his photo in a magazine. Are you better at spelling or writing? I think both. How many siblings do you have? Two. If you could have an ice cream sundae right now, would you? No.

Do you use emoji's? Yeah. I don’t go crazy, but I like to use them as I see fit. When was the last time you lost a tooth? I broke a tooth like 10 years ago and had to get it pulled. You ask this question like it’s the norm to loose a tooth when I’m pretty sure the people who take surveys are past the ages where you lose your teeth. Do you like bendy or regular straws better? I like to use coffee stirrer straws cause the holes are small. If someone signed you up for karate lessons, would you take them? Uh, no. What's your favorite song? I have numerous favorite songs.

Click shuffle on any music device. What's the 12th song that comes up? Nah. What's your most used website? Tumblr and YouTube. Do you come on this website as much as you used to when you first found it? Not as much, no. I used to spend like all day on Tumblr back in the day. Now I typically just get on at night as part of my nighttime routine of Tumblr and surveys. That’s also when I watch the most YouTube cause I like to listen to ASMR at night. I feel like I probably go on YouTube more now than before or perhaps it’s about the same. Do you drink hot tea? Once in awhile. It’s usually when I’m feeling really anxious or really sick.

“& it’s too cold outside for angels to fly”

Is there anyone you want to see in concert really bad? I’m sad I never got to see Linkin Park. I don’t know if they’ll decide tour now, but it wouldn’t be the same without Chester. :( Do you like Abercombie? Nah. Do you still take a survey even if they don't capitalize letters? Yeah. Does your computer have word correct on it? It’ll do the red squiggly line if something is misspelled or it doesn’t recognize the word and if I hit control and click on the word it’ll offer a suggestion if it’s a recognized word. What's one of your wishes for 2013? Well, we’re towards the end of 2020 now and I just pray we’re able to get through the rest of the year without anything else crazy coming at us. Do you fight with your mom often? No, my mom is my best friend she and I very close. We just bicker sometimes. Would you rather have your son have the name Daniel as first or middle name? Sounds more like a first name to me, but meh I don’t really care for the name at all. I don’t even want to have children so it doesn’t matter lol but if I did I’d go with another name. Have you ever made up a food combo & everyone tired it & loved it? Pizza rolls and mustard. What was the last movie you watched? Would you recomend it to people? Bringing Down the House the other day cause I happened to catch it on TV. It came out in like 2003 so it’s not new, but I’ve always liked it. I think it’s funny. What is one word you cannot seem to spell? Every time this question comes up I always say “onomatopoeia” for some reason and damnit I have yet to spell it right without having to look it up. I don’t know what it is about that stupid word that I just can’t seem to remember lol. It’s a word I never use unless this question comes up, so I guess maybe that’s why, but still. I should be able to spell it. Were you born on an odd or even number? Even. Do you like Ed Sheeran? I like several of his songs. When you type, what hand & finger do you use to hit the space bar? I use my right index finger. I don’t type the proper way, I use my index fingers lol. I type really fast that way, too. Do you like to take pictures of you in the mirror? Only if I want to show the shirt or outfit I’m wearing.

“you are the best thing that’s ever been mine”

Have you read the book Lord of the Flies? Yeah, it was required in my 10th grade English class. Would you rather type or hand write notes? My handwriting is trash, but I feel like handwritten notes are nice. Do you like the number seven? I don’t have anything against it. Do you believe that when you go to heaven, you become an angel? No. I believe in angels, but not that we become one. Angels are another of God’s creations. They’re ministering spirits. They’re their own thing and humans are another. How much money do you plan on spending tomorrow? I don’t plan on spending any money tomorrow. Are you good at writing poems? No. I dabbled a bit with it when I was like 16 and angsty, but they’re so cringe. I still have the journal stored away with them and I’ve gone back to read them as an adult and yikes. Do you come on here daily? For the most part, unless I’m really not feeling well. What's one thing you wish you were perfect at? No one is perfect, but it’d be nice to be a functioning adult. Can you play the saxophone? Nope. Does it bother you when people breathe loud? I will say I feel uncomfortable when someone has a breathing problem because it makes me hyper focused on my own breathing and I end up feeling like I can’t breathe. Are you going to any concerts in 2013? Can you believe it's going to be 2013? I didn’t. The last concert I went to was back in 2009. Were you in love with the movie Mary Poppins? Not in love with it, but I like it. Do you like breadsticks? Yes. Have you ever been on a mountain? Yeah, I took a gondola ride up to one. If you had to get rid of one of your sense, which one and why? I’d really rather not.

“the first cut is the deepest”

Can you swim? Nope. Do you usually wear shorts around your house all year long? No, I wear leggings all year long. Do you remember Sesame Street? Of course. It’s also still very much a thing. Do you believe every word that comes out of peoples mouths? Of course not. You have to take some things with a grain of salt or healthy dose of skepticism. You gotta gauge what is being said and who is saying it, too, and make the judgment. That doesn’t mean I don’t trust my loved ones or that I think everyone is a liar or something, but people can give misinformation unknowingly, so it’s not always being done intentionally. It’s just not a good idea to believe every single word that comes out of people’s mouths. Do you like the questions that really make you think? Depends on my mood. What are you asking for for Christmas? Just a few little things. What time do you plan on going to bed on Tuesday? I don’t have a set bedtime for any given day, I go to bed whenever. I’ve talked a lot about my messed up sleep schedule in surveys. It’s certainly not planned. How many of your friends are online right now on here? I have no idea who’s currently on. I’m kind of the night owl of the survey community who’s up doing surveys while everyone is asleep like normal people. When they’re getting up in the morning, I’m going to bed, ha. :X Do you know what Je means in French? I do, actually. How often do you write in red pen? I don’t recall the last time I used a red pen. Do you cut your own hair? No. I used to trim my own bangs back when I had ‘em, though. Do you have any pictures in your room from concerts? No. Would you ever name your son Harry? Again, I don’t want to have children, but Harry is another name I don’t particularly care for. Have you ever had your nails done in french tips? Yeah, the one and only time I got my nails done, which was for my 8th grade promotion. Is it harder for you to type on a keyboard that isn't yours & not used to? Yes, for sure. I also don’t type as fast on my phone than I do on my laptop.

“I wish I was a little bit taller, I wish I was a baller”

What shoe do you take off first? Hm. I think my right. What do you think a good teen couple name would be for a story? Uh I don’t know? If you were coming to the states from another country, where first? I’m from the states. Would you pay $82 for facial products? No. Do you get a lot of compliments often? Nope. It’s rare. Was Mean Girls one of the best movies in your opinion? I wouldn’t say it was the best movie, but it’s a favorite of mine. It’s just a classic, ya know? One of those nostalgic movies with a lot of memorable quotes. If it was Sat, 2 in the afternoon, what would we find you to be doing? I’d most likely be asleep. Do any of your best friends have red hair? No. Would you like to be on the cover of Seventeen magazine? No. Or any magazine. Would you rather go to an Adele or Bruno Mars concert? I mean, I like songs from both so I wouldn’t be opposed to either one. Would you like to live in Sweden? No, but I’d love to visit. Are you concerned about your weight? Yes. I’m too underweight. Do you know anyone who has the middle name Sebastian? I don’t think so. Do you remember where you got your first kiss at? Of course. Did you ever watch the show 8 Simple Rules? I watched it here and there cause it was part of the TGIF lineup that had other shows I liked.

“I hope you’re in the mood, because this is going to be a long ride”

Does your computer need to be cleaned? Underneath the keys badly need to be cleaned. Would you ever name your child Sushine, Raine, River etc? I kinda like Raine. Is it any of your friend's birthday today? No friends. When is the person you like birthday? I don’t like anyone in the romantic sense. Do you like yogurt? Nah. When you type, do you ever mix letters around by accident? (EX: ot - to) Yes. Do you like butterflies? No. I’m afraid of ALL bugs/insects, even the ones people think are cute like butterflies and ladybugs. Nopeee. Do you consider the tomato a fruit or vegetable? Tomatoes apparently can be referred to as either one. I always thought they were a vegetable. Does it rain over where you live? Yes. It hasn’t rained since like March or April, though. We Californians get excited when it rains cause it doesn’t happen often lol. I hope we get some soon. It’s been cold now at least, which I love. Is there any snow on the ground? It doesn’t snow in my city. :( Do you like soup? I only like ramen. When's the last time you made cupcakes? It’s been a few years. How many lamps are in the room your currently in? My lights are off. Have you talked the person you like today? Have you ever been bullied? No.

#personal #text #survey #surveys

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callmeunstable · 4 years ago

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Angels & Demons - Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Characters: Reader, Godling, Healer

Summary: She finds herself in the middle of a unknown forest after falling asleep. It seems like a normal forest until she gets to meet a mystical creature that welcomes her in a different world.

Warnings: Monsters, Cursing, Blood

Words: 2.000+

A/N: Hey! This is the second part of my The Witcher Fic. I accidentally deleted this part so I had to reupload ot. Yes I cried, but thankfully I still had the draft saved on my laptop.

Disclaimer: GIF’s and PNG’s are taken from Tumblr and are not mine! Credits to the creators!

Tags: @marvelbrat @charliestuff

Song: I couldn’t find the original one sooo

Absently, Alva wondered if most of the monsters were meant to be as beautiful and kind as James, or if this one was an exception to the rule, her mind struggled to hold on to one thought, with a whole new world opening in front of her.

“I know the healer of the village on the other side of the forest. She’s nice. She brings fruits to me from time to time. She will help you.” James hopped in front of her leading the way out of the woods.

She couldn’t believe anything her eyes captured. There are bad creatures. According to the Godling, there are a lot of them. The boy explained to her, that “Drowners” inhabit both natural and artificial bodies of water, from rivers and lakes to mill ponds and city sewers. It is commonly thought that these creatures are drowned men, somehow arisen from the dead to prey on the living. This opinion is as widespread as it is false, for the beasts are another post-Conjunction relict.

She couldn’t believe that this Godling just was a boy but knowing such crucial things about this life. She remembered James talking about the powers he has, that’s how he was able to save her.

“Hey, play some more of your music, please? I love the sound of it and we have to walk some time.” The Godling begged and gave his best puppy face.

She grabbed her phone and she had an idea. Maybe she was able to call or text her dad? Letting him know she’s okay. She wasn’t sure if this was the best idea she ever had, but still better than making him believe she was dead.

No signal. Of course.

“Music, please.”

She pressed the icons on her phone monotonously and a random song started playing.

“Oh dear, oh dear, I’m sorry

That you grew up so soon

A cold year and no high school parties

I’ve been drinking alone

Oh, I’ve been drinking alone”

“A blessing to my ears. What's the name of this bard?” The Godling started dancing along while walking in front of the girl.

“What is a bard?” These questions came automatically out of her mouth, wanting to know everything about this world.

Knowledge is power. Even in a world like this. If she knows what she has to be careful about, she can start to protect herself.

“You know the man and women writing songs and these lovely texts of legends, stories of their personal experiences, or their imaginations. I don’t care what they are about. I care about the melodies. I love the tunes.” James seemed to drift off in a state where he was admiring the artists and musicians at this time the whole way out of the woods.

He specifically talked about a Bard called Priscilla. A young woman famous for her poetry.

“So, don't fear, don’t fear their warnings

They’re bitterer than most

4 years of driving across the country

For empty seats at their shows

And they’ve been drinking alone.”

Less and fewer trees came along their way and after some more minutes, a village became visible. Still far away but the girl decided to turn off the music which was rewarded with an angry look of the Godling.

“Her cottage isn’t in the village. It's right here!”

He took a sharp turn between some trees and as told, a small cabin was revealed in front of them. It was old. Looked like a typical middle-aged, self-made cottage. Random kinds of stones were piled upon each other, connected by something that seemed to be a kind of cement. A small chimney was built on top and was busy blowing smoke out of it.

“Savilla! I want to show you, my new friend.” The boy shouted and Alva begged it was quiet enough so no one around could hear them. She wasn’t ready to meet anyone in this world, at least for now.

The old wooden door of the cottage opened and a middle-aged woman stepped out of the house. She was beautiful. Her Long black hair was braided down to the small waist of hers. Her long dress was colored with a dark wood green tone. A small V-neck covered her chest mostly and the butterfly sleeves made her look like a princess. A less fancy princess but a gorgeous one.

“Hello, my lovely James. How can I help you today?” Savilla had a warm smile on her face and holding her arms out for e hug.

The Godling happily jumped into her arms, to just leave them a couple of seconds later to point hysterically at Alva.

“This is my friend Alva. She got lost in my forest and a Drowner hit her. I think shes not from hear so she needs your help.”

Savilla laid her eyes on the small girl for the first time. Silently analyzing every single part of her. At this moment Alva realized that she was a unicorn in this world. Her clothes looked completely different from Safillas and James’. She was wearing a red lumberjacket that revealed her sports bra. Some pair of sporty leggings rested on her legs and short sneakers tied on her feet. Her favorite outfit for hiking. At least her fake leather bag seemed to fit the surroundings.

It wasn’t hard to tell that if the person in front of her wasn’t a cosplayer of Lord of the Rings, she had to be stuck in some kind of middle age century.

“Yes, she's not from here. I can tell.” The firm look of the women changed into a friendly smile. “Come in, I think it’s the best if no one sees you like this.”

Both Alva and James entered the cabin. Inside it was beautiful. Flower and herbs were growing every in countless pottery. An out of stone made kitchen area filled the rest of the room with a cozy fireplace at the opposite wall. Different kinds of fabric and papers stuck to the wall. It was filled with colors and smells that made you feel instantly relaxed, at least if you’re a person like Alva.

“You don’t seem to be in a lot of pain.”, stated Safilla while grabbing a wooden chair and placing it in front of her, guiding her to sit down.

“It’s pretty numb right now. It was worse about an hour ago.” Alva tried to give off a normal impression. But what is normal in this world.

er “That what I was inferred already. You seem to be in shock. Your body numbed itself to protect you from the pain.” While investigating the big scratch she explaining typical injuries caused by Drowners.

“You’re lucky that you had James by your side. He’s a loyal soul.” The healer tossed an apple to the boy who caught it happily.

Savilla mixed some unfamiliar herbs and bandaged it up with a clean cloth.

“It should heal fast, it's not a deep cut. You are lucky.”

The women put everything back in place and then grabbed a stool herself.

“Where are you from?”, she asked.

Where was she from actually? Maybe similar countries still exist?

“Originally my family comes from Sweden but I live in the USA at the moment.” The girl explained but ended up not receiving the reaction she wanted.

“I never heard of a place like that. I traveled a lot through Cintra, Temeria, and Lyria. How did you end up here?”

The girl got quiet. She didn’t want to cause any trouble. She was a stranger to this world. How much corruption was she able to cause?

Alva felt a hand on her shoulder. Savilla gently pat her and gave her a motherly smile.

“Look dear, I’m not here to hurt you. I can see you disturbed, even traumatized. You have no idea how you got access to this world, have you?”

The girl started to tear up and found herself in a warm hug of the healer. She couldn’t help herself but at this moment everything that was built up throughout the day suddenly burst out of her.

Every breath felt like acid burning heart throat, inflaming her lungs. Her heart felt like somebody was squeezing out every single emotion trapped in there. Like a sharp blade that is cutting straight through her chest.

“Mark my words, one day will come when you finally realize that fate is inevitable. One day you will get passed all this pain and realize it was a lesson learned for a better future, for a better you. You believe that this was an accident. But in our world, everything happens for a reason.” Savilla didn’t break the contact because she knew that this girl needed it. This wasn’t the first time something like this happened. The same happened decades ago. When the monsters first got into this dimension.

“I can teach you if you let me.”

Alva lifted her head and looked at the healer.

“I can teach you how to survive in this world until we figure it a way how to get you back. You just need to let me help you.”

“How do you know?” The girl was confused, more confused than she was, to begin with. How much does this woman know?

“This is not the first time a portal opened on accident. What we need to figure out is, if this indeed was an accident or if you have a mission you have to fulfill. I will help you. That’s my duty. Let me explain. I’m a mage.”

Savilla explained to Alva that mages are basically what she knows as a witch. Only rare individuals have the potential to become mages and many of those with this potential are doomed to madness. Unless the individual in question - known as a source - learns to control their power quickly, he or she may end up a half-insane, slobbering oracle. That is why schools of sorcery were created, where talented children study for many years, acquiring knowledge and mastering magical skills. Because of their powers, mages age more slowly than ordinary people. Savilla herself attended a school called Aretuza. But she didn’t believe in their morals so she left and lives on her own.

Mages can extract magical energy from the four elements, transport themselves long distances and heal, as well as kill, in the blink of an eye. They have extensive scientific and political knowledge; in the latter respect, many mages are the equals of rulers.

A witch that is connected so some kind of rule book.

“Know you know about me, but for now we need to get you out of your clothes. They reveal your true identity. There are people out there who will view you as dangerous and they’ll get scared. We need to give you a new persona. But for now, let’s start easy. No one will look for you because James took care of that. New clothes will at least give you the appearance of our dimension.”

Savilla walked in a different room and you could her searching sounds. Fabrics got thrown around after her steps came closer again.

As she walked into the room she showed off a dress similar to hers. The dress was white and it had some floral symbols embroidered in the fabric. Her sleeves were also long and wide, almost touching the ground. The White of the dress was mostly protected by a moss green light coat that had a corset on the front. The white dress was strapless but unseen due to the green coat. On top of that Savilla brought her some flat sandals.

“I can give you some pants to wear underneath the dress if you’d like. Is more efficient when you have to move quickly.” The mage was happy she could assist that young girl. She finally had a purpose to assist to.

Alva only nodded along, speechless by the kindness the woman was offering her.

Savilla walked up to her with a hairbrush and put her hair into different styles. “And maybe we can do something with your hair, putting it up or braid-“, she hesitated the moment when she was putting her hair up. “I think it looks fitting already.”

Quickly brushing Alva's hair down again.

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thefallennightmare · 5 years ago

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Pairings: Bucky Barnes/Reader[AU]

Summary: Reader dreads going to her best friends wedding because she has to sit next her ex the entire night. What happens when she finds out the reason behind their breakup was just a lie?

Word Count: 4609

Warnings: angst but the fluffy ending makes up for it. swearing.

A/N: I HAD to write something after being inspired by this gif ^^^^. It does things to my heart, terrible things. I’m not sure how I feel about this one shot though, so let me know what you think!

“Nat, I don't know if this is a good idea,” I groaned into the phone.

“Nonsense, it’s my wedding and your my best friend. You're coming,” Natasha’s voice demanded back.

Running a hand through my hair, I let out another annoyed breath. “Isn’t Bucky going to be there?”

“Your point?”

“It’s going to be awkward.” I admitted.

“Y/N, you and Bucky broke up almost a year ago. You both have moved on, right?”

“Right,” I lied, thankful that Natasha couldn’t see my expression through the phone.

“So you can suck it up for ONE NIGHT and come to my wedding.”

“Nat,” I defended, “It’s not that I don’t want to come to your wedding, you know I’m going to be there. It’s the fact that I have to sit at the same table with Bucky.”

“Which is why I found you a date. To save you from the awkwardness of sitting next to your ex,” her voice chirped through the phone.

“Natasha Romanoff, you did not.” I seethed.

“Sorry sweetie I have to go. Clint and I have to finalize our dinner options. I’ll see you on Saturday!”

I stared in disbelief at my phone once Natasha hung up. As much as I loved her, there were

times that I wanted to strangle the hell out of her; this being one of those times. Tossing my phone onto my bed, I fell back onto it with a large groan.

Natasha’s wedding was in a couple of days and I had done nothing but dread it since I found out that Bucky and I would be sitting at the same table all night. We had dated for a handful of years, being so in love; or so I thought. Our careers were getting in the way of our relationship, I was trying to get my own dog daycare up and running which caused me to spend most of my time away from Bucky. Which in the end caused him to slowly fall out of love with me.

Our breakup was nasty; insults were hurled at each other, vases were smashed against walls, tears were shed, and hearts were shattered.

“I’m sorry, Y/N but there’s nothing between us anymore. The love is gone.” Bucky shrugged.

Biting back the tears, I shook my head. “You don’t mean that.”

“I do. There’s someone else.”

“You’re lying,” I sobbed.

However the look on Bucky’s face made it clear that he wasn’t.

“She actually makes time for me. She cares about me and she loves me.”

“I could have been that for you, Bucky. If you had just tried a little bit more.” I couldn’t hold back the tears anymore.

My heart was being ripped out of my chest and Bucky was stopping all over it.

“I stopped caring to try a long time ago, YN.”

“What about our home? Our lives? You’re just going to throw it all away for some side chick?!” I threw the only thing that was next to me, a vase, with it nearly missing Bucky's head.

“You’re fucking crazy! You think we’ve built a home here? You’re never home, Y/N! I’m here every night waiting for you to come back and sometimes it’s not till two in the morning. How do I know you’re not with someone else?!” Bucky ran his hand over his face, clearly exhausted from our fight but refusing to back down.

My eyes sliced him in half. “Don’t you dare try to make me the bad guy, James. I'm trying to make our lives better while you’re the one sleeping around!”

“At least she’s giving me something!”

“Get the fuck out of here, Barnes! I never want to see you again!”

“Thank the fucking lord!” Bucky screamed before slamming the front door behind him. The noise completely drowning out my sobs.

Bucky’s words rang through my head almost every day for the past year and I curse myself for not fighting for him, for us. But I was too hard headed and wanted to stand my ground, refusing to be the first to break. Which is why I hadn’t seen or spoken to him since our breakup. His things were still here, him only coming back when I was at work one day to get his clothes, which only made it so much harder to get over him. His scent still lingered in the bed sheets and every night I found myself dreaming that he was still here.

I looked around the much quieter home, the memories Bucky and I created playing in front of me as if I was watching a hologram of it. Buying the house, the first night sleeping in our sleeping bags because we could afford furniture quite yet, talking about making the spare bedroom into an office or maybe down the road a nursery.

We had so many plans for our future and it slipped through our hands all because of a pipe dream and an affair.

Running a hand over my tired face, I willed up myself up out of bed deciding that if I was going to see Bucky again I needed to make sure I looked my damn best.

You know what they say? Make them wish they never let you go.

This was going to be hard.

Saturday came all too soon and I found myself staring out to the beautiful open field Clint and Natasha decided to have their wedding ceremony. The field was lined with chairs and fairy lights, giving it a romantic glow. The arch was facing a small river and the running water gave a calming feeling. I have to admit that I didn’t expect this from my tomboy of a best friend.

I watched people around me taking their seats and after realizing that I could sit on any side, I still chose to sit on Natasha’s side closer to the front but not too close. I smiled at some familiar faces as I smoothed out my strapless black floral summer dress before sitting down. There was a slight breeze and I cursed when I realized I had left my sweater at home.

“You were never too keen on wearing a sweater that would ruin your outfit.”

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I looked up to the familiar voice and sucked in a breath. Bucky stood before me but he didn’t look anything like the last time I saw him. Gone was the beard that I loved so much and now he was clean shaven. The beard wasn't the only thing missing; his long hair was as well. His hair was much shorter than the last time I saw him but there was still length to the top of it allowing him to style it. He looked gorgeous in his black pinstriped suit with a black and white checkered dress shirt underneath. His black tie was tied beautifully, as always.

“Hi.” I breathed. “You look different. In a good way.”

Bucky flashed me the smile that I loved love so much. “So do you. Your hair is different.”

“I wanted to go darker and longer.” I shrugged.

Bucky nodded before motioning towards the empty seat next to me. “Is this seat taken?”

I wanted to scream from my lungs that yes, indeed it was. I was waiting for my date. But my heart thought faster than my brain did.

“Nope.”

Bucky sat down before nodding towards the wedding arch. “Can you believe they’re actually getting married?”

“Honestly, I thought Nat would be single for the rest of her life. Everything about this wedding is surprising me. Who would have thought bad ass Natasha Romanoff was a girly girl at heart,” I giggled.

Bucky’s eyes crinkled with a smile. “I've missed your cute little giggle.”

Feeling the heat rush to my cheeks, I cleared my throat desperate to change the subject. “How have you been?”

“Good,” Bucky ran a hand through his hair, careful to not mess it up, “Steve and I actually just got back from a road trip a few days ago.”

My eyebrows rose. “You and Steve?!”

“Yeah,” Bucky laughed. “We decided that we needed to get out of Brooklyn so we took a 30 day road trip all over the United States.”

I scoffed while turning my body to face him more. Our knees brushed against each other and my body burned with the warmth radiating off of him.

“I can’t believe that you and Steve were able to sit in a tight space together for more than one hour. Remember when we decided to take that trip to Maryland to see Corey Wells because he was having a one night only acoustic show?”

“How can I forget? You practically dragged me out of the house to come with you because no one else would go with,” Bucky smiled at the memory.

“Yeah, whatever. You know you had the time of your life,” I argued with a smile, “But remember how Steve also tagged along and not even 20 minutes into the drive you guys were fighting over who controlled the radio.”

We shared a laugh at the happy times of our relationship; before everything went to shit.

“Believe it or not, we decided not to listen to the radio at all,” Bucky defended.

I could practically feel my eyes bulge out of my head. “You guys traveled all over the United States with no music?!”

“We mostly talked,” Bucky shrugged as if it was totally normal.

Curiosity got the best of me. “What about?”

Bucky hesitated before answering. “You.”

My heart jumped in my throat. I never had the chance to get more out of Bucky because someone came up front behind him, ending our conversation.

“There you are. I’ve been looking for you.”

Forcing myself to look away from Bucky, I broke out into a huge grin when I laid my eyes on one of my other good friends.

“Stevie!” I exclaimed, sitting up from my seat and wrapping my arms around his broad shoulders. “I’ve missed you!”

“Holy shit, I didn’t even recognize it was you! I missed you too, (Y/N/N).” Steve chuckled. “How’s the dog business?”

“Uh,” I pulled away from his embrace before biting my lip, “It actually never happened.”

Bucky stood from his chair. “Wait, what? How come?”

“It ended up costing me more money in the long run. I was at risk of losing the house so I decided to save whatever money I had left and let that dream go,” I admitted.

“Y/N”, Bucky started but was cut off when a blonde came up from behind him and hooked her arm through his.

“Babe, the ceremony is about to start. We should head to our seats.” She placed a kiss on his cheek.

My heart shattered and fell into the pit of my stomach. I couldn’t help but wonder if this was the girl. The one that was the one Bucky chose over me.

“Steve, darling, we should really head to our seats,” a red head suddenly appeared next to Steve. “Oh hello, I’m Peggy.”

“Y/N,” I gave her a genuine smile while shaking her hand. “How long have you and Steve been together?”

“A little over a year,” Steve said with a proud smile.

“I guess I missed a lot,” my eyes landed on Bucky as he quietly chatted with the blonde that was still hooked on his arm.

“Would you like to sit with us?” Peggy asked, almost sensing that I didn’t want to be alone.

“No I don’t want to bother you guys.” I shook my head.

“Nonsense. Steve has told me so much about you. I want to get to know you myself,” Peggy smiled.

I returned her genuine smile before allowing her and Steve to claim the empty seat next to me. Looking over to Bucky, I pointed to the two on the end aisle. “You two can sit there if you want.”

“We’re actually going to sit on Clint’s side since he’s family.” The blonde spoke for Bucky.

Giving her a confused glare, I bit my lip and nodded. Turning my attention back to Bucky, I sighed.

“It was nice seeing you again, Buck.”

I couldn’t quite read the expression on his face, almost as if he was sorry. He gave me a small wave goodbye before they walked to the other side of chairs.

I let out a few shaky breaths, refusing to cry on Natasha’s wedding day, and sat down next to Steve who immediately wrapped his arm around my shoulder.

“It’s not serious,” he nodded towards Bucky and the girl, “He’s still head over heels in love with you.”

Daring a glance over to the two, the girl running a hand through his hair, I scoffed. “Sure fucking seems like it.”

All Steve could do was give my shoulder a squeeze as the ceremony began.

I wasn't sure what I cried more tears for; my break up with Bucky or Natasha and Clint’s exchange of vows. Everything about the ceremony was perfect down to Nat’s dress and hair. I secretly envied that I would never get to experience my own wedding day any time soon.

Brushing a strand of hair from my face, I walked into the rustic barn where the reception was being held and found my place card with my table number on it. As I looked around for table ten, I silently prayed that Bucky and his girlfriend had decided to ditch out, sparing me the night of watching the two be in love; more in love than we were.

“Fancy seeing you here.”

Forcing out a laugh, I shook my head at Steve as I sat at the table next to him.

“You’ve got to get some new jokes. They’re from the 40’s.”

He simply shrugged. “I’m an old man at heart.”

“Where’s Peggy?” I asked.

Peggy and I chatted during cocktail hour and needless to say, I was thankful I had found another girl friend that I had a lot in common with.

“She had to work. She’s a third shift detective,” Steve said.

Nodding, I glanced around the room trying not to make it too obvious that I was looking for someone.

“Bucky’s at the bar getting some drinks. He’ll be back in a minute.”

Shit.

Looking back at Steve, I forced myself not to smack the smug smile off his face.

“Good for him?”

“I haven’t seen you for almost a year and you’re still a terrible liar,” Steve laughed.

“Shut up,” I mumbled.

Steve laughed while leaning back into his chair. I felt his gaze on me and tried everything in my power not to look at him, almost knowing what he was going to ask.

I bit my lip as I peaked at my phone to see if my date had left me a message at all. Nat said she had given him my number earlier in the day so we could touch base and meet up however the feeling in the pit of my stomach was telling me one thing; I was being stood up.

Great.

I found myself playing with skirt of my dress, trying not to break down in front of everyone. My ex, that I was still madly in love with was going to be sitting next to me all night with his beautiful date while I was alone. Sure I had Steve to keep me company but it wasn’t the same.

Seeing movement from the corner of my eye, I watched as Bucky approached the table with three drinks in hand. He set one in front of Steve before setting one in front of me. I failed to hide the blush that crept to my cheeks when I realized he had remembered my favorite drink.

“Is this for me?” I pointed to it.

Bucky nodded. “Yeah. It’s still your favorite right?”

Giving him a small smile, I nodded. “Thank you, Bucky.”

He took his seat next to me and shrugged his shoulders, saying it wasn’t a problem at all.

I sipped my drink quietly, noticing that the blonde wasn’t hooked to Bucky’s arm. “Where’s your girlfriend?”

He looked over to me, surprise crossing his soft features. “She’s not my girlfriend.”

Trying to keep my relief at bay, I raised my eyebrows. “She’s not?”

“Apparently she just needed someone to make an ex jealous or some shit like that,” Bucky said, a hint of sadness and anger in his voice.

I followed his gaze and felt my blood boil as I saw Clint’s cousin making out with another guy that wasn’t Bucky.

I know I should have been happy that it wasn’t him however I felt terrible that Bucky was clearly hurt.

“She’s lucky it’s Nat’s wedding. Otherwise I’d kick her ass,” I grumbled before taking a rather large gulp of my drink.

Steve and Bucky laughed. “I’m sure you could take her, (Y/N).

My eyes sliced over to Steve. “Excuse me? Did you forget when we all lived together and that one morning when your booty call of the week wouldn’t leave the apartment so I had to drag her ass out?”

Bucky roared in laughter. “How could we forget? Steve couldn’t bring home another girl for weeks after that happened.”

“It was a rough couple of weeks,” Steve admitted with a laugh.

“I always knew who were the bad ones,” I gave him a big smile, “And now you have Peggy.”

The love that warmed Steve’s face brought a smile to mine. “Yeah, I do. I wouldn’t have met her if it wasn’t for Wanda.”

Steve noticed my confused expression but it was Bucky who answered. “My ex.”

“Oh,” I mumbled, “Was she-?”

Bucky nodded when I trailed off, already knowing that she was the one he left me for. I hadn’t dated much as less kissed anyone since Bucky. Shaking my head at the thought of Bucky and Wanda in bed together, I motioned towards the empty glass in front of me.

“Another round?”

“I can get them,” Bucky offered which I immediately declined.

“I need some air anyway,” I mumbled to myself but knew they heard.

Turning on my heels, I made my way over to the bar. As I waited to be served, I looked over my shoulder back towards our table and felt my heart sink as I saw a dark haired woman walk over to Bucky before placing a hand on his shoulder. I watched as he stood up and placed his arms around her waist, giving a small peck to her cheek.

Blinking away my tears with a steady breathy, I grabbed the drinks and made my way back over to the table. I gave Steve his drink with a shaky hand, one that didn’t go unnoticed by him. Gently placing Bucky’s drink in front of his chair I went to leave the barn but Steve’s voice stopped me.

“Where are you going?”

Bucky still hadn't noticed I arrived back to the table so I shrugged. “I really don’t want to be here, Stevie. I can’t do it.”

Steve brought me into a tight embrace and I melted into it. His lips brushed the top of my head. “Just stay with me and talk to me, it’ll be fine.”

Pulling away, I merely nodded and decided that I wouldn’t let Bucky know that I was dying inside. I wanted to show him that I was doing fine without him.

Ignoring Bucky and the girl the best I could, I glanced at Steve who’s face gave me the answer I was looking for.

“It’s her.” I sighed.

He nodded. “If it makes it any better, they didn’t last long.”

“Surprisingly, it doesn’t.” I muttered.

I should have been ecstatic that they didn’t work out, throw it in his face, however, I felt like my whole world came crashing down. Knowing that Bucky did in fact have someone else while I had no one.

Wanda stayed a few more minutes before giving Bucky a small wave, leaving him alone with us again. The entire time they chatted, I stared deep into my glass wishing I could disappear. I wanted to stay the rest of the night for Nat but it was becoming difficult to keep it together.

Sensing my discomfort, Bucky waved a hand in front of my face. “Y/N?”

“Hm?” I peered over to him.

His forehead creased. “You okay?”

I scoffed. “Peachy.”

Bucky wanted to say something but was interrupted with the DJ making the announcement for Natasha and Clint. Ignoring Bucky and my feelings, I stood and gave my best friend the biggest smile and clapped along with everyone else.

We all took our seats as Nat and Clint shared their first dance as husband and wife. The longer I watched, the more I started to loath Natasha’s happy ending. Yes, she deserved it but didn’t I? Why couldn’t I get my happy ending with Bucky?

“You know, I had my money on Barnes and Y/N to be the first ones to get hitched.”

My eyes snapped over to the newcomer at our table, an old friend of ours Tony. He sat down right next to Steve before nodding over to Nat and Clint who has just finished their dance.

“I really thought Steve and I would be sitting at your wedding right now. Are you guys next?” Tony questioned.

Sucking in a breath, I looked over to Bucky who was already watching me with a sad look in his eyes, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth.

We hadn’t seen Tony in a few years, him being too busy getting Stark Industries started, so I wasn’t surprised he didn’t know about Bucky and I.

“Um, we actually broke up last year.” I admitted.

“Hold on, what?” Tony looked to Steve who just nodded. “What the hell. Why?”

“Tony, I really don’t want to talk about this right now.” I begged.

“I just don’t understand. You two were so in love it made Pepper and I look like acquaintances.”

“Because Bucky left me for someone else!” I snapped.

“Y/N.”

“Bucky found someone else who made him happy and he loved her more than me. I wasn’t enough for him so he cheated.” I ignored Steve’s plea to not make a scene.

Snatching my things from the table, I pushed my chair back and made a hasty exit out of the barn and away from the stares of those around us. Thankfully only a few people noticed my outburst and it didn’t disturb the rest of reception.

As the cold night air brushed against my hot skin, I let myself break down. My body shook with sobs as I tried to catch my breath. I had tried so hard to keep it together, to not ruin Nat’s big day but fuck, I had warned her that sitting next to Bucky would only bring up old feelings.

“Doll?”

Snapping around, my teary eyes landed on Bucky. He was standing a few feet behind me, hands buried deep in his pockets. The slight breeze was blowing in his hair, making him look stunning.

My chest hurt at the old nickname he used to call me. “Please don’t call me that. It’s not the same knowing you’ve used it on other girls.”

“I haven’t.” Bucky admitted with a curt shake of his head. “You’re the only one.”

“I need to be alone.” I groaned turning away from him.

“No, we clearly need to talk about this. I didn’t know it was still bothering you.” Bucky stood in front of me to block me from leaving.

“Of course it’s still bothering me,” I seethed. “You left me for someone else and had the balls to show her off IN FRONT of me tonight.”

“I didn’t know she was going to be here tonight,” Bucky insisted.

I held my hands up to stop him. “We’re not together. You don’t need to explain yourself.”

“Y/N-.”

“I’m sorry it didn’t work out between you two. She seems like a lovely girl. I really hope she made you happier than I ever did,” I babbled.

“God damn it Y/N! Can you stop talking for five fucking seconds!” Bucky fumed while running a hand through his hair.

“Do you want to know why it didn’t work out?” Bucky took my silence as an invitation to continue.

“It’s because I kept comparing her to you! Everything she did, I thought of you. Her hair, her makeup, the clothes she would wear. Hell, I even compared her laugh to yours. And not your quiet giggle. Your loud, obnoxious, laugh that makes you to snort a little. I missed the hell out of that laugh.”

I could only watch with my mouth open as Bucky paced in front of me. “I thought she was what I needed at the time but I was wrong. I thought she could fill the hole I had in my heart from leaving you but she only made that hole bigger. Wanda and I only went on two dates.”

“I thought you loved her,” I questioned remembering that being the reason why Bucky left in the first place.

“I lied,” Bucky confessed. “I don’t know why I lied about that but I never stopped loving you. You have been on my mind and in my heart for the past year.”

“Why didn’t you come home then?” I retorted, choking out a sob. “I never moved out of the house. You could have came home!”

“How could I! I didn’t know if you even wanted me back!” Bucky exasperated.

Our rage and voices matched evenly and I prayed we didn’t catch any attention from anyone inside.

“I would have taken you back in a second, James. If you would have been honest from the start”

Bucky's face softened when he heard me call him by his real name. “I never stopped loving you, Y/N. I only said those things because I thought it would make it easier on us.”

“I should never have pushed you away. I’m sorry,” I admitted truthfully.

Bucky stepped towards me slowly, afraid that if he moved too fast I’d disappear.

“Can we even be like how we were?” I questioned.

By now the tears had stopped and I knew my make up was ruined but Bucky didn’t seem to care. His fingers brushed against mine and I allowed him to link them together.

“I’m willing to try. Harder this time if you are,” Bucky said.

“Promise?”

I gazed into his eyes and cupped his cheek with my free hand. He leaned into the touch and left a small peck on my palm. I felt his fingers brush a strand of hair out of my face and watched his eyes leave mine, falling onto my lips before resting back on my eyes.

Licking my lips, I nodded allowing him to seal his promise with a kiss. Our lips moved together, never missing a beat. I wrapped my arms around his back, afraid this wasn’t real; just a dream. Bucky's scent filled my senses, mahogany, and his hand ran through my hair, giving a small tug to deepen the kiss. His tongues swallowed the moan that erupted from my throat and I pressed my hips into his, needing to feel some type of friction between us. It was a messy, needy, kiss with smacking teeth and dancing tongues but it was the most passionate kiss Bucky and I had ever shared.

“I’ve missed you,” Bucky breathed giving my lips another soft peck. “Can I please come home?”

“As long as you never leave again.”

We sealed the deal with another kiss.

#bucky barnes #bucky x reader #Sebastian Stan

506 notes · View notes

riathenowheregirl · 5 years ago

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Gold Dust Women: My Favorite Witchy Singers

Okay, before you burn me alive with “Where’s this certain artist?!” or “Why is this certain artist not here?!” or “Who even uses Tumblr these days?”, uhmmm me bish?? It’s my safe zone. Okay, the last question was a joke.

Can I just say that the amazing women on this list are artists I listen to all the time. They’re my favorites, so chill (I’m open for suggestions tho). This is not Rolling Stone or Billboard magazine, it’s just ya girl’s good ol’ tumblr blog. Also, I’m not saying that all of them are literal w i t c h e s, it’s just that they portray the same aesthetic through their art and music.

Alright, now that’s settled, let’s start.

1. STEVIE NICKS

Do I even need to explain this? Stevie is undoubtedly the Etheral Queen of them all, the Pioneer, the O.G. Supreme whose lyrical soul and spellbinding voice echoes from the distant past to the inevitable future. Everything about her oozes with witchcraft and magic starting from her iconic top hat, to her millions of intricately made shawls, down to her platform boots. Only Stevie Nicks could pull off such Not-of-this-Era outfits and she has been doing it CONSISTENTLY. She’s in a timeline of her OWN. If you listen to her music, you would notice that every song of hers is poetry, like she’s telling a story or conjuring the unknown. She’s every witchy woman’s icon and that’s a fact.

Stevie is an untouchable yet gracious legend, we’ll always be a part of her sisterhood until the day of earth’s decay. Forever the Queen of Rock N’ Roll.

Current Favorite Stevie Lyrics: “ You can fly swinging from your trapeze, scaring all the people...but you'll never scare me.” | “Once in a million years a lady like her rises. Oh no, Rhiannon, you cry, but she's gone and your life knows no answer.”

Notice how I used the word “current”? Because it always changes depending on the state my life. Here’s a more detailed post on why I love her.

2. KATE BUSH

“Heathcliff, it's me, I'm Cathy, I've come home, I'm so cold! Let me in through your window!”

The eccentric beauty, Kate Bush made a genius, artistic move by writing a song about the book, Wuthering Heights, written by Emily Brontë in the 1800′s. Mind you, she was only 18 when she wrote and was the first song written by a female artist that landed on top the charts. Her voice is almost as distinctive as Stevie Nicks. While Stevie’s more nasal, commanding, wailing rock n’ roll goddess, Kate’s voice was high-pitched, alarming, ghostly, queer, and fairy-like. Everything about her is Performance Art. This is a woman who is not afraid to express herself.

For starters, you might think her music is strange and weird. Trust me, I felt the same way when I first heard her songs. But then, it began to grow on me leaving floral patterns on its path.

Favorite Kate Bush Lyrics: “Do you want to feel how it feels? Do you want to know that it doesn't hurt me? Do you want to hear about the deal that I'm making? You, it's you and me.”

3. FLORENCE WELCH

This one is as obvious as Stevie Nicks. Florence Welch from the band, Florence + the Machine, is a poetess, a screaming banshee, and a full-pledged Sister of the Moon. She even started a witch coven during middle school. From her red carpet looks to her everyday outfits on Instagram, Florence vibrates powerful witch energy. Not to mention she has a song called “Which Witch” and that haunting music video for Big God with levitating women. Flo is not a woman to trifle with, I’ll tell you that.

Photos courtesy of @lillieeiger

In all her songs, Florence will bind you with magic and it’ll leave you breathless. If Stevie’s songs are poetry, hers are spells you could sing out loud. Also, if you haven’t seen her house tour, go check it now!

Favorite Florence Welch Lyrics: “'Cause I am done with my graceless heart so tonight I'm gonna cut it out and then restart.” | “And in a moment of joy and fury I threw myself in the balcony like my grandmother so many years before me.”

4. LANA DEL REY

Remember when Lana used witchcraft to hex Donald Trump? It was all over the news and Twitter went wild. She was later quoted saying, “I really do believe that words are one of the last forms of magic and I’m a bit of a mystic at heart.” Oh, and she also did a collab with Stevie.

We. Stan. Forever.

There was even a time that I MEMORIZED the monologue in the music video for Ride. ALL OF IT, HUNNY.

Lana’s hypnotizing vocals together with her sixties baby doll dresses and Priscilla Presley hair is enough to convince me that she’s not of this era. She has a deep understanding of the beauty of past generation and the looming sadness and nostalgia that comes with it. Whenever I listen to her music, I imagine myself as a rockstar’s muse who is involved with the mafia but then I decided to leave him while taking his gun and convertible. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Favorite Lana Del Rey Lyrics: “Well, my boyfriend's in the band. He plays guitar while I sing Lou Reed. I've got feathers in my hair, I get down to Beat poetry. And my jazz collection's rare, I can play most anything.”

5. LORDE

David Bowie didn’t call her the “future of music” for nothing. Just two albums under her belt, Lorde already proved that she will one day become a legend herself. Her music narrates an unparalleled interpretation of the anguish and fleeting charm of our youth. She knows what we’re feeling because she’s been there herself and is on the road to healing just like us.

I think the message she’s trying to say is that we’re constantly losing grip on our innocence, and that life is often wicked so we need to accept that, grit our teeth, get on with it, and make art. She can also see color when she hears music.

In my opinion, Lorde is one of the greatest artists of my generation.

Favorite Lorde Lyrics: “The truth is I am a toy that people enjoy till all of the tricks don't work anymore, and then they are bored of me.” | “That slow burn wait while it gets dark, bruising the sun, I feel grown up with you in your car. I know it's dumb.”

6. FKA TWIGS

Honestly, FKA Twigs is literally art in living form, a celestial angel that nobody can easily decipher. This woman has more talent in her fingertips than I could ever have in a lifetime. She somehow reminds me of a young Kate Bush; fearless, experimental, with an intoxicating voice. She never stops reinventing herself and it’s beautiful.

In FKA Twigs’ world, there are no limits, just endless galaxies. She pours her whole being in all of her songs and it shows. She’s not for the faint of heart, let me tell you that.

Favorite FKA Twigs Lyrics: “And I don't want to have to share our love. I try but I get overwhelmed. All wrapped in cellophane, the feelings that we had.”

7. SKOTT

I say this all the time, but I cannot write without Skott’s music blasting on my earphones. She grew up in a “forest commune run by outcast folk musicians” and was not exposed to contemporary music until her teen years. You would notice it in her songs.

It’s hard to explain why, but listen to Skott’s music when there’s thunder and rain outside, then you’ll know why this woman is witchy. I kind of want her to be more popular and known, but then again, I also want to keep her to myself. Scratch that, LISTEN TO SKOTT’S MUSIC NOW.

Start with Glitter & Gloss.

Favorite Skott Lyrics: “Like an empty canvas, hear me cry. Like a masterpiece, I'm in your eyes. Now your colors are in front of me, we're a picture-perfect oddity.”

8. FIRST AID KIT

I fell in love with this sister duo when I first heard their song, Emmylou, while browsing YouTube. It’s one of those moments of instant magic. Klara and Johanna Söderberg are a coven of their own. I would describe their music as “Woodland Folk laced with runes and wild flowers”.

Their voices compliment each other so much that it reminded me of Simon & Garfunkel (they even performed their own version of America in front of Paul Simon!!!). First Aid Kit has this Woodstock seventies vibe, and you know me, I live for that sh*t.

Favorite First Aid Kit Lyrics: “ When I run through the deep dark forest long, after this begun, where the sun would set, the trees were dead and the rivers were none. And I hope for a trace to lead me back home from this place, but there was no sound there was only me, and my disgrace.”

9. ZOLA JESUS

Zola Jesus’ music deserves to be played with an orchestra inside an abandoned castle in Transylvania while it gently rains and you’re wearing a white nightgown as you roam its empty halls. Is that too much?

Not at all.

Like Skott, I listen to Zola whenever I’m having writer’s block. If I ever finish my book, I’m gonna have to thank them.

Favorite Zola Jesus Lyrics: “I'm on my bed, my bed of stones, but in the end of the night we'll rest our bones, so don't you worry. Just rest your head cause in the end of the night we'll be together again.”

10. ZELLA DAY

Photo Credits to Harper Smith

I LOVE ZELLA DAY’S MUSIC OH MY GOODNESS. My favorite songs of her are Sweet Ophelia, Hypnotic, Man on the Moon, and Hunnie Pie. ESPECIALLY HUNNIE PIE. I cry whenever I hear that song. It’s just so pure, calming, and beautiful.

Her music belong in the psychedelic era.

People labeled her as the “happier version of Lana Del Rey” but I think she’s in a league of her own. She deserves more recognition, honestly!

Favorite Zella Day Lyrics: “The older we get there's an ocean of people in places we've chosen and you know how mama keeps saying “we've gotta stop the games we're playing””.

Hope you guys approve of my list! I really like sharing stuff that I love! Feel free to message me for more suggestions, I’d really appreciate to know more witchy artists out there. We’re all in a huge coven of sisterhood.

Thanks for reading!

Love,

Ria 🌙

P.S.

Please follow my blog!!! THANK YOU 🔮

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alittletournesol · 5 years ago

Text

Kingdom Of Jinju {MinKey} 33/33

Epilogue

The royal palace was high-spirited and filled with warmth despite the coldness of the approaching winter. The ceremony had yet to start, but every single employee was running here and there to make sure not a single preparation had been ruined by who knew what. The wedding table had been set in the royal gardens, like the first time, but the space was surrounded with beautiful torches to bring as many light and warmth as possible, in this late autumn evening.

Unlike their initial marriage that had taken place when the sun had reached its zenith, both King and Prince had decided to remarry under the light of the moon. It was a rather bold move, in conflict with traditions, but they considered they had yielded to these traditions many times already. They wanted to do as they wished, this time, and not even Jihwan, who had now lost her title by marrying the former General, had stood against it.

While all their guests were taking place around the wedding table, with the King and his helpers — Jinki and his father, just like the first time — already there, she was standing in her son-in-law’s quarters, carefully pinning her nuptial hat to his hair. It was meaningful to both of them, for Kibum had already worn it at his first marriage, though he had seen it as a material show of his shame.

“It looks even better with your hair down.” The woman gently said as she took a step backwards to observe her work. “It should hold well.”

“Thank you, Mother.” The Prince replied, standing up to turn towards her. “It feels strange to wear this again… but I like the little change.”

“Yes, I like it a lot as well.”

They both looked at his outfit, the same white and gold one he wore the first time, but enhanced with even more ornamentations and the most important detail : the symbol of Mongje on his chest had been replaced by the pearl of Jinju. It wasn’t about binding two kingdoms anymore, but about binding two souls from one same place. Kibum’s long black hair was falling graciously on his back and shoulders, beautifully contrasting with his immaculate attire.

He turned round to check if everything was good, and was interrupted by the sound of a gong, coming from the gardens. The ceremony was about to begin.

“Shall we ?” Jihwan smiled and offered him her arm, which he gladly took. “This time, it will be better.”

“Yes… Yes, it will.”

Their arms interlaced, they both left the royal quarters and walked through the corridors and staircases, until this very same door that led to the space in the garden where the young man would remarry his husband. This very same door he had come from one year ago, anxiety tightening the knot in his stomach. But that night, he felt as light as a feather, only pure excitement and haste making his whole being tremble. He waited there, accepting a kiss on the forehead from his mother-in-law before the latter half-opened the door and left.

As soon as he was alone, he felt two presences behind him but didn’t have to look to know who it was. By his left, Jonghyun ; by his right, Taemin. Both of them smiling with pride, their ceremonial attire different than the first time, brighter and with more colours. They had had the difficult task to force his gestures, but now they were conscious that they would really accompany him and not pressure him anymore.

Outside, Jihwan stood before the door, looking at all guests who turned their head towards her. The table was even more beautiful than the first time, covered with a white clothes and decorated with golden flowers. It seemed even the carafe of alcohol and the cup weren’t the same, changed for something more suitable, perhaps created for this sole event. And standing there, at the east end of this table and surrounded by his helpers, included her newly husband… her son was glowing in his ceremonial outfit.

Minho had had enough of the red and golden attire he would always wear, so he had traded it for one that was complementary of his husband’s. Where the Prince’s outfit was white with golden ornaments, the King’s was golden with white ornaments. They completed each other and wanted the world to see it. The younger man had still tied his hair under his hat to yield to the tradition at the very, very least, but he was a whole new man.

Silence.

And the gong resounded a second time.

Jihwan heard the door behind her open again and she started walking forwards, leading her son-in-law to the wedding table and placing herself on the spot left empty for her. Following her steps, Kibum walked with grace and confidence, and his once soulless eyes were now filled with so many emotions at once that they sparkled more than the night sky at this same moment.

While moving forwards, his eyes looked at every couple standing around the table, here to celebrate his wedding.

Queen Hyoyeon and Lord Eunhyuk, from Maguk, smiled at him and bowed their head, their eldest daughter standing by their side and shyly imitating her parents. Her father placed his hand on her shoulder as a show of pride, her bright blond hair betraying the scar of the illness she had healed from, unlike her young brother earlier that year. Seeing Jonghyun and his same hair walking behind the Prince reminded her of this distant, nice cousin was like her, and she giggled when he winked at her.

Princess Yoona stood behind, her hands joined and a truly moved expression lighting up her features, enough to make the tears in her eyes shine like pearls. She bowed her head and her smile turned into a quiet laughter, as she was unable to hide her happiness, after she had been the first ruler to witness Jinju’s rulers blooming relationship. Present by her side despite his expressionless face, Prince Siwon still bowed his head and pretended to be unbothered.

On the other side of the table stood Lady Taeyeon and Lord Changmin, the same emotion as Yoona shining in their eyes. They bowed together and presented their hands, which carried a small, decorated case filled with bright, lively black kisses. Kibum couldn’t help but feel emotional when he saw the flowers, so beautiful in apparence but also the memories of what could have been a tragedy. However, they were there as a present, a meaningful message to congratulate both husbands for having survived their poison.

Finally, standing behind them but not shadowed, Queen Boa and King Yunho had both already shed one or two tears when the Prince had appeared. There were gleaming trails on their cheeks, but their smiles were the brightest. They were the last ones to bow, the Queen holding her stomach with her hands and catching Kibum’s attention right away ; it was swollen, and Pugye’s heir hiding inside wouldn’t be long to come to the world.

A third gong resounded, and the groom walked to the west end of the wedding table, his friends standing behind him. Facing him, Minho looked at him and smiled with his eyes. It was like they could hear their respective heartbeat, like there was no one else around them, like they were alone.

A fourth gong resounded.

And the ceremony began.

The exact same gestures than the first time were repeated, but this time with more heart to them. The four helpers spread the carpet at their sovereigns’ feels and carefully, gently cleaned their hands with pure water gathered from the river just an hour before. The tradition required for both husbands-to-be not to show any emotion, but they couldn’t yield to it that night. They looked at each other, their eyes conveying absolutely all the feelings they had for each other, and their smiles never left their lips.

Jonghyun and Taemin took their place back behind their friend and placed their hands on his back and arms. But they didn’t have to apply any pressure, Kibum bowed by himself before his King. Once, then twice, his eyes shining whenever he straightened up. Bowing twice for the bride, once for the groom, as was the tradition. But this wedding wasn’t like others, and the guests all pleasantly whispered when Minho bowed a second time, showing that they were equals.

The Prince had to hold back his tears when the second bowing came, but a salted pearl rolled down his cheek despite himself when his lover, once again, bowed twice to him in return. It might look like nothing, but it meant the world to both of them. They weren’t a traditional couple, and they would shout it from the rooftops, show it to the world, whatever the consequences.

Finally, they kneeled as one man on the carpet, with only the table separating them, and stared at each other while Taemin poured alcohol in the cup and handed it to his childhood friend. Instead of making him drink, he let him take it and swallow a mouthful of the burning liquid by himself. The soldier then took the recipient back and handed to Jinki, who gave it to the King. The latter smiled, and made the cup turn until he saw the print of his husband’s lips on the edge. He drank from there.

This same ritual got repeated once more, both men making sure to always drink from this same spot where they lips met with the metal. None of the guests missed this detail, and none of them complained, for the symbolic of all these changed gestures was too strong to go against them. Even Siwon stood calmly as he watched them, and didn’t seem to be boiling with anger because of such affront to the Gods.

Minho and Kibum eventually stood up with the help of their respective friends, and walked towards each other in front of the table. They stood side by side and turned towards the assembly, joining their hands together and fulfilling all their bows : to the King’s mother, to the representative of the Prince’s father — Lord Taehyun hadn’t been able to leave Mongje to attend the wedding — then to the ritual statuettes representing the ancestors, and finally, to the guests.

All bows were returned, and the gong resounded one last time in the night. King Minho and Prince Kibum of Jinju were now remarried, and they were celebrated with a round of applause that made them blush.

The door behind them opened and they all stopped their congratulations to look at the old woman who was coming their way, a little girl walking by her side while holding her hand. She was wearing her own small ceremonial attire, all yellow like her grandmother ; the latter covered her mouth, for she hadn’t been warned about it and it felt like a surprise intended for her.

Both husbands turned towards the newcomers and smiled warmly, as Kibum held his long coat and crouched, stretching his arms. Sooyun, who had been startled by the amount of big persons around, eventually noticed her favourite person and giggled, letting go of her nanny’s hand. Her little steps were clumsy but she never fell, and she even gave her speed a small impulse when she was close enough to the Prince, almost throwing herself into his arms.

The man laughed and immediately carried her, sitting her on his arms as he stood up and faced the crowd. He placed a kiss on her cheek and looked at his husband, who smiled tenderly before addressing the guests.

“You had heard of her through our envoy, a few months ago.” Minho said with a confident voice. “But you are meeting her for the first time tonight : the Royal Princess and Heiress of the Choi Dynasty… our daughter, Sooyun.”

The little girl got startled when all big persons started applauding, but she eventually applauded herself to imitate them, what made everyone laugh and awe. Queen Boa held her stomach, the sight of this pretty little princess making her even hastier to meet her own baby. At the same time, Taeyeon let a sneeze out and it was decided that everyone should gather in the Pearl Room, where Jihwan had prepared a tremendous feast. All guests followed her lead, while her husband brought up the rear.

Only remained in the gardens the King, the Prince and the Princess. Sooyun was mesmerized by the almost full moon above her head, big and shining so bright she covered her eyes. Kibum laughed and adjusted her little hat.

“Do you remember our waltz, during my mother’s birthday reception ?” Minho asked his husband.

“Of course I do, I think that’s when I fell in love with you.” The other man shyly smiled. “Why ?”

“Because I asked the musicians to play one after dinner. This time, I will be the one requesting a dance from you.”

“And I will accept with a great pleasure, my King. But if I may surprise you before…”

“Surprise me ?”

With an enigmatic smile, Kibum cleared his throat and caught his daughter’s attention. Her big eyes stared at him, questioning, and he kissed her forehead before pointing at Minho.

“Sooyun-ah.” He called, making sure she looked at who his finger showed. “Who is this ?”

“Appa.”

The little girl giggled once she said the word, and immediately waved her arms towards the King, who stood there, gaping, unable to say a word in return. If it wasn’t for his husband approaching their daughter, he would certainly have remained frozen on spot. With a heartwarming smile, Minho grabbed Sooyun and hugged her tight, his silence turning into an irrepressible laughter that betrayed his happiness.

“We trained a lot.” The Prince said, caressing the other man’s back. “Days of showing you whenever you enter her field of vision and saying the word. She eventually understood it was who you were.”

“But… you ?” The King looked at his husband, his eyes wet with tears. “You spend more time with her than I do, why did you ensure that her first word would be for me ?”

“Because you deserve it. You saved my life, more than once. I might have saved yours, once or twice… but you saved me from my life, this horrible life I was suffering. You deserve the world, Minho, and… and that’s all I came up with to thank you.”

“Nothing could have been more beautiful.”

Minho smiled and leaned on his husband to kiss his lips, making sure to caress his daughter’s back at the same time to prevent her from interrupting them too soon. Both men kissed under the moonlight with their child in their arms, like the perfect scenery of a book of poetry…

“Minho !” Jihwan’s voice resounded in the gardens, coming from the open door. “The feast ! You’ll catch your death, all of you come inside immediately !”

The King and Prince laughed together, blushing from the unexpected interruption. Holding each other’s hand, while the princess rested on her father’s arm, they all obeyed the matriarch and headed inside. And by stepping in the palace this time, linked by their wedding, by their interlaced fingers and by the single existence of Sooyun, they felt complete.

_________________

This is the end of this story...

Thank you very much for waiting for every update, despite the last ones coming extremely slowly. Thank you for following this adventure and making me feel validated with all your reactions. This was one of the best experiences I've ever had, if I can say it. It was more than just writing a fanfic, it's a whole universe we created together and I'll keep it forever in my heart.

This story is over, but I might think of some extra chapters sometimes, shorter and telling about the daily life of our "newly-rewed" couple, their daughter growing up, some stuff for the General and the Teacher, even... who knows? Does it really have an end?

Thank you again.

BONUS HERE

#minkey #minho #key #kibum #shinee #fanfic #historical #kingdom of jinju #complete #jongyu #jonghyun #onew #jinki #taemin #epilogue

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strangerthanfiction · 5 years ago

Photo

and it's wrong, wrong, wrong (but we'll do it anyway 'cos we love a bit of trouble)

𝖖 𝖚 𝖔 𝖙 𝖊 𝖘

“i don’t want to be just a nothing, a sick blank, withdrawal into myself forever. i just want something, beside the emptiness i’ve carried around in me all my life.” –– allen ginsburg

“a man takes his sadness down to the river and throws it into the river but then he’s still left with the river. a man takes his sadness and throws it away but then he’s still left with his hands.” –– richard siken

"i was not a lovable child, and i'd grown into a deeply unlovable adult. draw a picture of my soul, and it'd be a scribble with fangs.” –– gillian flynn

“you will always be fond of me. i represent to you all the sins you never had the courage to commit.” –– oscar wilde

“power is in tearing human minds to pieces and putting them together again in new shapes of your own choosing.” –– george orwell

𝖇 𝖆 𝖘 𝖎 𝖈

NAME: Rabastan Edric Lestrange NICKNAMES: “Rab” by most, “Bash” by those who know him best, “Eddy” by his grandparents AGE: Twenty-six BIRTHDAY: April 13th, 1954 GENDER: Male, cisgender PRONOUNS: He/him/his

𝖋 𝖆 𝖒 𝖎 𝖑 𝖞

MOTHER: Sabine Lestrange (nee Avery) (52) FATHER: Gaspard Lestrange (48) SIBLINGS: Rodolphus Lestrange, Bellatrix Lestrange (sister-in-law), Narcissa Lestrange (sister-in-law), Lucius Malfoy (brother-in-law), Andromeda Tonks (sister-in-law)

𝖕 𝖍 𝖞 𝖘 𝖎 𝖈 𝖆 𝖑 𝖆𝖙𝖙𝖗𝖎𝖇𝖚𝖙𝖊𝖘

FACE CLAIM: Penn Badgley BUILD: Fit, muscular, and clearly works at maintaining it. Wishes he was taller always. HAIR: Longer than it should be, according to his mother, growing out of the buzz cut he got in November, thick and wavy. He’s also sporting stubble that’s quickly turning into a beard. HAIR COLOR: Dark brown, almost black EYE COLOR: Hazel on a normal day, amber on a sunny day, murky brown on a cloudy day SKIN COLOR: Pale, thin and translucent, like parchment. Anyone can see when he’s hungover or had a shitty night of sleep because his eyes look hollow and the skin underneath it looks almost purple. DOMINANT HAND: Right ANOMALIES:

TATTOOS: The Dark Mark on the inside of his right arm, a sketch of the sculpture of Laocoon and His Sons sketched out from the top of his left rib cage to his hip, the first lines of the Iliad on his collar bone, stretching from his left shoulder to his right shoulder, a stick and poke of a muggle ghost on the inside of his ankle, and, perhaps his favorite of them all, the word “TERROR” on the inside of his bottom lip. He charmed it so that, any time he flips his bottom lip out at the world to show the tattoo, the letters pop out in a magical version of a jump scare.

SCARS: His elbows and knees are shredded up from years of Quidditch and not following proper rules when it comes to healing potions. He’s got the slightest scar in his left eyebrow from falling off his broom when he was nine. Plus, he’s got the scrapes and scars of a fighter, a soldier, and he wears his ragged skin with the brashness and boldness of someone unafraid of battle.

SCENT: Tobacco, crisp linen, and, if he’s getting all dolled up, he puts just the tiniest dab of amortentia at his throat, because, well, “then I always smell good.” ACCENT: RP because his mother wouldn’t have her children sounding like scoundrels. But his Northern accent slips out every now and again when he’s particularly hammered. ALLERGIES: Bees. DISORDERS: Rapidly developing alcoholism. Slowly developing PTSD. FASHION: Punk but make it pureblood. Lots of silver rings with huge gemstones inset or crests carved into the metal. Amazing shoes always – be it chunky black combat boots, beautiful leather loafers, or the occasional (slightly) healed Chelsea boot. Skinny jeans and slouchy hoodies on his days alone in Manchester. Pressed shirts rolled up to the elbows and perfectly fitted trousers on his days at Lestrange Manor. His favorite robes are black velvet, with a gold clasp across the chest in the shape of a skull. And, of course, his clubbing outfits. Leather, mesh, crop tops (yes, Rab wears crop tops, and no, none of you will ever see it because he’s CAREFUL heh), muscle tanks, and the odd denim shorterall (with nothing underneath) moment. NERVOUS TICS: He used to bite his fingernails as a kid, but the nannies spanked that out of him. His oral fixation has been replaced with cigarettes – any slight bit of tension, and he’s lighting up. QUIRKS: He doesn’t know how to sit normally in a chair because he’s gay.

𝖑 𝖎 𝖋 𝖊 𝖘 𝖙 𝖞 𝖑 𝖊

RESIDES: Lestrange Manor 75% of the time. His own flat in Manchester 25% of the time. BORN: In France, while his parents were on holiday. He wasn’t supposed to be due for another three weeks, but his mother’s water broke while she was on the beach, and Rabastan was born five hours later. RAISED: In Yorkshire, with every other summer abroad (France most years, but sometimes Italy or Spain, and one very special year, Norway), until he went to Hogwarts. PETS: Gunther, a black Great Dane, who lives at Lestrange Manor, and technically is both his and Rodolphus’ – their mother got the dog for them as a means to help them bond, but really, Gunther is Rabastan’s and only gets attention from Rodolphus when their mother is around, so as not to offend her. And, in Rabastan’s eyes, but probably not in the eyes of other, more progressive individuals, Iphigenia, the Lestrange family house elf.

CAREER: Spending the Lestrange fortune. Being a Death Eater. EXPERIENCE: He’s been doing it his whole life. Nine years. Since his final year at Hogwarts. EMPLOYER: Voldemort.

POLITICAL AFFILIATION: The Death Eaters / Pureblood values. BELIEFS: Purebloods created this world, and now it’s their time to defend it. The Dark Lord is the only one capable of leading them to victory, and the purpose of men like Rabastan is to give him the aid he needs, no matter the personal cost. MISDEMEANORS: Truancy, defacing Hogwarts property, breaking curfew, bullying, tardiness, breaking dress code, and infinite more. He was never quiet about his rebellions, always laughing in the face of authority. And, now that he’s no longer at school, there’s nothing he can’t buy himself out of. FELONIES: Well. He’s killed more than a few people and gotten away with it, so. You do the math from there. DRUGS: Rabastan likes muggle drugs a little too much. Cocaine, particularly. He’s also been known to dabble in expensive, experimental potions from an alchemist the Lestranges have been using to cure their every ail and malady since Rabastan was a boy. SMOKES: Religiously. He started because every young boy wants to be just like their father at one point or another, and then he just never stopped. ALCOHOL: Rabastan’s rarely without a drink in his hand. It’s a glass of brandy as soon as he comes home, flask of whisky constantly at his hip, a Bloody Mary and some pepper up potion to eliminate his hangover first thing when he wakes up. It’s not a problem, he can stop at any point, or so he says. He learned how to be a functional alcoholic from all of the men he observed around him at a young age, and he’s found a very specific line – enough to feel gently numb, to feel invincible, but not so much that he’s incapacitated. And more and more, in recent months, especially since the disappearance of his brother, has he crossed that line. He’ll go through spurts of detoxing, of getting painfully sober for a few days, and then, he’ll be so overwhelmed by the world around him, by how loud it is, by how unforgiving, by how painful it can be, and then he’s right back where he was, with a bottle in one hand and a bump on the back of the other. DIET: Rabastan eats extremely well. Mostly vegetarian, except for fish, lots of legumes and greens, lots of fiber, etc. He knows how much crap he puts into his body, and while he doesn’t particularly care about the fact that he’s shortening his life, he does care about what it does to his physique. And, of course, the trade off is never going to be equal, but he does try to eat as cleanly as he can.

LANGUAGES: English, French, German, and self-taught Latin

PHOBIAS: If you asked him, he’d say he has none. And that’s mostly true. But there isn’t a day that goes by where he doesn’t think about getting outed to his family and then being banished by the Lestranges for his deviant behavior, and there isn’t a day that goes by where the very thought is enough to turn his blood to ice. HOBBIES: Drinking, fighting, fucking. When he’s not indulging his vices, he’s actually quite a scholar – he’s read through every book in his father’s study twice, and he taught himself Latin when he was thirteen. He also loves flying and still takes to a broomstick when he needs to clear his head. He’s also surprisingly adept at tending to plants (he effortlessly got O’s in Herbology his whole time at Hogwarts), and he’s got a lovely, melodic voice. TRAITS: { + }: Quick-thinking, fierce, loyal, playful { - }: Reckless, vulgar, lazy, submissive

𝖋 𝖆 𝖛 𝖔 𝖗 𝖎 𝖙 𝖊 𝖘

LOCATION: Spiny Serpent, specifically the secret fight club in the basement. It’s his favorite place in the world, the one place where he actually feels alive and free. He’ll heal all of his visible injuries with magic, but sometimes, he’ll leave a bruised rib or a tweaked knee because the pain of it reminds him that he’s alive, he’s present, he’s real. SPORTS TEAM: Wimbourne Wasps (and United ever since he started living in Manchester, but he’d rather be caught dead than admit to following the muggle Premiere league) GAME: Quidditch and he’s trying to start his own Swivenhodge league MUSIC: Much to his mother’s distaste, he’s an avid Hobgoblins fan, and his father begrudgingly took both his boys to meet Stubby when they were fifteen and eighteen respectively. Rab would never admit to listening to Celestina Warbeck, but after he’s had a few, he’s been known to do his own rendition of, “A Cauldron Full of Hot Strong Love” MOVIES: Too muggle. Absolutely not. (But he’d fucking love ALIEN if he knew it existed) FOOD: Venison, so rare it’s still bloody BEVERAGE: Double whisky on the rocks COLOR: Gold

𝖒 𝖆 𝖌 𝖎 𝖈

ALUMNI HOUSE: Slytherin WAND (length, flexibility, wood, & core): 13 inches, Holly, Dragon Heart String, Brittle AMORTENTIA: Pine trees, cigar smoke, candied ginger, and the unmistakable musk of all the men he’s ever fucked (oops) PATRONUS: A Deerhound BOGGART: A blue ticket. Even though he’s no expert in muggle history, he spends enough time in queer muggle spaces to know what they are, and the first time he found out about that, the first time someone told him about dishonorable discharge because of something so seemingly trivial, it made his blood turn to ice. He couldn’t shake the image, the idea of it, and to this day, he avoids boggarts at all costs because he knows it’ll give away his secret.

𝖈 𝖍 𝖆 𝖗 𝖆 𝖈 𝖙 𝖊 𝖗

MORAL ALIGNMENT: Chaotic Neutral MBTI: ENFP MBTI ROLE: The Campaigner ENNEAGRAM: Type 6 ENNEAGRAM ROLE: The Loyalist / the Skeptic TEMPERAMENT: Sanguine WESTERN ZODIAC: Aries CHINESE ZODIAC: Horse PRIMAL SIGN: Hammerhead Shark TAROT CARD: The Devil TV TROPES: Beard of Sorrow, Millionaire Playboy, Black Shirt, Draco in Leather Pants, Lovable Rogue, Punch-clock Villain SONGS:

1. balaclava by the arctic monkeys 2. bury a friend by billie eilish 3. to be so lonely by harry styles 4. make up your mind by florence & the machine 5. winter of our youth by bastille 6. broken crown by mumford & sons 7. i’m still standing by elton john 8. people by the 1975 9. ball and a biscuit by the white stripes 10. let’s have a kiki by scissor sisters (am i joking? idk)

IDEOLOGIES:

Adores birthdays and refuses to let people get away with not celebrating them. He loves any excuse to drink and party, and he knows he gives a mean toast, so people might as well fucking celebrate so he can put his skills on display. Otherwise, what’s the point?

Despite the contradictory nature of this, he doesn’t hate all members of the Order / all blood traitors on principle. He understands that they’re just trying to defend their place in the universe, and frankly, he respects the survival instincts he’s seeing play out. Of course, he knows his side is going to win – that’s inevitable. But it’s still admirable to see them all go down with such a valiant fight.

Hates cats. Period, full stop.

Refuses to go to St. Mungo’s, or any hospital for that matter. His uncle on his maternal side went there for a minor illness and came out in a box. Rabastan was seven, and his tiny brain came to the conclusion that the hospital was what did in his uncle, not his illness. And now, Rab knows how illogical it is, but he’d rather pay the family healer to come take a look at him than go to the doctor.

Would rather stand on public transportation than sit next to a stranger because he loves his own personal space just a little too much

As much as he does spend his family’s money a little too freely, no one can ever accuse Rab of hoarding his wealth. He always buys a round for everyone in the bar, picks up the check without being asked, buys things for his friends that they want but don’t need, lets people crash at Lestrange Manor whenever they need to. He’s not miserly in the slightest, not like Rodolphus.

Never makes a crucial decision without consulting a seer first. His mother taught him the habit.

Always flips one cigarette in the pack when he buys a new one.

No matter what time he wakes up, breakfast food has to be the first food he eats.

#dulcetask #*prompts #*biography #[ ch: i'm jack's smirking revenge ]#me: [busts back onto the dash with too many thoughts about my fuckin egg]#*aesthetic

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searchingwardrobes · 6 years ago

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Fortunate Son

Happy Birthday, @superchocovian! I hope your day has been an awesome one! You are a super supportive, wonderful part of this fandom, and I hope you know how much you are appreciated. The lyrics to “Fortunate Son” by Creedence Clearwater Revival have often made me think of Killian Jones, and I have therefore wanted to do a Vietnam-era AU for a very long time. I listened to it on repeat, trying to wake up my muse, and this fic happened. I hope you enjoy these 2,000 words of angst with a happy ending!

When I think about the Vietnam War, I think of the Army, the Marines, maybe the Air Force, but I never think of the Navy. I did a modest bit of research for this fic just to make sure this was half-way realistic, and what I learned blew me away. Yes, the US Navy fought in Vietnam, but it wasn’t in the way we usually think, shooting torpedoes on war ships out at sea. Vietnam really didn’t have those types of ships, so the US Navy had to improvise, creating what became known as the “Brown Navy.” The Vietnam coast is all rice paddies and marshes, and the country is a network of rivers, so the US Navy built these riverboats to patrol the coast, putting Navy seaman up close and personal with the Viet-Cong. These men looked just like we usually think of the US Military in Vietnam, wearing that jungle green, carrying machine guns with bullets strapped across their chests. The thing was, it wasn’t the type of combat they were trained for. Needless to say, Killian would have been messed up just as much as any other Vietnam vet from things he had seen, and Liam most likely would have died a very gruesome death. My mind was honestly blown learning about this, and even though I don’t directly describe these things in this fic, it definitely shaped the tone it’s written in. Can we say angst?

Summary: He was a nobody with nothing. No family, no direction, no future. He didn’t even have a left hand anymore, for God’s sake. And she was the president’s daughter. A Vietnam-era Lieutenant Duckling story.

Rating: M for language, war & drug references, and sexual situations (come on, this is a Vietnam-era fic, what did you expect?)

Also on Ao3

Tagging: @whimsicallyenchantedrose @snowbellewells @kmomof4 @winterbaby89 @kday426 @teamhook @bethacaciakay @snidgetsafan @delirious-latenight-laughs @jennjenn615 @shireness-says @let-it-raines @distant-rose @optomisticgirl @wellhellotragic @welllpthisishappening @killian-whump @hollyethecurious @ohmakemeahercules @xhookswenchx @gingerchangeling

Some folks are born, silver spoon in hand. Lord, don’t they help themselves, oh. It ain’t me, it ain’t me, I ain’t no senator’s son, no.

The first time they met he was a naïve petty officer who had never seen combat. His brother, who had just made Lieutenant, stood next to him. Elsa had teased them that they were chosen for the photograph because they looked so good in dress uniform. Killian was just cocky enough to know she was probably right, and he hated it. As for Emma, her blond hair was pushed back with a turquoise headband, slightly teased and sprayed like current style dictated. Her sheath dress was a swirl of psychedelic colors and her knee-high leather boots were a bright and shiny white. He could tell by the fake smile plastered on her face that she didn’t want to be there. Neither did he, truth be told. He didn’t want to be a prop in her politician father’s photo-op. He certainly didn’t want to fake charm to a senator’s spoiled daughter, either.

He looked her up and down, unable to deny what a stunning figure she cut in her outfit. She could easily have been an actress or a model. But the slight roll of her eyes irritated him. She was nothing but a spoiled princess being dragged around by her rich and influential daddy. Her mother scowled at her and gave her a subtle jab to the ribs. Killian tried not the laugh, keeping his own mask in place. The serious, intense look of a US Naval Officer.

Senator Nolan posed shaking their hands, then with his arms around them. He seemed like a genuine, caring man, and Liam chatted with him amiably. But didn’t these politicians use their charms to earn votes? Killian had a hard time believing it was genuine.

They gave the family a tour of the base, camera clicking away. Killian’s blood pressure intensified every time he heard the blonde girl’s bored sighs. Right before the Nolans boarded their private plane, the photographer asked for pictures of the Nolan women shaking hands with Lt. and Officer Jones. Liam went first, smiling politely as the camera flashed. Killian was polite as well. To Mrs. Nolan, that is. When he reached for Emma’s hand, however, the rogue in him took over.

Instead of merely shaking Emma Nolan’s hand, he brought it to his lips and kissed it, then winked at her audaciously. She scowled at him and yanked her hand away.

Yet he did note the pink in her cheeks, and he swiped his tongue over his bottom lip at the sight. She narrowed her eyes further and crossed her arms over her chest. Her cheeks however, had now deepened to a delightful shade of red. Served the snooty Daddy’s girl right.

Some folks are born made to wave the flag, ooh, they’re red, white, and blue, and when the band plays, “Hail to the Chief,” ooh, they point the canon at you, Lord. It ain’t me, it ain’t me, I ain’t no millionaire’s son.

The second time he saw her, he was more bitter and completely broken. Then again, so was she. Gone were the teased hair and go-go boots. In there place was a long, golden waterfall of tangled curls and a billowing hippy dress. Her face was hardened, yet a spark still lit her eyes. How they got her to come, he wasn’t sure, but the light in those jade eyes flashed with intensity as she handed her father each purple heart. Her gaze flickered to the blunted wrist at the end of his left arm, but then quickly rose to meet his eyes. He expected pity, maybe even compassion, but not the look of understanding. Did she recognize him?

“Thank you for your service to your country,” her father said as he pinned the purple heart to the chest of his dress uniform.

They had warned them that the first family likely wouldn’t mingle at the reception, so he was shocked when she was suddenly there at his elbow.

“We met you before, at the base in Norfolk.”

He blinked, not expecting her to remember.

“Um, yes, yes you did.”

“You had a brother.” She was fidgeting, grasping the fabric of her dress in her fist.

“Yes.”

She took one tiny step forward. “What happened to him?”

He swallowed, the plate he held in his one remaining hand trembling slightly. “He didn’t come home, I’m afraid.”

“Neither did Graham,” she whispered. He suddenly realized where he had seen that look in her eyes before: in Elsa’s when Liam’s body came home in a flag-draped coffin.

They both had reasons for the loss of innocence in their eyes, the hardness in the set of their jaws. A lost brother, a lost fiancé. It was a common tale. Frantic, desperate sex for just one night was a common tale lately, too. People broken by this war – this conflict that is – trying to fill the empty spaces with something to feel. But he was a nobody with nothing. No family, no direction, no future. He didn’t even have a left hand anymore, for God’s sake. And she was the president’s daughter. The God-damn secret service probably knew they fucked.

The president’s daughter! What the hell had he been thinking? She was gone the next morning, of course. He had expected that. What he hadn’t expected was the note.

Sorry I left. It’s complicated. - Emma

Ooh, they send you down to war, Lord, and when you ask them, “How much should we give?”, ooh, they only answer “More! More! More!” It ain’t me, it ain’t me, I ain’t no military son.

The next time he saw her, he was glad five years had gone by. Glad because three of those five he had drowned himself in rum. It could have been worse. He could have been tripping on acid like so many other vets. Could have ended up homeless.

Thank God for Admiral Nemo. He’d come to the squalid apartment he was sharing with Scarlet and Jefferson. Scarlet, who had a worse habit with whiskey than he did with rum. Jefferson, who unfortunately had fallen down the rabbit hole with harder vices. Nemo had practically pried a bottle of rum out of Killian’s hand and dragged him out of there. A year of AA meetings and physical therapy on his arm, and Killian was working alongside Nemo in the private sector. Ships could carry more than troops and weapons, after all.

The day she dropped back into his life, she was dressed professionally, in one of those dresses that looked like a trench coat, and her boots weren’t quite so tall or quite so shiny. Her hair was a bit shorter, the curls softer. Her mouth fell open a little when he walked out of his office, her face turning a shade paler. He smiled at her kindly, gently, trying to assure her that she needn’t be embarrassed. She wasn’t the first grieving woman to tumble into bed with a broken sailor, and she certainly wouldn’t be the last.

Emma had a camera around her neck; she was the photographer Nemo had hired for their new company brochures. Their conversation was brief, polite, and Killian couldn’t help the feeling of loss that washed over him as she began to walk away. Then she paused.

“Killian,” she said, turning around with a smirk on her face, “you look good.”

All he could do was stand there like a complete idiot with a goofy smile on his face.

She found him later, when she was done taking pictures, and he managed to ask her for coffee. Her face went slightly pale again, her eyes going a bit wide, but she said yes. This time, it was her hand that shook as she grasped a mug of hot chocolate. The more he tried to engage her in small talk, the more nervous she seemed.

Finally, he sighed into his own mug of black coffee. “Look, Emma, I think I read this wrong. I was happy to see you again, and was foolish enough I suppose to think fate caused our paths to cross again. But you’re clearly nervous, and I don’t wish to push -”

“No,” she cut him off, “it’s not that.” She took a deep breath, then blurted out, “I had a baby five years ago . . . It’s yours.”

She may as well have punched him in the gut. She babbled on about how she tried to find him, but he’d left the military, so there wasn’t really a way to contact him. Her mother had mentioned pulling some strings with the FBI, but she didn’t want to invade his privacy.

“I hate everything my parents stand for,” she barreled on, “so no way was I letting Big Brother hunt you down.”

She bit her lip as she searched his eyes, and he had a flash of memory. Emma beneath him, long blonde hair splayed out on the pillow, moaning and biting on that full lower lip of hers as she came. He shook his head to clear it.

“Aren’t you going to say something?” she whispered.

“I’ve thought about that night a hundred times.” Maybe it wasn’t the right thing to say. It was probably completely out of context. He held his breath thinking he’d put his foot in his mouth until a smile slowly spread across her face.

“So have I.”

Some folks inherit star-spangled eyes. It ain’t me, it ain’t me, I ain’t no fortunate son.

He met Henry for the first time on Emma’s front lawn. He was riding a bicycle on the grass, with no training wheels. He kept falling over into the grass, then jumping right back on again. An elderly woman sat on Emma’s front porch swing, watching over him. The babysitter said her goodbyes, and Emma pulled Killian down on the porch steps to meet his son.

They didn’t tell Henry that night who Killian was. They didn’t tell him the next day either when they took Henry to the beach to look for shells. They didn’t tell him the month after when Killian made them pancakes after staying the night. No moment ever seemed right, until the day the three of them sat on a blanket at the park having a picnic lunch. Killian knew if he was going to use the ring in his pocket, he better let his son in on the truth.

His son. His son and Emma’s.

He still had nightmares sometimes; of men cut down all around him, the muddy marshes turning red with their blood. He still could never forget Liam dying in his arms, choking on blood. So much blood. His dreams were often red with it.

Yet Emma was there when he woke in a cold sweat, and he knew in the deepest part of him that she always would be. His son rested against his chest when he was tired, his brown hair wet with sweat, his limbs loose as jello. Despite the death Killian had seen and been a part of, this innocent child slept peacefully in his arms.

Emma’s tender smile and Henry’s wide and trusting eyes made him hope again, made him believe again. That maybe, just maybe, he was the most fortunate man in the world.

#cs ff #cs modern au #lieutenant duckling #cs vietnam-era au #angst #angst with a happy ending #fandom birthday playlist #for superchocovian #on her birthday #fortunate son

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yinandyangyang · 6 years ago

Text

a compilation | han

Pairing: Han x Reader

Genre: cup of angst, with a dash of fluff

Tags: blurbs, unrequitedlove, ANGsT, floof?

A/N: this is a compliation of han - related blurbs, undeveloped plots, and angst, plus a tiny bit of fluff

let me know if there are any you think I should continue with!

@bunnyhani happy late omg im so sorry birthday, luv!!! you actually make me smile so much, you are a highlight in my life and since none of the scenarios i was trying to make actually really seemed like enough, i just made a few, unfinished, unrelated blurbs, chats, random han related thoughts and compiled them for you ~

01. build me a bridge of rose petals

unrequitedlove!reader

“This isn’t something I can just get over,” I mumbled quietly into the phone. My best friend sighed in response, thoroughly annoyed with hearing of me and my failures at romance.

“Look, y/n,” she hummed, irritation sprayed heavily into her words. “Cry me a fucking river, build a bridge, and get your dumb, absolutely idiotic ass over it. He isn’t worth your time. You’ve been in love with the dick for - how long - like a decade now. And not once has he reciprocated your feelings.”

A sob built in my throat and I bit my lip to keep it from escaping. I’d yell back, if I had the energy. But I didn’t. And she was right, any who. I’d been hopelessly in love with the one, the only, Han Jisung for years, since middle school. And never once had he liked me back. We had been friends for all this time, yes, Jisung and I. We had even gone dancing together a few times.

“Stop dreaming, stop selling yourself short, stop rejecting all these other guys in the hopes he’ll magically like you back because you’re hurting yourself. I can’t stand seeing you like this any longer, y/n. I know I sound like an ass, but you deserve all the happiness in the world and I know you will never in a million years, find that with Jisung.

“Forget him, y/n. Forget him and be happy.”

“... okay,” was all I could manage. Because ultimately, she was right. I had been letting him get in the way of my happiness for far too long. “Talk later.”

And shutting off the phone, I tossed it across the room. Her voice echoed in my mind, “Forget him, y/n. Forget him and be happy.”

It wasn’t that easy, though, I thought to myself. He’s just always there. Han Jisung’s always on my mind. His smile. His voice. His eyes, lord, his eyes. The curve of his lips. The way he looked when he laughed.

A sudden bout of painful coughing rumbled deep through my diaphragm, wracking my whole body with violent bouts of wheezing until I was left gasping for breath. Something pink flew out of my mouth fluttered slowly to the ground. I brought my hand up to my lips to investigate and the sickeningly sweet smell of roses wafted through the room.

My finger tips fell away from my mouth wet. Covered in blood. Another cough shook my body.

Two more rose petals shot past my lips.

02. lotto winner

bestfriend!jisung

“My gosh, __,” Jisung whined, scrolling through his instagram feed for the third time that hour. “What are you doing, wrestling with the zipper? Why do you take so long?”

“Yah, Han Jisung! Trying on clothes isn’t as easy as you think, okay?” you shouted through the changing stall door, still trying to decide whether the outfit looked good on you or not. “Can you look at this outfit and tell me what you think? I don’t know if it fits my body right.”

“Fine,” your companion sighed. “Just hurry, up, okay?” Jisung stared wistfully out the window at the bright blue sky. It was really lovely this afternoon and he had to spend it with you, inside an expensive clothing store looking like it had just come out of tumblr’s aesthetic page, waiting for you to try on clothes.

Jisung subconsciously glanced down at his watch right as you hesitantly exited your changing stall. The edge of the baby blue cropped crew neck ended right above the waistband of the black corduroy skirt and the trim of your skirt fell right a good six inches above your knees. Cradling your arms to your chest, you shot your friend a nervous smile. Frilly and girly wasn’t your usual look, you would have rather worn a pair of boyfriend jeans and one of Jisung’s oversized sweaters.

“What do you think?”

“You look good, now let’s go,” he spoke and not bothering to spare a glance up, he shrugged. You noticed of course.

“Yah! Jisung, you idiot!” you yelled, picking up the closest pair of pants next to you and throwing them directly at the head of your best friend. “You’re supposed to actually look when I ask you to.”

Peeling the pants off his head, Jisung rolled his neck, now more irritated than he was 3 seconds ago. First you waste his time and now you throw a pair of pants at him. What the hell? When would the torture end? He sighed for the nth time that afternoon, gaze finally traveling over your figure. And all irritation drained out of him like it was nothing.

The second his eyes fell over your shy smile and flushed cheeks, all he could think of was damn. You looked good. The miniskirt complimented your curves and accentuated the length of your legs. Baby blue against black wouldn’t have been his first choice, but the innocent way you looked up at him erased all color complaints he had.

Whatever guy started ended up stealing your heart would be one damn lotto winner.

Coming back to himself, Jisung scoffed, immediately looking away from you. A pretty pink flush tickled the apples of his cheeks.

“W-what?” you stuttered, looking down at yourself nervously. “It doesn’t look good, does it? Oh my- I should have known better. It’s the color combination, right? I knew I should have picked pink or something-”

Jisung snorted, pushing himself up to flick you in the forehead. Stunned, the speech spilling from your tongue like word vomit halted and you looked at him.

“Oh my God, __. First things first, I didn’t need to look at you because I know you look fine in anything you pick. Secondly, now that I finally looked at you, I just realized that I shouldn’t have because now I’m disappointed. You don’t look as pretty as I was envisioning you.”

“Shut up, dumbass!” All prior unease forgotten, you smacked him in the shoulder. “Another comment like that and I won’t buy you food.”

“Okay, jeez,” he snickered, rubbing the spot you hit him. “You do look pretty, though.”

“Yeah, right.” You called, flouncing back into the changing stall with a pout. “You just want food.”

“Believe what you want to,” Jisung sang back, settling back down onto the couch outside the stall, all thoughts of you and just how good you looked erased. “I could always leave you here.”

Within seconds, you were out of the stall, completely changed and the slightest bit pink in the face. Jisung bit back a laugh. If there was anything you hated more than the thought of being with him (romantically), it was the thought of being without Jisung.

03. best friends v. break ups

text convo

j*s.~.ng: I've never felt more exhausted… j*s.~.ng: normally I wouldn't publicize this j*s.~.ng: but my heart hurts. So. Much j*s.~.ng: can I call you? j*s.~.ng: ahit nvm. j*s.~.ng: i forgot you're on a blind date…. j*s.~.ng: forget everything and ples enjoy :))) y/n: *5 seconds later* hey you okay? j*s.~.ng: all good ☺ y/n: don't hide behind emojis I know you better than that j*s.~.ng: but you're on a date j*s.~.ng: what are you doing texting me y/n: he kinda already left because you kept texting j*s.~.ng: shit. j*s.~.ng: I'm so sorry. y/n: don't be. He was a control freak j*s.~.ng: are you sure I'm not interrupting something? y/n: absolutely, chill j*s.~.ng: can...you pick me up? y/n: already in my car. Where you at?

04. silently

unrequited!reader

It was all too soon when I got that feeling again. You know… that feeling.

That feeling, the one you get where your heart, slowly breaking, drops without hesitation into the depths of your stomach and begins to churn, boiling up a brew with the irritating emotions called heartbreak, loneliness, and hurt. The stench of the horrific brew rises and rises and continues to rise in your stomach, building up pressure in your lungs and making it hard to breathe properly. It eventually makes its way to your eyes, odor building tears up… and then there’s really nothing you can do to keep them from falling.

You know… that feeling.

I’ve loved the same boy since I was eleven years old. For a portion, a small one mind you, of that time, I was told he liked me back. Of course, that was merely a miniscule section of that time, the rest of the time, we decided to grow up, only when I grew up, I was left with the same feelings I’d had for him all those years ago. It killed me.

And it was only natural that he wasn’t.

We’d both had a couple flings with other people tossed in there… but my mind was constantly on him and his... wasn’t. His eyes, his lips, his arms, his laugh, his smile. I loved him. And nothing was ever going to happen between us. Because of his lack of self confidence, he always looked for affirmation in month long relationships, only to break it off, then find someone else over the course of the next week.

Did it hurt? Yeah. Of course it hurt. Fuck, it burned like shit. But what could I do?

I’d talk it out with close friends, my mom. It wouldn’t solve anything though. I was still left with that same heartache, the same slow, numbing pain.

There were those instances I wouldn’t see him for a while and those overpowering feelings would subside into a a low, near non existent hum. It would be those periods of time that would hurt the most, yet also be the most peaceful. During those hours, days, weeks… I would find myself missing him, his hugs, his smile… but I would also find solace in those moments of not having to worry about him, how he was doing, what I’d wear when I saw him next...

But through all those times, through all those years… it had never hurt this much. He’d already had so many girlfriends before and his yearning, his unquenching desire for constant affirmation seemed never to be satisfied, so he dropped one and moved on again.

When he and I made eye contact from the ends of the hall ways, a bright smile overtook my lips like it always did. This time though, it wasn’t because he was wearing a pair of slim cut denim jeans with a white form-fitting button down and a black suit jacket and looking the most attractive I’d seen him in a while, it was because I had decided to finally come in terms with my feelings. I loved him and appreciated him as a person, a friend... and a boy.

He approached me with a playful smile, the brightness of his expression challenging the setting sun.

But was we made our way into the room, sat down beside each other like regular, and began to talk, the conversation took a turn, one that really wasn’t in favor of my mood.

He brought up his newest girlfriend.

It wasn’t like I was angry at him for having a girlfriend, I was just a good friend, nothing more than that to him. He wasn’t mine. He was his own person.

“So..” I hummed, trying to keep the conversation light, though really it’s not like anyone would have noticed my sudden shift in mood. I mean, we’re talking about me for goodness sake. I threw shade for fun and if I was hurt, it’d always be masked by my overpowering sarcasm. One sudden mood shift wouldn’t stand out, after all, I’d had enough practice hiding my true feelings from an unfortunate many times before. “She��s pretty?”

“Oh, exponentially more so,” he hummed, a radiant, beautiful smile decorating his lips as his mind drifted off once more to his gorgeous girlfriend. I never got that smile. That special, heart breaking smile was only reserved for the best, the prettiest and that was not me. “She’s... everything I didn’t realize I wanted in someone...”

He continued on, speaking of her eyes and how they glittered with this special something every time he saw her. Had my eyes ever looked like that to him?

He brought up her hair, how soft it felt when he ran his fingers through it, how it always seemed to fall perfectly. My hair... I reached up subconsciously to touch it. Was it soft? Did it ever look effortlessly beautiful like that?

His eyes glowed when he redirected his description of her to her smile. He said it was perfect, the way it shaped her eyes into pretty little crescent moons, and that when they were together, it seemed her lips were curved into nothing but. I frowned. He never noticed - wait no, of course he didn’t. Why would he notice my smile when his mind was solely on hers?

I brought my knees up to my chest, the familiar feeling of self pity slowly consuming me. I could no longer concentrate on trying to be a supportive friend while my heart was breaking like this.

I choked back a silent sob. He continued speaking, eyes glazed over in adoration of his girlfriend. My eyes burned, tears welling up at the corners. He chuckled, laughing about something she reminded him of. I reached up, wiping away my unshed tears. He smiled down at his fingers, moving them, savoring the feeling of the ghosts of her fingertips.

He didn’t notice anything. He never did.

A sad, somewhat pessimistic thought entered my mind. Was it because I wasn’t pretty? Would he notice the more minuscule things about me if I was pretty? Would he ask if I was okay if I was pretty?

Would I mean anything more to him... if I was pretty?

Forcing down my tears, I sighed, smacking a easy-going smile back onto my lips. Who cared if it looked fake. It’s not like he would have noticed anyways.

05. you, me, & the moonlight

roommate!au

“Hey...” I hummed, looking up briefly from my computer screen to Han Jisung, my best guy friend, roommate, and unbelievably cliche forever crush. The dim light from the yellow street lights outside mixed together with the lazy, past 10 pm atmosphere in the room. My feet lay on his lap, his laptop perched on my shins. At the sound of his name, he turned to meet my gaze, the slight dimple in his cheek sending my heart into an unauthorized gymnastics routine. He dislodged one earbud from his ear.

“Yeah?”

“What on your schedule tomorrow?” My eyes dropped down to the half-written essay on my laptop screen to avoid a blush from appearing on my cheeks. “I wanna do something.”

He yawned, stretching his arms above his head, t-shirt riding up on his stomach to reveal a sliver of the smooth planes of his taut muscles. Dammit, Han Jisung, cover yourself better.

“Hmm… There’s a morning practice tomorrow from 5:15 to 7, and then I have classes from 8 to 12. Afternoon practice is 2 to 3:30… I also have a study session later tomorrow, like around 4-ish, but it shouldn’t last longer than a couple hours. So we can either do something during lunch or pull an all-nighter doing whatever. Your choice.” He shut his laptop and placed it on the coffee table, the kitchen lights making his chlorine-bleached hair glow golden.

“Well tomorrow’s Friday. I’m most likely going to be asleep during lunch, and I don’t have anything on Saturday until after lunch so I’m game for the all-nighter.” I shut my laptop and placed it on the coffee table as well, rearranging myself so that my head rested on his shoulder. “But if you have morning practice, you should probably go to sleep soon.”

“Alright mom, geez.”

He scoffed in faux offense, laying his head atop mine on instinct.

And, the mere movement sent my heart beating about fifteen times faster than it was supposed to be.

06. your sensitive side

idolfriend!jisung

“Why are you sitting so far away?” Jisung stared at me, a confused look on his angelic features. For once, I wasn’t cuddled into his side. For once, I decided to sit on the very opposite side of the couch, curled up with my favorite penguin plush, Snoogly Woogly. A childish frown marred my usually gentle features.

“Why does it matter?” I spat out, clutching Snoogly Woogly tighter.

“Because you’re obviously bothered and in need of a hug,” he said quite matter-of-factly. I buried my face in Snoogly Woogly and groaned loudly, trying to smother the butterflies in my stomach with annoyance. He just smiled, put down his pineapple pizza and crawled over to my side of the couch. Soon enough, Snoogly Woogly was pulled out of my arms and her plush body was replaced with his firm, warm one. He picked me up, cradling me on his lap.

“Hey!!! You’re on my side of the couch, you big dumb dumb!” Instinctively, my arms wound around his lithe, idol body. I could feel him smile into my shoulder as he hugged me closer til we were pressed flush against each other.

“Oh please. If only you could feel how tight you’re hugging me right now.”

“Only because I don’t want to fall, you fucking sequoia tree!” I growled into his chest. “You’re still on my side, though.”

“Fine.” With that, Jisung picked me up as he stood and walked back to his side of the couch. Sitting back down, with me on his lap, he gave me a pointed look. “Is this better?”

A blush raged across my face. Why did he have to be so… obnoxiously strong and sensitive? I had been living with him for how long and still haven’t found enough flaws to stop liking him.

The night went on. We had just finished our third movie, second box of fried chicken and first box of pizza, and he still hadn’t let go of me. Then again, he was asleep now and he usually went to hug things in his sleep. Pushing off his drowsy form carefully, I peered at the clock on the microwave. 2:54 am.

Slipping out of his loosening grasp, I cleaned the coffee table off. Out went the trash, into the fridge went the pizza. Approaching the couch once more, the cracks of my broken heart softened as my eyes ran over his sleeping figure. I pulled off his glasses gently and set them down by the charging ports in the dining room. He shifted in his sleep, better revealing his soft features.

My hand stretched forward subconsciously to brush the hair from out of his face but I stopped myself. No... I shouldn’t. I turned to head back into the kitchen. Where the fuck was the melatonin..? But as if the whole universe was pitted against me, one of the legs on the coffee table somehow magically placed itself inconveniently in front of my foot.

Before I could stop myself, a whisper-shouted fuck surged past my lips. At the sound of my profanity, his eyes cracked open.

“Hey… shouldn’t you be sleeping?” Though his words were mumbled almost incoherently, his deep brown eyes gazed up at me, awaiting an answer.

“Oh- well yea-” before I could finish my sentence, he reached forward and placed a finger to my lips. Once that effectively silenced me, he sat up and wrapped his arms around my smaller body for the second time tonight, pulling me to the relaxed pace of his heart. For a moment, I lay there stiffly. Though this was no new position to me, my mind raced with doubts. The recent pain in my chest was getting worse, making it harder to think, function, and act normal around him. What had I let myself get pulled into? More importantly, what had I let my heart get roped into all those years ago?

As if sensing my unease, he cracked one eye open, ran a hand through my semi-tangled tresses and rested his lips against my forehead.

“Then sleep.”

07. even death would be kinder

arrangedmarriage!au

“Oh __, my darling girl, how you’ve grown!” I grinned weakly, doing my best to enthusiastically return Mrs. Han’s hug. The woman was like my second mother. I had known her since I was in primary school and I absolutely adored her. Her son on the other hand…

“Han Jisung, come here and say hello!” Mrs. Han called out to her son. I steeled myself for the shock of seeing how the now unfamiliar young man approaching us had changed.

“Hi, __.”

The first thing that came to my mind was ‘hot DANG. his voice got deeper.’

Seulgi bowed quickly before shooting me an apprehensive look and taking her leave.

Taking a deep breath and a quick mental check, I looked up and extended my hand out to shake his hand in greeting. Upon looking up though, I could feel my hand fall slack in disbelief.

The young awkward boy I had fallen in and out if love with during my teen years had now been replaced with a suave, smooth young man. His smile came easily, lips stretched to reveal his bright teeth. His chubby, babyish face had slimmed down significantly over the years. His chiseled jawline and crescent eyes accommodated the handsome face he now sported well. But his eyes… the playful, mischievous brown eyes of his had not changed at all in the years that had passed.

Shaking myself out of my thoughts, I quickly shook his hand, slapping a professional smile on my mouth.

“Pleasure to see you again, Mr. Han. It's been too long.”

His smile faltered and the happy curve if his beautiful eyes vanished. Nonetheless, he shook my hand firmly and nodded, the smile, albeit a tad uncomfortable, still remaining.

“It has.”

Quickly releasing his hand, I stepped back. An uncomfortable silence shrouded us until Mrs. Han cleared her throat.

“Why the long faces, you two? You were the best of friends years ago,” turning to her son, she reached up to pinch his cheek. “Why, I recall you telling me she was the only girl you could be completely comfortable around.”

The handsome male across from me stiffened.

“That’s because she’s like a sister to me mom,” he said, smiling thinly. I pursed my lips, clutching the clipboard in my hands a tad bit tighter. Yes. That was all I was. Nothing but a ‘sister’.

“Oh pish posh,” Mrs. Han scoffed, waving her hand through the air as if it were nothing. “You’re acting as if she’s nothing but a stranger right now.”

Jisung rolled his eyes.

“Mother, we haven’t seen each other in ages.”

“Ages, my foot.” She slapped her son’s arm. “Now you two, stop acting like children. It’s time we had lunch.”

08. how much you care

domesticfriendship!au

“Guess what today is?” I asked, bouncing on the tip of my toes. Literally. Because I was wearing high heels. And one does not simply bounce on their whole feet with high heels.

“Your birthday,” Jisung spoke, returning my smile with an equally casual one.

“Yeup!” He had remembered! Excitement hung around me as I hummed giddly in response. I had finally gotten my feelings in order and realized how much he meant to me. It wasn't just my birthday. Perhaps now maybe I could mean something more to someone.

The lesson went by quickly and before I knew it, so had the majority of the night. Soon enough, it was just the two of us left in the room. While half of me knew he would soon be walking out of those doors like the rest of the students, half of me prayed desperately for him to stay.

“Can I show you something?” He asked suddenly, gesturing to the computer. Giving my consent, he searched and pulled a video up. And for the next minute and a half, I watched flashes of meme-filled images singing a horrid, remixed happy birthday song.

“Wow,” I chuckled in disbelief. His boyish laugh sounded in harmony. “I don't know what I expected but that definitely wasn't it.”

“Well I mean, I'm broke so I couldn't have got you anything,” he snorted incredulously.

“That's is true.”

I took a good long moment to appreciate his features. His smile. He was extremely attractive and I knew that. I knew that from the moment I first saw him in 4th grade. But did I ever do anything about it? No.

All of a sudden, I didn't know what to say. Conversations had never been awkward between us but for some reason, at this moment in time, my heart began to beat faster, my cheeks began to color. A feeling of dread filled my stomach. Oh no. Was I... falling for one of my close male friends??

Before the moment could get any more awkward, the sound of a vibration alerted the both of us to his phone and, pulling it out, the smile dropped from his face. An apologetic smile covered his lips and he pocketed the device once more.

“Aight, my dad is here,” Jisung sighed, gesturing to the door. “I gotta head out.”

Disappointment coiled in my stomach when he turned towards the door, exiting without a second glance. I stood there, staring at his receding figure, confused at why I was feeling the way I was. I didn’t know what I had been hoping for, but it certainly wasn’t for him to leave like that.

Something in my body pulled me forwards, nearly tripping me over my own feet as I chased after him.

“Wait! Jisung!” I called breathlessly from the doorway. “No birthday hug or anything?? I’m offended.”

The boy turned, teasing smile playing at his lips. He paused in his step, rolling his eyes. The boyish quirk in his smile sent my heart hurtling over the edge into the chasm of having a crush at what seemed like a thousand miles per hour.

“Fine,” he spoke, grin more than obvious in his voice. He continued towards me, hands shoved sheepishly into his hoodie pocket.

“No, nevermind,” I scoffed playfully, turned back around, crossing my arms in faux offense. “I don’t need your hugs. Even though it is my birthday.”

“Come on, y/n,” Jisung hummed, his soft, velvety voice sounding right by my ear. “Don’t be like that.”

All of a sudden, a pair of warm, strong, lithe, familiar arms snuck around my waist pulling me firmly against the built frame of my best friend. The scent of his fabric softener and body wash overwhelmed my senses until all I could feel was him and home. He bent down, resting his cheek against the top of my head.

A fiery blush burned over my cheeks.

“Jisung-” I whispered, turning around in his arms. But that was all I could say before he pulled me into his chest once more, cradling my head into his comforting body heat. The sound of his melodic, hypnotizing heartbeat flowed through my ears, falling into a comfortable pace with mine.

“Happy birthday, y/n.”

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