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holylulusworld · 5 months ago

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Unworthy (3)

Summary: Thor doesn’t think you‘re a good friend to his brother.

Pairing: AU!Thor Odinson x fem!Reader, AU!Loki Laufeyson x fem!Reader (platonic/best friends)

Warnings: past addiction, mentions of drug abuse/addiction (Loki), angst, classism, Thor being an ass, BBF trope, mentions of spiked drinks

Catch up here: Unworthy (2)

Unworthy masterlist

You’re furious. No, it’s more than that. Thor didn’t leave you and Loki alone. While your friend sleeps soundly in your bedroom, you argue with his stubborn brother.

“Let my brother go,” Thor grunts as you block his path. You refuse to let him inside your home. He ruined your career and opened old wounds. You won’t let him win this time.

“Would you lower your voice! Loki is still asleep. He needs to sleep his intrusive thoughts off. In a few hours, we will meet up with his sponsor. Thanks to you and your family, he almost had a relapse. Could you for once focus on what’s good for your brother?”

“I worry about my brother all the time,” Thor towers over you. He glares at you like you’re the bad guy in this story. Now, let me inside and I’ll bring him home.”

“Like hell,” you hold his gaze, not scared of his size and strength. “What do you want to do? Ignore his problem and pretend Loki isn’t an addict. He needs help, not ignorance. Now, get out of my sight. Duke will come around and talk to Loki. He needs people who understand and support him, not a brute forcing him to bend to his family’s will.”

Thor huffs. “I won’t let you decide on my brother’s fate. You’re a liar and…what do you know about addiction?”

You drop your eyes. “After what happened that night, I lost control over my life. He didn’t get punished because of his wealthy family. The cops and the nurse lied and let the proof disappear. And his family had the nerve to blame me. Suddenly, I was the one ruining their lovely and nice son's life. They framed me and…”

“…and?” Thor looks over your shoulder to glance inside your living room. “What did you do? Steal someone else’s brother.

“You’ll never understand the bond Loki and I share. We are both broken souls; left behind by the people who should stand by our side. No one to help you in times of need,” you lift your gaze to look him straight in the eyes. “People like you, the ones standing in the sun all the time can’t fathom how it feels standing in the shadows all the time.”

Thor swallows thickly when Loki steps inside the living room. His brother looks like he’s been through a lot last night. He hates to admit it, but you were right about Loki’s condition.

“Brother,” Loki steps toward the open door. “What are you doing here? I thought you got the message last night. I do not want to see you or your father ever again. Not if you don’t apologize to Y/N. She’s the only person caring for me and you had to ruin this for me. The only friend I have, you had to take her away from me.”

“That’s not what happened, brother,” Thor tries to argue. “I tried to protect you and tried to find out more about her. It’s not my fault she’s got a questionable past.”

“Questionable past,” Loki repeats Thor’s words. He squares his jaw before he shoves you out of his way to attack his brother.

“Loki! NO!” You wrap your arms around his waistline to hold Loki back. Loki looks slender but damn him, he’s stronger than he looks. “Idiot or not, he’s still your brother. I get that he doesn’t want me to hurt you. I’d do the same to protect you.”

“He’s a jealous bastard. I saw how he looked at you. My fine brother can’t take your rejection. All women must fall for him.” Loki fights you. He wiggles and grunts as you try to drag him off his brother.

“Loki, stop wiggling. Damn…shit…you’re like a snake,” you laugh as your friend threatens to scratch his brother’s eyes out. “Stop trying to slip out of my grasp.”

“I’ll defend your honor and punch his face. No woman will ever want to date him because I demolished his pretty face. That’s all he’s got to offer,” Loki can be a bitch if he wants to. He throws insults at his brother while you struggle to hold him back. “Oh, and his muscles. He shows them every woman he meets.”

“Uh-he tried to show them to me too, on my first day.”

“I knew it!” Loki made it. He slips out of your grasp to jump at his brother. The giant is taken aback by his brother’s attack and falls backward. He ends up on the ground, Loki on top of him.

“Guy, I don’t want to disturb whatever you’re doing there,” Duke clears his throat, “but we’ve got an appointment, and the group hates waiting. You know that Loki.”

“Duke…I can explain…I,” Loki gets up to straighten his shirt. He offers a tight smile. “Sorry. We’ve got a little overly excited about some news.” He lies. “Y/N, thank you for letting me sleep here. I’ll be back after the meeting if you’re having me.”

“Sure, darling,” you step over Thor, who's still lying on the ground to hug Loki. “My door is always open for you. Give me a call if you want me to pick you up.”

“I’ll drive him,” Duke says. “I think you and that guy on the ground have some things to discuss. Maybe before Loki comes back here.”

“Thanks, Duke.”

You get Loki’s jacket, and the spare keys you gave to him if he ever needs a place to stay. Thor still lies on the ground when you hug his brother and thank Duke again.

They leave together, chatting about the upcoming meeting while you look down at Thor lying on the ground. “You should go home now, Odinson. There is nothing here for you. Duke will help Loki now, and I’ll make sure he’s not going to relapse.”

You cross your arms over your chest, waiting for him to leave. “I’d love to leave this place, but I can’t get up.”

“Very funny,” you chuckle. “I didn’t know you can be funny too. Well, lie there all you want. I got better things to do. I won’t find a new job while babysitting you.”

“I didn’t joke,” Thor pants. He tries to roll to his side, and winces in pain. “It’s an old injury. Loki fucked my back up.”

You crouch down next to him, smirking as he glares back at you. “Aw, look at the fallen giant lying on the dirty floor.”

“Go ahead, make fun of me.”

“No,” you pat his chest. “Unlike you, I won’t hit where it hurts.” You kneel next to Thor to carefully check for injuries. “Do you need an ambulance, or can you get up with my help? I got a sturdy chair.”

“No ambulance,” he grits his teeth. “I…I got this.” Thor breathes through the pain. “I’ll try to get up.”

“Okay,” any other person would’ve told Thor to get fucked and slammed the door shut. You’re not any other person. Even though Thor is the worst, you won’t prove him right and leave him helpless and in pain. “I’ll get the chair and a pillow. If you are ready, I’ll roll you to your side. We’ll do it slow.”

“Hmm…” He eyes you up and down. “Maybe we should ask someone stronger for help. You look…”

“I held your brother back,” you huff. “I can help you get up. But, if you want someone else to help you, be my guest.”

“You’re annoying.”

“You’re an asshole,” you snap back. “Now that we clarified that we hate each other, we can get you up from the floor and out of my sight…”

“That wasn’t the plan,” you should’ve known better than helping Thor get up. Now he’s sitting on your couch, two pillows tugged behind his back. He watches you place the painkillers his private doctor described in front of him, along with a glass of water. “You cannot be around when Loki comes back. Not with these in your possession.”

When you point at the painkillers, Thor frowns. “It’s a simple painkiller, not hard drugs.”

You sigh, deep and exasperated. “You don’t get it, Thor. If Loki has a bad day, he’d drink mouthwash when it contains alcohol or swallow your whole bottle of painkillers. I don’t have pills, alcohol, or anything containing alcohol at my home to offer a safe environment to him.”

Thor furrows his brows. He never thought of hiding his booze or pills when his brother was around. “You’re very…thoughtful.”

“We need to get you out of here before Loki arrives. You should’ve taken your doctor’s offer and driven home with him.”

“I can just reside on your couch for tonight. My back will be better in the morning. I know my body…”

tags in reblog.

#thor odinson #thor odinson x reader #loki laufeyson #Unworthy (3)#thor odinson x you #female reader #x reader #business au

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bullet-prooflove · 7 months ago

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Memories: Captain Jean Treville x Reader (NSFW)

Tagging: @@princesschyanne @caffeinatedwoman @kmc1989 @lovemissyhoneybee @sekretwindow @rey4kat @roschele @sassyscottishchick @aiko24k @scorpio-1357 @burningpeachpuppy @swanfan17 @@dragon85faby @angelnyx

When Athos goes missing it is you that finds your old friend, he's strung up by his wrists about to be whipped by a baron’s son. It triggers something in you, seeing him like that, at the mercy of nobility who want to get their grubby hands on his land. That was you a long time ago, after your father died, when you were nothing but a girl.

Only there was no one to rescue you, to cut the rope that bound your wrists, to prevent a marriage that was forced at gun point as blood ran down your back. When you fight for Pinon alongside Jean and his Musketeers you fight for yourself, for the girl who couldn’t.

“It brings back memories doesn’t it?” Jean murmurs as he sits down alongside of you by the hearth at the inn. You’re staring into the flames, your attention focused entirely on the logs that crackle and burn.

You’ve been quiet since they’ve arrived, reserved. There’s a tone in your voice, a distance. It’s clear there’s been a dispute between yourself and Athos, you think he has a duty to his people and he wants nothing to do with the damn place. He doesn’t understand that his choice is one that everyone else has to live with, he can’t see beyond his own pain.

“Too many to count.” You say despondently, before your gaze shifts to the innkeeper’s daughter.

“She was lucky you were here.” He says quietly as he leans in close, the back of his hand brushing over yours. It’s a tentative display of affection. Sometimes you don’t like to be touched when you go back to that place, you withdraw from him as if he’s one of the men that hurt you all those years ago. “That you were able to get her out.”

Breaking in the filly is what they called the horror of what they were going to do to her, rape is what you call it.

“I could never resign someone else to that fate.” You tell him, your attention turning back to the fire.

When he takes you to bed that night, you sleep curled up against him like a child, his fingers trailing soothingly through your hair as he whispers sweet nothings. Darkness like this brings dreams, dreams of a man who shamed you, ruined you, who fed you to the wolves so that he could own your estate.

You were nothing to Charles DuMire but a tool to be used, a plaything for men who always held more power than you. You were exchanged for favours, for money, for prestige.

“I was their whore.” You had said, when you’d told him your story.

“No.” He’d whispered fiercely, his eyes glittering with rage as his palms came to rest upon the surface of his desk. “You were abused.”

He doesn’t know how you kept your wits during that time, trauma like that would drive anyone to madness. You were nothing but an object to those men, and men, they speak freely in front of things that they own.

When you learn of their plot to assassinate the King, you decide to act. You gather evidence, letters, a ledger of the money exchanges and the ring that each one of the men wear, a symbol of their allegiance to one another, one that can only be worn in the shadows. You take them to Paris with you during one of husband’s excursions to court.

Your father had often spoke of Jean Treville, the young soldier he had trained to become a Musketeer. He spoke of the battles they fought in, his heroism, his honour.

“He is the Captain now.” He had said on his deathbed. “If there is trouble, he is a man you can trust.”

When you first turn up at the garrison, Jean thinks you are the most beautiful creature he has ever laid eyes on. It’s only when he helps you down from your horse that he sees the darkness in your eyes, the way you clench your jaw at his touch. He’s careful after that, he doesn’t want to cause you any further distress.

When he reviews your evidence there is no doubt in his mind you’ve uncovered a conspiracy, one that’s already in motion. He moves into action, making preparations and you stand beside him, showing him the access points on the map, detailing the plans your husband has made. You have a mind for battle, for tactics and subterfuge. He thinks you would have been a general if you had been born a son.

“You are your father’s daughter.” He had told you once the trap was set, the edges of his mouth twitching up into a smile. “He would have proud of your strength, your ingenuity.”

“He would be ashamed of what I’ve become.” You say as you pull on your cloak, drawing it up around your shoulders.

“No.” Jean had told you. “He’d be ashamed of the circumstances he left you in, that he trusted his neighbour to care for you the same way he did. None of this is your fault.”

You meet his gaze and you can see the sincerity of his words, the anger that fuels them. None of this should have happened to you, you should be living a happy life, married to a man who loves you, who wants to give you children.

“You can’t go back to him.” He asserts as you tie the fastening of your cloak just underneath your chin.

“If I don’t, he’ll know there is something amiss.” You say before gesturing at the plans upon his desk. “And all of this will be for nothing.”

It kills him to send you back into the viper’s nest, to know that you’ll be sleeping next to a man who gives you to his friends as if you were a trinket. When he helps you onto your horse, he lingers for a moment, his palm lightly caressing the animal’s nose.

“It’ll be over soon.” You say with an air of finality as you pick up the reins. “I’ll take great joy in watching him hang.”

And you do. The next time Jean sees you is inside the prison courtyard as you both watch the men who conspired against the crown hang for their crimes. You smile as your husband takes his final breathes, his body quaking and his legs kicking. Anyone else would look away but you keep your eyes fixed on his the entire time.

“There were others?” Jean asks quietly as he escorts you from the prison.

He’s surprised when your hand comes to rest on his arm. You tilt your head towards him and he can see that a burden has been released. His palm covers yours in a show of solidarity as you walk together side by side.

“Yes there are others.” You say, slowing your step as you reach into the pocket hidden within your skirts and withdraw a piece of parchment. “Here are their names, if you are patient I will get you your evidence. I have no doubt that I’ll be fair game now that Charles is dead.”

“I would never ask that of you…” You cut him off by shushing him and he sighs as the two of you come to a standstill.

You are a wilful woman, spirited despite the circumstances. Your husband’s death has given you a taste for vengeance and he knows you will not stop until you see every single one of those men dead.

“You wouldn’t would you?” You say softly, squeezing his fingers. “You would never ask anything of me.”

“No.” He says, his lips pursing together into a fond smile. “No I would not.”

It takes two years but you send every single one of those men to the gallows. Their reputations in tatters, their lands claimed by the crown, you leave them with nothing. During every death you stand at the front your eyes locked on theirs because you want them to know it was you, that you are the harbinger of their demise.

It’s a few nights after the last one is hanged that you enter his chambers. He’s sitting on the bed, having just removed his boots and jacket when you stand before him and begin to undress. Your skirts go first and then the bodice, the rest of it follows until your clad in simple white garment that’s almost translucent. He can see the outline of your dark nipples, that special place between your legs and his mouth goes dry. He wants you, he always has but he’s not like those other men, he won’t rut at you like an animal.

You mistake his resolve for rejection. He knows your story, of the men you’ve been with. It makes sense that a man of honour would want a woman of virtue, not someone ruined.

“I understand.” You say quietly, your cheeks colouring as you reach for your clothing.

“Terese.” He says softly as he pats the space alongside him on the bed. “Please sit with me.”

You take up residence beside him and the scent of orange blossoms floods his senses. He prays to God for strength because having you this close, feeling the heat of your body, seeing it through that thin sliver of material it’s enough to drive a man to madness. His thumb chases along the line of your jaw, tipping your chin up so that your eyes are fixed in his.

“Have you ever given yourself freely?” He asks you, his nose trailing along yours until your lips are barely apart. “Have you ever known love?”

“No.” You whisper. “I have never experienced the pleasure.”

“You will with me,” He murmurs, as his lips brush over yours. “If that is what you wish.”

It's you that kisses him, that strips away his shirt, that unfastens his breeches. It is the first time you’ve had a choice in your partner, in your intimacy and you choose him. He takes his time worshipping you, he maps out the contours of your body with calloused hands and an eager mouth.

“You deserve the world.” He whispers against your thigh as he kisses a heated trail to nirvana. “You deserve love, adoration, ecstasy…”

And he gives it to you.

Jean, he gives you everything.

You’ve never known rapture, not like this. His hands anchor you in the moment, his palms caressing you as you climax against his mouth. He moans into your cunt at the taste of your sweet nectar before he devours you all over again. When his name rolls off your lips a second time, he kisses a teasing path up along your body, his lips brushing over your sensitive skin. You look beautiful underneath him, your skin flushed and eyes bright.

He stays your hand when you reach for him, bringing your fingertips to his lips instead, kissing them.

“Not tonight my love.” He whispers. “Tonight is about your pleasure, not mine.”

He’s the first man you give yourself freely and the last.

In the small principality of Pinon, he lies in bed with you, his spy, his lover and his wife and he knows you won’t just be fighting for Athos’s people, you’re fighting for your own, for the innocents that were slaughtered when your first husband took over your lands, the ones that tried to save you, the ones that couldn’t.

This is the reason that Pinon is so important to you.

This is the place you make your stand and this time he makes it with you.

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#captain treville #captain treville x reader #captain treville x you #captain jean treville #captain jean treville x reader #captain jean treville x you #treville #jean treville x you #jean treville x reader #jean treville #bbc musketeers #treville x reader #treville x you #the musketeers #musketeers bbc

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 11 months ago

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WIBTA if I ask the people in the apartment below me to quiet down? (😌 to recognize it)

I (25F) live alone on the third (top) floor of a large apartment building in a residential area of a small city. The people in the apartment below me have 4 people (three adults and a 2-4? year old child) living in a two bedroom apartments. The walls aren’t super thick (for example, i can hear vacuum cleaners regularly). The family below me regularly blasts music (as I’m typing this i can hear the Moana soundtrack playing. Clearly enough for me to sing along), throws basketballs and other toys, lets their child sprint around the apartment etc. It literally will shake the walls of my apartment for approximately an hour a night or so. This doesn’t get into the times where their child screams while being forced to take a bath, etc. I have sensory issues, and, as you can imagine, sometimes have difficulty sleeping or relaxing from this. We have never interacted before but they moved in a few weeks after me so I saw them moving in which is how I know the family make up. WIBTA for knocking on their door and asking them to quiet down?

Reasons I might be the asshole: I understand that living is noisy, and I’m not trying to police what they do, especially in their own home. Additionally, i do have a vibrator i use about 30 mins most nights (sometimes longer) and tho i try to be quiet with positioning and modes and reactions and all, i don’t know for certain that they can’t hear me. I know if someone asked me to quiet down while I was masturbating I would die of embarrassment, and am worried that we’ve kind of come to silent agreement that we don’t ask the other person to quiet down, and don’t want to ruin that bc i don’t want to stop using my vibrator lmao.

(You’re Welcome from Moana has been playing for approximately 30 mins on repeat. I don’t want to be an asshole but dear lord I don’t want to listen to this song this many times in a row.)

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole #clearly the kids are ta for preferring you're welcome over shiny #(joking)

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talia-rumlow · 1 month ago

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Bound & Brockened (DARK Brock Rumlow/OFC)

WORDCOUNT: 2235

TRIGGERS: Human Trafficing, drinking, religion, working the street, runaway from home, some sex talk

This is a dark story. DO NOT READ IF YOU'RE UNDER 18, OR IF YOU GET TRIGGERED BY ANYTHING BDSM, TORTURE, DARK MATERIAL!

HAPPY READING!

CHAPTER ONE - GRACE!

“You can still back out,’ Sasha's voice rings out beside her. Grace keeps looking down on the slick black tiles on the floor. They could be used as a mirror, they were that shiny and well taken care of. “Grace?” Sasha tries again.

Grace shifts her attention from the floor and over to Sasha. “No,” she replies. “I don’t want to go back out there again. I don’t want to sleep on cardboard boxes in parking garages anymore,” she continues.

“Good,” Sasha continues. “Because this is a once in a lifetime opportunity,” she adds. “My friend got through last year, and now she lives in a mansion, a mansion I'm not kidding,” she delivers the information with an enthusiasm that Grace can't quite understand. “Although she still does the ‘work’ and the guy is like really old,” Sasha's enthusiasm dies off a bit along with the really old part, but it doesn't take long before her enthusiasm is back with renewed force. “But aaa, she lives in a mansion, a mansion,” she continues, clapping her hands together and her eyes take on this dreamy look, as if she can see the mansion in front of her.

Grace can't understand the enthusiasm at all. Yeah, a bed to sleep in would be great; and a lot better than cardboard boxes, parking garages and angry cops following them. And, yeah, a mansion with a fireplace and a working kitchen sounds amazing after about ten years on the street. But the price to pay for all of it; it seems a bit steep for her liking. Not that she wasn't used to it. She had been living on the street since she was sixteen, and you know, selling oneself was an easy and quick way to get her hands on some money. But, even if she saw the price as steep, the price to pay for her other option was steeper. It was like choosing between bad and worse, and she already knew what worse looked and felt like. Sasha had given her a chance to get off the street, and she was going to take it; no matter how steep the price was.

“They're not all old,” Sasha opens her mouth again. “Some of them are business men, or mafia guys just looking for someone to own,” she tries; not succeeding to ease Grace's nerves.

“Someone to use, you mean?” Grace cuts her off. She was used to that too. When you sold yourself, like she did, the norm was sorta to be used. To be honest, she didn't know what was worse; to be owned and used by one person, every day for the rest of her life. Or, to have to go out and search for a new one who could use her every night for the rest of her life. At least with the one person option, she would have a roof over her head.

Sasha shrugs. “Poteto, potato,” she says, and Grace knows she's right. And if someone were to actually pay a fair amount of money for her, they wouldn't ruin her in any way; she hoped.

🖤⛓🔪🖤⛓🔪🖤⛓🔪🖤⛓🔪🖤⛓🔪🖤⛓🔪

Every year in April, Xander Feldbank Investments held their annual underground auction. It was renowned in the underworld, getting attention from Mafia leaders, shady casino owners, filthy rich and powerful businessmen and other people with way too much money and a narcissistic personality disorder. The entry fee alone was $500, and the starting bid was always somewhere around $100.000 to $150.000; meaning you had to have deep pockets to even get a foot in the door.

The screening process was just as strict for the girls as it was for the participants. It was an honor to even get into the first round of auditions, and to advance from that was an even bigger honor. Grace had almost felt like she was a part of Miss United States during the whole thing. And now she was here, at the Feldbank Hotel & Conference center; indulging in the comforting luxury.

Situated in the heart of New York City, the Feldbank Hotel & Conference Center presented a facade of luxury and opulence. Unaware of the hotel's shady business dealings, guests were treated to a lavish experience, with 350 rooms, many boasting stunning views of the city skyline. Tourists from around the globe flocked to the Feldbank, drawn by its promise of comfortable and indulgent accommodations.

The hotel lobby was an extraordinary experience. It cocooned visitors in a world of luxury and relaxation, far removed from the hustle and bustle outside. Sleek black tiles lined the floor, meticulously crafted and complemented by the dark natural wood of the walls. Carefully chosen plants and Chinese flower trees added to the ambiance, making the space feel like a separate, tranquil world. A majestic fountain nestled in the center, creating a soothing environment that welcomed guests to relax and leave the outside behind.

Grace, who was about to leave her former life behind, was sitting in one of the dark gray leather couches, sipping her martini while watching all the ‘normal’ people walking around. If someone had told her four months ago that she would be here now, she would've laughed at them. Every girl working the streets in New York knew about Feldbank and his annual auction. Hundreds of girls tried to get through every year, most of which were not successful. But she had marveled at all the nice things they got to keep, even if they didn't go through. Prada bags with tons of expensive makeup and nice clothes,most of the girls sold it of course to pay for their addictions. Drugs were strictly forbidden, if any girl at any point during the audition rounds delivered a positive drug test, they were out. Grace had thankfully managed to stay away from that part of the life she led, though she understood why some of the girls did resolve to that kind of numbing themselfs. Working the street wasn't easy on the mind.

“Ladies,” a voice sounds from the other side of the table. “Your room is ready,” the voice continues. Grace looks up, the man on the other side of the table is well dressed in a black suit, accompanied by a white shirt underneath and a black tie with a gold pin on. He's slightly older, probably one of Feldbank's right hand guys. One of the ones who accompanies guests for his shady business, such as the annual auction. “I am sure you'll be very pleased with your room,” he continues as they follow him to one of the elevators. “It's on the fifth floor, and it has a stunning view over Central Park,” he adds, clinical like he's talking from a script. Grace can't figure out if the clinical part is because he looks down on them, or if this is the way he talks to all the guests.

The soothing elevator music calms her nerves a bit, she watches the elevators display as the numbers go up, indicating that they're climbing. She shouldn't feel nervous, though she didn't know what she was about to walk into. Every night for the past ten years has been like that. New cars, new customers, new places, new kinks. She was used to that, the only difference now was that what she was walking into was most likely for the rest of her life. Oh, and yeah it wasn't like she sold herself this time, she had agreed to be auctioned off at the Feldbank annual auction.

🖤⛓🔪🖤⛓🔪🖤⛓🔪🖤⛓🔪🖤⛓🔪🖤⛓🔪

The concierge's glowing description of their room was entirely accurate. Two plush queen-sized beds with soft, high-quality linens occupied one wall, while the well-maintained carpet beneath their feet featured a striking black and gold pattern that echoed the hotel's decor. Expansive floor-to-ceiling windows flooded the space with natural light and framed a breathtaking view of Central Park. Grace couldn't recall ever before experiencing such lavish accommodations, and the sense of privilege it evoked was one she had long forgotten.

The bathroom was a stunning, luxurious oasis. Black and gold accents adorned the walls and floors, creating a cohesive, high-end aesthetic. A jacuzzi tub was anchored against the wall by a large picture window, offering a breathtaking view of the park outside. Gleaming gold faucets stood in contrast to the dark bathroom interior. Overhead, a sparkling chandelier bathed the room in a soft, diamond-like glow.

Grace paused in the doorway, taking it all in with awe. She couldn't wait to indulge in a long, relaxing soak, readying herself for whatever the next day had in store - even if she wasn't quite sure what that might be. One thing was certain, she would need to look her absolute best.

Sasha's voice rang out from the other room, "Champagne!" A pop followed as she opened a bottle. "He said we could help ourselves to anything in the minibar," she continued, pouring the sparkling liquid into two flutes. "And we should definitely celebrate," she finished, draining her glass in one gulp before refilling it.

"Sure," Grace replied, slowly walking over and sitting down next to Sasha. "What exactly are we celebrating?" she asked, lifting her flute to taste the expensive champagne. While she understood that indulging in the luxury was worth celebrating their presence here, she wasn't convinced the celebration was warranted just yet. She could be fortunate, but she could also be disappointed. And she wasn't sure how people who could afford the $500 entry fee typically behaved.

Grace decided not to dwell on those concerns. Instead, she would enjoy this night, which was likely the last she'd spend with Sasha. They could get lucky and be bought by the same client, but Grace saw that as highly improbable. She had to come to terms with the fact that after tomorrow, she would probably never see Sasha again - a prospect that saddened her.

Filled with a sudden pang of regret, she stood up, taking her flute with her over to the window. Standing there, marveling at the amazing view, listening to Sasha laughing and cheering as she pops yet another champagne bottle, Grace thinks back. Memories wash over her as she contemplates how on earth she ended up here.

🖤⛓🔪🖤⛓🔪🖤⛓🔪🖤⛓🔪🖤⛓🔪🖤⛓🔪

Grace Shepherd was born and raised in Lake Charles, located in Calcasieu Parish, Louisiana. Her mother, Leah Shepherd was a stay at home mom, devoted to taking care of her family. And her father, Christian Shepherd was a reverend for the local congregation.

Grace grew up in a well-kept white farmhouse, surrounded by a lush lawn, meticulously crafted flower beds, and apple trees enclosed by a white picket fence. To the outside world, her family appeared to be the picture of piety and devotion, with an unwavering commitment to God and their local congregation. However, behind closed doors, the reality was far from the idyllic facade.

From a young age, Grace had been a challenging child. As soon as she could speak, profanities poured forth, much to the frustration of her parents, especially her mother. Her disruptive behavior extended to church, where she regularly misbehaved, only avoiding expulsion from Sunday school due to her father's position as the reverend.

While Grace performed adequately in school, neither excelling nor struggling, her parents constantly pressured her to do better, to be better, and to wholeheartedly embrace the Christian faith - a path she steadfastly refused to follow.

As Grace entered her teenage years, her acting out escalated, resulting in multiple suspensions from school. At one point, her parents were convinced that the devil had taken hold of their daughter, a belief that Grace herself began to share, though by then, she had simply stopped caring.

At sixteen, she'd had enough of the constant fighting with her mother. One day, after a particularly heated argument, she hastily packed a bag with her phone, toothbrush, some clothes, and the little money she had - everything her teenage self deemed essential. As she opened the door to leave, her mother's words echoed in her mind: "If you walk out that door, don't even think about coming back!" Determined, she never returned home.

After wandering in the rain for a while, she made the decision to hitchhike from one of the truck stops along I-81, her sights set on New York City - back then, she thought the bustling metropolis was the place to start anew. How wrong she was.

Desperate for a ride, she spent her last few dollars on a pink dildo with a black handle. In the truck stop bathroom, she used it to break her own hymen, figuring a lonely trucker would likely want some form of payment for the journey. Afterward, she discarded the dildo, drawing a parallel to how she felt she'd be treated - used and then discarded, though at least this way she maintained a sense of control.

She had no idea if her parents had ever searched for her. After a decade, the state had likely declared her deceased and buried an empty casket. Yet she felt indifferent - whether her parents cared or not was inconsequential. This was the first time in years she had even contemplated them.

So her journey had begun. Once a child of God, she had fallen under the devil's sway. Perhaps her parents were right about the wrath of God punishing her defiance. But nothing could be worse than the cardboard boxes and parking garages that had become her existence. Right?

@nekoannie-chan @ladysif8 @the-ero-writer @saiyanprincessswanie @late-to-the-party-81 @rip1009 @here4thefanfics

#brock fanfic #brockrumlow #brock rumlow #rumlow #rumlowfiction #rumlowsmut #fanfiction #original female character #dark story

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gay4abby · 1 year ago

Text

late night drive !!

or in which eddie’s mind is racing and he decides you don’t get to sleep.

no y/n. masterlist. warnings, drug use, cursing, sexual implications(?). pairings, eddie munson x black!reader. not proofread. veeeery self indulgent.

trailer full of drugs, bedroom reeks of weed and eddie had a mind to light one up again in order to be away with this dreadful feeling of being solemn. alone. it’s nights like these that hit him the most, drowning his sorrows in pain numbing substances. waiting for the sun to open its big mouth and awake everyone with the harsh reality of another haunted day in hawkins. luckily for him it was the weekend and he was able to stay up as much as he wanted to without worrying about catching sleep in the most dreaded class in his reality.

history.

it’s not like he can’t help it. it’s genuinely the only class he can’t seem to get his head wrapped around. it bores him out of his mind, it’s not stimulating or engaging. it doesn’t offer a challenge of him straining to use his brain. if he was more mentally challenged, it would have been a breeze. like D&D. the only reason he ever has the mind to show up is because he can stare at the back of ____’s head. or make her laugh by any means necessary.

she made it the most interesting class he’s ever been in. always raising her hand to answer a question that’s been asked, always handing in her homework as soon as it’s asked for; even going as far as to give eddie the notes he might’ve missed when she doesn’t catch him in class. that’s another thing, she always notices him even if he tries to keep a low profile.

eyes always somehow catching his when he’s staring at her. it’s like she senses it, her intuition immediately telling her that someone’s eyes are on her and it amazes eddie every time. it’s hard not to be infatuated with her overall existence. with the way he’s always drawn to her, he’d think it was a magnetic force field pulling him in and no form of restraint found. from a bystander’s perspective, you’d think he was some freak who couldn’t keep his eyes to himself. but what a lot of people don’t know is that ____ and eddie have always played this game.

and in class, it was no different.

he couldn’t get her out of his mind half of the time. partially losing sleep the first time he met her. he’d never forget it, either. smooth, dark skin just shining back at him. he got a whiff of her as she passed by him once when class was starting and she had just walked in. since then he couldn’t get the smell out of his senses. he couldn’t quite place the smell, but he knew it was buttery.

how could anyone be interested in a guy like him, anyway? yeah, he had his days where he seemed like he was on top of the world, but he didn’t want anyone seeing the dark side of what his thoughts could go to. how much he resents the fact that anyone and everyone sees him as a freak, safe for his friends and the entirety of hellfire. the entire town branded him as such and it didn’t make it any better knowing what the townsfolk thought of people who lived in the trailer park.

it was dehumanising. it felt like he wasn’t a person with feelings at all. the stares he would get when he’s just minding his business, the mutterings and whispers of his presence ruining his mood before he can even declare it made it even worse. he just wanted to exist without being scrutinised for his very existence. if you’re different, you’re some sort of anomaly these people don’t understand. and it hurt him to the core that he just couldn’t be himself.

then he had the pressure of graduating. if he was going to be a senior for a fourth time, it wasn’t going to be pretty. and having that on your record just didn’t bode well with him. dealing with the some copies of popular people for another year, or another round of those pesky teachers that never had his best interest at heart. he needed out, but how?

eddie let out a long sigh, knowing that his thoughts weren’t going to let him have any grace of sleep tonight even if he tried. not even a blunt could help his predicament. with that being said, he hopped up from his mattress, and proceeded to throw on his favourite pair of jeans, a muscle tee with metallica written across it in white bold letters and his beat up converse. his uncle wasn’t home, so he was not too worried about him hearing his nightly escapades.

his keys in hand, he headed out with a freshly rolled blunt in between his ear. eddie had no idea where he was headed, but he knew he had to get behind the wheel. his van was roared to life with the switch of his key in the ignition, his calloused hand rubbing against the dashboard with his teeth in between his lips. “you’re always good to me, baby.” he whispered as he backed the van out of the makeshift driveway and sped off, the squeaky sound sure to have woken up some of his neighbours in the trailer park.

his van made backfire sounds every so often as he drove around the empty streets of Hawkins, Indiana. he was never so used to seeing it vacant every time he drove at this hour, but loved it all the same when he was meant with it. eddie never liked Hawkins during the day; as though the town had something to hide and the sun shunned it into the shadows.

at night, Hawkins was a different story. like everything it hides comes out to play without any repercussions. eddie was one with Hawkins at night and he oh so wished it would stay that way without it adhering to society’s standards, but how was he supposed to change that if no one listened to him? these were the kinds of things he had in his mind at the moment. his hands on the wheel taking him every which way, he hadn’t realised that he ended up in front of ____’s house, having no idea why he found himself here, just that his hands had a mind of their own and now here he was.

his van backfired again before it came to a slow stop, his beady, brown eyes staring up at the house in wonder. he never really talked to her, but knew where she lived, having done a drug deal once when a party was being thrown the weekend her parents were out of town…and because he dropped off lucas once or twice (okay, five times but who’s counting) after hellfire and he didn’t want the lot of them walking home so late.

he caught a glimpse of her almost every time he dropped him off, her opening the door in some shorts and a tank (no bra, either, he took note she rarely wore those), hair messy but beautiful all the same. or that one time he drove past just as she was taking out the garbage with a frown on her face. he thought it was cute and kept that memory imprinted in his mind. eddie sat there in front of her house, van still running, eyes on a window he hoped that was hers and decided on the one thing he knows he shouldn’t do.

turning off the van for a moment and leaving the keys in the ignition, he quickly exited the drivers seat, squandering for a couple pebbles, hoping to god no one would notice the mess he’s made, but also hoping they’ll think it was a raccoon or something that messed up the area. he ran towards the window, heart beating a mile a minute and prayed to whatever up above that he got this right. if not, he was in for some serious trouble; possibly with the cops.

eddie tossed the first pebble to the window he was standing underneath, fingers on his lips tenderly as he waited a few moments. his eyes scanned the area hoping no one was lingering by and fortunately, no one was as he tossed another to the window, making a louder sound than before. he balled his hand up in a fist as the sound echoed through the neighbourhood. fuck, that was loud, he thought before saying fuck it under his breath and tossing another one. it took him four more times before a light went on in the bedroom and his heart rate picked up even more speed than before.

he saw movement behind the white curtain before it revealed the very person he’s been wanting to get his eyes on since he left his trailer. a small smile appeared on his lips as the window was lifted open, a scowl on ____’s face and bonnet in disarray. “munson? what the fuck are you doing here?” her voice was soft, but raspy from sleep. she could barely get it out as she kept herself steady on the window seal. her skin glowed from the moonlight shining directly into her window. she was illuminated so astonishingly that his breath was almost taken away.

“hey…sorry to wake you.” he stared at her, taking her in in all her sleepy glory. “yeah, i’m sure you’re sorry,” she said, scowl growing deeper. “i am. i just – i just need to talk to you for a minute, come down.” he couldn’t stand whispering because he wasn’t all too sure she would hear him clearly. god, he could stare at her all night if wasn’t for their current predicament. “about fucking what?”

“just come down, please,” he pleaded, his tongue wetting his lips as he gestured her down with his hand. he could tell she was contemplating, her stare boring into him as she breathed heavily out through her nose. before he knew it, she was away from the window and the sound of the lock from her front door disengaging was music to his ears. he rushed to the door but not before being greeted by her hand telling him to come to a stop before he made it over the first step. “stay there.”

“as you wish.”

“now, what the fuck do you want? you woke me up at three am close to four,” she whispered from behind the door that was open just a crack. it was enough to see her and it was enough for eddie to get a glimpse of what she was wearing to sleep, which consisted of her shorts he always saw her in and, you guessed it, a tank top, but this one was a baby pink. she seemed to have removed her bonnet in the process of coming downstairs because he saw strands of her silk pressed hair coming out from the wrap she made to secure it in the bonnet.

it flowed down like a river around her, again shining in the light that overcasted the house. it seemed light followed her everywhere eddie noted. and he wasn’t mad at it one bit. “i uhm,” he began, but the breath got caught in his throat as he continued to stare at her. it went on like this for about a minute before she huffed. “you’re my brothers friend, right? you’re always dropping him off so i can assume that. did you need him? id call it pretty creepy that you would at 3:45am.”

he sputtered to reply, shaking his head vigorously in the process, “no!” he yelled, ____ shushing him before he kicked his lips reply again, “no, oh my god. no. i was just uh, i’m sorry i was driving and i ended up here without realising,” he finished, beginning to walk backwards at the realisation of how crazy this all was. what could he possibly be doing there and why did he end up there in the first place?

what drove him to this house specifically, he had no idea. he was just on a nightly drive, he thought a drive that isn’t supposed to lead him anywhere but to clear his head. to tire him out, and now he woke up someone up over his own pettiness and his need to not be alone for one minute. it was selfish, he thought and he couldn’t wrap his head around how upset ____ must be at the intrusion. “i’m sorry, i – i’ll leave you be. i didn’t mean to wake you.”

“wait,” soft, he heard. it was barely there, but he still heard it. he did a 180 as soon as he heard it, though. a hope gleaming in his chest at her hesitation. “can’t sleep, i presume?” he nodded his head at that, unable to reply. she sighed once more, eyeing him before walking back into her house, leaving the door ajar. he stood there, fiddling with his hands for a bit before she reappeared. jacket on, slippers on and hair cascading down pass her shoulders and landing at her elbows. the moonlight shown over it, glimmering beneath it as the light bounced off it like waves.

eddie swore he couldn’t breathe as she stopped in front of him. his eyes were wide and she had a glazed over look in her eye that had him going around in a twist. “if there’s one thing i want to do in a time like this, it’s to be with nature. so you’re driving us both to the lake,” she demanded and eddie all but moved out of her way and gestured her towards his van that sat there awaiting life within it. ____ walked with a flare that only she could carry and eddie followed behind her like a lap dog. it suddenly occurred to him that he should open the door for her so he did just that, ____ surprised but managed to not show it as she hopped into the passengers side.

key still in the ignition, he brought the van back to life and drove off, but not before another backfire erupting and echoing throughout the neighbourhood.

it was quiet the entire time there, no music playing so the silken rang through the entire van. it wasn’t uncomfortable, but ____ caught herself trying to start conversation but came up short. it was like it was best to not say anything anyway. eddie felt differently, though. he kinda liked the fact that they could both sit in silence and not have to worry about thinking of what to say next. and his brain was quiet for the time being, basking the fact that he didn’t have a million thoughts speaking at once. it’s like she quieted those for him, without even realising.

eddie kept glancing her at, though, hoping she wouldn’t notice (she did, but said nothing of it). he had goosebumps all over his arms and he was chalking it up to the cool breeze that ran through the van. he tapped his fingers along the the steering wheel to a beat in his head and ____’s eyes were firmly planted on them as he did so taking a breath then adverting her eyes out of passenger window. he arrived at the lake, stopping firmly a few feet before the water. he put the van in reverse before turning it around to have the back doors facing the lake altogether.

“we can sit in the back, if you’d like.”

“yeah that’ll be best.”

they both made their way towards the back, eddie opening the door and her hopping up to sit on the edge, feet dangling just a few inches from the ground. eddie copied her movements, careful not to sit too close. the silence rang on, the water splashing against the rocks every so often. it was beginning to drive eddie insane until she spoke up. “so what’s the deal with hellfire anyway? are you guys actually a devil worshiping cult or can i be at ease knowing my brother is a just a nerd?”

“we’re not devil worshi- we’re not nerds, it’s a game called dungeons and dragons and it’s highly sophisticated.”

“a…sophisticated game for nerds.”

“we go off based on logical thinking and strategy for the best result.”

“so nerd shit.”

“yeah, whatever,” he pretended as if he was annoyed, but the small smirk gave it away just as quickly. he kind of liked the banter you guys had going on. it gave him ease, a sense of normalcy from the typical normal he had to unfortunately endure. eddie had his eyes on her for a moment before turning them back to the lake to take in the scenery. it was just as beautiful as the girl sitting beside him, but he wasn’t going to be labeled a freak just yet for staring at her longer than he needed to. at least that’s what he told himself.

____’s legs grew numb and she proceeded to move back into the van, laying across the carpeted floor, hair splayed around her and eyes on the ceiling. “do you spend your time here a lot?” she quietly asked, eddie turning around to meet her face. he eyed her for a moment before answering, “uh, nah. not all the time, at least. when my uncles home, i’m there, but when he’s not…well i guess you can paint that picture for yourself.”

“no, i can’t. explain to me like i’m a child.” he chuckled at that, moving to lay next her. he had just remembered that the pre rolled blunt was between his ears as it fell out from him lying down. he picked it up and waved it in her face. “sure,” she agreed quietly, eddie making quick work to light it up. he took a long drag before handing it to her, blowing the smoke out from his lips and watching it exit slowly from the van and into the night sky. “i don’t really like being home alone.”

she took a pull, urging him to continue with the kick of her foot gently against his calve. “my uncle works nights sometimes at the plant and nights like this i can’t really seem to shut my mind off, you know.” she handed it back to him which he then took a pull from again.

“i don’t, but i can imagine it’s tough,” she turned her head to him as she spoke, watching him exhale, his lips growing red. he felt her eyes on him and he stiffed up. “this is the most tame i’ve ever seen you, so somethings really up.”

“and it’s not my dick, that’s for sure,” he joked with a chuckle.

“ahh, there he is.”

“you’ve been watching me, sinclair?”

“only because you make it hard not to. your declarations during lunch are the absolute most…but i also see you eyeing me in class as if i’m your mortal enemy.”

“wait, you see that?! fuck, i gotta be more subtle. and what do you mean mortal enemy?”

____ sighed, snatching the blunt from his fingers and taking a drag before answering him. “you literally mean mug me, munson. i don’t know if you noticed, but your facial expressions aren’t exactly subtle. it’s like i broke your favourite toy.” you sound…hurt almost. but it was fleeting because you could be hurt by no one. that’s what eddie thought of you and it was just his mind playing tricks on him to make this entire ordeal seem true at all. you blew the smoke out, careful not to hit his face with it but in the back of her mind it felt like he truly wouldn’t mind it. maybe her head is playing tricks on her too. he took the blunt back, taking a drag.

“i don’t mean to, babe. i can’t control what my face shows sometimes.” she was going to pretend her heart didn’t flutter at the pet name, but she wasn’t going to pretend what that statement sounded like and she knew, but didn’t say anything. she leaned on her elbow, gazing down at him and there it was again, the moon shining its precious light over her as if she willed it and eddie couldn’t get enough. her dark skin catching the light every where it seemed to go was mesmerising for him and he never wanted to forget the image.

“what’s going on in that bushy head of yours that’s keeping you up so late?” her voice was like velvet when she asked him that. low and comforting, like she actually wanted to hear what was bothering him and it made him warm, almost as if he was going to cry. her brown eyes were firmly on him, sleepy but full of life. she reached out and caressed his cheek, he immediately melting into the touch. he shook his head, unable to take his eyes off her.

licking his lips he prepared to speak, “the world’s so cruel. sometimes i feel like i can take it on, you know grab it by the balls and wield it to be my bitch, but sometimes it feels like it’s grabbing me by the balls.” ____ tried to stifle her laughter at his statement, keeping the moment serious and he noticed. he kind of appreciated the fact that he could make her laugh.

“don’t i know it,” she softly said before continuing, “the world is always going to be cruel, i think the most important take away is that you don’t let it dictate your perspective.

“you can have the greatest life if you decide that’s how it’s going to be. bad days come, but that’s just what they are, days. not months, not years, not decades; days. and from that you know it’s not going to last.” eddie hung on to every word, soaking it in like a fibre cloth taking every bit of liquid on a spilled counter. she was right, he agreed to himself, but it was challenging to think such a way. at the end, though, he knew it was going to get better.

“it’s going to get better, right?” he needed reassurance, she realised.

“of course, baby.” and it seemed the blunt was forgotten when he leaned up and planted a desperate kiss to her full lips. she was shocked for a millisecond before kissing back, eyes fluttering closed, hand still pressed firmly against his cheek. he lifted himself up and down she went as he hovered over her, legs on either side of her hips. the kiss seemed to last forever before they both broke apart, ____ chasing after his lips but letting herself lay back on the carpet staring at him with blown eyes and pulsating lips.

his eyes roamed her face, taking in every bit of her smooth skin. he wanted nothing more than to kiss her again, but felt like the first one was so sudden she had no choice but to kiss back to make him feel better. “i’m sorry, i–” he stuttered. “it’s okay. if it’s any reconciliation, i liked it.” he almost didn’t hear it, her voice soft once again. he truly wanted nothing more than to take her right there, but she barely knew him, what kind of guy would do that?

“please do it again, eddie.”

“hey, you used my first name,” he said, surprised.

“after that kiss, i have no choice but to be on a first name basis with you.” he laughed at that, and it was a real laugh not the sly ones he’s been doing since this night started. his heart could burst out his chest right now at her honesty. he actually felt like he belonged here, in this moment, forever. her soft hands reached up to cup his cheeks, thumbs caressing the skin that reddened over time, either due to the breeze or the kiss they just shared.

“what made you come with me tonight?” he was curious and it just occurred to him how crazy this night seemed. no one in their right mind would follow him into the night especially if they were just rudely awoken from sleep. “you look like you needed someone even if you were being goofy and trying to play it off.”

“you didn’t ha-”

“i know, but i wanted to. and if i was in your shoes i’d want someone to do the same to me.”

“jesus christ, you sinclairs are something.”

she giggled at that before shaking her head matter of factly, “no…i think it’s just me.” he leaned down to kiss her again, but this time longer. and they spent the rest of the night like that, enveloped in each other, making out as the sun rose.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x black!reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x black!fem!reader #eddie munson x sinclair!reader

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solarmorrigan · 11 months ago

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I’m so glad Robin got to rip Eddie a new one in Hands Where I Can See Them!! And ohhhh since Wayne was home when Robin was chewing him out, maybe Wayne will come in with some good advice or just parental disappointment in how Eddie handled everything. Especially if Eddie has to explain exactly how Steve discovered that Eddie thought they weren’t dating.

I love it when Wayne is a mediator in fics, but I also understand if you don’t want to add him into the fic, I just think Eddie needs a calm third party who knows he didn’t mean to hurt Steve, but will be disappointed in how he handled everything. Like what if Wayne had woken up and heard Robin’s parting shot and wants to know what she meant by that. How did Eddie dismiss Steve last night?

I’ve reread each part like five times now, thank you so much for sharing your fics 💖💖

Robin deserved to yell a bit! Not only did Eddie hurt her best friend (criminal offense), he also ruined her night, because Steve was upset, which means Robin is upset, yaknow? Like, of course she's going to do whatever she needs to help Steve out and make sure he's taken care of, but that doesn't mean she wouldn't rather nothing had happened to make that necessary in the first place

I actually did consider adding Wayne in at the end of the most recent part (did the man really sleep through that whole argument? we may never know), but I figured Eddie had probably been through enough for the moment without having to also immediately explain to his uncle what had happened. It bothers me when characters get dog-piled in fics for making a mistake - as in, person after person shuts them out or tells them how badly they've screwed up. It feels a little like saying that they really need to suffer before they can be forgiven, which doesn't sit right. Forgiveness should come from understanding how your behavior hurt someone and working to change that behavior; suffering doesn't teach you jack shit. But that's a different conversation! The point is, I'm at least trying to give Eddie breaks between people going "What were you thinking??" at him

I think Wayne will have to at least make an appearance, though. Steve's practically been living with them, and suddenly he's gone; Wayne could hardly fail to notice the change, even if Eddie wasn't suddenly moping around. And I do love mediator Wayne! The thing I want to avoid is using him as a kind of deus ex machina; I feel like sometimes we bring Wayne in to explain to Eddie how he's feeling, so Eddie doesn't have to work to reach those conclusions on his own (this happens with Robin for Steve, too, I think). It's helpful to have a third party as a sounding board, or to help break up self-destructive patterns, but I like it when characters have to do their own emotional heavy lifting

...anyway, that was probably a lot more rambling than you expected when you sent this ask, which was very kind of you to do and made me smile to read, so hopefully my answer didn't put you off??

#now of course whether or not I manage to adequately translate these thoughts into fic is another matter #anonymous #answers from solar #I didn't tag this with st or any of the characters because I didn't think it should go into the main tag but let me know if I should?

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rainisawriter · 1 year ago

Text

The Rain That Binds Us (Woozi)

━━━━━━༻☔༺━━━━━━

Genre: Fantasy au, magic, fluff

Word Count: 5,765

Pairing: First Person x Woozi

World: Seventeen

A/N: This was originally written as a short story for Rainy Beginnings by WattpadLitFic but I decided to change it up and make it a fanfic. You know I had to choose Woozi, too lol

Warnings: MC has anxiety and nearly has a panic attack.

Prompt: “As the rain cascades from the sky, a chance encounter between two strangers sparks an unexpected bond that forever alters their lives.”

━━━━━━༻☔༺━━━━━

The sudden pounding of rain on the roof caught my attention and I removed my headphones to make sure I wasn’t hearing things. As soon as I confirmed that it was pouring outside, I tossed my headset onto the bed and headed for the front door, paper and pen in hand.

I don’t have much to be thankful for when it comes to this old, worn-down house, but I’m happy that it has a porch for just these moments. Thick bushes covered the length of the porch offering plenty of privacy.

This was important for me because of my anxiety and I didn’t have to worry about anyone seeing me. Not that anyone in this neighborhood would be out and about at three in the morning. It’s mostly older folks that don’t go out or party, so the neighborhood is peaceful and quiet.

I settled down in the wicker chair, watching the rain fall onto the driveway with a smile. It’s hard to explain, but I’ve always had this intense love for the rain. Most people hate rainy days, especially when it ruins their usually sunny Florida days. As for me, I’m happiest when it’s raining. It fills me with peace.

It’s like the rain washes away everything negative, creating this magical serenity. We get our fair share of rain in the Summer here, what with hurricane season and all, but it’s not enough for me. There are far more sunny days and I hate it. I would give anything to move somewhere with more rain.

More than anything, I feel most inspired when it rains. I can sit and write for hours. My dream is to write my own book and have it published one day. It’s a dream I’ve kept with me since I was a child, though it doesn’t quite seem possible for me. There are so many factors stacked against me that it feels like there’s no point in trying sometimes.

I can’t deny how happy I feel when I’m writing, though. To be able to turn mere thoughts into worlds filled with characters, stories filled with drama and adventure. It’s magical to me and I really admire those that have managed to craft a story and share it with the world.

I tapped the blank page with the pen as I watched the rain falling to the ground. I could hear the drops pelting the tree leaves. I could see a puddle forming in the large dip in the sidewalk, the water rippling with each drop. Frogs sang in the distance, happy to finally have rain. It was beautiful. I felt like I was going to burst from within because it was all so overwhelming, but in the best way possible.

I can’t even describe it as it deserves to be described. I can only hope that someone out there understands and feels the same. I wonder… is it possible that there’s someone else who loves the rain as much as I do? It seems impossible, especially here in Florida. People are constantly complaining about the rain and how much they hate it. To them, it’s gloomy and depressing. When I hear things like that, it makes me feel sad that they can’t see the same beauty I do.

Setting the paper on the table, I stood up and slowly left the safety of the porch. Even though it was late and everyone was sleeping, I still took in my surroundings to make sure that no one was around. As much as I adore the rain, I enjoy the nighttime a bit more simply because I can be alone. My anxiety and agoraphobia make it very hard for me to deal with other human beings.

Because of that, I only feel comfortable leaving my house at night. The fact that the neighborhood is filled with older people, I don’t have to worry about people coming and going. I can be alone and feel safe while everyone around me sleeps.

Perhaps it sounds sad when put like that, but that is my reality. I’ve learned to live with it, though I can’t say it’s gotten any easier. Rather, I’ve just gotten used to it and know what to expect.

The rain was cold against my skin as I walked slowly down the driveway, pausing for a moment. Because of my condition, I refuse to leave the direct vicinity of my house, so I would walk from one end of the property to the other, listening to the way the rain changed.

The sound was stronger when I walked by the tree. It was softer, more melodic when I walked away from it toward the grass. It made a soft ‘plop’ in the puddles and it was aggressively loud falling from the gutters. If only there was thunder rolling in the distance, it would have been perfect. I would give anything to live in this moment forever, to experience this peace every day of my life.

There was a sudden, small flash to my right and I turned my head, scanning the road carefully. I didn’t see anything so I was about to turn and continue my walk when I saw it again. The streetlight was reflecting off of something small in the road. I once again glanced around to make sure no one was there before slowly approaching the object.

I expected it to be a piece of trash or maybe metal so I was surprised when I saw what it actually was. A dragonfly sat in the middle of the road, its top-left wing broken and hanging on by a thread. Its body was a vibrant blue, like the color of a sapphire, and it seemed to glow when it caught the light. I’ve seen a few dragonflies in my lifetime, but none as beautiful as this one.

A frown tugged at my lips as I kneeled down in front of it, water seeping through my basketball shorts. What do I do? I want to help it, but I have no idea how. I guess I should get him out of the road first so he doesn’t get run over.

“It’s okay, little guy,” I told him softly, reaching my hand out only to pause as I remembered something. Can’t dragonflies spit acid when they feel threatened? My heart rate increased as the cold hands of anxiety started to wrap around me, my hand trembling in mid-air.

He flapped his wings softly, creating a strange sound that sounded like a cat purring and a bee buzzing at the same time. It was soothing and I felt my anxiety level going down. It was strange because it was hard to calm down so quickly when I’m feeling anxious. I wasn’t about to complain about it, though.

Taking a deep breath, I lowered my hand to the ground. “It’s okay, I won’t hurt you. I just want to help.”

He hesitated for a moment before slowly walking onto my hand, his body so light that I barely felt him against my skin. I stood up slowly so as not to scare him, looking around for a safe place to set him down. The grass was a bit high but I felt as if it was the best option so I approached it only to pause when it started to make that sound again, flapping its wings.

I frowned down at him in confusion. He flapped his wings harder, somehow managing to lift himself into the air. I was scared he would fall so I cupped my hands beneath him, following him closely as he slowly made his way through the air. He stopped above the big puddle that had gathered in the dip of the sidewalk before turning to look at me. His wings suddenly stopped beating, his tiny body falling against my palm.

I’m not sure why, but I had the impression that he wanted to be put down by the puddle. Maybe he’s thirsty? Slowly, I kneeled beside the puddle and lowered my hand to the ground so he could crawl off. He placed one of his legs in the puddle and it started to glow, the blue light easily piercing through the darkness.

“What the…” I whispered in confusion and awe. A small ripple formed in the center of the puddle before expanding outward, increasing in frequency until an image started to form. I leaned forward to get a better look.

There was a sudden sound behind me and I quickly looked over my shoulder, seeing a group of men wearing all black running down the street toward me. That was scary enough on its own, but each of them were carrying guns and wearing masks.

My heart pounded against my ribs as if it was trying to escape, anxiety flooding my system like a broken dam. My mind was screaming at me to run away but I was frozen to the spot, trembling like a leaf. People often talk about how people experience fight or flight in stressful situations, completely forgetting about those of us that do neither and just freeze up.

All I could do was stay still and hope that they didn’t see –

“Over there!” One of the men pointed at me before they started to run toward me, raising their weapons.

The dragonfly grabbed the collar of my shirt and yanked me backward toward the puddle. I cried out in surprise, closing my eyes as I waited for the impact. I felt myself hit the water and then… I was underneath the water? There’s no way the puddle was that deep, it was barely an inch!

I started to panic, swinging my limbs frantically as I tried to reach the surface, lungs desperate for air. It felt as if it took forever before I finally broke the surface, sputtering and coughing.

I looked around frantically to try and get my bearings. I was in a clear, round body of water surrounded by tall rock walls. Rain was falling from the dark sky above, making soft plopping sounds that were nearly drowned out by the large waterfall behind me, the top of which was hidden by tall trees and hanging vines. My eyes scanned the walls, looking for any break that I could climb onto.

As soon as I found my target, I swam toward it as fast as my chubby body could carry me. My heart was racing within my chest from the over-exertion my body was experiencing, both mental and physical. It was taking everything I had to keep my anxiety chained down but… I could feel the chains loosening.

I had to calm down and soon.

My hand slapped down on the rock, gripping it firmly as I heaved my body out of the water. When I tried to stand, my legs gave out on me and I tumbled back to the ground, breathing heavily.

‘Calm down, calm down, calm down!’ I screamed it in my head like a mantra, eyes screwed shut as I tried to focus on the rock beneath me. ‘Just breathe. You’re okay. You’re gonna be okay, just keep brea -‘

My thoughts died and my body tensed up when I felt something sharp pressing against my cheek. I was scared to open my eyes but I did so anyway, slowly peeling them open. I gasped in surprise, quickly sitting up and backing away from the tall man aiming a spear at me. It didn’t take long for my back to hit something solid and, when I looked up, I saw another tall man with a spear of his own.

I was surrounded by these men, their eyes narrowed and angry. They weren’t dressed like the men with guns, though. They wore less clothing, exposing their toned bodies from beneath tribal garb in shades of green and blue.

“Who are you?” demanded the man in front of me, moving his spear to my face once more. “How did you get here? Why were you with prince Woozi?”

My lips parted and closed a few times but no sound escaped. I was overwhelmed with emotion, mostly fear and confusion. I had no idea where I was! One moment I was in my driveway, setting a dragonfly down next to a puddle and the next I’m here! Wherever here is. Now he’s asking about a prince? I must have hit my head and now I’m dreaming… right?

As badly as I wanted to believe it, that spear felt very real as the metal tip pressed against my cheek. I swallowed hard, trying to control my trembling body.

“Who. Are. You?” He stressed each word as if I were dumb or deaf. It was clear to me that he was becoming impatient.

“I…” I cleared my throat, taking a deep breath. “R-Rei… My name is Rei…”

“How did you come to be here?” He demanded, but he didn’t pause to give me a chance to answer. “What have you done to prince Forvendir? Answer me now before I -“

There was a sudden loud slap, the man’s head dipping forward from the force of the slap. Anger flashed through his eyes as he turned to face whoever had hit him. It was a woman who looked to be in her forties or fifties, her blue hair twisted into a braid that hung over her right shoulder.

She sent the man a stern look, hand on her hip. “Honestly, my child. Have I taught you nothing? Threatening someone will only make them close up and you will learn nothing from them.”

He scowled at her, seeming a bit embarrassed. “You should not be here, mother. It’s far too dangerous.”

“Dangerous?” She questioned incredulously, waving her hand toward me. “Look at her. She’s just a helpless child.”

I wasn’t sure which part I felt more offended by; the fact that she called me helpless or the fact that she believes I’m a child…

“She’s a human,” he hissed angrily, pointing his spear at me again though his brown eyes remained on the woman.

I winced at both his tone and the action, attempting to press myself farther back against the legs of the man behind me. What the hell does he mean? Is he not human, too? While his attention was off of me, I took a moment to observe him for the first time.

He seemed pretty human to me, aside from the fact that he was insanely beautiful. His skin was without any blemishes or wrinkles. His jaw was sharp, his wavy black hair looking like he just left the salon and… his ears were pointed? I quickly scanned the crowd of men surrounding me. All of them were just as beautiful and they all had pointed ears.

I closed my eyes, holding my head with my hand as a sharp pain shot through my skull. I could feel my heart picking up speed, my breathing becoming more shallow as the cold hands of anxiety started to wrap around me once more. I was completely overwhelmed and I knew a panic attack was coming.

It felt as if death himself was breathing in my ear, beckoning me into his cold embrace. My body started to shiver uncontrollably, tears stinging at my eyes as I tried my hardest to regain control.

‘Please stop, please stop, please stop!’ Tears slid down my cheeks. I wrapped my arms tightly around my body to try and find some comfort, but it did nothing to help. I felt a warm hand rest on my shoulder and a calming voice whispering softly in my ear.

“Rest now, child. No harm will come to you.“

Panic attacks always leave me feeling exhausted, but that usually comes after it’s over, not during the attack. I tried to fight against the sudden exhaustion but it was too strong, washing over me like a tidal wave. I just didn’t have the energy to fight back.

My world went black as I lost consciousness.

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“Has she awoken yet?“

“I’m afraid not, my prince. Humans are quite fragile creatures.“

“…will she ever wake up?“

“Doctor Mingyu seems confident that she will. Please try not to worry yourself, my prince. She is in good hands.“

“Yes, I know…“

My brow furrowed at the unfamiliar voices, my eyes fluttering open to see an unfamiliar ceiling. What happened? I feel as if I’ve just woken from a really weird dream. Definitely not the first time its happened, though this one feels… different.

I willed my tired brain to remember it and it started to come to me in bits and pieces. The first thing I remembered was the rain and it made me feel at ease for a moment. At least until I saw a flash of pointy-eared men surrounding me with spears.

My eyes widened and I shot up in bed, breathing heavily. That wasn’t a dream… it was far too real and I actually remember what happened. I never remember my dreams!

“Calm yourself, you’re safe.”

I flinched back when a hand touched my shoulder, my wide eyes landing on the young man kneeling beside the bed. I caught his gaze and I felt mesmerized by his teal eyes, seeming to glow under the low light in the room. A wave of calm draped over me like a comforting blanket, the tension slowly leaving my body.

“Ninwae, please go find Doctor Mingyu.” He didn’t break his gaze away from mine as he spoke, his voice reminding me of silk.

The woman hesitated, glancing wearily at me. She seemed to be on the shorter side though she was still taller than me. Her hair was a rich brow, braided and coiled around her head. Her eyes were like emeralds. “My Prince, I don’t believe it’s safe for you to -“

“I will be fine,” he assured her, offering me a warm smile. “She is of no danger to me.”

Ninwae hesitated a moment more before doing as she was told, exiting the tent in a hurry. Normally, I would have felt super nervous being alone with someone I don’t know, especially when that person is an attractive male, but that sense of calm remained. It was strange but not unwelcomed.

“Who…” I cleared my throat, forcing myself to look away from his gaze. “Who are you?”

“My name is Woozi. Yours is Rei, correct?”

I nodded, glancing at his ears. I really wanted to ask about them, but I couldn’t seem to find the right words. It feels like a rude thing to ask no matter how I phrase it. Forcing my gaze away from his ears, I focused on his appearance.

Unlike the others, he was much shorter but he was still fit with clear skin. His black hair was long, reaching his lower back, and his bangs had been pulled back into a low ponytail. He wore an outfit similar to the others, but his seemed more… fancy and seemed to be made with a higher quality material. His nails were painted a bright teal.

He chuckled softly, seeming to read my mind. “You’re curious about our ears, yes?”

I nodded again, glancing at his face to see if he was offended. If anything, he looked amused. “That guy before, he… he called me human. Does that mean… you’re not human?”

“That’s correct. We are -“

The flap of the tent was lifted as the woman returned with a man close behind. Though he wore the same garb as the others, his was white and resembled a long sleeved coat like a doctor would wear. Monocle rested over his right eye which was the shade of a ruby, while the left eye was an crystal clear blue. If that wasn’t jarring enough, his skin was also a pale blue.

He bowed at Woozi and smiled at me. “Good afternoon, my prince. I see my patient is finally awake.”

Woozi stood up to make room for the taller male. “Good afternoon, doctor. Please look her over and make sure she is uninjured.”

“I’ve already looked her over and she’s perfectly fine. However, if it will please you, my prince, I will do so a second time.” He settled down on the stool, somehow still towering over me despite sitting a bit lower than myself. “If you would, please hold out your hand.”

I sent him a confused look, glancing at Woozi. When he nodded encouragingly, I slowly held out my hand, watching as the doctor sandwiched it between his own. They started to glow a faint blue, a calming warmth spreading through my body.

“How curious,” he hummed softly as he pulled his hands away. “You don’t seem to be willing to give in to our magic completely. My prince has used his own magic to calm you, yet there is still a layer of fear and anxiety lingering beneath the surface.”

“Is that bad?” questioned Woozi with a furrowed brow.

“Not bad, just unusual. I’ve never seen a human that doesn’t submit fully to our magic. You’re quite the unique one, my dear.” Mingyu patted me gently on the head before turning to address the male. “I’m afraid I was talking with Wonwoo when Ninwae found me. He has no doubt informed the king that our guest is awake. The guards will be here soon to take her.”

My body tensed at this information, wide eyes snapping to Woozi. “W-What? Take me where? What did I do?”

“Calm,” he replied softly, his warm hand resting on my shoulder. I felt a bit more at ease, but I still felt worried and anxious. “These lands are protected. Humans are forbidden to enter.”

“And what happens when a human enters this place?”

Mingyu was the one to reply, his voice nonchalant as he crossed one leg over the other. “They are thrown from the mountain’s edge into the kraken’s lair.”

My heart skipped a beat within my chest, fear completely overtaking the calm as I jumped out of bed. “Please, I… I don’t want to die! I swear I won’t tell anyone about you or about this place! I don’t even – I don’t even know what you people are or where this is or how I got here or -“

Woozi cupped my face, forcing me to look into those jewel-like teal eyes. “You saved my life, Rei. Father – I mean, – the king cannot overlook that fact.”

My brow furrowed in confusion. “What are you talking about? I’ve never met you before!”

The corner of his lips twitched up. “You have, just not in this form.”

“Huh?”

“The dragonfly you saved, that is the form I take when I enter the human world.”

“Which he’s been forbidden from doing,” added Mingyu with a smirk, inspected his nails. “Yet he continues to do so. If anything, my prince should be punished for breaking the rules and bringing you here. Don’t you agree?”

Woozi scowled at the taller male. “It is a silly rule and you know it. We cannot live in fear of humans forever.”

I stared at him dumbly, my brain still trying to process what he just told me. He was… the dragonfly? What? No, there’s no way… that can’t be possible!

The tent flap was thrown open as a group of men wearing armor entered, escorted by a blonde man with an eyepatch and a dour expression on his face.

“Arrest her,” he ordered in a deep, commanding voice. Two soldiers started toward me but Woozi stepped between us.

“That won’t be necessary. She is compliant and no threat to us, Hoshi.”

Hoshi closed the distance, sending the prince a challenging look. “She is a human. Her very existence is a threat to us. That is something you refuse to accept and it’s the very reason the Draguard exist. Now step aside.”

Woozi straightened his back, not backing down from the challenge. “You may be a general in the Draguard, but you have no authority over me. I will escort her to the king myself.”

His brow twitched in annoyance, hands balling into fists behind his back. He clearly did not respect the shorter male, but he seemed to be smart enough not to push him too far. “We will be close behind. Should she make one move we deem to be a threat, we will put her down immediately. As is our custom.”

“That won’t happen.” The prince sent him a glare before putting his arm around my shoulders, steering me around the men and out of the tent. Rain was falling gently from the sky, the drops cool and comforting against my exposed skin.

Mingyu followed us, but not before smirking at the general. “You should really learn your place, Hoshi, before you find yourself as an enemy of the crown instead of its lapdog.”

I felt scared to move with them following us, his words ringing repeatedly in my mind. Mingyu was between us and the guard, though, which did make me feel a bit safer. At least they can’t just attack me in the back. Still, I found myself repeatedly glancing over my shoulder to check where they were.

Woozi lead me up a long set of stairs toward a castle at the top of the mountain, made of marble and stone. A giant waterfall flowed from the right side of the castle and I wondered if it was the same one I had seen when I first arrived here.

“It’s okay,” he spoke softly, rubbing his fingers across my arm in a comforting manner. “My father may be intimidating at first, but he is a kind and fair king. He will not show it in front of his people, but I assure you, he is very grateful to you for saving me.”

“Is he… going to kill me?”

“No. I won’t allow that.”

I frowned, not entirely believing his words. Even though he is the prince, the king’s word is final and if they truly dispose of humans just for finding this place… my future isn’t looking too bright right now.

The double doors of the throne room were white and large, opening slowly to reveal a long room filled with people. Thin columns stood in rows on either side of the red carpet, holding up the tall roof. The throne sat at the back of the room in the middle of a pond, water splashing lightly into it. When I got closer, I noticed a handful of koi fish inside the pond.

“Kneel, human scum,” hissed Hoshi before he shoved my shoulder down. His strength was incredible, my knees unable to withstand the force as I crumpled to the floor.

“Stand down, general!” Woozi ordered, eyes narrowed at the blonde.

He smirked in reply, clearly pleased with himself as he took a step back. “Of course, my prince.“

The prince kneeled beside me, hand on my shoulder. I didn’t miss the whispers that broke out amongst the other people in the room when he did this. “Are you alright?”

I lowered my head and whispered, “A prince shouldn’t kneel…”

“A true prince knows when to kneel and when to stand,” he replied softly, our eyes meeting when I lifted my head. “That is one of many lessons my father taught me.”

“A-Ah… I see…”

The king stood up, bare feet kicking up water as he stepped out onto the carpet. He looked like an older version of his son, just as beautiful and elegant. Though his hair was also black, it was streaked with silver and he had a long, braided beard.

“Stand, human.” His voice was strong, echoing through the tall room and commanding obedience.

I shakily stood, keeping my head lowered so I didn’t accidentally look him in the eye. That seemed like something you shouldn’t do with a king.

He closed the distance, stopping a foot away from me. “Tell me your name.”

My reply came out as a shaky breath of air. “Rei… it’s Rei… sir.”

“My son tells me that you saved his life, Rei. Is this true?”

“Y-Yes, sir.”

“And you, my son. You brought her here?”

Woozi stood by my side, his head held high. “I did.”

Another round of whispers shot through the room at his declaration. I could feel their eyes boring into me and it made me uncomfortable, but I did my best not to move.

“Father, I request that she be allowed to leave. She’s no threat to our people.”

“My king,” Hoshi stepped forward, arm resting across the blade on his hip. “Prince Woozi is obviously enchanted by the woman who saved his life. We know nothing of her nor do we know what risk she poses us. I request that you allow us to execute her at once.”

Woozi’s eyes flashed angrily as he turned toward the general, voice deepening into a growl. “She has done nothing to warrant such a fate!”

“Should we wait until she leads us all to our extinction? My king, I’m sure you will make the right decision by our people and not be swayed by the whims of a naive boy.”

“Watch your tongue, Hoshi.” Though the king’s voice was calm, it held a deadly undertone. “You’re dismissed.”

“But, my king -“

His eyes narrowed, forcing him to step down.

“Yes, sir…”

The king waited for him to leave the room before addressing you. “Lift your head, child.”

I hesitantly lifted my head, meeting his eyes. They were much softer than I expected.

“You’ve proven yourself an ally to our people by saving the life of my only child. For that, I thank you. You’ve earned your freedom, but be warned – should you betray us or harm my son, you will suffer a slow, painful death. Do you swear to this?”

I glanced at Woozi, steeling my resolve. “I swear to never hurt your son -“

Woozi’s gaze snapped to me, something lingering within the depths that I couldn’t quite place.

“- and I will never betray your people. I swear on my life… your highness.”

“Very well,” he nodded, clearly pleased with my response. “Vernon.”

“Yes, my king?” the man who had originally placed a spear to my neck stepped forward, holding his head up high.

“Escort Rei back to the human world.”

“Father,” interjected Woozi. “May I take home instead?”

The king seemed to consider this for a moment, his eyes narrowed at his child. “You know how I feel about your little… escapades in the human world.”

“Yes… I just wish to ensure Rei gets home safely.”

“Very well, but you will take Vernon with you. You take her home and come straight back, my son. Is that understood?”

“Yes, father.” The prince bowed before turning to guide me out of the room.

Hoshi was waiting outside, his narrowed eye following me as I passed. I could feel him burning a hole into my back and I shivered.

“Fear not,” Woozi spoke softly, putting his arm around me. “No harm will come to you. You are now a friend to the crown.”

I nodded, not entirely convinced by his words but too tired to question him. I just wanted to get home and crawl into bed.

Woozi led me back to the pool, explaining that it was the portal connecting his world to the human world. “It can only be activated using our magic,” he told me, holding out his hand. His thumb resting against the metal of his ring, the teal nail beginning to glow as he spoke softly in a language I couldn’t understand.

Rain started to fall from the ceiling of the cave, creating glowing ripples in the water until the entire pool was glowing. I could see various see life within the pool, their own bodies glowing like tiny lights.

“Woah,” I breathed out, taking a step closer. “It’s so pretty.”

He smiled, holding out his hand to me. “Are you ready to return home?”

I slowly slid my hand against his, feeling my heart rate increase when our skin touched. He jumped into the pool, bringing me along with him. Vernon jumped after us, following us as we swam toward the bottom of the pool. The stone started to split apart, shifting until there was a hole big enough to swim through.

A bright blue light filled my vision and I had to close my eyes against it. I could feel my head break through the surface, my lungs sucking in air greedily.

“Quickly,” said Woozi as he pulled me out of the puddle on the sidewalk.

Vernon was up already, eyes scanning the area to ensure that no one was near. It was still night time, though the sky was slowly beginning to lighten as the sun started to rise. There was no sign of the men in black, thankfully.

“Wait here,” Woozi ordered the younger male.

Though he seemed reluctantly, he nodded, sending me a weary look. “Yes, my prince.”

The prince slipped his hand into my own, leading me up the driveway toward my house. When we reached the door, he paused, seeming to search for the right words. “Thank you… for saving me.”

“You’re welcome,” I smiled softly, shifting my weight from one foot to the other. It’s not like I knew who I was saving. I just saw a dragonfly and wanted to help, but I couldn’t bring myself to say that to him.

He hesitated, biting his lip in thought before he reached up, removing the necklace from around his neck. He took my hand, slipping the metal against my palm before closing my fingers around it. “I want you to have this.”

“But -“

“Keep it safe for me. I promise to come back for it,” he smiled softly, taking a step closer so he could press a kiss to my cheek. His lips seemed to linger there a bit longer than necessary before he pulled back, returning to Vernon. Before jumping through the portal, he glanced at me over his shoulder, sending me a warm smile.

I slowly opened my hand, running my thumb over the necklace. The chain was thin, made of silver. The pendant was a silver dragonfly, its wings made with icy teal crystals. It was beautiful and I honestly felt happy that he had given it to me, even if it was temporary. It was a symbol that, at the very least, I would see him once more.

I bit my lip to hold back my smile, holding the necklace to my chest.

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-> General Taglist: @asterhaze, @mrskenpachizaraki

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serenasoutherlyns · 1 year ago

Text

from the dark with you above me chapter 6

"“So un-ruin things,” said Lisa, gesticulating with her glass of wine miraculously not spilling."

ao3

“What was that about?” Asked Jack.

“Oh, nothing,” said Abbie.

“What did she need? Or was it something for Tracey?”

“No, don’t worry about it, Jack,” Abbie said, snapping more than she meant to. The other night had spooked her. She realized, at the bar, how much of a risk she was taking. It freaked her out, how much she had wanted to lean across and kiss Serena, how her stomach flipped when she walked in. It was almost like a date. That couldn’t happen. She knew better than that.

“Oh-kay,” he said, backing off reluctantly.

Abbie tried to work up the courage. She knew Jack of all people would be understanding but she certainly wasn’t sure she was ready to be out at work, even if it was only to one person. She only wanted to tell him so that somebody other than her and her friends knew-- and she thought he might have relevant advice. She gave herself about a minute. She coughed.

“We’ve been sleeping together.”

Jack looked up, his eyes wide. “You and Southerlyn?” Abbie blinked. “Oh,” he said. “I didn’t know you were a, uh--”

“A lesbian, yes,” said Abbie. “I’m not out at work.”

“Who else knows?”

“Just a couple friends. Serena, and Alex. They’re freakishly close.”

“I’ve gathered,” said Jack. “Well that’s great, Abbie, I’m glad you’ve found someone.”

“It’s not really like that,” she said. “I think I’m going to break it off.”

“Oh,” said Jack, disappointed. “Why?”

“I just can’t do a work relationship.”

“I can understand that,” said Jack. “It’s doable, though. Well it can be.”

“You’re biased,” said Abbie.

“Just experienced,” he replied. “You should go for it.”

“I don’t think I can risk the publicity if someone found out, I mean, not to mention my job.” Jack put down his pen and leaned back in his chair with his hands behind his head.

“Arthur won’t care, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“My family,” said Abbie, quiet and somber. “The headache it would cause my father, I mean, his constituents finding out he has a lesbian New Yorker daughter would be very bad press.” The truth of that statement sunk in, both for Jack and Abbie. Saying it out loud made it worse than it had been before.

“I understand,” Jack said. “I’m sorry, Abbie.” He offered a compassionate smile.

“Wait, so,” he continued after a while, “Was Ricci?”

“Yes,” Abbie said in that same tone. Her heart hurt.

“Oh God,” said Jack. “I’m so sorry. Not that I wasn’t before, but.”

“Thanks Jack, I appreciate it.” Jack had always been there for her when Toni died, but he hadn’t known what they were to each other. It felt good to have it acknowledged.

---

She swore she wouldn’t call, but Saturday night rolled around and her apartment seemed woefully empty.

“Serena,” she said when she picked up the phone. “I was wondering if you’d like to come over for a glass of wine.”

“I could be convinced,” Serena said playfully, and giggled.

“She’ll see you in half an hour,” came Alex’s voice.

“Give me my phone back,” she heard Serena, slightly further away. It sounded like the two of them may have already had a couple on their own.

“I’ll see you in half an hour,” Serena whispered into the phone. Abbie poured herself a glass from the bottle she’d bought for herself at the grocery store that evening, figuring she may as well catch up.

Serena kissed her before she even set foot into the living room.

“Hi,” she said when the kiss broke, “it’s good to see you, great to see you even. I’ve been,” she exhaled, “thinking about you.”

“Really,” Abbie said, trying not to let her ego enjoy that too much. “What about me?”

“Mm,” she said, “your lips, your hands. You’re really, really good with your hands.”

“Glad you think so,” said Abbie, and laced one of said hands into her hair, the other one grabbing her ass. Serena made a surprised noise that Abbie could stand to hear again. Somewhere, in the back of her mind, she was becoming aware of a growing fondness for her.

She pushed it aside in favor of guiding her to the couch and climbing on top of her.

---

“Mr. Price,” said Nash’s attorney, standing from the table. “You’re close with my client, yes?” Price shifted in his chair.

“Yes, I’ve known Freddy since we were kids,” he said hesitantly. Abbie wasn’t sure where he was going with this.

“But the past few years have been, rocky. Would that be a fair statement?”

Abbie looked to Alex, who couldn’t hide her confusion. Price hadn’t mentioned any tension, and they had asked him. Either they hadn’t been thorough enough or Nash had lied.

“We’ve had our differences,” said Price. “But I love him. He’s like a brother to me.”

“A brother who you claim stole hundreds of dollars from you?”

Abbie bit her cheek.

“That was— that was nothing,” Price stammered. “It was a loan, he said he was gonna pay it back.”

“But he didn’t, did he?” Abbie could see Price’s credibility slipping out of their control like a waterfall.

“He hasn’t yet.”

“I see,” said Price’s lawyer. “So you hold no resentment for my client? Even though he had the audacity to ask you for more money?”

Price said back, “I told him no. I love him but sometimes you gotta let people figure things out for themselves.”

“So you can’t find it in you to help out a friend? Tell me Mr. Price, why aren’t you helping him today?”

“Objection,” said Alex.

“Overruled,” said the judge. “The witness will answer.” Price looked over to their table.

“Oh don’t look at the DAs, they don’t know the answer. Or did they tell you what to say?”

“Objection,” said Abbie, indignant.

“Sustained,” said the judge.

“Mr. Price, I ask you again: why are you testifying against my client today?”

Price sighed. “Because it’s true,” he said sadly. “Because Freddy came to me the day after the murder, told me he had gotten into trouble at the gala he was working, and that he needed money to get out of town. That’s all.”

That was the strong response they needed, thank goodness.

“So you say,” said the lawyer.

“Objection,” said Abbie and Alex in unison.

“No further questions.”

---

“Happy Thursday,” said Serena, walking up to her. She had known there was some chance of running into her at Penelope’s, weekday though it was. If she was honest with herself, she hoped she would.

“To you too,” said Abbie. “Can I buy you a drink?”

“Please,” said Serena. “Whatever you’re having.” Abbie motioned to the bartender, two more.

“Is Alex here?” Abbie asked, looking around for the woman she was always with.

“No,” said Serena. “I gave her and Olivia the apartment for the evening.”

“I see.” That was a nice little piece of gossip.

“You can have me all to yourself,” said Serena.

Yes, that was appealing.

—

She had to stop doing this.

Serena was above her, sighing and exclaiming. It was musical. She really, really liked having sex with Serena. It was as simple as that. She liked how Serena sounded when she came, she liked the way her back arched, she especially liked hearing “Oh my God, Abbie,” and “yes, fuck, please!”

It filled the room like fragrant smoke.

“Oh my God,” said Serena, throwing her arm up above her head, catching her breath. She tried to say more, but it just came out as “Mmf,” when Abbie tenderly bit her inner thigh. Cherry on top.

The satisfaction didn’t last long enough. It was replaced by cold panic. It was all too much, too much fun, too much sensation, too much implication. Her heart beat so hard it rung in her ears. Her hands shook. She began to hyperventilate. She looked around the room and couldn’t take it in, the darkness closed in on her. A sob came out of her from far away, shook her whole body. Before she knew it, she was inconsolable. Serena was upright now, pulling her clothes back on.

“Abbie? Hey,” she heard her say, “what’s going on?”

A hand was on her shoulder. Abbie shuddered and shrunk.

“Sorry,” Serena said. “Can I do anything?”

“Go,” said Abbie, “go.”

“I-- are you sure? Are you going to be okay?”

“I said, go!” Abbie said through gritted teeth.

“Okay, I’ll go,” Serena said, not a touch of offense in her voice, but plenty of worry. Abbie flopped back onto the bed.

Her sleep was fitful and interrupted.

---

“Woah, Abbie,” said Jack when she walked in the room. Great, she must be showing just how awful her night was. “You okay?”

“Yeah, fine,” she said, unconvincingly even to her own ears. Jack looked at her incredulously.

“What the hell happened?” Abbie was just tired enough not to be able to find the energy to lie.

“Nightmares,” she said. Jack gave her a sympathetic look. He put down his pen.

“About? Do you want to talk about it?” Abbie didn’t, but she knew she should.

“Toni,” she said quietly. “College,” she said, hoping he knew what she meant. “Serena. That one wasn’t a nightmare.”

“Oh,” said Jack. “That’s a lot.”

“Yep,” said Abbie.

“Well,” Jack said, picking his pen back up and handing Abbie a sheet of notes, “This oughta distract you.”

---

It worked. Abbie felt much better by lunchtime with a few cups of coffee in her system. She picked up a sandwich and an iced tea and went back to her office. Exactly who she didn’t want to see was waiting outside her door.

“Serena,” she said, coldly. “What can I do for you?”

“I came here to talk,” Serena said.

“What about?” said Abbie, trying desperately to push her away with her tone. Serena’s eyebrows raised. She blinked.

“Don’t you think we should do this inside?” She suggested.

“Fine,” said Abbie, opening her door. From the other side of the hallway, she caught Tracey’s eye for just a second.

“What,” she spat. She didn’t sit down, and she didn’t invite Serena to.

“What do you mean what,” Serena said, crossing her arms in front of her. When Abbie didn’t reply, she continued, “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” said Abbie.

“Just, last night, I mean, you kind of--”

“Don’t worry about it,” she cut her off. “It doesn’t concern you.”

“Really?” said Serena. “Because the last time I checked, I was there.”

“Yes. But nothing that you saw was about you.” Abbie felt nausea creep up her throat. She saw the hurt in Serena’s eyes, the pain she knew she was causing. But it had to be done.

“Still,” said Serena. She cracked her knuckles. “Look, I know I barely know you--”

“Exactly,” Abbie said. “We barely know each other. Which is why this is none of your business.” Serena scoffed.

“So I guess whatever this was is over, then.” Abbie couldn’t detect anything but anger behind her words. She felt deflated, exhausted.

“This wasn’t anything,” she said. And it hadn’t been.

“Okay,” Serena said, turning to leave the room. “But for the record, I was starting to really enjoy your company.”

Abbie couldn’t reply before she was gone.

---

“What the hell is wrong with you,” said Lisa, barging into her apartment as soon as the door was open. Abbie had left a somber message on Lisa and Elle’s answering machine when she’d gotten home from work. She thought she shouldn’t feel so terrible. After all, it wasn’t anything. She felt sick to her stomach, her head hurt. She had no appetite.

“I mean, I actually thought,” she stopped and turned around, “I actually thought you might not screw this up.” She dropped her keys on the counter with a clang. Elle walked sheepishly in with a bottle of wine and a box of chocolate.

“You okay, sweetheart?” She said, bringing Abbie in for a hug.

“No, don’t sweetheart her,” Lisa said, growing pink in the face, “Abbie you had a beautiful, smart, funny woman interested in you, and I know you like her too don’t even try to tell me you don’t, and you’re just letting that slip through your fingers?”

“It was never going to work out,” Abbie said sadly, “we’re coworkers, and I’m not really out, and I’m just too, too, too fucked up, I guess.”

“Oh, honey,” said Elle.

“Bullshit,” said Lisa, who had opened the box of chocolates and popped one in her mouth, “Bullshit. Nobody you work with cares.”

“I hate to say it but she’s right,” said Elle, pouring the wine.

“I see nobody is denying that I’m too fucked up for relationships.”

“Nobody is dignifying that with a response,” said Lisa. She grabbed another chocolate. Elle thrust a glass into Abbie’s hands.

“It doesn’t matter anyway,” she said with her head hung. “I ruined any possibility.”

“I’m sure you didn’t,” said Elle soothingly. She rubbed Abbie’s shoulder affectionately.

She definitely did. She pictured Serena’s hurt expression and brisk steps away from her.

“I did,” said Abbie.

“So un-ruin things,” said Lisa, gesticulating with her glass of wine miraculously not spilling.

She didn’t see how she could.

#law & order #serena southerlyn #abbie carmichael #law and order #svu #law & order svu #olivia benson #serena/abbie #cabenson #alex/olivia #sficx #alex cabot #i am starving for attention on this fic

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qzwrites · 2 years ago

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Do you ever think about suicide?

Razors pain you; Rivers are damp; Acids stain you; And drugs cause cramp. Guns aren’t lawful; Nooses give; Gas smells awful; You might as well live.

I was four or five the first time I heard my father recite Dorothy Parker's Resume. You might say that's too young to be joking about suicide around a child, and I don't think I can disagree. It upset me a lot as a kid, to hear my dad talk so glibly about suicide and his personal suicidal ideation.

On the other hand, I was four or five when I decided how I would kill myself, if I ever felt like I needed to.

These might seem like contradictory ideas. Maybe they are. I don't really know if this is an autism thing or a family thing or a mentally ill-since-childhood thing. Some combination of the three, perhaps, since certainly my autism and mental illness come from my family.

It wasn't something I thought about a lot, as a child. Mostly I thought about suicide when my dad talked about it, which was more often than I wanted or was comfortable thinking about, but I understood pretty quickly that it wasn't about me and he didn't seem to understand how upsetting it was.

It wasn't until after he died (not suicide, thanks for asking) that I really understood why my dad talked about it so freely and, it seemed to me, glibly.

I was not depressed as a child. Maybe I should have been, but I wasn't. I was extremely anxious and heavily bullied, but my family was loving and accepting, and the ways in which I was different did not particularly trouble me. It was mostly the callous ways other people acted that troubled me, but my family made sure I always knew there was nothing I could--or should!--do about other people being assholes.

The first serious depressive episode I had was in middle school. Despite the fact that I had friends for the first time in a long time, despite the fact that I got to stay in one school for nearly two entire years (a record!), I was depressed. I was sad and had trouble sleeping; I ate too many sweets and ruined my teeth. I thought about self-harming, which in my eleven-year-old brain was limited to cutting, and decided it wouldn't help. Honestly, the fact that so many people made fun of cutters for being pathetic probably made more of the decision for me than I would like to admit.

At the time I thought I was depressed because I had moved away from my best friend and first love, and missed the friends and family I had left behind. Probably that was part of it, but part of it was also definitely puberty and the dysphoria it hit me with; I'm sure part of it was also the fact that both bipolar and unipolar depression run in my family, and those often start presenting during puberty.

And maybe part of it was, now that I had friends who treated me like someone who mattered, it occurred to me that the way I had been treated in the past (and to be fair, was still treated by a large chunk of my classmates) was unfair and unjust.

I don't know.

I remember resisting suicidal thoughts, that first episode. I was young, I had reasons to be sad, but I didn't think I would be better off dead. The only times I even skirted around the thoughts were those interminable nights when I couldn't sleep, no matter how much I tried, and I knew I would feel awful in the morning. Lying in bed for hours, until I was bored of my own insomnia, did sometimes make me think, Surely even dying would be better than this. But I knew it wouldn't, and I never even had to work that hard at shunting those thoughts aside.

I had occasional smaller bouts of depression. I was a teenager, I was mentally ill, of course I had upswings and downswings, but high school was mostly a relief. My anxiety was at an all-time low. I had friends. We managed to stay in one place for the entirety of high school, so I got four glorious years to actually get to know people and be known in return. I had small manic episodes that I was more concerned with, because even if they weren't harmful, I knew only sleeping five or six hours a night and compulsively writing entire novellas in the space of a month was not especially healthy. It didn't occur to me that I could be depressed again some day, that it might be worse than it had been when I was a middle schooler pining for some theoretical better life.

My dad only sometimes talked about suicide when I was in high school, and it still made me uncomfortable, but in a different way. It feels more selfish to me, even though my discomfort as a small child was very literally selfish--I didn't want to think about a world in which my dad was dead. In high school, I thought more along the lines of, jeez, why can't he get over it the way I did? But it was also easier as a teenager to know my dad as a person, and he was the kind of person who had to talk about the things that were on his mind, and had to joke about the things that worried him, or else he'd let them eat away at him on the inside and fester. Another thing we have in common.

But as I said, it didn't get really bad again until my dad died. I was twenty-three. It was unexpected. I was a thousand miles away, and it had been more than a year since I had seen him in person.

Moving across the country is hard. I didn't really understand how hard it would be, mentally, until after I had done it. After all, I'd done it so many times as a child! I didn't think about the fact that one of those times had been the trigger of my first major depressive episode. I didn't think about the fact that moving to a more northern latitude in January might be a bad idea.

My father died the day after I signed my first long job contract.

I did not stay at that job for the entire term of the contract.

Much of the next several years is a blur to me. I was freelancing, which would not have been good for my mental health regardless. We had to move several times. My grandmother also died, within months of my father. I slipped on some ice and broke my ribs. I can piece together timelines through jobs I worked, through memories of which apartment we lived in, what my family's hairstyles were, but it's not especially clear. I'd say the first year was the hardest, but I'm not sure it was only a year. It was hardest immediately after he died, but it stayed hard for a long time.

You know, I never actually had my antidepressant dose adjusted. Bipolar sometimes responds badly to traditional antidepressants, and I was put on the antidepressant initially for anxiety. I don't know if it would have helped or not. I don't know how much adjustments to brain chemistry can actually help with grief and feeling useless. I mean, I know that's what they're for, but....

It didn't really feel that bad at the time. Or, it felt bad, but it always felt like a reasonable response to the comically-worsening series of events that was my life. Of course I would feel like shit after losing three family members in the space of a year; of course I would feel like shit after blowing my first real job by poorly-managing my depression. Of course I would feel like shit with cracked ribs, the only treatment for which is "time" and "not doing things that hurt".

It didn't stop me from thinking, more and more frequently, how nice it would be to stop for a while. To just cease existing.

And unfortunately, when you think something for long enough, it becomes an easy thought to have. I've read some neuroscience about it, not really understanding enough to say whether or not it's true, but it feels true, and after all, so much of human skill is made up of repetition. In the wake of my father's death, I got very good at thinking about how I would like to die.

I got the blues so bad Kinda wish I was dead Maybe I'll blow my brains out, mama Or maybe I'll, yeah maybe I'll just go bowlin' instead

I think it would have been a lot harder for me if I hadn't had my dad's example. I didn't understand, when I was a little kid, or even a teenager, how he could joke about his suicidal thoughts. But at some point in the years after he died, I listened to Weird Al's "Generic Blues", a song Dad quoted constantly when we went bowling, and I realized I got it. Because after a while, it just becomes the background noise of your brain. Something bad happens, and your brain says, "Oh God, I want to die," and whether or not that's true, you're kind of...tired of it. Yeah, yeah, I've heard it before. But I got through it then, and I guess I have to get through it now. The other option isn't actually appealing most of the time. The only option is to acknowledge it and move on. Sometimes that means making jokes about it, quoting poems and songs that are kind of glib about the subject, because there's no other way to deal with it.

Maybe I'll kill myself, or maybe I'll go bowling instead.

Here's the thing I don't know that I can adequately explain to anyone who hasn't been through something similar: I don't want to kill myself. I never really did. Maybe on the worst days it would have been nice to sink into oblivion for a while, but that's not really the same thing. And I certainly don't want to now. Although to be frank, that has less to do with my mental fortitude, or even my appreciation for how much worse that would make things for my family, than it has to do with this:

My father was chronically depressed and at least passively suicidal since he was twelve, and he made it to 59. He made it to 59, and died of something else.

Yeah, maybe things are worse for me than they were for him. He never lived through a global pandemic. He never, as far as I know, spent a month sick with a brain-eating virus making it impossible to breathe. On the other hand, he did live through most of the Cold War, the AIDS crisis, and the growing awareness that climate change was happening and getting worse. He lived through three divorces. He lived through the death of his father. He lived through one of his children going to prison.

Obviously I can't directly compare our lives. Even if he was alive, life is so subjective it would be pointless. Shit was hard for him, and it's hard for me.

He made it to 59, and died of something else.

So it doesn't really matter how bad it gets for me. It doesn't really matter how shitty I feel. It is simply not an option for me to do a worse job than my dad. I'm not even allowed to think about killing myself until I'm 60. That's all there is to it.

I mean, I'll think about it. I have thought about it. I will continue to think about it. It's hard, some days, to tell myself, "No you don't," when something goes wrong and my first thought in response is, "I want to die." But there's thinking about it, and there's thinking about it. Considering it. Planning.

Considering the chunk of my life I have spent depressed, I doubt I am ever going to be far from idle thoughts of suicide. Especially with the world looking like it's not in any mood to get better any time soon. I feel like I'm lying any time any mental health professional asks if I've thought about suicide or harming myself and I say no, but I'm pretty sure the question isn't meant for the idle thoughts about something that exists in the world and affects me.

Dad made it to 59. If he could do it, I can do it.

Dad made it to 59; I might as well live.

#suicide #mental illness #non-fiction

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holylulusworld · 1 year ago

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Brother's keeper (3)

Summary: She would do anything to protect her brother.

Pairing: Royal!Tony Stark x Princess!Reader

Warnings: mentions of arranged marriage, love-hate relationship, feisty/bratty reader, enemies to lovers, arguments, royal au, dystopian au, banter, sexual tension, betrayal (not Tony), implied smut, misogynism (not Tony)

This series takes place in the Two kings (Arc1) & Not a queen (Arc 2) universe, at the same time. I recommend reading these stories first to understand this universe better.

Brother’s keeper masterlist

Brother’s keeper (2)

“Colibri, where are you going?” Tony watches you get up from the floor. He reaches out for you, sighing as you slap his hand away. “I’m not complaining. I love the view.”

Tony shamelessly roams your naked body with his eyes. He licks his lips, remembering how you pushed him to the ground and took what you wanted from him.

“Never thought I’d feel you again.” He muses. You hate to hear the cockiness in his voice. It’s not the first time you fell in bed with Tony. Maybe that’s the reason you are at each other’s throats for years.

“This never happened,” you point your shoe at Tony. “My father still believes I’m innocent. He cannot know you ruined his sweet daughter.”

“I remember quite vividly it was you sucking my tongue in your mouth back then. Your hand was in my pants and little Tony was so happy to feel you,” he grins now. “Come back here.”

Tony pats the makeshift bed at his secret lab, hoping you’ll join him for more than a little more sleep. “Tony,” you sigh. “I can’t stay. You know that.”

“We are not living in the dark age. People have sex all the time, you know,” he sits up to watch you redress. “Are you mad at me? Darling, you were all over me.”

“That was a mistake,” you huff. “It was the heat of the moment. The armor, and your lab. It’s been a while since a man talked about more than my pretty face to me. I was a little science-drunk.”

“Science-drunk?” Tony laughs. “Baby, it’s called cock-drunk, or enchanted by Tony Stark. This had nothing to do with science.”

“It was all about science,” you weakly reply. Tony is not wrong. Being close to him, and spending time around him changed your mind a little bit about the cocky prince. “I’ll take my leave now.”

“Y/N don’t be like that! I can go down on you again. My jaw feels much better…”

Tony sighs deeply. He had hoped that you opened up to up. Now it looks like you regret falling into his arms. All he can do is watch you hurriedly leave his lab.

“One step forward, ten steps back.”

Three days later, the royal library, …

“What are you doing here?” You watch your brother walk inside the library with steady steps. He has a grim expression on his face. “Brother, is it about father? Is he sick?”

“You wanted a way out of this deal and arranged marriage. I found someone willing to marry you on Stark’s behalf,” your brother dares to look proud. “What do you say?”

“So, you want to trade me to someone else now?” You close the book you read and place it on the coffee table next to the armchair you occupy. Your brother frowns as you slowly get up from the armchair. “What am I to you? A piece of meat. A whore you can throw at any man for them to use?”

“I’m doing you a favor here,” he argues. “Father will agree if you say yes. Let’s leave this kingdom immediately. Rumlow is waiting for an answer until tomorrow night.”

“Rumlow,” you storm toward your brother to slap his face. “He and his father are the ones killing second sons. They are the ones standing in the way of change and peace. How can you expect me to even consider marrying that piece of shit!”

“It will strengthen our kingdom! Father is weak. I’m strong, and Rumlow too. We can rule the world together!” Your brother dreamily says. He looks like a maniac, not the brother you protected all your life.

“You’re insane,” you whisper. “I’m afraid you lost your mind, brother.”

“You will not disobey me, sister,” he steps toward you in a threatening way. Your brother sneers as you ball your hands into fists. “You’re weak. What’s between your legs makes you weak.”

“No,” you snarl. “It makes me better than you. And, if you dare to threaten me again, I’ll tell Rumlow that you are a second son.”

He flinches at your words. “You wouldn’t…”

“I will,” you jab your index finger into his chest. “I’ll tell you what you will do now. You’re going to return to our kingdom and be the best son to our father. You’ll make sure all of my belongings will arrive at Stark’s castle within the next week.”

“What are you up to?” He questions. “You hate Stark, and everything he stands for.”

“No. I hate Rumlow, you, and the likes of you,” you bite back. “I’ll wed Tony as soon as possible to make sure he will destroy Rumlow. Maybe your friend is cruel and strong. But Tony is smarter. Together, we will change this world for the better.”

“What if I refuse?” Your brother sounds scared for the first time since childhood. “What will you do?”

“I’ll watch them kill you,” you fight the tears, but your voice still cracks. “I cannot let Rumlow rule this world. If I must bring you down with him, so be it…”

“Colibri,” Tony strolls inside your room, smirking as his eyes land on you. You’re currently sitting cross-legged on the ground, a screwdriver in your hand. “I see you got comfortless,” he looks at the toolbox, books, and blueprints on the ground. “Did you steal one of my devices?”

“I try to find out how it worked back then. It was used for communication, that much I already know. They called it a mobile phone,” you look up at Tony. “If only we could fix this.”

“We’d still need a satellite for communication, Y/N,” he sits next to you on the ground. “Father said you have been obsessed with technology since your brother visited you. What happened?”

You drop your eyes to the phone in your hands. You shake your head, refusing to speak the truth about your brother. “Darling?”

“He wanted to marry me off to Rumlow,” you bitterly admit. “Can you believe him? I agree on marrying your cocky ass to protect him, and he wants to trade me off to that monster.”

“I assume you told your brother that you are mine. Right,” he slings his arm around your shoulders. “Right…”

“We need to find a way to repair the armor. Rumlow and his father are dangerous opponents, and they want to take over the world. If we can reactivate a satellite and the armor…”

“Y/N, the EMP destroyed every single piece of technology,” Tony sighs deeply. “If it means anything to you, I’ll protect you from Rumlow and your brother.”

“Stark, don’t underestimate me,” you grunt, and try to shrug his arm off. “I know you and your father are working on fixing what the EMP destroyed. You’re at the lab day and night. And if you are not at the lab, you and your father sneak out in the middle of the night.”

“I guess the cat's out of the bag,” he whispers in your ear. “This means I gotta kill you now.”

“What?”

He grins when you look at him, bewildered. “I was joking, Colibri. You are going to be my wife in two weeks so, I can tell you the family secret.”

“Spill it!”

“My family is working on fixing the damage the EMP has done to the world for almost fifty years. Father and I are close…so goddamn close to finding a way to use a new energy source…”

#tony stark x reader #tony stark x you #tony stark x y/n #royal!tony stark x princess!reader #princess reader #royal au

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