#echo has also been around for more than just law. she just blossomed with them x | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

btsqualityy · 4 years ago

Text

Magnolias in Springtime

Namjoon x Reader

Genre: Arranged marriage!AU, ABO (Alpha/Beta/Omega) dynamics, fluff, smut, and just a smidge of angst

Warnings: Talks of arranged marriages, brief mention of polygamy (nothing comes of it, promise lol), oral sex, fingering, unprotected sex, knotting

Author’s Note: This fic is based on a prompt from the Spring Fest “Spring Will Come Again” hosted by @bangtanarmynet! I really hope you guys enjoy it! P.S: There will also be a part two to this fic so stayed tuned for that!

Prompt: While their parents discuss behind closed doors the terms of their arranged marriage to each other, they meet in the blooming garden to go over their own conditions.

Your pack was your entire life.

Growing up as what some of the elders in your pack referred to as the spoiled only child of the Pack Alpha and the Pack Omega, you were doted on by everyone. As a child, you marveled at the Alphas when they brought back the animals that they had haunted for the pack’s dinner and now as an adult, you were having Alphas dedicate those kills to you as a sign of intention to marriage.

As a child, you tried to take notes on how the Betas seemed to be able to de-escalate any and all types of conflict, always seeming to have a solution that would placate everyone. Now that you were an adult, you found yourself going to those same Betas whenever you had conflicts with your parents or your best friends, because you knew that they would understand you.

As a child, you thought that it was the coolest thing when you watched the Omegas essentially hold the pack together. They were the ones who gave birth, they were the ones who mostly took on child rearing and cooking (even though the Alphas and Betas in your pack always helped out as well), and they were always there when you happened to skin your knee as a child or just needed comfort. Once you became an adult and presented, you found yourself gravitating more towards the Omegas as you were also one now, and they took you under their wings as you learned just what it really meant to be an Omega.

So in short, you loved your pack and you were extremely grateful for everything that they had taught you. Oddly enough, that gratefulness is exactly how you ended up in this situation.

“We really appreciate the fact that you’re doing this for us Y/N,” your Alpha father, Byung-hoon told you as he, you, and your mother Deiji waited on the edge of the Kim Pack’s territory.

“I told you that it’s fine Daddy,” you muttered, bouncing yourself up and down on the tips of your toes.

“Taking on this huge responsibility for our pack isn’t fine, but we’re grateful that you’re willing to do it,” Deiji said. Instead of answering her though, you decided to change the subject.

“Their territory really is beautiful,” you pointed out as you looked around, seeing multiple bushes of plum blossoms and azaleas. “At least I’ll have something pretty to look forward to once I move here.”

“That you will,” a deep voice added and when you turned around, you saw a large, muscular man walking towards you and following behind him was an almost equally tall woman who was easily one of the most beautiful women you had ever seen in your life.

“Ah, hello Pack Alpha Ho-jin,” your father bowed and you and your mother followed his lead, holding the bow for a few seconds before straightening up again.

“Hello Pack Alpha Byung-hoon,” Ho-jin replied as he and the woman bowed as well. “This is my wife, Pack Omega Eun Kyung.”

“Nice to meet you all,” Eun Kyung smiled.

“This is my wife, Pack Omega Deiji and this is our daughter, Y/N,” Byung-hoon introduced.

“Hello,” Deiji smiled.

“Hello,” you echoed, even though your smile was a bit more forced than your mother’s.

“Oh, you are absolutely gorgeous,” Eun Kyung gushed as she stepped forward, reaching out and grabbing your hands. “Our son is a lucky man.”

“I’m sure that I am lucky as well, Pack Omega,” you replied.

“Please, call me Eun Kyung,” she corrected you. “I am going to be your mother-in-law soon.”

“Speaking of, where is Namjoon?” Your father wondered.

“He went off hunting with some of the other Alphas and Betas in our pack,” Ho-jin explained. “We plan on having a very big feast in order to celebrate their impending nuptials and he decided to go and try to find some extra meat.”

“Yeah, or to avoid meeting the wife that he doesn’t want,” you thought to yourself.

“He sounds like he’ll be an amazing provider and Alpha,” your mother smiled.

“Well, why don’t we all go into my office so that we can go over the terms and conditions of their marriage?” Ho-jin suggested before turning to look at you. “Y/N-ah, feel free to look around our territory and get a feel of the place. This will be your home soon, after all.”

“Of course,” you nodded. “Thank you.” After receiving a kiss on your head from your father and a pat on the hand from your mother, you watched silently as the four of them walk away together. As soon as they were out of sight, you let out a large rush of breath that you didn’t even realize you were holding. Even though you weren’t completely excited about this arrangement, your inner Omega wanted the parents of your future husband to like you and after meeting them, you were happy that you could seemingly not have that to worry about.

Deciding to take your future father-in-law’s advice, you walked away from the front of their territory and ventured around. You were amazed at how vast their territory seemed to be in comparison to your pack’s, large buildings and houses searching as far as your eyes could see. As you walked, you took notice of what seemed to be a schoolhouse, a building that seemed to be a sort of meeting hall, and even a building that looked like a store front with mannequins in the window.

The thing that caught your attention though, was a large archway that was covered in gorgeous magnolia flowers. When you stepped over to it, you gasped at what laid behind it: A large wall full of nothing but magnolias stood a few feet beyond the arch, a small bench placed in front of it.

“Gorgeous,” you whispered in awe as you stepped over to the wall, reaching out and gently touching the flowers.

“Who are you?” A deep voice called out and you jumped up a little, your heart almost beating out of your chest as you turned around to find the source of the voice. Standing right underneath the archway, was a tall, tan skinned man whose presence seemed to command attention.

“I-I’m Y/N L/N,” you replied, still feeling a little hesitant and the man’s eyes widened.

“You’re Y/N?” He wondered and you nodded your head. “Well, you’re a lot prettier than I thought you’d be.”

“I’m sorry, who are you?” You questioned.

“I’m Kim Namjoon,” he said, smiling at the soft gasp that escaped you. “Your future husband.”

“Oh,” was all you could utter in response because holy shit, your future husband was hot.

“Where are your parents?” Namjoon asked as he stepped closer to you. “I assume that you didn’t come here alone.”

“Um, they’re talking to your parents about the ‘terms and conditions’ of our marriage,” you told him and he scoffed out a laugh.

“Of course they are,” he chuckled as he took a seat on the small bench. “Well, I think that while they’re doing that, you and I should probably go over our own terms and conditions.”

“Our own?” You echoed as you sat down on the bench as well.

“Seeing as though we’re both fundamentally being forced into this, I figure that there’s things that you don’t want and that you do want,” he said.

“That’s..true, I guess,” you nodded. “You go first.”

“Well, seeing as though you weren’t raised in this pack, I’d like for you to learn the ways of the pack and just be a proper wife,” he began.

“I’ve been learning about your pack since the discussions of a possible arrangement started,” you told him. “I have to wonder though, what exactly is your definition of a ‘proper’ wife.”

“Basically, just keeping house, cooking and cleaning,” he elaborated. “As my father plans to step down once we’re married, I’ll be too busy running the pack.”

“Well, sorry to burst your bubble but I wasn’t raised to be a docile Omega and I don’t plan on becoming one once we’re married,” you huffed.

“Why not? I mean, surely you don’t expect to run the pack with me?” He laughed.

“Actually, that’s exactly what I expect,” you smiled.

“How can you expect to lead this pack when they don’t know you?” He asked.

“Since I’m going to be here for the rest of my life, then they’ll have every opportunity to get to know me,” you shrugged.

“We’ll talk more about that one later,” Namjoon sighed. “Anything that you wanted specifically?”

“I know that your pack is going to be providing aid to mines once we’re married and as much as I plan on being involved in this pack, I also hope that you don't expect me to never see my pack again,” you said.

“That’s the custom when you marry into another pack though,” Namjoon pointed out. “Plus, no offense or anything, but your pack is broke in terms of both money and resources and I don’t imagine there to be much to even go back to.”

“I am my parent’s only child and my pack is very close knit so I’d love to still be able to see them and for them to come see me,” you continued. “At least three or four times a year.”

“Alright, I guess that’s reasonable,” he relented. “Especially under these circumstances.”

“Thank you,” you smiled.

“Oh, another thing,” he said suddenly. “I know that this marriage isn’t exactly something that either of us want but you cannot have any...uh, lovers on the side.”

“I’d never do something like that,” you frowned. “But I hope you know that the same goes for you.”

“That’s fine,” Namjoon nodded. “It’s not my style anyways.”

“In addition to that, I read your pack’s history and the whole taking more than one Omega as a wife thing isn’t going to fly with me,” you stated firmly.

“It’s tradition though,” he shot back. “Every leader of this pack throughout its’ history has had more than one spouse.”

“Your father doesn’t,” you pointed out.

“Because he didn’t want one.”

“And you do?” You demanded to know and Namjoon just chuckled.

“You really meant that whole not a docile Omega thing, huh?” He wondered and you nodded while smirking.

“You’re going to be Pack Alpha,” you said. “You have the authority to change tradition.”

“Fine, no additional Omegas,” he agreed. “I hope that means you’re going to be willing to have lots of pups then, since that’s what the whole multiple Omegas rule was for.”

“How many?”

“At least 5,” he replied and you just laughed.

“5 is a pretty big number coming from a man who’s not going to be pushing them out,” you giggled. “Two, at most.”

“Three?” Namjoon bargained and after thinking for a few seconds, you nodded your head.

“Deal,” you answered. “Anything else?”

“Just one more,” he added. “No roses at our wedding.”

“What? Why?”

“They’re overrated and cliché,” he shrugged.

“What about magnolias?” You asked. “Those are my favorites.”

“I like those,” he smiled.

“Well, it’s settled then,” you announced. “No roses.”

“You know, this marriage thing is easier than I thought,” Namjoon said thoughtfully, making you giggle at him. “Do you have anything else you wanted to bring up?”

“Nope,” you shook your head. “I’m good.”

“Shake on it?” He extended his hand out to you and you let him grab onto yours, shaking each other’s hands.

“Namjoon?” A deep voice called out and Namjoon sighed heavily.

“That’s my dad,” Namjoon told you. “Should we head out there?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, standing up and waiting for Namjoon to do the same before the two of you walked back towards the front of their territory. As you did so, you couldn’t help but to Namjoon hadn’t let go of your hand the entire time.

“Ah, I see that the two of you met and are getting along!” Ho-jin announced happily.

“I’d say that we are,” Namjoon nodded as he looked down at you, and you nodded as well.

“Well, why don’t we all move into our house?” Eun Kyung suggested. “We can have dinner and get to each other more.” After receiving nods all around, the group of you began to move towards the large cluster of houses that were a few yards away from where you were currently standing. As you let Namjoon lead you, you thought that maybe all of this actually wouldn’t be so bad.

..........................................

A few days later, your time visiting Namjoon’s pack was winding down. After the first day, your father had happily told you that the negotiations between him and Namjoon’s father went off without a hitch and that the wedding could move forward immediately so the last few days of your visit had been spent planning your wedding.

“So maybe you and Namjoon can have your ceremony closer to the evening?” Eun Kyung suggested. “So that way we can move right into the reception afterwards.” You, her and your mom were currently in the dining room of Ho-jin and Eun Kyung’s house, going over some wedding details.

“That’s a good idea,” Deiji concurred.

“Yeah,” you agreed. “Having the ceremony around 5pm sounds good.”

“Great,” Eun Kyung smiled as she wrote some things down onto the notepad that was on the table in front of her. “A later ceremony will hopefully ease some of the anxiety you’ll have that day.”

“Anxiety?” You asked.

“About your wedding night,” Eun Kyung clarified and your eyes widened. “When Ho-jin and I got married, we had our ceremony in the early afternoon and I was so nervous waiting for the reception to come because I knew what was going to happen afterwards and I had never been to bed with anyone before.”

“Oh,” you murmured. Of course, you knew that it was expected that you’d have sex with Namjoon on your wedding night and if it were up to your parents and Namjoon’s parents, get pregnant immediately but you had done your best not to actually think about it.

“Anyways, I think maybe roses for the flowers,” Deiji changed the subject and you gave her a small smile in thanks.

“Oh, that would be gorgeous,” Eun Kyung gasped. “Namjoon’s grandmother actually has a garden full of red roses and I’m sure that she won’t mind us using some.”

“Actually, no roses,” you spoke up and both older women looked at you.

“I thought you liked roses, Y/N-ah,” Deiji said.

“I do, but Namjoon doesn’t,” you explained. “We agreed on magnolias instead.”

“You both agreed?” Deiji repeated and you nodded your head, making her smile. “That’s great.”

“You know, it’s so nice to see you actually trying to make the best of this whole thing Y/N,” Eun Kyung said. “I know it’s not ideal and you could be fighting this tooth and nail but the fact that you’re not says a lot about your character.”

“Thank you,” you smiled lightly.

“Alright, magnolias it is,” Eun Kyung muttered as she wrote that down onto her notepad as well. Before the conversation could continue any further though, there was a sudden knock and when you looked up, you saw Namjoon standing in the door way to the dining room.

“Hey, you all back from hunting so soon?” Eun Kyung wondered, referring to how Ho-jin, Namjoon, and Byung-hoon had decided to go off and hunt right after lunch.

“Animals weren’t really out,” Namjoon shrugged. “Dad wanted to show Pack Alpha Byung-hoon our warehouse and I decided to come back here to spend time with Y/N.”

“With me?” You echoed in awe and Namjoon nodded.

“I wanted to show you around a little more, if you’re willing,” he offered. Before answering, you looked over at your mother who immediately waved her hands at you.

“Go, go,” she encouraged you. “We’re here for another two days so we can pick this up again later. Right, Eun Kyung?”

“Absolutely,” she agreed, turning to look at Namjoon after. “Show her the river.”

“I got it Mom,” Namjoon chuckled. “Y/N?”

“Sure,” you replied before standing up, walking over to Namjoon and grabbing his outstretched hand.

“We’ll be back by dinner,” he called out to your mothers before turning around and leading you through the living room and out of the house.

“Thanks for getting me out of there,” you said as the two of you walked down the front steps and began to walk away from the cluster of houses. “All that wedding planning was starting to get to my head.”

“I figured, which is why I got out of there right after lunch,” Namjoon laughed. “But I also genuinely wanted to spend some time with you too. It feels like I haven’t had a moment alone with you since the first day you got here.”

“I think our families are making sure of that,” you pointed out. “I think they’re afraid that we may realize that we hate each other if they leave us alone together for too long.”

“I think that’s actually a great assumption,” he chuckled. “They don’t have to worry about that though, at least not on my end.”

“Mines either,” you murmured shyly. “So, where are you taking me?”

“Well, even though my mom suggested that I take you to the river, I think that there’ll be plenty of time for you to see that later,” he told you. “I actually want to show you something that I’ve been working on.”

“Cool,” you nodded as the two of you continued to walk and you noticed that he was still holding onto your hand. On their territory, there were a few different clusters of houses and Namjoon was leading you over to a different one, stopping in front of what seemed to be the largest house.

“What do you think?” Namjoon asked and you took a second to look over the outside, liking how it was painted a light brown color, had a large porch that already had a swing attached to the ceiling of it, and a large set of stairs.

“I think it’s beautiful,” you smiled. “You built this?”

“Yeah, for us,” he revealed and you looked over at him in shock. “What? I hope you didn’t think we’d be living with my parents once the wedding is over.”

“Namjoon, I don’t even know what to say,” you murmured in awe.

“Want to take a look inside?” Namjoon wondered, reaching down and pulling a set of keys out of his pocket. You nodded your head rapidly and he chuckled before leading you up the stairs and unlocking the front door. Walking inside, you let out another soft gasp as you looked around.

As soon as you walked into the front door, there was a little open space which could be used to place your shoes and jackets and then a staircase that led upstairs to the second level of the house. On your left hand side, there was an archway that lead into the dining room and kitchen and then on your right hand side, there was another archway that lead into the living room and another room that Namjoon said he planned on converting into a study. Once you went upstairs, you saw that there were a total of five bedrooms and the master bedroom was the largest and complete with an en suite as well.

“I love it,” you gushed as you turned to look at Namjoon, who was leaning up against one of the walls in what would soon be your shared bedroom.

“I thought I’d leave the decorating up to you,” he said. “That way you’ll have control over something here.”

“Good, because I already have ideas,” you grinned, deciding to throw caution to the wind and walking over to him, not waiting for him to ask what you were doing before throwing your arms around him. He hesitated for a second before hugging you back as well, and the two of you stood there for a few seconds with your arms around each other.

“I’m happy that you like it,” he whispered and you craned your neck in order to look up at him.

“I really appreciate it,” you told him.

“Anything for my future wife,” he smiled and it was when he said that that you realized how close the two of you still were. You dropped your arms from around him and stepped back, forcing him to let go of you as well. Feeling your cheeks warm up from embarrassment, you turned your back towards him and walked over towards the window to look outside.

“You know Y/N, I’ve been meaning to ask you,” Namjoon began. “Why did you agree to all of this?”

“What, marrying you?” You asked for clarification and Namjoon nodded.

“I mean, I know the basic reason why but I feel like there’s more to it than that,” he said. “A lot of packs run out of money and resources at some point but their leaders usually figure something out instead of marrying off their children in return for more resources.”

“True,” you sighed before turning to look at him over your shoulder. “Long story short, I don’t want my pack to die out just because of my father’s mismanagement. I love every member of my pack and they have all been so vital to how I grew up and how I’ve become the person that I am. If me marrying into another pack will guarantee that those people can continue to live comfortably, then I’ll do it.”

“That’s incredibly selfless,” Namjoon replied as he walked over to stand next to you.

“I guess so,” you shrugged. “But to me, I’m just repaying the people who gave me so much.”

“That’s amazing Y/N,” he muttered.

“What about you?” You reversed the question. “Why did you agree to this?”

“Well, my reasoning was a lot more selfish than yours,” he chuckled. “It’s always been my dream to lead the pack and when my father came to me a few months ago saying that he was getting ready to want to step down, I was super excited. However, it concerned him that I’m 26 and not mated to anyone yet so he made it a stipulation that I meet someone and get mated before he allows me to take over for him. Since I planned on getting married at some point in my life, that stipulation really didn’t matter to me so I agreed.”

“Ah, I guess that explains why you weren’t too keen on me wanting to run the pack with you,” you said.

“Kind of,” he shrugged. “Although, after hearing why you agreed to all of this, I have to admit that I’m reconsidering that.”

“Really?” You smiled hopefully.

“Of course, you’ll still have to get to know the pack and our ways,” he pointed out. “But I don’t think it would be the worst thing to have you by my side.”

“Great!” You exclaimed happily and Namjoon couldn’t help but to laugh from how excited you clearly were.

“Do you want to go look in the other bedrooms?” He suggested. “Maybe see what you might want to do with them?”

“Mm, we don’t have to. I don’t want to overwhelm myself,” you giggled. “Why did you make so many bedrooms anyways?”

“Well, for our future children,” he confessed and you felt your cheeks immediately become hotter.

“Oh,” you whispered.

“Is that ok?” Namjoon wondered. “I know it might’ve been a little presumptuous of me, especially since I did it before we had our conversation about what we both wanted the other day.”

“No, no, no, it’s....it’s fine,” you shrugged.

“Oh, I get it,” he smirked. “You haven’t been with anyone, have you?”

“Namjoon!” You shouted in surprise.

“You’re nervous,” he surmised.

“Can you blame me?” You scoffed. “I mean, it’s already embarrassing to have basically everyone know that I’m a virgin but knowing what’s expected of us on our wedding night....it’s nerve wrecking.”

“It’s not that big of a deal Y/N,” he shrugged.

“Aren’t you nervous?” You asked him, only to see him shake his head. “Why not?”

“Because I’ve thought about filling you with my knot since the first day that I saw you,” Namjoon confessed. “So if you let me have sex with you on our wedding night, I’d consider myself to be a very lucky man.”

“Really?” You whispered.

“Of course, but I’m not going to push you,” he told you. “If you deicide that you don’t want to, then that’s completely fine. If you do though, just know that I’ll be more willing.”

“Good to know, I guess,” you muttered, more so to yourself but Namjoon still laughed at you.

“Cute,” he smiled widely as he reached down and grabbed your hand, intertwining your fingers with his.

..........................................

A month later, your wedding day had finally come. After spending a week in Namjoon’s territory, you and your parents had traveled back to your pack’s territory where you prepared for the wedding alone. The only other time that you were able to see Namjoon had been when he and his parents decided to visit your territory in order to sign the treaty that would make the connection between your two packs official.

Fast forward to now, you were standing in the guest bedroom of Namjoon’s parents’ house, getting ready with your mom and your two best friends.

“I really wish you would’ve let me make you a more form fitting dress Y/N-ah,” Taehyung sighed as he pullzed up the zipper on the back of your dress. Your dress was pure white, with long billowing sleeves, a scooped neckline, and a loose, long skirt with a small train.

“You know that I hate tight clothing,” you pointed out. “This feels more like me.”

“And you look beautiful,” Jimin spoke up, taking a second to stick his tongue out at Taehyung.

“That you do,” Deiji grinned widely as she placed a crown of magnolias on top of your head. “You look like a dream.”

“Thanks Mommy,” you giggled. Just then, there was a sudden knock on the door.

“Everyone decent in there?” Your father called out and Jimin walked over to the door and opened it up, making your father gasp when he saw you.

“Oh Y/N-ah,” he murmured as he paced over to you, setting his hands on your cheeks. “My baby girl.”

“What do you think?” You asked him.

“I think that Namjoon is a very lucky man to be marrying such a gorgeous woman,” Byung hoon replied, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to your cheek. “You ready? There’s still time to back out and we can always figure something else out.”

“I’m not gonna do that Daddy,” you huffed with a smile, reaching out and taking the bouquet of magnolias that Taehyung was handing to you. “I’m gonna do this.”

“We can’t thank you enough,” your father murmured and you just leaned forward, giving him a kiss on the cheek as well.

“What’s done is done,” you said. “So don’t stress about it.”

“Well, let’s go get you married,” Taehyung smiled as he reached up and pulled your veil down over your face.

“Let’s,” you whispered as you wrapped your hand around your father’s arm and let him lead you out of the bedroom.

The ceremony was an unrushed affair once you met Namjoon underneath the little archway that had been placed near the large wall of magnolias where the two of you had first met. You found yourself not even paying much attention to what was happening during the ceremony and before you knew it, you were facing Namjoon as the preacher pronounced you man and wife.

It wasn’t the first time that you’d ever been kissed, but it still felt different all the same. Namjoon was so gentle as he reached out and grabbed the hem of your veil, lifting it up and over your head to reveal your face. He then placed his hands on your cheeks, cradling them as he leaned forward and kissed you softly. You found yourself kissing back on instinct, your hands reaching out and grabbing onto his suit jacket.

The reception was definitely more fun than you imagined it to be. The food was amazing and so was the music, and you couldn’t help but to smile at how everyone in your new pack danced around happily as they celebrated your marriage. You found yourself having fun as well as you allowed Eun Kyung and Ho-jin to lead you around, introducing you to some members of the pack as well as spending time with your own family and friends as well.

Now that the night was over though, you were quietly walking back to your new house with Namjoon, which had been decorated to your liking.

“Did you have fun?” Namjoon asked and you looked over at him, nodding your head.

“I did,” you smiled. “Your pack sure knows how to throw a party.”

“It’s your pack now too,” he pointed out and you hummed in reply. Once your new house came into view, Namjoon helped you walk up the front steps before pulling out his keys and unlocking the front door.

“Wait,” he said when you moved to step into the house and before you could ask what he was doing, he leant down and picked you up bridal style.

“Namjoon!” You shrieked as he carried you into the house and you reached out to shut the front door for him. He then carried you up the stairs and into your bedroom before setting you down on the ground.

“What was that?” You giggled as you looked up at him.

“Well, I couldn’t let you be deprived of a prime wedding experience,” he shrugged, making you smile. A somewhat awkward silence then settled over the two of you then and it wasn’t until then that you felt your nerves kick in. You had been successful in not thinking much about your wedding night for the past few weeks but now that the two of you were alone, it was all that you could think about.

“You know,” Namjoon spoke up suddenly. “We don’t have to do anything tonight.”

“Namjoon, we talked about this,” you replied.

“We did and I meant what I said then,” he said. “We don’t have to do anything just because people might expect us to.”

“Really?”

“Really. Plus, it’s kind of insulting if you only have sex with me because you’re expected to,” he joked, making you giggle.

“You have a point,” you smiled. “What if I said that I wanted to though, because I want to?”

“Do you remember what else I said to you when we had that conversation?” He wondered and you felt your cheeks warm up immensely as you recalled his words.

“Yes.”

“What did I say baby?”

“You said that you, uh, wanted to....uh,” you stammered and Namjoon smiled, deciding to take pity on you.

“I said that I wanted to fill you with my knot,” he finished for you. “And I still mean that.”

“You’ll be gentle?” You checked.

“Absolutely,” he stated firmly. “And I’ll go as slow as you need me to.” You knew that this was a big step, losing your virginity. However, something about Namjoon made you feel so at ease and besides, he was your husband now.

“I want to,” you announced, causing him to grin widely.

“Can I kiss you?” He requested and you nodded your head. He reached up and placed his hands on your cheeks before leaning down and pressing his lips against yours. You immediately moved closer to him, placing your hands near his waist. He then took one of his hands off of your cheek and before you could ask what he was doing, he reached up and took the crown of magnolias off your head before throwing it over his shoulder.

“Someone seems eager,” you teased.

“You have no idea,” Namjoon chuckled deeply. He kissed you again, this time much deeper as he walked you backwards towards the bed. Once you felt the edge of the bed hit the back of your knees, you pulled away from his lips and looked up at him.

“Help me take this off?” You whispered, taking a second to turn around so that your back was facing him. Without any hesitation, he reached out and pulled down the zipper on the back of your dress. The feeling of his fingertips against your skin made you shiver and when your dress dropped down to the floor in a pool around your feet, the feeling of his eyes on you made you get chills.

“Did you wear this for me?” Namjoon asked before leaning forward and pressing kisses along the curve of your shoulder, referring to the white, lace bra and panty set that you had been wearing underneath your dress.

“Maybe,” you breathed out, his lips on your skin making it hard for you to focus.

“Gorgeous. Lay down for me?” He said and you nodded before bending down and crawling onto the bed. When you flipped over to lie on your back, Namjoon was working on taking off his suit jacket and unbuttoning the white dress shirt that he had underneath.

“You still ok?” He checked in as he climbed onto the bed as well and you smiled as you reached up and wrapped your arms around his neck.

“I’m ok,” you confirmed, leaning up and kissing him again. The kiss quickly became heated, your mouth falling open as Namjoon slipped his tongue inside. He then pulled away from your mouth, moving down to press kisses to your jaw before moving down to your neck.

“Been thinking about this, about you,” he whispered against your skin and you just blushed as you looked up at the ceiling.

“About me?”

“Mmhmm,” he hummed. “Been thinking about your scent too.”

“What do I smell like to you?” You wondered, doing your best to keep your eyes trained on the ceiling as you felt him start to move down again.

“Like...pineapples and bananas,” he murmured as he grabbed the cups of your bra, pulling them down so that they sat right underneath your breasts. He then leaned down and sucked your right nipple into his mouth, making you arch your back up from the bed.

“Holy, huh,” you moaned and Namjoon chuckled at you, which automatically made you pout. “Don’t laugh at me.”

“I’m sorry,” he apologized after popping your nipple out of his mouth. “You’re just so cute.” You couldn’t find the words to say anything else because Namjoon reached underneath you and you lifted your back up so that he could take your bra off completely, and he didn’t waste any time before taking your left nipple into his mouth.

Once both of your nipples had stiffened to a peak, he moved downwards again, trailing his lips across your skin until he made it down to the line of your panties.

“Lift up for me?” Namjoon asked and slowly, you lifted your hips and waited until he had grabbed the waistband of your panties and pulled them down before lowering your body back onto the bed. Once he pulled them off of your legs and threw them off the bed, you watched as he sat his hands on your knees and looked down at you.

“Still good?” He wondered.

“Seriously, stop asking,” you giggled. “I’m nervous as hell but I want to do this so I’m good.”

“I just, you know you can tell me to stop at anytime and I will, right?”

“I know, and that’s why I want this,” you smiled. “Want you to give me a bite.”

“Fuck, ok,” he exhaled harshly. “I want to eat you out first though.”

“Ok,” you nodded and you allowed him to push your knees apart, exposing your folds to him. He laid down on the bed so that he was right in between your legs, and you let out a loud gasp when you felt his tongue make contact with your clit. He used the tip of his tongue to make slow circles around your clit and even though he wasn’t placing a lot of pressure behind it, you felt like you were going to lose your mind.

“Holy shit, that feels...good,” you huffed and you felt Namjoon hum against you as he closed his entire mouth around your clit. The feeling was almost euphoric, and you couldn’t believe that you had been missing out on this for the last few years since you presented as an Omega.

“I’m gonna give you a finger ok?” Namjoon spoke up after taking his mouth off of you and you nodded, wincing lightly when he began to push his pointer finger inside of you. He then began to slowly pump the digit in and out of you, which made you moan lightly.

“Feels good?” He asked.

“Yeah. Weird but good,” you told him.

“Good,” he smirked. “You’re getting wet.”

“Don’t say that,” you groaned.

“Why not? It’s a good thing,” he shrugged. “It’ll make it easier for you to take my knot.”

“You’re insufferable.”

“Good thing you’re stuck with me,” he smiled before leaning down and taking your clit back into his mouth. As he fingered and licked you simultaneously, you found it a little harder to breathe because of the pleasure that was building in the pit of your stomach.

“Wait, wait, wait, wait,” you hissed when he tried to ease his middle finger inside of you.

“It’s ok baby, we just gotta get you stretched out a little bit,” he whispered and you just decided to be quiet and let him do it. Admittedly, you admired how much time he was taking making sure that you were properly ready and it made your heart soften because you had never had a man (other than your father) be so gentle with you.

“Namjoon, I-I think I’m going to come,” you whimpered and Namjoon took his mouth off of your clit for a few seconds.

“Go ahead baby,” he encouraged you before placing his mouth back on you. Sure enough, it didn’t take much longer before your body seized up, your orgasm washing over you. Namjoon continued to stroke you through it and by the time that it passed, you were reaching down and pushing him away from you.

“Holy shit, that felt good,” you giggled, making Namjoon laugh as well.

“That’s good,” He replied as he sat up onto his knees. When your eyes trailed downwards, they widened a little at the sight of the bulge in his pants.

“Should I, um,” you stammered as you motioned towards his pants and he looked down, chuckling before looking back up at you.

“You don’t have to and besides, seeing you come turned me on and I doubt I’d last,” he admitted.

“Oh, ok,” you smiled shyly. He then pulled off the dress shirt that he had on, letting it fall onto the floor before moving onto his slacks, unbuttoning and unzipping them before pulling them down. He pushed them, along with his underwear, down his legs and your jaw dropped a little from the sight of his cock.

You didn’t know what you expected, but you definitely didn’t expect his cock to be so thick and long. You had to admit, actually seeing it made you even more nervous.

“Hey,” Namjoon called out and you looked up at him. “It’ll be ok. I’m still going to go slow.”

“O-Ok,” you whispered as he climbed between your legs. He reached out with two fingers and gathered some of your slickness from your orgasm before using it to lubricate his cock.

“Ready?” He questioned as he positioned his cock right in front of your entrance and once you nodded, he slowly began to push into you. The stinging pain hit you immediately and you yelped out loud, reaching up and clutching onto Namjoon’s forearms. “Y/N?”

“Hurts,” you muttered through grit teeth.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized, bending down and pressing a kiss to your forehead. He didn’t try to push any further, he waited until you gave him a small nod before pressing his hips forward again. You were almost ready to tell him to forget the entire thing as the stinging pain seemed to become worse the more he pushed into you. Before you knew it though, he had bottomed out and was looking down at you intensely.

“What?” You asked him.

“You just, you look so beautiful,” he complimented you.

“Are you just saying that because you’re inside of me right now?” You joked.

“I mean it,” he laughed.

“Well, thank you,” you responded and he leaned down to kiss you again. He then slowly pulled his hips back before pushing back in, which caused you to let out a stuttered moan into his mouth. The pain was still thee but as he began to fuck you, it slowly went away and was replaced by what was probably the greatest pleasure that you had ever felt in your life up to that point.

“So tight baby,” Namjoon grunted after he pulled away from the kiss.

“F-feels so full,” you whimpered.

“Good. I’m gonna fill you even more with my knot,” he said gruffly as he looked down at you. “You want that?”

“Yes.”

“Say it,” he instructed you.

“I-I want your.....k-knot,” you stuttered and he literally groaned at your words. He began to fuck you a little faster, making you grip onto him and wrap your legs around his waist.

“Been thinking about this,” he moaned. “Been thinking about how good you would feel wrapped around my cock.”

“Me t-too,” you confessed.

“Fuck, you’ve been thinking about me baby?”

“Yeah,” you nodded. “Since you told me that you wanted to...fill me with your, uh, knot. Thought about you calling me baby too.”

“You like it?” He smiled.

“Love it.”

“Then I’ll call you that as often as I can,” he promised. He continued to fuck you, and you realized that you were feeling the same buildup of pressure that you did when he was fingering you.

“I-I’m gonna come Namjoon,” you announced breathily and he sighed.

“Thank god,” he huffed as he began to thrust into you both faster and harder, and your grip on him became so tight that you were sure you’d leave marks on his skin. “I wanna knot you so fucking bad.”

“Do it,” you encouraged him. “Want you to bite me too.”

“Come first,” he shot back as he focused all of his energy into making sure that you did so. After a few more thrusts, you were coming right onto his cock, your essence covering more of his cock every time that he pulled it out and then pushed it right back in.

“Ready for a bite?” He asked and you nodded your head numbly. Leaning down, he stuck his face in your neck and began to suck on the skin there. As soon as you released a moan at the feeling, you felt his teeth sink in.

You had heard a lot about mating bites and how it would feel when you finally received one, but you could truthfully say that the feeling was indescribable. You truly felt like you were now connected to Namjoon in a way that you had never been connected with any one before and the feeling was almost so overwhelming that you almost didn’t recognize that Namjoon’s knot was pushing its’ way inside of you.

“God damn,” Namjoon groaned deeply as his knot fully popped into you, and you gasped when you felt his cum pouring into you right after. You leaned up and after finding the perfect spot, you sunk your teeth into his neck as well, giving him a mating bite too.

Namjoon collapsed on top of you and the two of you stayed like that for a while, at least 15 minutes, basking in the after glow of your new matching mating bites.

“No offense or anything,” you spoke up. “But you’re heavy and it’s hot in here.”

“Some offense taken,” he laughed as he lifted himself off of you. “My knot has gone down but it’s gonna hurt when I pull out.”

“Go slow, ok?” You requested and he nodded, looking down in between your legs and slowly pulling out of you. It did hurt a little and you even winced a little bit, but it wasn’t that bad all in all.

“Y/N-ah?” He called as he laid down next to you and you gently turned over onto your side to face him.

“What happened to baby?” You simpered with a teasing smile, making him chuckle.

“I’m still gonna call you that,” he assured you. “But I wanted to talk to you seriously.”

“Ok, shoot,” you shrugged.

“I know that you didn’t necessarily choose all of this and neither did I, but I don’t want you to worry,” he began. “I take this marriage and this relationship just as seriously as if we met in the conventional sense and I really mean it when I say that I can see myself falling in love with you.”

“Really?”

“Really,” he smiled. “Even though we haven’t known each other long, I can already tell that you’re kind, selfless, loving, and the most gorgeous woman that I’ve ever met in my life. I’d only be so lucky if you fell in love with me.”

“Well, I think that I can fall in love with you too,” you confessed, making him grin widely. “And I hope that I do.”

#BAspringwillcome #bangtanarmynet #bts #bts namjoon #bts rm #abo bts #namjoon x reader #rm x reader #namjoon smut #namjoon fluff #namjoon angst #rm smut #rm angst #rm fluff #bts x reader #bts smut #bts fluff #bts angst

802 notes · View notes

translations-by-aiimee · 3 years ago

Text

The Husky and His White Cat Shizun - Chapter 22

Original Title: 二哈和他的白猫师尊

Genres: Drama, Romance, Tragedy, Xianxia, Yaoi

This translation is based on multiple MTLs and my own limited knowledge of Chinese characters. If I have made any egregious mistakes, please let me know.

Chapter Index

Chapter 22 - This Venerable One's Shizun is Getting Angry

When Chu Wanning heard this, he was so angry that he could barely keep himself from retracting Tianwen and slashing the Chen couple. But he couldn't open his eyes to confront them. Once he opened his eyes, the barrier would be broken. The Return to Truth barrier could only trap a ghost once. If his interrogation was interrupted, he wouldn't be able to listen to any more of Luo Xianxian's story.

All he could do was contain his overwhelming rage and continue listening to Luo Xianxian.

After she died, her soul entered the underworld, unaware and confused.

The only thing that she could make out was a woman wearing red and green robes with facial features that resembled the Master of Ceremonies Ghost enshrined in a temple. The Master of Ceremonies Ghost stood in front of her and asked her in a soft voice: "You and Chen Bohuan couldn't share a bed in life. Would you like to share the same grave in death?"

She hurriedly agreed: "Yes. . . Yes please!"

"Then I can let him come join you right away. What do you think?"

Luo Xianxian wanted to blurt out a yes, rushing to agree, but suddenly remembered something and froze. "Am I dead?"

"Yes. I am the Master of the Underworld Ghost. I can give you the destiny you deserve and fulfill your long-cherished wish."

Luo Xianxian was startled: "Then, if he comes to join me, will he. . . also die?"

"Yes. However, if loves persists in the afterlife, life and death are irrelevant. What difference does it make?"

Chu Wanning heard this, he thought to himself that he had been right; this Master of Ceremonies Ghost would persuade others to make a wish so that she could reap the benefits. This immortal was truly diabolical.

Although Luo Xianxian died unjustly, she hadn't yet become a malevolent ghost, so she repeatedly shook his head: "No. It wasn't his fault. You can't kill him."

The Master of Ceremonies Ghost smiled compassionately: "And what did you get in return for this kindness?" It didn't force Luo Xianxian to do anything. As an immortal being, they could persuade someone to make a bad wish, but they couldn't force them. Its figure gradually faded away, its voice becoming hazier and hazier.

"Return to the world in seven days. During those seven days, go and see how the Chen family is faring. After that, I'll ask you again if you still have no regrets about your decision."

Seven days later, the day arrived.

Luo Xianxian's soul returned to a conscious form and returned to the world of the living.

Following the old road, she eagerly walked towards the Chen house to see her husband for the last time.

Unexpectedly, the Chen house was decorated with lights, and outside the courtyard, there were fireworks. Bridal flowers were decorating the halls. and a big "double happiness" banner was hanging in front of the main hall. Madam Chen was radiant, not appearing sickly in the slightest. She was smiling and instructing the servants to wrap the bouquets with red silk.

Who. . . was having a wedding?

Who. . . were the bride and groom?

Who. . . no one was engaged, what was going on?

Who. . .

She walked through the busy crowd, listening to the sound of people in the world of the living.

"Congratulations, Madam Chen. Your son is getting engaged to the daughter of the county magistrate. When's the wedding?"

"Madam Chen, you're so fortunate."

"Yao Qianjin is truly the lucky star of the Chen family and they aren't even official yet. Madam Chen, you look so much healthier already."

"Your son and Yao Qianjin are a match made in heaven. I'm so jealous, hahahaha."

Her son. . . Her son. . .

Which son?

Which one was marrying the daughter of the Yao family?

She shuttled back and forth across the familiar front yard, growing more and more frantic, looking for that familiar figure in the midst of all the laughter.

Then she found him.

In front of the peony flowers in the back hall, Chen Bohuan stood with his hands behind his back with a haggard face and sunken cheeks. However, he was dressed in red. Even though it wasn't a traditional wedding outfit, it was a Caidie Town custom. When a prospective son-in-law comes to propose marriage, he should wear this type of red gown.

Was he. . . going to propose. . .?

The decorations in the whole house, the strings of gold and silver beads, was it all. . . was it all from Chen Bohuan, her husband, as a dowry for the daughter of the Yao family?

She suddenly recalled the time when they got married.

There was nothing but two people that shared one heart - nothing else.

There was no master of ceremonies, no bridesmaids, and no dowry. The Chen family weren't wealthy at that time and didn't even own a decent set of jewelry. He went into the yard and picked a delicate orange blossom from under the orange tree they had planted together and carefully tucked it behind her ear.

She asked him: "Does it look good?"

He said it looked beautiful. After a moment of silence, he stroked her hair with some sadness and told her: "You deserve so much better than this."

Luo Xianxian smiled and pursed his lips, saying that it didn't matter.

Chen Bohuan told her that when he married her three years later, he would hold a lively wedding banquet. He would invite people from all over the world. He would have her make a grand entrance on a large sedan chair. He would give her gold and silver to wear, and the dowry gifts would fill the entire main hall.

Those vows still echoed in her ears. Now, all those promises have come true, the hall filled with gifts and guests.

He was getting married, just not to her.

A monstrous flame of anger and sorrow surged through her. Luo Xianxian screamed, trying to tear at the hanging red silk in the room.

But she was a ghost; she couldn't touch anything.

Chen Bohuan seemed to vaguely notice something. He turned around, staring at the silk moving despite there being no wind. His eyes were dull and hollow.

His little sister came over, a white jade hairpin clipped on the side of her bun. She didn't know who she was secretly mourning by wearing it.

She said: "Big brother, go to the kitchen to eat something. You haven't had a proper meal in days. You have to hurry up and go to the county magistrate's house later to propose. Your body won't hold up."

Chen Bohuan suddenly asked without thinking: "Sister, did you hear someone crying?"

". . . What? No, brother, I think you're still. . ." She gritted her teeth and didn't finish her thought. Chen Bohuan still stared at the fluttering silk sheets.

"How is my mother? Is she happy? Has her illness been cured?"

". . . Brother."

". . . I'm glad she's feeling better." Chen Bohuan stood there, muttering to himself. "I already lost Luo Xianxian, I couldn't live without my mother."

"Brother, go eat something. . ."

Luo Xianxian wailed. She yelled and bawled with her head in her hands.

Don't go. . . don't go. . . please don't go. . .

Chen Bohuan said: ". . . Alright."

The tired figure disappeared around the corner.

Luo Xianxian stood alone in a daze, large tears rolling down her face. Suddenly, she heard the brothers of the Chen family who killed her approaching. The second eldest brother and the younger brother were whispering to each other.

"Mother is finally happy. Finally, things are going our way."

"Right? She pretended to be sick for half and year. Now that that cursed bitch is gone, how could she not be thrilled?"

The younger brother tsked and said, "How come she died? We wanted to force her out, not kill her. Was she really so stupid that she couldn't even find someone to help her?"

"Who knows. She was weak, just like her rotten father. It's not our fault that she died. Even though mother pretended to be sick to get rid of her, our family has its own struggles. Think about it, when the options county magistrate’s daughter and some pauper girl, only a fool would choose the latter. Besides, even if Yao Qianjin is a brat, she's got enough money to go around."

"Yes, she's so dumb. She didn't want to live so she let herself freeze to death. No one could've saved her."

The words drifted to her ears.

After Luo Xianxian died, she finally understood the so-called "Divine Fate". She was completely broke and couldn't compare to the county magistrate's daughter who was so noble and honourable.

Only a fool would choose the pauper girl.

She finally snapped.

She returned to the Master of Ceremonies' temple full of hatred and resentment.

She died there. Unlike how weak and helpless she was when she died, she returned with overwhelming hostility.

She used to be such a kind person, but now, all the hatred and evil that had been built inside her while she was alive came flooding out. She roared, her eyes turning red, her soul trembling.

She said: "I, Luo Xianxian, would like to give up my soul and follow the path of wickedness. I only ask you to avenge me! I want the Chen family - I don't want you to kill them!!! I want. . . I want to let my beastly mother-in-law kill her sons by her own hand! All her sons!!! I want Chen Bohuan to go to hell with me!!! Let him be buried with me!!! Do it for me!!! I hate them! I hate them!!!!"

The eyes of the clay sculpture on the shrine shifted and the corners of its mouth slowly raised.

A hollow voice echoed through the temple.

"I have heard your prayers. It will be as you wish. As an evil spirit - kill all those that you resent -"

A piercing blood-red light flashed, and Luo Xianxian couldn't remember anything after that.

However, Chu Wanning already what happened next. After that, the Master of Ceremonies Ghost manipulated Luo Xianxian's spirit to possess Madam Chen and force her to kill each member of the Chen family.

The red coffin on the top of the mountain, the reason why Chen Bohuan was dug up, naturally, was because the Master of Ceremonies Ghost was fulfilling Luo Xianxian's greatest wish - "Let Chen Bohuan and I be buried together." Moreover, it deliberately placed the coffin on the property of Chen Bohuan and his new wife as an act of spiteful revenge.

As for the floral scent in Chen Bohuan's coffin, it was the scent of the butterfly fragrance powder that Luo Xianxian had worn before her death. The resentment and fragrance in the coffin were both extremely strong because Luo Xianxian's soul was resting alongside Chen Bohuan inside it.

Luo Xianxian had no family. According to the customs, if a person like that dies, their bones should be cremated instead of buried. Therefore, she had no physical body and could only be contained within the coffin by the Master of Ceremonies Ghost. That's why, when Chu Wanning opened the coffin with his willow vine, Luo Xianxian had escaped the coffin's containment. Her soul flew away, and it was difficult to recapture. It was a situation of "a closed coffin being heavy with resentment but an open coffin being light".

But during the illusion, why did other people have dead bodies as their partners but Chen Bohuan only had a paper-mache ghost bride?

Chu Wanning thought for a moment and figured out this much:

The Master of Ceremonies Ghost didn't break its promise. The paper-mache bride was the "physical body" that it gave Luo Xianxian. It was a vessel so that Luo Xianxian could be buried with Chen Bohuan.

Everything was clear.

Chu Wanning looked at the weak and helpless girl in the barrier. He wanted to say something but didn't know what to say.

Elder Yuheng wasn't particularly good at comforting words. He couldn't think of anything, so he stayed silent, not having anything he could say.

The girl stood in the vast darkness with her soft round eyes open.

Chu Wanning looked at her eyes and couldn't bear it. He wanted to leave. He didn't want to take another look. He was about to open his eyes and leave the Return to Truth barrier.

Then the girl suddenly spoke.

"Lord Yama. I. . . I have something else I want to tell you."

Chu Wanning: ". . . Alright."

The girl suddenly lowered her head, covered her eyes, and cried. She said softly, "Lord Yama, I don't know what I did after that. But, I. . . I really didn't want to kill my husband. I didn't want to be an evil spirit. I really. . ."

"I didn't steal the oranges. I really am Chen Bohuan's wife. And I truly, truly didn't want to hurt anyone either."

"I truly didn't want anyone to get hurt. Please believe me."

Her voice choked and trembled, her words breaking.

"I. . . didn't lie. . ."

I didn't lie.

Why is it that, in this life, almost no one believed me?

She sobbed and screamed. Chu Wanning's voice sounded low in the darkness. He didn't say much, but he said it with conviction.

"Okay."

Luo Xianxian was shocked.

Chu Wanning said: "I believe you."

Luo Xianxian wiped her tears with her hands indiscriminately but couldn't hold them back. Hiding her tearful face, she lowered her head and bowed her head in his direction in the darkness.

Chu Wanning opened his eyes.

After he opened his eyes, he didn't say anything.

Time in the barrier wasn't the same as in reality. He had stayed there for a long time but, for the people waiting outside, it had only been a moment. Mo Ran hadn't returned yet. The few remaining people in the Chen family were still looking at him with bated breath.

Chu Wanning withdrew Tianwen and said to Madam Chen: "I'll avenge you. You can find peace."

Madam Chen froze and opened her blood-red eyes, and suddenly fell to the ground with a thud, knocked out cold.

Chu Wanning raised his head again. His eyes swept across Chen's face then landed on the youngest son. His voice didn't waver, and it was still frighteningly cold.

"I'll ask one last time." He said each word slowly and decisively. "Did you really not recognize whose voice that was?"

Previous Chapter Next Chapter

#2ha novel #2ha translation #2ha #the husky and his white cat shizun translation #the husky and his white cat shizun #chinese bl #chinese novel #english translation #bl novel #danmei novel #danmei #mo ran #chu wanning #ranwan

157 notes · View notes

hellotvshowtrash · 4 years ago

Text

Life of Crime

Crime Boss!Elijah Mikaelson x Reader

TW: Mikaelson Crime Family AU, drug trafficking, the beginnings of human trafficking, murder, deceit, major character death, Elijah’s downward spiral.

Word count: 1.7k

This is my entry for the March 2021 prompt challenge!!! Reblog/like if you enjoyed!

Prompt: “This plan of yours is going to get us killed. Of course I’m in.”

Huge thank you to @dumble-daddy for being my beta for this. I really appreciate you ❤️

Thank you to @mikaelson-emma for letting me use your beautiful moodboard!!! It fits this fic perfectly imo ❤️

She sat nervously across from Elijah as he sipped his bourbon, his dark eyes boring through her as she agonized over the silence.

“That’s your plan?” He finally asked.

“Simple as that,” Y/N replied, shrugging. Her leg bounced as he processed the plan she’d given him, his eyes traveling to the window at the side of the room. She eyed the newspaper on his desk, headlined “Four More Girls Missing From The New Orleans Area”. Her stomach dropped.

“I wouldn’t call it ‘simple’ by any means. Dangerous, maybe.” His face was stoic as he thought it over. She moved her gaze to him and let it wander down his form, past the scar on his chin and down to the bruised knuckles that grasped his glass, the ring he wore on his middle finger shone as it caught the light. She recognized the Mikaelson Family crest engraved onto the silver as he set the glass down, distracting her from her thoughts about just what those hands could do and what they have done. “The Crescent Gang is small, but has proved to be a nuisance.”

Her eyes moved back up to him, skimming over his lips, back up to the dark umber of his eyes. He was watching her again, and she inhaled sharply as she realized he’d watched her scan him. The ghost of a smile passed over his lips before he sighed and pushed himself out of his chair, standing before her. She rose quickly out of respect for her employer.

“You’re my most trusted employee.” He began to walk around the desk and she turned her body to continue facing him. She stood with her hands at her sides, her face professionally blank as she nodded. He moved in front of her, the side of his leg pressing against the front of the desk. “And I trust you,” he traced his fingers up her arm, sending electrifying chills through her.

She swallowed roughly at the proximity—he was just in front of her now, and she could feel his breath on her face. He reached his hand up and cupped her cheek in his palm, gently pulling her in to kiss her. Her eyes fluttered shut and the rigidity in her spine fled as she melted into him, her arm stretched so she could intertwine her fingers in the hair on the nape of his neck. The other gripped onto his suit sleeve tightly.

He chuckled and pulled away. “This plan of yours is going to get us killed. Of course I’m in. But more importantly, we’ll be rid of the Crescent Gang after this.” He took a step backward, pulling himself away from his lover.

She gulped and nodded, suddenly hesitant about the whole ordeal. “I’ll get prepared,” she said, turning to exit his office. He watched her walk away, taking a swig of his bourbon as she exited.

Once she was far enough down the hall from him, she checked over her shoulder and pulled out her phone. She dialed a number and held the ringer to her ear. She waited to hear the female voice answer with a “Did he agree?”.

��The plan is a go,” she muttered into the phone as tears stung in her eyes. She hung up and made her way to the rendezvous point.

—

Elijah waltzed into the docking area, his fingers toying with the ring occupying his middle finger. He whistled lightly as his footsteps echoed through the chambers. He thought of the plan Y/N had told him, exhausted every option that could go wrong and he could think of no holes in her precariously prepared idea. He had all the confidence in the world in her. He shook his head as his thoughts drifted to her, her eyes, her hair, her body - no, he had more important things to think about right now. He turned past the next shipping container and found two figures standing, waiting for his arrival.

“Finally you show up,” the woman quipped. She stood tall and proud, fists at her side. She had prominent cheekbones, dark hair and her fierce eyes were rimmed with dark eyeliner. She wore a leather jacket and dark jeans, with boots rising to her mid-calf. Quite the looker, Elijah thought. Beside her stood a taller man, with tousled dark hair and a matching beard, wearing a green flannel shirt, jeans and steel-toed boots.

“Hayley and Jackson, I presume?” Elijah asked, nonchalantly. He let his hands fall to his sides, tucking them into his pockets. His pristine suit and hair threw them off, he presented himself so well, they never would have guessed the mess that lay inside.

“Obviously,” the woman rolled her eyes and the man looked at her and put his hand out.

“Calm down, Hayley. Elijah, we just want to talk.” Jackson said, taking a step toward Elijah.

Elijah smiled stiffly. “Fine. Let’s talk,” he said, “You’ve been interfering with my business,” he pursed his lips.

“We just want in. You’re taking over the entire trade.” Jackson said.

“Drug smuggling is not a joint operation,” Elijah snapped. “If you want ‘in’ as you say, you come in under my employ, not by trying to compete,” he chuckled dryly.

“We don’t want to be employed by you, we’ve seen how quickly you’re willing to turn on your employees, your own family,” Hayley interjected, “You didn’t want to compete for head of household, so you got rid of your older brother Finn.”

Elijah glared at her, “He had no idea what he was getting into, the business was rightfully mine anyway,” he snarled. Elijah was losing his carefully crafted composure, quickly. How could they have known about Finn? “It’s not like my father was doing us any favours, either, leaving the company to him.” He was running his mouth and this would not end well for him.

Hayley looked at him in horror, “Did you kill your own father, as well?” she asked.

Elijah was beginning to crumble as his mind circled back to Y/N’s plan. She must be waiting for just the right time. He tried to bring his composure back, running a hand through his finely gelled hair, causing strands to fall loose. He plastered a pleasant smile on his face. “Why would you think that? My father died of natural causes. Not that I need to prove anything to you,” he said calmly. Hayley’s face remained horrified, while Jackson shook his head slightly.

“You’re an even bigger monster than I took you for,” Jackson said. The words echoed through the docking area, bouncing off of the walls of giant storage containers. Y/N listened from behind a container, hidden from sight. A tear fell down her cheek. The man she loved was surely using her to expand his own empire—nothing and no one would get in his way. She peered around the container, seeing Elijah’s back to her. Hayley and Jackson were starting to falter, they hadn’t expected such a revelation.

Elijah’s eyes and grin widened, quite frankly scaring Hayley. “You don’t even know half of it,” Elijah said quietly. He seethed at the two before him. They didn’t know him, they didn’t know the extent of what he would do, what he had done for his family, for his business. “The Mikaelson business is only just beginning.”

Jackson took another step toward Elijah, holding his hand up to try to calm him down. Elijah chuckled at the attempt. “Don’t try me, Mr. Kenner.” Jackson stopped in his tracks at the use of his surname. His eyes darkened as he looked at Elijah. “Don’t think I don’t know all about your daughter, Hope, is it?” Elijah snickered at their scared faces, his threat lingering underneath his words. Y/N shook her head, she couldn’t bear to let this continue any longer.

She stepped out from behind the shipping container, raising her pistol to Elijah’s back and firing a shot into his left shoulder, causing him to grunt and pivot, turning to face her. Shock covered his face as he saw her, his eyebrows furrowing. Before he had time to ask any questions, she fired another shot into his abdomen.

A sob broke free from her lips as the red stain blossomed on his white undershirt, his hands cradling the wound as he fell backward. He gasped for air as pain engulfed him and he wondered if this is how Finn felt. Hurt. Betrayed. Confused. Y/N lowered her weapon and rushed toward him, tears staining her cheeks as she watched him pale.

“Why?” he croaked, his voice already fading. She lowered herself to her knees next to him as she sobbed.

“Those girls. They’re missing because of you. Trafficked and for what? More money? As if you need it,” she growled through her tears. The man before her was different, horrible and inhuman, changed from the man she knew. He smiled humourlessly and she gulped, wiping her face as she looked down at him. “You were right. My plan was to get you killed.”

His body shook as he exhaled his last breath, his eyes glossing over. She clenched her jaw and stood from him turning to look at Hayley and Jackson. They nodded at her. She turned and walked away from the body of her lover.

—

The Mikaelson Family business came crashing down as all of the siblings died mysterious deaths. Elijah was murdered in a warehouse by the riverbanks of the Mississippi. Klaus was unlucky and ‘choked’ on his dinner while out entertaining business partners. Kol was involved in a mugging gone wrong and Rebekah mysteriously died in her sleep. Freya’s body was found hanging in the attic of the Mikaelson Estate.

Law enforcement wasn’t asking questions about these deaths, though. Police Chief Gerard saw this as a great favour to the city of New Orleans as the missing girls began to come home to their families. Jackson and Hayley hugged Hope a bit tighter that night. Y/N drank herself into a stupor at Rousseau’s, which she assumed would also be closing up shop for good as it was a known point of contact for the Mikaelson drug trade. The ‘gang’ known as the Crescent Wolves were revealed to be a movement for trafficking survivors, helping free those in need across the country, holding fundraisers and rides for awareness.

Y/N attended the funerals for all the Mikaelson siblings, not in mourning but in closure. The family that unleashed hell on her city got what they deserved.

Taglist: @elijahs-wife @dumble-daddy @alwaysfangirlingish @akshi8278 @nikmikaelsonswife @njeancastro316 @mikaelson-emma

Elijah, Kol and Klaus only: @malfoys-demigod

Send me an ask to let me know if you want to be taken off/added onto my taglist!

#march2021promptchallenge #the originals #elijah mikaelson #elijah mikaelson x reader #Elijah Mikaelson AU #the originals AU #crime family AU #crime boss AU #I’m so hyped for this tbh #queued bc i wanna post it ASAP lol

114 notes · View notes

chalkrevelations · 4 years ago

Text

SO, Episode 28 of Word of Honor was a roller-coaster ride.

(Spoilers, as ever, so scroll away and come back later if you want to see it unspoiled.)

They managed two entirely separate scenes in this one that had me going “Did … did that just happen? Is this really happening?” Let’s get this one out of the way first: The scene of Zhao Jing in his serial killer lair with the altar and memorial tablets and his serial killer trophies. Y’all. I swear, scene opens with a shot from behind of drunk Awful Yifu in his Fantasy Ancient China underwear staggering through a set of doors into a room with candles and draperies, and before I was able to register the rest of the set design, my brain gave a terrified squeak and started rabbiting around like, “Oh my god, please do not let this be Xie’er’s bedroom. Oh my god, they wouldn’t actually go there, not even hinted, surely that would be too far!” Then my eyeballs caught up and registered the set, so I thought I was safe, but that didn’t even turn out to be the moment in the scene that had me going “Is this really happening?” (Although I do think the fact my brain immediately jumped to that scenario speaks to the creepy vibe the show has managed to build between Awful Yifu and Xie Wang). So, Zhao Jing is a sloppy drunk and absolutely shitfaced, stumbling around and yelling at his dead brothers, and I’m sitting here watching him, feeling like I need a shower, with my skin a little bit trying to crawl off my body, and then he picks up Rong Xuan’s memorial tablet and pours an entire stream of alcohol out of the pitcher all over it, and I say, out loud, to the screen, “Oh my god, they just had him figuratively piss on that tablet.” Only, no, they didn’t, because there was no need to have him do it figuratively because then, he literally whips it out of his pants and takes a piss on the tablet, complete with sound effects, and I’m open-mouthed, thinking “Is this really happening?” As some background, I grew up in mainstream U.S. culture where ancestor veneration isn’t formally practiced - although it isn’t an entirely absent part of our cultural mythos, it’s just that now when I when I offer cultus to the Patres Patriae, it’s deliberate and intentional – but I’ve been doing ancestor work in my particular flavor of polytheism for long enough, and intensely enough, that I had a visceral reaction of disgust and horror to this. Hand literally clapped over my mouth in shock, even after watching all of his ranting at his dead brothers and spitting at his dead shifu and just generally being a disrespectful asshole with delusions of grandeur building up to it. So, yes, show, you have indeed convinced me that Awful Yifu is the worst, even in an episode that also devoted that much screentime to Prince Jin.

Fortunately, the other “Is this really happening?” moment was at the other end of the spectrum, somewhere in the face of how married Zhou Zishu and Wen Kexing are, which I cannot believe passed censorship. I know I keep saying that, but every time I think I’ve adjusted to how far they’re going to go, the show laughs gay-ly as it pushes the envelope another mile down the road. Truly, this show is the gift that keeps on giving where these two are concerned, and not just because of Zhang Zhehan’s face. I realize I had to spend 50 episodes deciphering Lan Wangji’s smallest microexpression (not that I’m complaining), but I can’t believe how expressive both Zhang Zhehan and Gong Jun are in these roles, with Gong Jun’s little sadness eyebrows when WKX wants ZZS to humor him, and how soft Zhang Zhehan’s face gets when ZZS looks at WKX, and how great they both are at making all this look like a pair of adults who are in an established relationship and confident of each other. I’d be as weak as Wen Kexing if Zhou Zishu pouted at me the way he does when he tells Chengling that he can’t do anything to help decorate the Manor except observe and direct because he’s oh, so injured and frail, poor him. Wen Kexing can laugh at Zhou Zishu when ZZS pokes at him by saying the papercrafter was such a beauty! (Compare this to his reaction back in the day, when ZZS deftly manipulated him out of bringing A-Xiang along on their honeymoon adventures by calling her a beauty and implying she might draw attention away from WKX!) Wen Kexing waves kitchen knives at Zhou Zishu in (somewhat fond) exasperation! Zhou Zishu now accepts Wen Kexing piling his plate with food at the table as perfectly normal! There’s no crying in Spring Festival! They send their kid outside to watch the fireworks so they can have sex some alone time! (Merciless killers. How the fuck so adorable?) Someone must have backed up an entire truckful of money to the house of someone very important to get this aired, because what is the heterosexual explanation for … any of this?

Other thoughts:

We continue to get small things that maintain the parallels between Wen Kexing/Zhou Zishou and Gu Xiang/Cao Weining, including the mirrored theme of finding a home with a welcoming family, shown through family dinner, and expressed through WKX’s description of his former self as a “lonely ghost,” echoing A-Xiang’s self-description (to Shen Shen in an earlier ep) the same way.

HAN YING! Listen, I am stupidly attached to this bit player, and not just because he’s a familiar face (because half of Wen Xu’s screentime in The Untamed was just a disembodied head hanging at the entrance to the Unclean Realm, so it’s not like there was time to get … attached). And I say stupidly attached because ever since we first saw the way he looked at ZZS with big puppy heart-eyes, I knew he was going to be a goner. I just know they’re gonna fridge him for the next step in ZZS’s journey, because something has to pry ZZS out of Four Seasons Manor, as much as I, personally, would like nothing better than to see 8 more episodes of wedded bliss for two gay dads and their son. (OK, one thing I would like better would be if their daughter and son-in-law came to live with them, too.) At least it looks like Han Ying will get to die taking a figurative bullet for ZZS, which will make him happy and might prevent him from finding out the Glazed Armor he’s so proud of bringing is actually pointless, because don’t think that didn’t hurt to know while I watched him being so proud of managing to get his hands on it. But I’d prefer he didn’t die at all, show. Also, why on earth are there only two (completed) stories under the ZZS/Han Ying label on AO3? Because yes, I have looked. I have the search open in another tab right now. Why haven’t more people taken advantage of this guy’s utter devotion for ZZS? How are people looking at the way Han Ying reverently brushes his fingers over the single white blossom on the wall mural in ZZS’s rooms back in Prince Jin’s palace and not falling all over that?

Xie’er, oh, Xie’er. You’re killing me, here. I need someone to rescue you, you desperate affection-starved little sociopath. So, to recap, last time we met, your Awful Yifu finally let it slip that he was never ever going to acknowledge your existence in public. So now, you’re being a very clever boy, setting up a scheme to manipulate him into having to publicly acknowledge you if he’s going to claim credit for your successes (because I’m sure you can’t even contemplate failure) in service to Prince Jin. So clever, but I hate to tell you, you’re clever at everything except learning from your mistakes when it comes to your Awful Yifu. You really learned nothing from Beauty Ghost, did you? Ugh, your sad little face as you watch your hot mess of an Awful Yifu while you wait for the maids to make tea – it hurts me. Please tell me you’re playing some kind of long game, and you’re just a really great actor. Because he’s sloppy drunk, and right now, watching your face journey, I think maybe you think that makes what he’s saying true – that he’s not guarding his words, and he means it when he tells you that of course he loves you and would never leave you. “Are you still angry with me?” Awful Yifu literally asks. “Alright, I’ll apologize. I was just mad. It didn’t mean anything. We’re together in this. I’ll always stand by you.” Xie’er, you have got to stop believing gaslighting abusive men who shovel that BS. This is what they call the honeymoon period in the cycle of abuse. Seriously. This is textbook. Please stop making the same mistakes over and over again. Maybe think about the fact that your Awful Yifu is, single-handedly, the reason the Department of the Unfaithful actually exists in the first place. He is THAT AWFUL. I would like to think actually seeing his serial killer trophy room will make a difference, now that you have some confirmation of what Tragicomic Ghost told you and not the ability to wave it off as part of some he-said, she-said situation where how could we ever possibly know the truth, despite the fact that Zhao Jing has shown he’ll stab anyone in the back in his quest for power? But, then, I also thought maybe learning last ep that he never planned to publicly acknowledge you would make some kind of difference. Are you going to roll the dice again, gambler? Because I’ll tell you right now, the house always wins. (Not that you’d listen to me anymore than you listened to Beauty Ghost.)

(Also, wait wait waitwaitwait. Waitaminit. This is pure speculation and probably way too out there to be true (oh, but, someone’s going to write this AU for me, right?) Hot-mess drunk yifu tells Xie’er that they’ve been depending on each other “ever since I picked you up and brought you back home.” I can’t remember if we know anything about Xie Wang’s background at this point, but it does sound like Zhao Jing might have literally yoinked him off the street to raise him. He … he doesn’t think Xie’er is actually Yan’er, does he? Only he kidnapped the wrong orphaned urchin by mistake? I’m just sayin’, thinking back to Shen Shen’s reaction to finding out Zhen Yan was still alive, it would be exactly the kind of thing Zhao Jing would do, to keep this kid that his brother(s) wanted to find hidden right under their noses.)

Chengling and the chicken. I can’t, y’all. And Zhou Zishu’s face as soon as he realizes what Wen Kexing is telling Chengling to do – he knows this is going to be a show.

Prince Jin, you are almost as bad as Xie’r and his awful Yifu combined:

Prince Jin: Zhou Zishu, you mastermind, your super-secret spy network continues to spread everywhere, including into my very own palace. Oh, the things you must be plotting against me!

Zhou Zishu, chillin’ at Plum Blossom Manor, day-drinking, dressing up in pretty festive robes, taking advantage of his disciple’s unpaid labor so he doesn’t have to raise a finger for himself, and providing his husband with sex so incredible he is never required to actually cook: “OK, my gay husband and our son-with-two-dads, how about we just stay here together forever and be happy?”

Also Prince Jin: *Creeps on Zhou Zishu like a gaslighting m’fker*

Anyway, if Prince Jin always knew what Han Ying was up to all along, is the letter about ZZS’s father a plant, with false info? It was just kind of suspiciously hanging out in the open on Prince Jin’s desk.

#zhao jing #xie wang #zhou zishu #wen kexing #gu xiang #cao weining #zhang chengling #han ying #prince jin #word of honor #word of honor episode reax

44 notes · View notes

monabela · 4 years ago

Text

hello! it seems to be @aphrarepairweek2021 and I'm not one to ignore that! here's some... domestic denfin stuff for day 1, language. I've gone for a pretty liberal approach to the prompts this year, but that's mostly so that all my fics will fit into the same universe :> (it is also the same universe as two of last year's rarepairweek fics! I'll make a tag for it) (that is also the reason I had to call sve berwald and not torbjörn like I usually do ¯\_(ツ)_/¯) they will all be standalone little fics but take place in the same au, over the same sort of time period!

in major scale

pairings/characters: Denmark (Søren)/Finland (Tuomi), Estonia (Eduard), Sweden (Berwald), Hungary (Erzsébet) + past SuFin mentioned word count: 2219 summary: Tuomi admires how much Søren cares about other people. It inspires him to do the same.

A series of thumps and clomps heralds Søren’s arrival home. Tuomi looks up with amusement when the door of his little home studio in the back of their house bursts open.

“Tuomi!” Søren shouts. He brings with him the smell of recent rain and early spring blossoms.

Eduard, who is sitting behind Tuomi at his keyboard and wearing headphones, very nearly tumbles off his stool in shock.

“Søren!” Tuomi just returns, while his brother rights himself and glares. “You seem unusually excited.”

Eduard snorts, which makes Søren grin. ‘Unusually excited’ means something different when applied to him than most other people.

“Guess what!” he says, closing the door behind him and leaning against it. His socked feet are both tapping on the ground, with no rhythm to it. Tuomi is sure he couldn’t say what’s got into him; as far as he knows, Søren was just looking after his young nephews for the afternoon.

“Your brother didn’t hide the sugar well enough,” he guesses.

“No, that’s—well, he didn’t, but that’s not my point. Berwald’s gettin’ married!” Now, he waves his arms around wildly. “My brother’s gettin’ married, Tuomi! I’m so proud of him.”

Turning slightly, Tuomi exchanges an amused look with his own brother, who has taken his headphones off and is leaning forward over his keyboard, elbows planted over the keys.

“Now, Søren,” Eduard starts, using his haughtiest voice, which is very haughty. It’s an odd talent.

“Don’t you dare,” he interrupts, though he’s still grinning, “bring up the time he and Tuomi were plannin’ on gettin’ hitched, ‘cause that was ages ago and ain’t relevant anymore.”

“Alright, alright.” Eduard holds up his hands placatingly, and Tuomi just snickers. Søren’s right, he thinks; it’s been over fifteen years since then, and although the whole thing where he took up with the brother of the man who was nearly his husband was awkward at first, for all that it happened several years later, he’s since become good friends with Berwald again. It’s probably better this way.

“That’s great, Søren!” he just says. “And you’re gonna be the best man, I assume?”

“Of course!” His dark blue eyes crinkle at the corners, scrunching up his many freckles in laugh lines and dimples. Tuomi really admires how much Søren cares about other people, even if sometimes it comes at the expense of himself. Tuomi can always remedy that, after all.

“That means you’re gonna have to help with a bunch of organizing, isn’t it?”

“Don’t sound do skeptical of me, Eduard!” Pushing away from the door, Søren lightly strums the strings of an uncovered acoustic guitar sitting in its stand before taking a large step towards Tuomi and bending down to kiss him over the microphone between them, Tuomi angling his own electric guitar out of the way. He smells like sea wind and hair gel, and does taste distinctly sugary behind the smile his lips are still curved into.

Tuomi mutters, “I think you’ll do great. Berwald’s lucky to have you.”

“I hope so. Y’know, the boys are excited as anythin’.” Now, he practically melts, draping his long limbs over Tuomi and his guitar. He always does this when he as much as thinks about his nephews, Berwald’s young sons. Tuomi and Søren are very much the fun uncles. It is a title they both wear with pride.

Patting his jeans-clad ass affectionately, Tuomi pushes his nose into Søren’s wild coppery hair.

“Yeah? They’ve given their blessing, then?”

“Already fightin’ over who gets to be ringbearer.”

“Cute.”

The door of the studio opens.

“Whoa! Am I interrupting?” shouts Tuomi’s half-sister, bursting in.

Eduard, now leaning his head in his hands, says, “Please save me.”

“Berwald’s gettin’ married!” Søren shouts, into Tuomi’s ear. He gets along with Erzsébet far too well.

“Tuomi’s ex?” she yells back, and Eduard promptly loses it. He doubles over his keyboard in hiccupping laughter, shaking and pressing almost all the keys in a horrifyingly discordant tone. Søren looks betrayed in a very comical way. He crosses his arms as he turns to Erzsébet, folding his hands into the sleeves of his red knit sweater. Berwald made that one.

“She not wrong,” Tuomi tells him, holding back laughter of his own. Now even more comically betrayed, Søren turns back to him, with his dark eyebrows raised high and ready to deliver a quasi-outraged speech, but Erzsébet forestalls him.

“You need to make a song for the wedding!”

“Yes!” Tuomi perks up, almost poking Søren in the hip with the neck of his guitar.

“A song?” the man echoes, looking between all three of them. Eduard is now only playing a couple of notes at the same time, thankfully, and he straightens up fully to explain their family tradition.

“We always do it for weddings. It has to be something they’d like, and something the couple can dance to.”

“And then we give it funny lyrics,” Tuomi finishes, “about the person getting married. But we always make sure it’s good.”

“Well, I ain’t surprised about that part, ya snobs.” Søren shakes his head affectionately. He has absolutely no feel for music, but that just means that he appreciates things that most other people wouldn’t give their time of day.

It also means that he somehow considers Tuomi’s very musically inclined family to be elitist about music, which Tuomi thinks is dumb, but he’s not one to argue. He’ll leave that to his brother; it’s very amusing. As a matter of fact, Eduard is already narrowing his eyes at Søren, but doesn’t say anything before he continues.

“I don’t know if Berwald would like that, honestly. It’s not really something we do.”

“Come on, everyone likes music!” Erzsébet enthuses, walking further inside and skirting around Søren and Tuomi in the small space to lean an elbow on Eduard’s shoulder.

“Sure, he likes it, but, I mean—we ain’t like you guys, is all.”

No one is quite like his family, Tuomi thinks, but he appreciates that all the more these days. Søren is the most generous, openminded person he knows, and has broadened his worldview amazingly in the time they’ve been together. Not that his family isn’t openminded; they’re just less inclined to explore than Søren is.

Still, “Music is a universal language, isn’t it?” Tuomi asks him, bumping his shoulder into Søren’s upper arm. He inclines his head in agreement. “It doesn’t even have to have lyrics if you think Berwald wouldn’t like it. Or his fiancé, of course,” he adds, because he doesn’t know the man that well but knows he, like Berwald, doesn’t really appreciate being made fun of, even in good humor.

This is, again, unlike Søren, which is probably why it didn’t work out with his brother and does work with him.

Well, it’s part of it.

Erzsébet, the lyricist of the family, gasps dramatically at the mention of not having lyrics to go with the song, and coughs. She should really quit smoking. Eduard pats her back awkwardly, getting a face full of long brown hair for his efforts.

“And then?” Søren’s asking, but his head is still tilted thoughtfully, as if he’s considering it.

“Well, then it can be for a dance! Consider it a wedding gift from me.”

“His ex,” Erzsébet murmurs, recovered, and Eduard starts giggling again.

“His brother-in-law.” Tuomi blindly throws a guitar pick at her over his shoulder, which, going by the plink and following yelp, hits Eduard’s glasses instead.

Huh. That’s pretty impressive.

“Well, someone will have to teach him how to dance first—”

They all look away.

“—but that sounds awesome, actually! Would you guys be willing to play it?” In his excitement, Søren has leaned very close to Tuomi again, vision filling with his grin and his many, many freckles, and Tuomi can’t help but kiss the corner of his mouth.

“I’d love to.”

His siblings make agreeing noises.

“Right! Well, should I—what’re you guys workin’ on, actually?” Søren gazes around the small space as if hoping to glean clues. Which clues, Tuomi is not sure. He can’t really read music, after all.

“Just tinkering a bit,” Tuomi says. Eduard plays the first few chords of the most recent wedding song they’d written, several years ago already. Erzsébet slaps the cymbal of her drum set in apparent agreement, reaching behind her.

“Hey, I wrote some lyrics, actually,” she says. “I think they’re pretty good.”

It’s been years since they actually made original music that they deemed good enough to send out into the world, but their songs are still getting decent amounts of listeners on Spotify, which is nice; it’s mostly a hobby for all three of them, after all. Lately, though, Eduard and Tuomi have started seriously considering making some new material, and Erzsébet seems to be on board. She promises to send the lyrics to both of them. Although she, like both of her half-brothers and much to Søren’s amazement, plays several instruments, she doesn’t have much talent for composing.

Tuomi tried to teach Søren guitar once. It was fun, but very unsuccessful. He does like the drums.

That’s probably why he gets along with Erzsébet so well.

Deciding that today is probably not going to be very productive, all four of them go into the house instead, and Tuomi makes coffee while Søren hands out some cupcakes that he made yesterday, because Søren very much believes that food is a universal language. He isn’t wrong, if you ask Tuomi, but that’s mostly because Søren is very good at making food, unlike Tuomi.

They’ve all got their talents, he supposes, and it’s how they use them in combination that matters. Even if he’s been banned from using the oven for anything more than frozen pizza.

Eduard, of course, asks for the recipe, because Eduard didn’t get that memo about talents and has too many of them.

Tuomi’s siblings don’t actually stay around for very long after that, both promising to think about the wedding song for Berwald. It is mostly an empty promise on Erzsébet’s part, but that’s okay. Eduard walks away while muttering about waltzes, which Tuomi appreciates, because Berwald seems like a man—is a man, he knows this—who appreciates a bit of tradition, and he’s never tried to compose an instrumental, mostly classical song before.

“You’re adorable, you know,” he tells Søren, who’s standing behind him in the hallway of their house after having seen his siblings off. Søren just grins, rocking back on his heels, hands clasped behind his back and looking much younger than he is.

“I’m just happy for my brother.”

“I know.” Tuomi reaches up to flick some errant hair out of the way. “It’s really cute.”

He gets excited about the smallest things, Søren. Random dogs on the street and odd world records and warm coats and almost everything that’s even a little bit nice. It’d get annoying, Tuomi’s sure, if he weren’t so sincere about it all the time. He got very excited about their civil union as well, which was honestly mostly practical. Tuomi had almost wanted to get married, just to see his reaction to it, but he’d decided years before that marriage wasn’t for him, and remains glad that he stuck by that belief, in the end.

“You don’t mind, do you?” Søren suddenly asks, blue eyes searching Tuomi’s face.

“What? Oh, no, of course not. Berwald’s a good man, and he deserves to be happy.” He shrugs. “I know he’s always wanted the whole… Domestic thing.”

“Guy’s had a plan for a wedding since he was twelve or something,” Søren confirms, grinning. “Only took him thirty years and a couple kids.”

Tuomi knows; he was shown the plan, sixteen years ago, but he decides not to mention that. It’d been quite intimidating at the time; he’d only been 22 and much more interested in… Well, practically anything besides marriage.

Søren slings an arm across his shoulders, squeezing him tightly to his lanky form, and starts walking them both back to the kitchen.

“You’d know, I guess,” he muses, then pulls a face. Tuomi laughs.

“That one was your fault!”

“I know, I know. Don’t remind me.”

Tuomi stops walking, tilting his head up at Søren.

“You don’t mind, do you?” he asks. Turning back, Søren blinks at him.

“Obviously not,” he says, but he bites the inside of his cheek and furrows his dark brows, so there’s evidently something more there.

There’s another thing Tuomi had to be taught by Søren; reading body language. It’s not his fault his family is so unexpressive!

“But?” he prompts.

“I just hope I can do well for him.” Søren shrugs. “He’s my big brother, y’know, and I do kinda feel like I ruined his first chance of marriage sometimes. I know that’s dumb,” he adds hastily.

Tuomi mumbles, “Yeah, that was definitely me.” And then, “Like you say, he’s your big brother. He loves you. Speaking as someone with two older siblings, they might razz you a bit—”

“That’s just your siblings, Tuomi,” Søren interrupts, but the grin is back on his face and just as bright as before. “But I get what you’re saying. Thanks.”

Tuomi boots him with his shoulder, and he laughs, clomping ahead. Tuomi follows, quickly.

Before he eats all the other cupcakes.

14 notes · View notes

randombtsprincessa · 5 years ago

Text

Best of Me

Author: Randombtsprincessa

Characters: Kim Seokjin x Reader (She/Her) (2nd POV)

Words: 6.2k

Genre: Angst/Smut, Fluff if you’re looking for it!

Rating: Mature (18+)

Summary: Jin has been in love with you since your childhood. As time passes and you become two different individuals, will his love be left behind in the past or will he have a chance?

Warning: Major Purple Prose (Sorry, couldn’t help it!), Talk of arranged marriages, age gap (5 years), both are idiots tbh, swimming pool make out, explicit sex scene, fingering, unprotected sex (stay safe!) Irresponsible discharges but they’re too horny to care!

A/N: This fic was voted by the lovely readers of mine for my Blogversary! I hope all the people who voted are happy with this fic! I will hold another poll for the November Nanowrimo if time and circumstances allow and all the people who voted for other fics will have their chance again! Don’t worry though, all the fic ideas are going to be posted anyhoo!

The very first time that Jin had laid eyes on you, was probably when you were seven. He was a lanky twelve year old, content with lazing about his house, passing the summers in bliss just like it was expected from children of his age.

That had been right up until his elder sister, Moonbyul, marched into the house with you in tow.

Jin had been on the couch, feet up onto the carved winged arms. If his mother had known, he would’ve been grounded till the next school year; but he was too engrossed into the small handheld video game to be too concerned about consequences.

The loud chatter of a young child had interrupted his carefully structured gaming limbo – his eyes shifted, attention straying, and then his character was evaporating into a puff of pixilated smoke.

Jin let out one of the new expletives he’d recently learned, no fears for now, because it was just his sister – he knew she knew worse words.

“Jin, you’re home?” Moonbyul asked, first thing, seeing her brother slide down the sofa.

“Yeah, it’s too hot outside.” He glanced curiously at the girl who stood right next to his sister, before a wave of recognition flooded him.

It was the girl his sister babysat, daughter of one of their father’s friend – Y/N.

“Why’d you bring her here?” He asked.

“Y/N’s parents just left, she didn’t want to stay in.” Moonbyul huffed playfully at the girl and she giggled, showing small teeth.

“Right,” he returned his eyes to the kid. She was cute.

“I’ll be out at the pool with Y/N.” His sister informed before grabbing the hand Y/N stretched out to her caretaker. They passed by and the girl gave a final wave back to Jin who grinned, exaggeratedly waving his own hand to the girl, earning another giggle.

It was usual after that, for Jin to find Y/N and his sister at the pool. Y/N must’ve taken a liking to it, because even when Moonbyul wasn’t with her, he would spot her there, sometimes just sitting at the edge, sometimes doing laps.

You and Jin grew up together; the five year difference between you and him should’ve caused for a strange form of wariness between the relationships between you two. However, there was nothing of that sort for you – even when Jin could feel himself settling into being an adolescent.

You still found it comfortable and natural to swim in their pool, long after you crossed the age of babysitting, long after Moonbyul left for college.

You had grown into a little spitfire, all rebellious, boisterous laughter following your footsteps wherever you went. Jin and you went to the same school, him being close to graduating, while you were still spreading your roots. It wasn’t very unusual for him to hear your voice around the cafeteria, or the hallway and whenever he looked around, you shone like the sun, surrounded by people who absorbed your heat and reflected it.

It made him smile, reminded of the small girl whose giggles had echoed around his house.

In these times, he found it easier to bring himself to join you; donning on swimming trunks and a t-shirt.

The first time, he had to ask shyly if you would like some company and you had grinned, telling him it was his pool before he’d jumped in.

Swimming had become a bonding experience, the both of you delving deep into conversation in the moments where you would catch a breath.

It was at this time when he found out your favorite color, food, season, subjects. Stars weren’t just gaseous balls when you talked about them, space wasn’t just a void in your mind. Politics, medicine, law; these were just base human calculations for power. What could capitalism and corruption do to you when you were just a floating mass in the galaxy?

Jin had blinked at these words, finding it hard to adjust to your world view, when his own had been molded for the working world.

You were a gust of fresh river air, when all he had smelled was sea salt…and so he fell, sitting at the tiled edge of his own swimming pool, for a girl unattainable.

But just like everything that existed under the sun, this too had to end sometime.

Years passed before Jin saw you again, in a formal setting this time.

Jin had gone on to the same college Moonbyul had, completing his Masters before he came back home. He had grown, and well, if he had to be very honest. He had traded in his contacts, glasses perched on his nose; a crisp suit clad around his frame with a hand holding a glass of fine scotch.

His father had been ecstatic to have both his children home. His sister had already started working in the company and he was soon to join.

Congratulations were flowing as freely as the alcohol.

His father stood next to him, one hand clasping and clapping his shoulder occasionally as he boasted about his son’s degrees to his business associates when his eyes brightened.

“Y/F/N, come on in! Glad you could join us,” He left the group, striding to your father, embracing him and dropping air kisses on your mother when Jin saw you.

You stood farther back from the gaggle of parents, hands held to your front.

In a split second, Jin’s mind had conjured up a series of images. You, a child, giggling at him; you, his friend, talking about how soothing the scent of wet earth was and then every picture on social media – you growing up, becoming a little less loud, but not losing your outspoken nature. Your hair was longer now, collected with a pin to one side but the graceful nature of your attire meant nothing.

Jin knew that rebellion still pumped in your blood, he’d seen the posts about various debates, the conferences. You were still in college, but you had achieved more than he could hope for.

A small tendril of pride blossomed in his chest, looking at you now. He hoped you’d come talk to him, surprising himself.

Jin had accepted early on that he had fallen in love with you in his young days. He had also accepted that maybe nothing would ever come of it, that you would find him too old. So, he had moved on, dated; however, each picture that he liked on your social media just pushed a pin into his heart.

Hope, as it was, could not be curbed – he’d found. He knew it was dangerous, being close to you again, that he would fall again, but if his feelings were this easy to rekindle, then, had they ever vanished truly in the first place?

“Seokjin,”

He started, his eyes focusing on the speaker. Somewhere between his reminiscing, you’d spotted him, and as he had hoped had come over to say hello.

“Y/N,” He smiled naturally, a heartbeat skipped when you chose to wrap your arms around him. His own arms remained polite, one hand pressing you to him while the one holding his drink stayed carefully away from your dress.

“Look at you, all suited up and in glasses; I didn’t even know you wore glasses.” You said, pulling away to peer at his face.

“Yeah, I don’t…I don’t really post too many photos.” Jin smiled.

Your eyes were glinting from the soft affection that came with old friends but he couldn’t find anything else in them that pointed out that you felt anything more at his appearance.

“I saw your pictures though. Congratulations, college has been a good experience for you it seems.”

“More like I’m a good addition for the college,” you lowered your voice mischievously.

There it was; that stern surety in your own worth. Jin smiled again. “So, can we say this is official, your homecoming?” You asked.

“I’m going to join the company, so yeah.”

“Great, I’ll come visit you. I haven’t seen Moonbyul in so long as well.”

“Of course,” Jin was about to take a swig when a call of your name distracted both of you.

“Well, I have to go, enjoy your party, Jin.” You waved to him and with one final wave walked away, leaving Jin to sip from his glass with his eyes fixed on you.

It wasn’t long after that his father announced a date most auspicious for Jin to join. He was soon to retire anyway; his company would go to his children. He needed Jin to learn the ropes as soon as possible.

Jin worked diligently. He practically took the role of his father’s secretary; sitting with him in meetings, taking his calls and handling the jobs as best as he could.

Moonbyul had already moved on to a higher office, having worked about three years more than her brother. She would come by sometimes, give advice based on her own experiences.

Not long after, Jin was capable in his own rights.

He worked in his own office, overlooking the things his father pushed on to him dutifully.

Things were busy in a successful business; there was no time for Jin to linger over thoughts of you. He wanted to, more than anything, think about what it would mean with both of you now being in the same city.

Chances were he’d run into you, but then what?

What would he say? What would he even do?

It was safer for Jin to bury himself in his work.

So imagine his surprise, when his family was the one to bring you up – at the breakfast table, no less.

“The Y/L/Ns are talking about marrying Y/N off.” His father spoke.

Jin’s head was the first to swivel, followed by his mother’s and then his sister’s, who was still a little clumsy with the butter knife.

“What?” Jin asked, shocked.

“Well, the girl is old enough now. They are going to start looking for suitable grooms.” He avoided looking at Moonbyul, who very pointedly flexed her bare left hand.

His sister was proudly single, and a brilliant businesswoman. Not even their father was going to interfere with that aspect of her life.

“She can make her own choices.” She put in.

“I’m not saying she can’t.” Their father said. “I’m just saying they’re looking and,” he exchanged a look with his wife. “I took the liberty of putting your name up for consideration.”

Moonbyul looked surprised, blinking. “Father, I used to babysit her. That’s ludicrous.”

“Not you,” her father palmed his face. “Seokjin,”

Now Jin was the one to blink – but not in surprise. “Did they take it well?”

“Why wouldn’t they? You are a successful, well to do man; upright, a gentleman. You’ve been friends with Y/N, too.”

“He meant Y/N.” Moonbyul interrupted in her brother’s stead.

“Oh,” Mr. Kim looked abashed. “No, they’re still waiting for the right time to tell her.”

Jin looked down at his plate.

It was an odd sensation that brewed in his stomach. He was elated, yes, the thought of marrying Y/N was his dream come true…but she didn’t even know. She didn’t know anything. Her ignorance sent trepidation rampaging through him, crushing the small seeds of hope and happiness yet again.

He could eat no more.

Concentration upon his work, which was piling up with every phone call that passed his intercom was the last thing on his mind.

Instead, he spent most of the working morning with his chair turned around, staring blearily out the glass panes. He knew, coming back home, running into you was bound to send his heart down a memory lane that winded and twisted with lanes of confusion and anxiety.

“Jin,”

He swiveled the chair around with a start, seeing his sister stand at his door, a sardonic smile on her face.

“I was working! I was just taking a small breather.”

“Hey, chill, I’m not on your ass about work.” She breezed in, perching on the edge of his desk. “Nobody says you have to break your back plus you’re twenty seven. Stop acting like you’re still twelve and breaking curfew.”

It was Jin’s turn to give her a wry look. “If you’re not here about work, what are you ‘getting on my ass’ about?”

“Breakfast,”

He gave her a blank look.

“To be precise; I’m here to talk about Y/N.”

Her brother sat up straighter. “You didn’t tell her did you? Is she here? What did you do?” he stopped when he saw Moonbyul twinkle at him.

“You’ve got it so bad for her.” She said, laughing at the high color on Jin’s cheeks.

“I don’t know what you mean.” Jin slumped down in his chair, eyes fixed stubbornly at the photo swirl screen saver of his desktop.

Moonbyul rolled her eyes, sliding off her perch to walk and stand at his arm. “You’ve been obvious for years Jin. Why do you think Dad even said anything about you to Y/N’s parents? We all know…at least mom and dad and I do.”

All Jin could do was widen his eyes, flames now reaching his temples as he attempted to sink further down. They all knew…they all knew…? Had he been that tactless? Oh my god, did you know? Had you ever gleaned how he watched you, like you were made of soft marble, sparkling in the sun? That when you spoke, he listened…as if he just couldn’t help it…

“I…I do like her, a lot.” He admitted, although quietly quelling the word ‘love’. He wasn’t quite there, even if it was his sister he was talking to.

“So, why don’t you tell her? You’re friends. Try and talk to her.”

“What if she says ‘LOL Jin, but you’re like my brother’?” He sat up straighter. “I’m five years older to her. That’s like so old. She’s just going to say no and maybe never want to talk to me ever again after.”

“You can’t know that without even talking to her. Plus, you’re both adults now. Stop putting ideas into your own head, you’re going to drive yourself mad. Also, Y/N’s not like that. She’s not shallow.”

“I didn’t mean,”

“I know you didn’t. However, if you want even a shadow of a chance with her, you have to get out of your shell and start talking to her.”

The rest of the morning passed heavily on Jin’s shoulder. By the time lunch break arrived, he was more than ready to get out of his spacious office that somehow seemed too small for him now. Grabbing his wallet and keys, he hurried down by the elevator, heading over for the small café that he used to frequent in his school days.

It had been a very popular hotspot for the students in his schools and even now, he could hear the laughs and jokes of his friends ringing in his ears, bringing a fond smile to his plump lips.

Walking in, he indulged in the chime of the overhead bell, the smell of roasting coffee beans and the sugar wafting over the dessert counter as he stood in line to order his usual bagel and cream and some mocha.

“Jin,” He turned with the first bite of his bagel, cream smearing his top lip and his eyes nearly boggled at the sight of you sitting in one of the booths, laughing up at him.

“Y/N,” he choked on his mouthful, coughing as he approached her. “What are you doing here?”

“Same as you, getting lunch; I missed this little place. I saw you and thought…maybe we could get lunch together. Of course, if you don’t mind or aren’t too busy?”

“No, no, I’m not busy and of course I don’t mind.” Of course, he wouldn’t mind sitting down here with you, getting lunch, possibly fantasizing about how he’d get lunch with you if you were dating instead of just catching up.

He looked down to see a sandwich on your plate, no bites taken out of it and you pushed the plate till it sat in the middle, letting him place the bagel on your plate as well.

“Well then, tell me everything that’s happened to you since graduation.” You smiled and Jin started talking, watching all your expressions; the giddy smiles, the concerned frowns and the soft chuckles that you hid under your breath.

He didn’t know when the topic sided towards you but when you started talking about how you’d met so many interesting people on a few of your debate teams and their clashing ideologies, Jin erupted like an untimely science project.

“Did you know your parents want you to get married?”

You stuttered to a stop, the cup of tea pausing midway as you stared at him in shock. “What…what did you say? How did you know?”

Jin looked down quickly, scratching and pulling at his ear. “My parents…they told me…they…um, they heard your parents discussing it.” He lied through his teeth.

“Oh,” You looked down, giving Jin enough time to study you. “I don’t think I’d like to get married right now. There’s so much to do; so much to be, so much to see. I want to go places, to talk to people, to be every version of me there is. I can’t do that if I get married.” You said.

“Right,” Jin said weakly.

He couldn’t tell you, he decided. He couldn’t tell you about how you were most likely betrothed to him, and he absolutely couldn’t tell you how he felt about you.

You would never look at him the same.

However, it wasn’t enough to curb the unfurling ball of guilt that throbbed in his now uneasy stomach. He stared down at the half eaten bagel. He had to talk to his father.

“Dad?” Jin poked his head in to where his father sat in his study, poring over some reports he’d dragged in that day. The older Mr. Kim looked up, peering at his son over his glasses.

“Jin, come on in, what’s the matter?”

He walked in slowly, hands wringing behind his back. Nervous tension radiated off of him and he was pulling at his ears till he thought it’d come right off.

“I want to talk to you about something serious. About Y/N,” He said finally.

His father removed his glasses, tossing them on the discarded papers as he regarded his son. “You don’t want to marry her. Its fine, son; you don’t have to do anything that you don’t want to do. We can talk to her parents tomorrow.”

“No!” Jin took a quick step forward. He didn’t want that. What if her parents thought he had bad mouthed her? They would tell her and she would find out that he had kept her betrothal a secret – or worse, think he thought her inferior.

“I just…I want it to be postponed. She’s still in college and I talked to her today. She wants things out of life, dad and being married in our world is just going to put her in a wife box. She doesn’t want that. Hell, I don’t want that for her.” He sighed. “I just want her to get what she wants before she thinks of settling down. We can wait till then, can’t we?”

His father narrowed his eyes in thought, about to reply when a softer voice interrupted them. Jin’s eyes widened, head whirling to see you standing at the open door, mouth agape.

“You knew? You knew and you didn’t tell me? All that talk in the café and you just -,”

“Y/N,”

You turned on your heel, storming away from the study and Jin sprang out of where he’d sunk down in one of his father’s armchairs.

“Wait, Y/N, wait, for god’s sake!” Jin managed to grip her arm at the front door, slamming it shut behind him for privacy. You immediately snatched the appendage away but turned mercifully, allowing him to talk.

“I’m sorry, ok. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.” He began.

“Do you know how stupid I feel? I asked my parents about what you said today and they said that they had already picked you to be my husband,” Jin flinched at the venom in your voice, “and all I thought about was that I should tell you so you wouldn’t be shocked but guess what, you already know. You knew and you let me think,” You flung out your hands, stepping back from him.

“Why? Why wouldn’t you just say something? You heard me talking about all my dreams, all the things I want from my life. I thought you were my friend. What possible motive could you have had for not telling me? And now, you don’t even want to marry me.”

“Of course I want to marry you.” Jin broke in, roughly. “I’ve been in love with you ever since we were kids, Y/N. I want to marry you yes, but I also want you to have everything you want.”

Y/N’s harsh words had faded away, leaving behind only a squeak of surprise in its stead.

“You…you what?” You stammered.

“You heard me Y/N. it’s been forever and I still feel for you the same as I did when I was a high school boy. All I want is what’s best for you. Even if,” Jin gulped, shamefaced, “even if you decide that it’s not me.”

He watched you falter, something softening behind those deep eyes he loved to watch spark with mischief. “I…” The word hung between them, suspended in nothing but years of repressed words.

Then without uttering another word, you turned and walked away from him.

It had been a week of no contact.

Y/N’s parents had called late that night, wondering if Y/N had shown up at their face and his father had skillfully relayed the events, asking for any news to be forwarded to them as well; Jin was anxious.

And it was true…

Jin hadn’t stopped replaying the last encounter with Y/N in his head, shuddering away from the poisonous look in her eyes and voice before he’d shocked the rest of her anger away.

He’d been right; she didn’t want anything to do with him. Moonbyul had been wrong.

“Seokjin,” His father knocked on his door.

“Yeah,” he sat up straighter.

“Y/N called home,” His father stood in his doorway, peeking about at the thrown about clothes and other belongings that Jin couldn’t bring himself to put back properly.

“Ok, what did she say?” Jin sighed in relief to himself.

“She went back to her college dorm, with some friends. She said she’ll be back…later, that she needed some time to think about things.”

Jin pulled in his shoulders at that, shriveling up in himself. It didn’t matter. You were safe. That was more important. So why couldn’t he just be happy?

“Son, relax; this isn’t as bad as you think. She’s safe; she hasn’t outright told her family about the fight. She just needs space.”

“Yeah, I know, but I…I don’t think she’ll come back here, to me.”

“Nonsense,”

“Dad,” His father turned to look at him. “I love her. I told her and she still left.”

His father’s face changed, turning sympathetic before giving him a bracing smile. “Like I said, she needs space; don’t lose hope, son. She’ll come back soon enough, you’ll see.”

Jin waited till his father had shut the door and walked some distance away before scoffing.

Hope…

He was really starting to hate that word.

His body felt cold now, almost freezing. The water in the pool had been freshly poured in and though night swims weren’t something Jin indulged in usually, he was making an exception.

He’d shucked off his shirt and pants, taking a quick running dive into the water to build up his guts. The ice cold water had hit him like a sucker punch and he’d gasped, floating up to the surface, holding himself in the water to build up resistance.

He turned around onto his back, letting his long frame buoy up by the water. He snorted once when he thought about how he’d been teased that water would support him more because he had a huge built.

“Having fun?”

For the second time in not too long, he startled. His body upended, face meeting the water and then he was grappling for foothold, standing up to glare at the intruder. He immediately backtracked when he saw that it wasn’t his sister, but the reason why he was dunking himself in freezing waters so late at night.

You sat, legs crossed in the gazebo near the pool, face in your palm, watching him impassively.

“Y/N!” Jin nearly shouted before realizing the time, looking about in case someone was up in the house. “You’re back, how did you get in here?”

You rolled your eyes. “I’ve been coming here since I was a toddler, Jin. I know the ways to this pool better than you do.”

“Oh,” Jin remained awkward, kicking idly in the water when you stood walking around out of the roofed gazebo to stand at the pool edge.

“Aren’t you going to ask?”

“Ask what?”

“About where I went, why I went away…I don’t know, questions that I think my parents will ask when I go home.”

That had Jin’s head snapping back up to you. “You mean you didn’t go home?”

“Nope,” You shook your head. “Just arrived, came straight here,”

“I’m…flattered.” Jin managed weakly, thrilling when the tips of your lips twitched up in an amused smile.

“Can I join?”

Jin glanced around at the large pool. “Sure, why not?”

He backed up a little to create more space for you but what he wasn’t prepared for was you grabbing the hem of your sun dress, lifting it up completely off your head, revealing a simple black sports bra and boy shorts combo.

Jin averted his eyes, feeling heat rise up in his neck, along with something that made him grateful for the cold water. You draped the dress over the back of a deck chair, jumping in right next to him.

Jin exhaled, at least the water and the mild night lights of the pool hid most of your bare skin from his view.

“Race you?”

“You’re on.”

Jin and you drew back to one end of the pool before taking laps to the other end, to and fro.

Finally when you both urged at one end, Y/N’s palm slapping the top of the tiles in triumph, Jin pushed his hair back with both hands, panting. He wasn’t that far from Y/N, but the way she gave him a sheepish grin was enough for him to agree to his defeat.

“Guess it wasn’t a fair competition; you’re getting old.” You dunked your head into the pool before emerging again, launching up to sit at the edge. Jin smiled wryly, drifting closer to float near you, unspeaking for a while as you both caught your breaths.

“Do you know why I don’t want to get married?” You asked suddenly.

Jin glanced back at you, kicking in the water, not meeting his eyes. There was a glum set to your mouth. He decided not to reply, letting you answer yourself.

“It’s because as sweet as the institution sounds in itself, it’s also…binding, constricting. I’ve seen your mom and mine and they are happy, they love our dads but well…they don’t have anything to say for themselves. You know who does; Moonbyul, she’s happy single and she’s one of the most leading names in business. I don’t want to be trapped like that, at least not right now. It was never about you. It was about what I wanted for myself.”

Jin lowered his head. “Y/N, we’re not getting married. You don’t have to worry.”

He caught Y/N turn her head towards him quickly before looking away. “I…wow, thank you.”

“And even if we were,” Jin turned around to look earnestly up at you. “It would change nothing. I would never hold you back from what you want, ever. You know that. I would want you to go on out, talk some more, change the world, and I would gladly be in the audience watching you do that.”

Your lips twitched now, the shy smile that was ever so rare for you spreading across your face. You slowed your feet until the water stopped splashing up around Jin’s waist. There was still a gloomy air to you but now there was a resolute gleam in your eye, one he was very familiar with.

You looked at him. “You weren’t the only one, you know?”

“Hmm,” Jin frowned.

“With feelings,” You said bluntly. “You weren’t the only one.”

It took a few moments for your words to sink into Jin, sending his eyebrows flying up and jaw to fall slack. “You…” He took a deep breath, shivering just a little in the cold. “Why didn’t you say anything?” He managed weakly.

“Why didn’t you?”

“Of course I didn’t say anything.” Jin was getting frustrated. He was cold and now he was learning that the girl he’d been pining after for years felt something too but was still returning fire at him as if they were still in their teens, arguing about everything and anything under the sun.

“I was older than you. You were so popular at school with all these people hanging about you all the time. The only time we had together was when you would come in here or outside. After I graduated, there was nothing I could do or say. I didn’t want to put anything on you that you could do without.”

“So, age is basically the only thing you were worried about.”

Jin raised his head in outrage but you chuckled. “Because I thought the same; I was so young and you were so much more matured. There was no way you’d look at me like anything but the child your sister used to babysit.”

“But I never let it stop me,” You continued. “I mean, I knew you wanted me to succeed, I know that, so I took every chance I could get. I put myself out there, I posted pictures so you could see and be proud of me. Every like you left on all the photos was basically what was encouraging me.”

“So,” Jin felt as if he was boiling the water around him. The urge to reach up and pull you down to him was maddening, especially when you were saying everything that he had been dying to hear.

“I know you’re the best for me. You’re the reason I want to be the best of me. So, what I’m saying is that; yeah, I will marry you, Kim Seokjin. Just…not yet; give me at least till graduation.”

He did reach up then, curling cold hands around your face to pull you down till his face. It was easier, he was taller than you and the water - ironically – buoyed him up.

Your words disappeared in his mouth, a gust of hot breath sending goose bumps rising at the back of his neck. Jin dropped back down to his feet, with you leaning over him, your arms slowly sliding along his shoulder blades before winding around his neck.

You giggled against his lips when he pulled back. “Took you long enough,”

“Took you longer,” Jin argued.

“No, if you consider your age,”

“Shut up, Y/N,” Jin tugged you closer again, running his thumb over your bottom lip.

“Mm, you’re so bossy.”

“Now you know what I’ve been through all those years.”

“You’re right. Let’s just shut up.”

Jin gladly cut the banter short, your lips colliding against his harder this time. He opened his mouth, breathing in the scent of you, tasting you when you slid him your tongue.

You stayed there by the edge of the pool, your legs wrapped around his waist, holding him close as you released all the pent up frustration, accumulated for years.

When Jin pulled away from you, your eyes fluttered open, heavy lidded and chest heaving from the exertion. Your forehead dropped on his, clear about what you wanted. Jin twisted his mouth.

“Y/N,”

“What?”

“I don’t have a condom on me right now.” Jin admitted. He’d come for a swim. There had been no reason for him to be packing.

You hummed, brushing light kisses over his temple, down to his jaw. “Can you pull out?”

Cock twitching, Jin groaned, reaching down with one hand to rub along the pulsing length. You caught the action, grinning at him so willingly that he had to laugh at well.

“Ok,”

You untangled from him, springing up so he could clamber up behind you, following you when you flopped down on the futon in the gazebo.

“Wait, here?” Jin asked, standing over you.

“Where else; you want to wait till we get inside?” You reached up for his hand, pulling him in till he was hovering over you, one hand bracing his weight over your head and the other landing square on the crotch of your underwear.

The fabric was cool but he could feel the slick friction of your pussy, his fingers running over the cloth, rubbing against the nub till you were arching your back, hands gripping onto his wrist. Hair fell into Jin’s eyes, drying into chlorinated clumps and he had to shake his head to see you clearly, meeting your eye with a lascivious smile.

You parted your legs further, reaching back for the tie on your sports bra, pulling at the knots till the constricting material fell away, baring your chest to him, nipples peaking and jolting with each broken breath you drew.

Jin descended, swollen lips catching onto one peak and giving it a hard suck, pushing the crotch aside to sink in once long, crooked finger in your heat. Your moan had him grunting, pushing in further till the digit nestled in you up till the knuckle.

“Fuck,” You both gasped out at the same time, the feeling of your walls trapping the fingers, quivering at the intrusion, sending Jin’s cock nearly bursting the seams of his trunks. You tilted your head further to him, meeting his lips in a messy kiss as Jin gently began to thrust his finger, in and out, twisting as your slick coated your nether lips enough for him to squeeze in two.

He scissors his fingers, thumb circling your clit as you keened, soft mewls falling from your lips.

Your arms wrapped over his shoulders, your lips at his ear, hot breath wafting against his skin, “Want you inside of me, now.” You ordered and Jin complied all too happily.

Removing his fingers, he gripped at the hem of his short, tugging them off. The material clung to his skin, sticky from the pool water and now sweaty but he finally managed to kick it off, slipping the boy shorts down your legs till it hung from your ankle.

Running his slicked fist over his length he led himself to your entrance, eyes blown out as he slowly pushed into your hot, tight core. His head fell back, jaw falling to let out a loud groan that had you pushing your lips against his to muffle.

Your own whines and gasps were lost against his shoulder as he bent over you, nesting your head in the crook of his arm. His free hand grabbed hold of your leg, hitching it till it rested at the curve of his waist.

The first hard thrust had you both releasing expletives.

“You’re so big.” You almost accused as Jin parted from you to stare at the sight of his cock disappearing into your folds…again…and again…and again.

“You’re just too tight.” He gritted his teeth, the sight more erotic than he had prepared for and he gave you a helpless look. “I’m not going to last long.”

You shook your head, hands reaching up over your head for something hold. “Don’t worry; me neither.”

Jin twined your hands together, fingers grasping at each other as he quickened his pace, the angle at which he hit, allowing your clit to brush his pelvis in time with his thrusts.

Your orgasm hit you moments before his, making you curl up around him like a vice as he pulled out hurriedly, roughly jerking his hand to his cock but you sat up as well, wrapping your own softer hands around his shaft, twisting it at the base and tightening at the head.

Jin came in a gush, his release splashing over your hands, and some even hitting your exposed chest.

“Oh fuck,” Jin cursed, voice higher in embarrassment as he sought his shirt first, scrubbing out cum as best as he could from your skin.

“Oh god, relax.” You laughed, taking the shirt so you could wipe at your hands. Jin reached for his pants, sliding them on before fetching your dress, helping you slip it on. He surreptitiously snuck your shorts into his own pocket, hoping you wouldn’t notice.

“You’re staying the night, right?” He asked.

You shot him a teasing smile, arms winding around his neck so you could pull yourself onto your tiptoes. “Sure why not; I don’t suppose I can get in trouble for staying over at my fiancé’s house. Plus, I love morning sex.”

The last part was whispered in his ear, making him groan as he grabbed his discarded shirt, your hand patting his behind to get him to walk towards the house.

#smutcentralnet #btsbookclub #ficswithluv #jin smut #bts smut #seokjin smut #jin fanfic #bts fanfic #kim seokjin #seokjin #jin #jin x reader #bts x reader #bts scenarios #jin scenarios

222 notes · View notes

lov3nerdstuff · 4 years ago

Text

Voluptas Noctis Aeternae {Part 6.15}

*Severus Snape x OC*

Summary: It is the year 1983 when the ordinary life of Robin Mitchell takes a drastic turn: she is accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Despite the struggles of being a muggle-born in Slytherin, she soon discovers her passion for Potions, and even manages the impossible: gaining the favor of Severus Snape. Throughout the years, Robin finds that the not quite so ordinary Potions Professor goes from being a brooding stranger to being more than she had ever deemed possible. An ally, a mentor, a friend... and eventually, the person she loves the most. Through adventure, prophecies and the little struggles of daily life in a castle full of mysteries, Robin chooses a path for herself, an unlikely friendship blossoms into something more, and two people abandoned by the world can finally find a home.

General warnings: professor x student, blood, violence, trauma, neglectful families, bullying, cursing

Words: 6.2k

Read Part 1.1 here! All Parts can be found on the Masterlist!

______________________________

They hadn't technically agreed to meet again before breakfast, but Robin almost counted on it that Snape would be waiting for her at some point between where they had parted half an hour ago and the great hall. And indeed, it was the entrance hall where they crossed ways as if by coincidence, and for a brief moment Robin wondered how he always did that. Snape seemed surprised to see both Jorien and Cas following after Robin, which was understandable after what she'd told him a few hours ago, and Robin didn't waste time to address the matter at hand.

"I gave both of them detention for today." She said with a small sigh. "And now they-..."

"She can't actually give us detention." Jorien cut in, glaring at Robin, then turned to face Snape. "Right? There's something called rules, which Robin obviously has never heard of before! She's in no position to give us orders!"

"And what, pray tell, gives you the audacity to judge that?" He replied with a sharp glance at Jorien, and it took the wind out of her sails immediately. "If you had questioned my decisions like that, Miss Blakeley, you would be serving more than one day of detention."

"So she's actually allowed to do this?!" Jorien looked entirely exasperated now. "Her word is law?"

"Obviously." Snape scowled at her in his usual manner. "I will be seeing you in my classroom after breakfast."

"That's got to be a bloody joke!" Jorien groaned and stormed off without another word, entering the great hall with anger radiating off her in palable waves.

"I, uh… Sorry, for… her." Cas said quietly, giving both Snape and Robin an apologetic look. "We, I mean, I… will see you. Both. After… yeah." Without another glance at either of them, she made her way through the large doors as well, disappearing into the direction of the Ravenclaw table.

As soon as the doors fell shut again, Robin closed her eyes and sighed deeply. After a night like the one she's had, this is not how the morning was supposed to go. And it certainly wasn't a good idea to treat the healing wounds of one relationship with the cutting edges of another.

"I'm so sorry. This wasn't supposed to happen, and it certainly wasn't supposed to happen like this." She finally said as she opened her eyes again to peer up at Snape. "Thank you for having my back nonetheless."

"Any time." He replied calmly, as if he hadn't just given Jorien a death glare half a minute ago. "And don't be sorry. This conflict obviously has great significance to you, and therefore I would like to see it solved as well."

"Thank you." She sighed softly, then ran a hand through her hair while collecting her thoughts. "I just wanted to sort this out… but then things escalated and I did the only thing I could think of."

"You gave them detention."

"Yeah." Robin still was entirely unhappy with that fact, but she would make the best of it now. "Cas was quick to accept it, but Jorien…"

"She reminds me of you in your first year."

"Ugh… I know." Robin groaned, rolling her eyes, but she still couldn't help smiling a little. "She's heard too many of the cutting remarks I direct at other people. She's gotten rather good at hurting people with her words herself."

"Perhaps I should indeed have given her even more detention for her behaviour then."

"Nah… Wouldn't fit in with your punishment policy, would it? She would hardly have learned from that; her problem is her anger, not discipline or authority."

"Indeed." He mused, watching how Robin leaned against the wall behind her with a sigh. Almost curiously, he raised his eyebrows at her then. "So why did you choose to give them detention in the first place? Not that I wouldn't approve of that decision, but it surprises me nonetheless."

"It's the only possibility to get them to stay in the same room, with each other and with me. The only legal one, at least." She shrugged, clasping her hands between her back and the wall.

"Clever. As always."

Robin's lips tugged upwards into a small smile upon the comment, but she tried not to let it cloud her focus on the problem at hand. "I'm going to make them talk to each other, and it won't be pretty. I've gotten a good glimpse of it already, and I'm honestly not looking forward to the entire thing unraveling. But they've got to stop what they're doing to themselves, and to each other."

"Their actions have an effect on you even more than on each other, I believe."

"Yeah… But they don't know that, and they don't have to. I'm good if they're good with each other, and I'm willing to do a lot to get them there. They won't have to thank me afterwards, not even talk to me if they'd prefer not to."

"You'd be surprised by how much some people are willing to forgive." He quirked an eyebrow at Robin, and she had to smile yet again. Alright, he had a point.

"We should go in, or breakfast will be over before we've had a bite." She finally said and pushed herself off the wall. "Should be dreadful as always, without anyone to talk to."

"Actually, I would be glad to miss the inquiries about my whereabouts that are certain to come up at the head table."

"Since when do you bother with inquiries about anything at all?" Now it was Robin who quirked an eyebrow at him with a small smirk.

"Just because I have no intention to reply to them unfortunately doesn't spare me from hearing them."

Robin couldn't help laughing at the pout in his tone, and she found herself wishing that she could just fight off all the inquiries he didn't want to hear. She didn't particularly like answering annoying questions either, but she didn't dread it nearly as much as Snape did. Somehow, she thought it to be her task, her privilege to spare him from that.

"You could always pretend to be listening while really thinking of something else. With your usual range of reactions in public, nobody would notice a difference." She mused with even more of a smirk, and for a short moment, she even got one in return.

They entered the great hall then, each moving to their respective tables in silence, but as far as Robin could tell, both in as much contentment as the situation allowed. Of course, both hid it in their own way. Snape with the usual public scowl, and Robin with the usual calm neutrality. She would get Cas and Jorien to talk to each other today, there was no doubt in it. She would make sure that this would be a good day after all.

… … …

The detention served its purpose wonderfully indeed. Being forced to stay in the same space for an entire day meant that Cas' and Jorien's conflicts were prone to escalate eventually, and once they did, it was also inevitable for the storm to pass. Even better, they were quicker to forgive each other than Robin had anticipated. By lunchtime they were mostly talking to each other again, and by the time detention was over they were back to being best friends after all.

Neither remembered to apologise to Robin when they left detention that evening, they didn't even acknowledge her involvement in their conflict at all. But on the flipside they were quick to treat her as their adult friend again, their big sister rather than their enemy, which left things off as if nothing had happened in the first place. To Robin that was a good enough result, she didn't need an apology nor a thank you. Only for things to return to normal between the three of them, and she had definitely achieved that.

So when she sat in the office again that night, drinking coffee with Snape while refusing to leave just yet even though she was tired enough to fall asleep over her mug, she knew that she had been lucky. From here on, things would start to be alright again indeed.

_______________

Robin cursed under her breath when she flipped the book in her lap shut with a bang that was loud enough to echo through the curves and edges of the arcades around her. Her free period was about to be over, having passed all too soon, while yet the dreadfully slow pace of her classes on this mid-May Friday seemed to be trickling by like endless seconds turned to dust. It was just two more weeks until the end of term, until exams. Two more weeks until her N.E.W.T.s in herbology and potions. She had been studying relentlessly ever since February, and ever since that day in March she's had Snape by her side again to help her as well. Still, she felt like there wasn't enough time to cram all that unnecessary and redundant theoretical knowledge into her head. All those facts she knew would never be of any relevance to her, or some of which she straight out believed to be wrong. But she still had to know them if she wanted a good grade, and thus she used every minute of every day for studying.

Things between Robin and Snape had returned to normal quickly after their shared crash-and-burn experience in March. Well, perhaps not quite back to normal. There were certain things that were different now, positively different. Honestly, they were closer than ever, and Robin couldn't be more glad about that. Ever since the beginning of May they had paused their usual evening lab work (which usually was of a more experimental nature by now, if not mandatory restocks or preparations), and instead started trying to perfect Robin's skills in making every and any potion that might possibly come up in the practical part of her final examination. It was a great way to practice, and she was thankful beyond measure for his help, but still Robin couldn't help feeling entirely unprepared. Snape kept on telling her that she would be fine, but honestly it didn't ease her nerves too much. She would never be as good as him at actually making potions, and she would never be as good as she wanted to be either. If that was even possible in the first place.

So when another free period ended with an entirely unproductive feeling, she climbed out of her arch in the arcades with stiff limbs and a scowl. Stupid textbooks… who the hell wrote these bloody things anyway? They were practically useless for anything other than passing standardized tests. She seriously considered writing a potions textbook herself at some point, while she made her way towards her charms class, just for the sake of it. Perhaps she would keep it in mind as a career option.

Luckily charms was the last class of the day, but it would still be a dreadfully long afternoon if Flitwick would continue his endless lecture about a spell to write in different fronts on blackboards, which he had started last week and never quite managed to finish. Robin sat down at her desk with a sigh, but only took off her sunglasses at last when Flitwick gave her a pointed look for it. Yes, perhaps it wasn't polite to wear sunglasses inside, but had he ever tried to see anything while facing a window the sun was shining through?! Obviously not. Thus, Robin was left squeezing her eyes together to keep looking at the charms professor while he started the class. But her misery didn't last long.

Two minutes into class time, the door flew open and in strode the only saving grace that was even better than sunglasses right now. Still, his trademark billowing robes and overall dramatic entrance made Robin smirk way more than she probably should have. Without even knowing what Snape was here about, she started packing up her things already on instinct. If this was coming to be a repeating pattern, she would gladly oblige.

"Severus?" Flitwick asked in mild surprise that equalled that of his students. Perhaps it was the fact that Snape never bothered to knock that came as such a surprise to everyone, or perhaps they simply were scared to be in trouble.

"I'm afraid I need to steal Miss Mitchell from you, Filius." He stated as neutrally as ever, and Robin tried her hardest not to smile like an idiot. Of course he was here because of her… he would've sent one of the second years he was supposed to be teaching right now for anything else. Robin took a quick moment in her mind to pride and chide herself for the fact that she knew his class schedule better than her own.

"Uh, certainly! I mean…" The slightly dumbfounded charms professor glanced at Robin who had already gotten up and shouldered her backpack without a concern in the world. "For… for how long?"

"The entire lesson, of course." Snape drawled in feigned annoyance and gave his colleague a look that made it abundantly clear that he wouldn't answer any more questions. Thus Flitwick merely nodded, averting his eyes from the intense gaze, and then continued his lesson as if nothing had happened.

Robin followed Snape out of the room, and only once the door had undoubtedly fallen shut behind them and they were alone in the hallway, she allowed herself to smirk up at him. "Am I needed somewhere or did you just miss me?"

He rolled his eyes exaggeratedly in return, a shadow of a half-smirk ghosting over his lips for a second, but then he started leading her down the hallway with a serious expression. "I have a favour to ask of you."

Robin's eyebrows rose in an instant, and she looked up at Snape again instead of where she was walking. "Do go on."

"I need you to take over the second year potions class that I am supposed to be teaching right now." He said in an instant, as if glad to get the request out at all, but after a moment of silence, doubt obviously made him continue. "If you are in your right mind, you will straight out decline any participation in this and-..."

"I'll do it." Robin cut in with a small smile that threatened to grow into a smirk. When he gave her a surprised glance, she added, "Have I ever been in my right mind?"

"Probably not." He mused, and finally the doubt faded from his face to be replaced by subtle relief. "Thank you."

"Anytime." She smiled, then quirked an eyebrow at him as they made their way towards the stairs to the dungeons. "Might I ask though, why do you need me to watch over your class?"

"Because I need to teach Morgan's seventh years." He sighed, obviously discontent with the fact. "Morgan reported that he was feeling ill after lunch, and Professor Dumbledore asked me to take over the class in respect to the impending final examinations. That, however, leaves my own class unattended, which I strongly disfavour for the very same reason. Even second year students should be well prepared for their exams."

"And why would you ask me, out of all people, to teach a class? Don't get me wrong, I'm honoured… But why choose the one person who has close to no experience with this thing, while there's a bunch of competent professors at this school?"

"They are not competent." He said, but when Robin gave him a look, he rolled his eyes and added, "They are competent in their subjects, not in ours."

"Alright, so you picked me because I'm good at potions. Better someone who knows the subject and nothing about teaching than someone who knows teaching but nothing about the subject. I get that. But what if I'm horrible at both?"

"Keep in mind that they made Morgan a professor. I think you should reevaluate your perception of what it takes to teach a class around here."

Robin let out a snort at the comment, shaking her head, and she did indeed feel more comfortable with the circumstances in an instant. If bloody Morgan could do this, she could too.

"I can only hope I won't screw this up." She finally sighed when they reached the crossing where they would need to part ways. "But I'll do my best to fill in for you. Even if the gap is quite a bit too large for me."

"Thank you." He was quick to reply, but then paused for a second. "You will be perfectly fine; the gap isn't nearly as large as you believe it to be. In any case, you can always scowl and have them write an essay should you find yourself uncertain what to do next. Works every time."

"I'll remember that." Robin huffed with a small smile, and only when Snape moved on to his own class, she remembered to ask the important questions. "What am I supposed to teach them anyway?"

"Revision of the term, ideally." He replied over his shoulder, and Robin couldn't help wishing he wouldn't go. "But try to remember that they aren't you. Lower your expectations, or teach the students to meet them."

With that he was gone, rushing up the spiral staircase while Robin made her way down. Oh God… had she actually agreed to teach a freaking potions class?! Second years, admittedly, but still! What was she supposed to do, make an entrance like Snape and scare the hell out of them? Actually… no no no, she couldn't do that. Fuck. She should just try to do the same thing she always did when tutoring Cas and Jorien, that had always worked just fine. Even with up to twenty people at once! Wasn't much of a difference to an entire class, was it? Only that they were actually going to expect her to teach them something, not just help with revision. But then again, it was supposed to be revision after all. Breathe, Robin… She could almost hear Snape's voice in her head by now, as often as he had said that to her over the last few weeks when she started panicking over exams. And breathing she did indeed, as she stood in front of the door to the classroom. She could do this. It was potions, she loved potions. She knew potions. It would be alright.

With a perfect calm neutrality she opened the door, and made her way towards the front without a hint of doubt shining through. At least she finally got the desk she's always been meaning to trade for.

… … …

A little more than an hour and a half later, Robin was surprised to find that everything had been alright indeed. Nothing had exploded, nothing had been damaged, and everyone had come out alive and a little smarter than before. She had done a revision of the entire school year with them like she was supposed to, and surprisingly enough, the students had actually been more than willing to accept her as their teacher for the day. A good mixture of calm politeness and menacing scowls had kept everyone in line without making them despise her, which was as good an outcome as Robin could've hoped for. And perhaps some of them had actually learned from her explanations and little tricks after all.

It was only when the students started leaving the classroom that she allowed herself to feel out of place again, being the teacher, and sitting on the edge of Snape's desk like that. He surely wouldn't approve of such a thing, but for some reason Robin was intrigued to find out what he would do about it. Unfortunately, she wouldn't get to. Just when the last student had left the classroom, someone else came in instead.

"Professor Dumbledore!" Robin jumped off the desk immediately when the headmaster came sauntering through the aisle between the students' rows. "I, uh… Sorry, I didn't… What brings you down here? I mean, is there anything I can help you with?"

"Good afternoon, Miss Mitchell." He bowed his head ever so slightly with that small smile of his. "Actually, I-..."

He was interrupted by a knock on the door. Robin looked at Dumbledore almost expectantly, uncertain what to do or how to react, but he merely mentioned for her to go ahead before retreating to a shadowy corner of the room, picking up and studying a few jars in well feigned interest.

"Come in." Robin thus called out, feeling like an idiot to do so when there was an actual authority figure in the same room, but Dumbledore's wordless prompt for her to see to whatever was the issue had been clear enough.

"Sorry… if I'm interrupting." A small voice spoke from the door, and a second later one of the girls who had been part of the class just moments before reluctantly came back into the room. "I… uh, I was just wondering if perhaps… you had a minute?"

Oh god. Robin's mind raced with a million questions in return. She wasn't supposed to be a replacement for Snape! Well she was, in a way, but just for the revision part of the class! But as long as he wasn't here, she might as well fill in as good as she could for this as well.

"Wouldn't you like to speak to… Professor Snape about whatever the issue is instead? He should return soon, you can wait here if you wish." She asked, but the girl shook her head vehemently in return.

"No, I mean... do you… uh, have time for me perhaps? Before he returns?" The girl asked again, barely loud enough to be heard, and Robin did her best not to display any of the unease she felt. This wasn't her place… but she wasn't one to let people down who asked for her help.

"Certainly I have, if it really is me you wish to talk to." She finally replied with a calm little smile, much like the one Dumbledore had shown her seconds before. Sometimes inspiration was drawn from the most desperate of places. With a certain glance at the young girl who only nodded, Robin motioned to the chair in front of the desk. "Come sit down then. I don't bite."

The girl quickly scurried to the place she was pointed to, then looked up at Robin who sat down on the edge of the desk again like it was the only suitable place for her to claim. Really, she wouldn't dare to take a seat on the other side of the desk. She didn't want to give off the impression that she actually had anything to say around here.

"What can I help you with?" She prompted when the girl still wouldn't speak up after a while of quiet observation. Bloody hell, this felt odd… she wasn't supposed to be in this position.

"Well, I… uh, I noticed that you are… explaining things differently than Professor Snape, and you know so much, and I… I'm just horrible at potions!" The girl broke into tears so suddenly that Robin had a hard time keeping up with the sudden shift. "I always feel like I don't understand anything at all, and everyone else got what you explained today so well and I just… I didn't understand at all! I will fail my exam for sure! I just… I don't even understand why I have to learn all this nonsense! All those stupid little details… Why is that even important for anything?!"

While the girl kept sobbing relentlessly even after her rant, Robin honestly just felt lost in return. For a moment she was frozen, then she frowned, and finally she simply felt helpless. What was she supposed to do now?! What's one supposed to do with crying children? Bloody hell...

"I am certain the situation isn't half as bad as you make it out to be." She started, trying to use her most comforting voice, but the girl just kept on crying and crying as if she had been holding off just to unleash it all on Robin now. Oh geez… what was a professor to do in a situation like that? Use their brains. So Robin did. "Hey, look at me for a moment, yes?"

The girl did look up indeed, which was something at least, and Robin grabbed the first object on the desk she could get a hold of (which happened to be a burning candle), then held it out in front of her. "You know this spell?" She asked, while at the same time turning the candle into a drinking glass.

"Yes…" The girl sniffled, looking first at the glass and then at Robin. Without hesitation, Robin handed the object to her.

"How about this one?" She asked again, and this time she filled the glass with water to the brim.

"No…" The girl replied in a quiet voice, and while the water didn't spill over the edges of the glass, tears kept spilling over in her cheeks nonetheless. She looked at the glass in confusion for a moment, then back at Robin.

"Drink it." Robin ordered calmly, keeping her eyes on the girl who frowned a little at the odd request, but obliged without protest. Half a minute later, the glass was empty and Robin took it from her to set it aside. By now the girl had stopped crying and merely looked a little confused, but by far not as devastated anymore. So far so good. "Do you feel better?"

The girl nodded quietly, so Robin went on.

"See, you knew the charm to transform the candle into a glass, yes? It is a very basic spell, one of the fundamentals of transfiguration, you could say. The second spell I used served to fill the glass with water. You didn't know that one, but I can assure you that you will learn it sooner or later. But now imagine… What would you do if you knew how to conjure water first, but nobody had ever taught you how to get yourself a glass? Would be awfully hard to drink, wouldn't you say?"

Again, the girl nodded, and she even smiled a little at the image Robin was painting with her words.

"So we need the basic spell first, to make any use of the more advanced ones after that. Because without the basics, the difficult things wouldn't be of any value to us. Do you understand where I'm going with this?"

"I think so… It's important to know the basics, because you need a ground and matter to build on and work with."

"Exactly!" Robin offered her a small smile, even if it was feigned. "And it is exactly the same with potions. You need the basics and the details first, if you want to understand the complex structures later on."

"I can see that, I guess…"

"Good!" Robin sighed under her breath. "Now, did I understand you correctly that you're afraid of the exam for this class?"

"Yeah... I've been having problems in potions for a while now. I just don't understand how things work together and how they relate to each other. And you obviously are great at it, so I just… wanted to ask for help, I guess. Or even just some advice."

"If you have problems in a subject, you shouldn't hesitate to talk to the professor as soon as possible. Not just two weeks before the exams." Robin replied, but tried to keep the accusation out of her tone at least, if it was already so very present in her words. Calling out wrong behavior probably wouldn't help right now.

"I know…" The girl peered down at her hands in her lap, picking at the edge of her skirt while effectively avoiding Robin's eye. "But I was too scared to say anything, before now. I just… I thought I would only get yelled at anyway."

Again, Robin wanted to sigh. Somehow, she always ended up stuck between what people believed about Snape and what he wanted them to believe. There was fairly little she could do in between those two, without disregarding the reality of either. "I understand. And I won't tell you to talk to anyone you feel afraid of, even if I probably should. But I will say, out of my own experience and sincere belief, that people sometimes will surprise you if only you give them the chance to."

"Really?"

"Yes. No matter what you believe to know about someone, you must always leave open the possibility for them to change your mind. Nobody likes being trapped inside a box not made for them."

"You mean people should stop categorising?"

"No. Categorising is important for us to function in a world of such complexity. It would completely overwhelm us if we didn't categorise. What I'm saying is that you should keep in mind that you never know all there is to someone, that the picture you have of them isn't necessarily who they really are. And that when you put the world into boxes in your mind, you should always leave the lid open."

"I've never thought about it like that… but I guess you're right. Thank you." The girl gave Robin a timid smile in return. "I will try to talk to Professor Snape tomorrow afternoon. Perhaps he can help me find a point to start catching up with the class."

"Make that tomorrow morning and you might actually find him in a good mood." Robin said before she could help it, and upon the girl's confused face, she added, "When you've known someone for a while, you also know the best time to talk to them about certain things. Tomorrow morning, yes?"

"Yes! Definitely!" The girl nodded and rose to her feet with more energy than anyone should have at this point. "Thank you, professor!" With that she grabbed her back and skipped down the aisle towards the door, where she disappeared and was gone two seconds later. Only then Robin's mind snapped out of it, and she frowned to herself for a moment. Had the girl actually called her 'professor'? Robin shook her head at the odd encounter and turned the glass back into a candle before she would forget about it.

"That was quite impressive, if you allow me that one remark." Dumbledore's voice startled Robin enough to make her jump off the desk once more, heart jumping into action equally while a rush of adrenaline spread in her veins. Bloody hell… she had completely forgotten about him. And honestly, Dumbledore was remarkably good at making himself practically invisible. Perhaps actually indivisible, who knew.

"I wouldn't call it impressive. Self-defense would be more like it." Robin replied sincerely, while trying to keep up her facades nonetheless. There was no use trying to fool Dumbledore, but she wouldn't make it easy for him to see through her either. "I really just wanted her to stop crying. It made me uncomfortable."

"Still, your advice was remarkable, even if perhaps a little difficult for a child to fully understand. Say, what did you put into that water?"

"Nothing." She shrugged, crossing her arms over her chest. "It's something my parents did with me when I was little. Just give a crying child a glass of water and they will stop crying to drink it. That means they will stop crying for crying's sake, and a great majority of children's problems will already be solved at that point. At the very least, it'll be easier to have a calm conversation from there on."

"Interesting. After long years of teaching at this school, I still find myself learning something new about human behavior every day. Even if by now, I believe to have quite a bit of insight into the… mind of the common person."

"I don't. I mean, I'm not good with people, neither with children nor adults. Remembering little tricks like that, or making use of logic and knowledge to manipulate someone for their own good… Some people might call that insensitive or rude, but it really only is a means to function like any other." She said, as the question about Dumbledore's presence here came back to her mind. "Anyway, I think the girl will be fine if she actually takes the advice about keeping an open mind. But what was it you wanted to say, before we were interrupted in the first place?"

"I meant to say that I came here looking for Severus." Dumbledore smiled, and finally sauntered out of the dark corner he had been dwelling in. "I believe he might be in the possession of a book I would like to borrow for a few days."

"May I ask which one?" Robin inquired, curiosity winning over reason and definitely over manners as well. "I've read all of them at this point, so I'll probably be able to tell you if what you're looking for is part of his collection."

"Of course you have…" Dumbledore's smile turned into a sincere one, and Robin couldn't help wondering why he seemed to be so very amused by what she'd said. "The book I am looking for is a collection of spells about literature and literary mediums. You see, I unfortunately made the mistake of leaving a book of great value too close to Fawkes when it was time for him to burn… You certainly can imagine the outcome."

Robin eyebrows rose in surprise at first, then she had to smile at the coincidence, and finally her brows furrowed into a frown. There was no such thing as a coincidence when it came to the headmaster. And even if that story was true, a great wizard like him surely didn't need a random book about literature spells to help him out. Curious…

"I believe I can help you with that. As it happens to be, I'm in the possession of the very book you are looking for as well. That might spare you plenty of waiting time." She said anyway, putting on her own calm neutrality once again as she turned to summon her copy of the book out of her bag. Then she skipped down the two steps in front of the desk and approached Dumbledore, handing it to him with a smile that mirrored his own. "Well, actually I was the first to have the book, but then I gifted him a copy as well… Anyway, you might find something suitable on page 46… or perhaps it was page 64, it's been a while since I've read it."

Dumbledore accepted the book with a small bow of the head, and a peculiar glance at Robin that to her was more unsettling than reassuring. "Thank you, Miss Mitchell. I will be sure to return it to you before the end of term."

"Oh, don't worry about it, Sir. I know where another copy is, should I need it."

"Of course you do…"

Somehow Robin found herself annoyed by the many times he said that, by the way he said it even more, but she didn't let it on. Instead she merely held his gaze, unfaltering and steady even though it was still so very unsettling. Deeply inquiring and invasive even, while yet hidden behind the calmest contentment and innocence. He was so much more difficult to read than Snape was. For Robin, at least, but she knew that it was an unfair comparison to make from her perspective. She was as biased as she could be.

"Is there anything else I can do for you, Sir?" She finally asked, after what seemed like hours of silence.

"Not that I am aware of. Thank you for the book." He mused with a knowing smile, then turned around to leave. As soon as the door fell into its lock behind him, Robin let out a long breath and returned to the desk in a slow saunter. What an odd encounter. Another odd encounter.

When she took her perch on the edge of the desk again, putting the books she had used during the class back into their place, she finally realized what had bothered her about the entire thing. Dumbledore had been the one to tell Snape to take over Morgan's class, and therefore he must've known that he wouldn't find him down here. That means he had either come here to wait for Snape, which was highly unlikely, or he had meant to seek out Robin in the first place. In which case he must have known that she possessed the particular spellbook as well. And he haid lied to her without her noticing even in the lightest. But… why on earth would he do any of that?

______________________________

Tags:

@ayamenimthiriel @chibi-lioness @t-sunnyside @alex4555 @purpledragonturtles @istrugglewithphilosophy @meghan-maria

General Tags:

@wegingerangelica @dreary-skies-stuff @wiczer @lotus-eyedindiangoddess @theweirdlunatic @caretheunicorn @kthemarsian @lady-of-lies @strawberrysandcream @noplacelikehome77 @theoneanna @mishaandthebrits @i-am-a-mes @nonsensicalobsessions @exygon @hiddles-lobotomy @rjohnson1280 @annwhojumps @spookycatqueen @salempoe @headoverhiddleston @fanfiction-and-stress @createdfromblue @halszka-potter @thecreatiivecorner @themusingsofmany @kinghiddlestonanddixon @scorpionchild81 @crystal-28 @adefectivedetective @lokis-girl-in-mischief @booklover2929 @iamverity @lovesmesomehiddles @akk4rin @whitewolfandthefox @stuckupstucky @kassablanca13 @delightfulheartdream @hayalee8 @bluewneptune @lemonmochitea

69 notes · View notes

mytwilightimagines13 · 4 years ago

Text

Amnesia (Book Two)(Part Twelve)

The witnesses

Two things happened at once. Caius's eyes focused on Aro, and the tiny cruel smile came back. And Edward hissed, his hands balling up in fists so tight it looked like the bones in his knuckles would split through his diamond-hard skin. Carlisle glanced anxiously at Edward's face, and then his own face hardened. While Caius had blundered through useless accusations and injudicious attempts to trigger the fight, Aro must have been coming up with a more effective strategy. Aro ghosted across the snow to the far western end of the foe’s line, stopping about ten yards from Amun and Kebi. The nearby wolves bristled angrily but held their positions. “Ah, Amun, my southern neighbor!" Aro said warmly. "It has been so long since you've visited me." Amun was motionless with anxiety, Kebi a statue at his side. "Time means little; I never notice its passing," Amun said through unmoving lips. "So true," Aro agreed. "But maybe you had another reason to stay away?" Amun said nothing. "It can be terribly time-consuming to organize newcomers into a coven. I know that well! I'm grateful I have others to deal with the tedium.” Aro said and many took a quick glance at Maeryn before returning their attention back to Aro. Alec grabbed Maeryn’s hand and squeezed it lightly. Maeryn returned his gesture by stroking his hand with her thumb once. “I'm glad your new additions have fit in so well. I would have loved to have been introduced. I'm sure you were meaning to come to see me soon." Aro continued. "Of course," Amun said, his tone so emotionless that it was impossible to tell if there was any fear or sarcasm in his assent. "Oh well, we're all together now! Isn't it lovely?" Amun nodded, his face blank. "But the reason for your presence here is not as pleasant, unfortunately. Carlisle called on you to witness?" "Yes." "And what did you witness for him?" Amun spoke with the same cold lack of emotion. "I've observed the child in question. It was evident almost immediately that she was not an immortal child - " "Perhaps we should define our terminology," Aro interrupted, "now that there seem to be new classifications. By immortal child, you mean of course a human child who had been bitten and thus transformed into a vampire." "Yes, that's what I meant." "What else did you observe about the child?" "The same things that you surely saw in Edward's mind. That the child is his biologically. That she grows. That she learns." Maeryn still couldn’t wrap her head around the fact that Bella and Edward had intercourse when she was only human. Maeryn had to admit she was impressed by Edward’s ability to restrain himself. But she was also disgusted by it at the same time. She couldn’t ponder on the fact how he could bring his mate in so much danger. Not just by having intercourse, but also by impregnating her. Overall, she found it foolish. "Yes, yes," Aro said, a hint of impatience in his otherwise amiable tone. "But specifically in your few weeks here, what did you see?" Amun's brow furrowed. "That she grows... quickly." Aro smiled. "And do you believe that she should be allowed to live?" Hisses escaped multiple mouths on the foe’s side, once Aro’s words had been spoken out loud. Half the vampires in the foe’s line echoed in protest. The sound was a low sizzle of fury hanging in the air. Across the meadow, a few of the Volturi witnesses made the same noise, including Maeryn. Edward stepped back and wrapped a restraining hand around Bella’s wrist. Aro did not turn to the noise, but Amun glanced around uneasily. "I did not come to make judgments," he equivocated. Aro laughed lightly. "Just your opinion." Amun's chin lifted. "I see no danger in the child. She learns even more swiftly than she grows." Aro nodded, considering. After a moment, he turned away. "Aro?" Amun called. Aro whirled back. "Yes, friend?" "I gave my witness. I have no more business here. My mate and I would like to take our leave now." Aro smiled warmly. "Of course. I'm so glad we were able to chat for a bit. And I'm sure we'll see each other again soon." Amun's lips

were a tight line as he inclined his head once, acknowledging the barely concealed threat. He touched Kebi's arm, and then the two of them ran quickly to the southern edge of the meadow and disappeared into the trees. Maeryn was sure that they wouldn't stop running for a very long time. Smart move. Aro was gliding back along the length of our line to the east, his guards hovering tensely. He stopped when he was in front of Siobhan's massive form. "Hello, dear Siobhan. You are as lovely as ever." Siobhan inclined her head, waiting. "And you?" he asked. "Would you answer my questions the same way Amun has?" "I would," Siobhan said. "But I would perhaps add a little more. Renesmee understands the limitations. She's no danger to humans - she blends in better than we do. She poses no threat of exposure." "Can you think of none?" Aro asked soberly. Edward growled, a low ripping sound deep in his throat. Caius's cloudy crimson eyes brightened. Renata reached out protectively toward her master. And Garrett freed Kate to take a step forward, ignoring Kate's hand as she tried to caution him this time. Maeryn watched the scene closely, holding her hands out, ready to weaken Bella’s shield at any moment. Siobhan answered slowly, "I don't think I follow you." Aro drifted lightly back, casually, but toward the rest of his guard. Renata, Felix, and Demetri were closer than his shadow. "There is no broken law," Aro said in a placating voice, but everyone on both sides of the meadow could hear that a qualification was coming. Bella was becoming furious, and hurled the fury into her shield, thickening it, making sure everyone was protected. Maeryn smiled and used her gift slightly, giving Bella some resistance. Not enough to break the shield, but enough for her to lighten up Bella’s fury even further, and use more energy than originally asked for. "No broken law," Aro repeated. "However, does it follow then that there is no danger? No." He shook his head gently. "That is a separate issue." The only response was the tightening of already stretched nerves, and Maggie, at the fringes of their band of fighters, shaking her head with slow anger. Aro paced thoughtfully, looking as if he floated rather than touched the ground with his feet. Maeryn noticed every pass took him closer to the protection of his guard, and felt more relieved with every pass he took. "She is unique... utterly, impossibly unique. Such a waste it would be, to destroy something so lovely. Especially when we could learn so much .. ." He sighed, as if unwilling to go on. "But there is danger, danger that cannot simply be ignored." No one answered his assertion. It was dead silent as he continued in a monologue that sounded as if he spoke it for himself only. "How ironic it is that as the humans advance, as their faith in science grows and controls their world, the more free we are from discovery. Yet, as we become ever more uninhibited by their disbelief in the supernatural, they become strong enough in their technologies that, if they wished, they could actually pose a threat to us, even destroy some of us.” Aro said, his face looking troubled. "For thousands and thousands of years, our secrecy has been more a matter of convenience, of ease, than of actual safety. This last raw, angry century has given birth to weapons of such power that they endanger even immortals. Now our status as mere myth in truth protects us from these weak creatures we hunt. This amazing child" - he lifted his hand palm down as if to rest it on Renesmee, though he was forty yards from her now, almost within the Volturi formation again. "if we could but know her potential - know with absolute certainty that she could always remain shrouded within the obscurity that protects us. But we know nothing of what she will become! Her own parents are plagued by fears of her future. We cannot know what she will grow to be." He paused, looking first at the foe’s witnesses, and then, meaningfully, at his own. His voice gave a good imitation of sounding torn by his words. Still looking at his own

witnesses, he spoke again. "Only the known is safe. Only the known is tolerable. The unknown is... a vulnerability." Caius's smile widened viciously. "You're reaching, Aro," Carlisle said in a bleak voice. "Peace, friend." Aro smiled, his face as kind, his voice as gentle, as ever. "Let us not be hasty. Let us look at this from every side." "May I offer a side to be considered?" Garrett petitioned in a level tone, taking another step forward. "Nomad," Aro said, nodding in permission. Garrett's chin lifted. His eyes focused on the huddled mass at the end of the meadow, and he spoke directly to the Volturi witnesses. Maeryn raised an eyebrow, wondering what this nomad could possibly say to still put an end to this tension. A tension of a starting battle, waiting around the corner to blossom like a deadly flower. "I came here at Carlisle's request, as the others, to witness," he said. "That is certainly no longer necessary, with regard to the child. We all see what she is. I stayed to witness something else. You." He jabbed his finger toward the wary vampires. "Two of you I know - Makenna, Charles - and I can see that many of you others are also wanderers, roamers like myself. Answering to none. Think carefully on what I tell you now. 'These ancient ones did not come here for justice as they told you. We suspected as much, and now it has been proved. They came, misled, but with a valid excuse for their action. Witness now as they seek flimsy excuses to continue their true mission. Witness them struggle to find a justification for their true purpose - to destroy this family here." He gestured toward Carlisle and Tanya. "The Volturi come to erase what they perceive as the competition. Perhaps, like me, you look at this clan's golden eyes and marvel. They are difficult to understand, it's true. But the ancient ones look and see something besides their strange choice. They see power. I have witnessed the bonds within this family - I say family and not coven. These strange golden-eyed ones deny their very natures. But in return have they found something worth even more, perhaps, than mere gratification of desire? I've made a little study of them in my time here, and it seems to me that intrinsic to this intense family binding - that which makes them possible at all - is the peaceful character of this life of sacrifice. There is no aggression here like we all saw in the large southern clans that grew and diminished so quickly in their wild feuds. There is no thought for domination. And Aro knows this better than I do." Maeryn watched Aro's face as Garrett's words condemned him, waiting tensely for some response, a sign to end this nomad. Who does he think he is? Questioning her Master like that?! But Aro's face was only politely amused, as if waiting for a tantrum-throwing child to realize that no one was paying attention to his histrionics. "Carlisle assured us all, when he told us what was coming, that he did not call us here to fight. These witnesses" - Garrett pointed to Siobhan and Liam - "agreed to give evidence, to slow the Volturi advance with their presence so that Carlisle would get the chance to present his case. But some of us wondered" - his eyes flashed to Eleazars face - "if Carlisle having truth on his side would be enough to stop the so-called justice. Are the Volturi here to protect the safety of our secrecy, or to protect their own power? Did they come to destroy an illegal creation, or a way of life? Could they be satisfied when the danger turned out to be no more than a misunderstanding? Or would they push the issue without the excuse of justice? We have the answer to all these questions. We heard it in Aro's lying words - we have one with a gift of knowing such things for certain - and we see it now in Caius's eager smile. Their guard is just a mindless weapon, a tool in their masters' quest for domination.” Maeryn frowned at his words, but quickly shook them off. This Garrett is a liar, nothing more, nothing less. "So now there are more questions, questions that you must answer. Who rules you,

nomads? Do you answer to someone's will besides your own? Are you free to choose your path, or will the Volturi decide how you will live? I came to witness. I stay to fight. The Volturi care nothing for the death of the child. They seek the death of our free will." He turned, then, to face the ancients. "So come, I say! Let's hear no more lying rationalizations. Be honest in your intents as we will be honest in ours. We will defend our freedom. You will or will not attack it. Choose now, and let these witnesses see the true issue debated here." Once more he looked to the Volturi witnesses, his eyes probing each face. The power of his words was evident in their expressions. "You might consider joining us. If you think the Volturi will let you live to tell this tale, you are mistaken. We may all be destroyed" - he shrugged - "but then again, maybe not. Perhaps we are on more equal footing than they know. Perhaps the Volturi have finally met their match. I promise you this, though - if we fall, so do you." He ended his heated speech by stepping back to Kate's side and then sliding forward in a half-crouch, prepared for the onslaught.

#alec volturi #volturi #volturi imagine #vampire #twilight imagine #twilight

6 notes · View notes

gwoongi · 5 years ago

Text

euphoria

jeon jeongguk / reader genre: royalty au, fluff rating: general words: 3305 warnings: big ball of love, inspired by moon lovers + that one gorgeous scene in tangled a/n: this is a bit of my royal jeongguk au i was writing and never finished, and i wrote this whilst listening to jeongguk’s new solo song snippet and a version of euphoria that i never knew i needed (+ i love, please see my masterlist for the link). also, happy birthday jeongguk, i love you so much °₊·ˈ∗♡( ˃̶᷇ ‧̫ ˂̶᷆ )♡∗ˈ‧₊°

➸ To be betrothed to Jeongguk is not only a great business advantage for your families, but a great honour for yourself. To be betrothed to Jeongguk, and one day bound to him, would be your greatest glory.

On Prince Junghyun’s birthday, it snows.

The first snowfall of the year, after a long haul of barren landscapes and dropping blossoms; Jeongguk feels like he’s been waiting forever for the snow to fall. Standing on the inside looking out, Jeongguk rests his hands on the cool stone of his bay window, stretching his body to peer out onto the courtyard of his keep. A thin layer of white lies peacefully over the once green grass outside by the cherry blossom trees, castle turrets stretching up into a grey sky littered with tiny flakes. He inhales the smell of the snowfall, the fresh smell that tickles his nose as he catches the scent.

Today is the day, he thinks, pushing himself back flat onto his feet and retreating towards his wardrobe, the solo door in the wall that opened out into a spare room converted for his luxury. Today is the day he will officially court you, and it has to be perfect.

Yewon had laid out his clothes for him, on a small square shaped stool that sits next to one of the cabinets in Jeongguk’s closet. He sees the set and smiles- perfect. Everything is perfect, including the day that follows him after he dresses, helped by his close servants who attach his armour and uniform, balancing a crown like thorns and barbed wire on top of his head.

You weren’t to be expected until the late afternoon, when the L/N’s would cross the Border from the Badlands into the North, towards Ravens’ Keep where he and his family lived and looked over the lands. Beyond the Badlands were the other Kingdoms of Korea, including your own; Three Streams, a traditional Kingdom with rivers winding through the towns, a much prettier sight to see than the cobble that ran around his own. Jeongguk hoped that, given that his courtship to you went smoothly enough, he could one day visit and see the people that a marriage would inherit.

Late afternoon rolls around speedily, time passing in blinks and gasps, unreal speeds. Jeongguk almost feels unprepared when the raven brings news of a crossing at the Border, a royal carriage pulling through with an assembly and audience. His hands are clammy as he waits, pacing the royal hall out of anxiousness and anticipation, excitement at seeing you after so long. It had only been a few months, less than two. Enough for Jeongguk to miss you, and the way you smiled shyly at him after the news of your betrothal.

Although nobody had known otherwise, Jeongguk was happy that you were no longer betrothed to his brother. If it hadn’t been for the Princess from Gwangju making an appearance at that same ball, he might have never got the chance to be with you. The thought sickens him. The thought of you with anybody but himself...he thought about it less and less as each day passed.

When you step down from the royal carriage, two hours later, when the moon says the time is past the hour of eight, Jeongguk feels his heart in his throat. The sight of your feet covered in an elegant black heel, followed by a gown that drags across the freshly sweeped floor, makes Jeongguk’s body shake out of nervousness. And it’s not in the Prince to get nervous easily. But, naturally, this occasion is made an exception.

“Lord and Lady L/N.”

His own mother steps from her place above Jeongguk on the steps rising into their keep, out of protocol, and her hands reach for your own mothers. The two women embrace, old friends, and her gaze lands on you, sheepish behind your brother’s broad shoulders. “And, our wonderful Y/N. You look absolutely beautiful.”

“Thank you, your Grace,” you reply, meekly. She smiles tightly and turns away, out of politeness to invite you all inside, and then you look at Jeongguk. The way he looks at you is the way you look at him, and the sight invites you in with one deep breath.

He is beyond words. Jeongguk is beauty, the representation of hidden gorgeousness in the North, like the tales once said. The way he stands with his hands tucked in front of him, his thumbs nervously fighting as he bites his bottom lip has your breath pulled inwards. Regal in appearance, he wears his house colours and sigil sewn onto his breast, dark red and silver colours dappled with ebony covering his torso and legs, his sword slotted into the sheath shining as it catches the shine of your necklace, dipped into cleavage. He is too beautiful for his own good, a catch and a sight to behold. To be betrothed to Jeongguk is not only a great business advantage for your families, but a great honour for yourself. To be betrothed to Jeongguk, and one day bound to him, would be your greatest glory.

“My Lady,” Jeongguk calls, bowing his head and body as you take small steps towards him. Your heels clip, like tiny horse hooves echoing in the silent snowfall, and Jeongguk raises his gaze with a shy smile that you almost miss.

“My Lord,” you reply, following his gesture. When your gaze lifts to find his eyes, you see his hand reaching out for you, slender fingers outstretched like ornaments, like the branches on the sacred Tree of Tales outside Ravens’ Keep’s walls.

When your hand slots into his own, you feel that he is cold; yet a warmth spreads across your body, a connection of electricity that has his hand tightening around yours, a promise of protection and his entire attention for the evening. You remembered from the last time that Prince Jeongguk was not a man of many words, his feelings and thoughts poured into physicalities that you had learned to translate.

The dinner that follows is, as expected to be, a success; the banquet is delivered within appropriate time and you eat quietly, speaking when spoken to, your gaze catching Jeongguk’s across the table when nobody was looking. With Jeongguk, while you are both expected to fulfil the promise of betrothal, there is also an expected level of professionalism and purity that you must keep. But looking into Jeongguk’s eyes when you’re supposed to be looking at something else feels like victorious rebellion, like the feeling of adrenaline after breaking the rules. The deep look of longing in his eyes, the love on his cheeks, a pink hue that you almost don’t see in the candlelight.

Jeongguk is so beautiful.

“There will be fireworks.” After spending far too long getting lost in Jeongguk’s silent smiles and eyebrow quirks, you finally return to the adult conversations at the heads of the table. The Queen Mother, Jeongguk’s mother, presses her chin into her palms as she discusses the traditions of royal birthday’s within this Kingdom, the ceremony that is planned for the hour of nine for Prince Junghyun. “I would ask that you attend the ceremony, as future in laws and as current allies to our Kingdom.”

“There would be no greater honour,” comes the honest reply of your father.

No greater honour indeed; Jeongguk’s smile widens at that, and when you grin back at him with your head ducked away from prying and imploring eyes, his shyness turns him back to staring at his plate.

Following a trail of burning orange lanterns that glow in the moonlight, the ceremony for Prince Junghyun takes place in the royal gardens. It’s rustic and medieval, with high stone walls covered in snow and hanging lights from the trees. A free slot occupies the center of the space cleared for the ceremony, with bowls of ice and white blossom, the drinks required for the transitioning of age. The two royal families cross the length of the smaller courtyard within the main walls of the keep, and by the time they each reach the long staircase down into the gardens, a sudden hand tugging on your own makes you pause and take steps backwards, away from your family and Jeongguk’s.

You turn suddenly, bewildered that somebody might try and stop you from attending the ceremony of Prince Junghyun - yet, the sight of Jeongguk’s own bashful and mischievous face surprises you, and he tugs you further away from the stairs, behind one of the artistically trimmed hedges that is covered in tiny blue berries.

“My Lord?” you question quietly and curiously, and Jeongguk just continues to smile. His one hand that is wrapped around yours stays there, affectionately placed, meanwhile the other reaches for your cheek and pulls one of the loose long curls of hair away from your skin. The act leaves you breathless. Prince Jeongguk is not allowed to touch you until marriage. This is forbidden.

But, he does it anyway. His personal guard who is assigned to him at all times watches from the staircase, and then he slowly moves out of view of the royal family and steps closer to the pair of you.

“Don’t worry,” Jeongguk reassures you. You notice, now that you’re alone, that Jeongguk’s formalities have dropped. He sounds more normal than you have ever heard him. This stolen intimacy makes your heart race, the feeling of butterfly wings against the inside of your stomach.

“What are you doing?” you ask him, cocking your head to the side with piqued interest. “If my family notice that I am missing, or worse, yours-!”

“I will tell them the truth, that I stole you away for myself to get a better view,” Jeongguk replies, and now, the smile is so natural that when it drops, you miss it right away. “Lady L/N, my Y/N, I would like to offer you the best view in the kingdom for tonight’s ceremony. Would you do me the honour of joining me?”

“I would love that,” you reply, beaming in reply.

The hand rested on your cheek tucks the hair behind your ear and his hand lingers there, gently stroking before falling. Perhaps he realised how intimate this really was, private conversations behind shrubbery in the knowledge of Jeongguk’s closest friend and trusted accomplice, his guard, Namjoon.

Either way, Jeongguk leads you by the hand and the heart towards a hidden stone staircase that sticks out of the wall, and with careful steps and a tight grasp of your hand, Jeongguk helps you up. The daunting trip is also closely followed by Namjoon, always one step behind, in case you should fall. You thankfully don’t, and the risk of danger is worth it by the time you reach the top, to where Jeongguk has prepared for you both to sit.

This is a rooftop, near one of the pointed turret roofs of one of the towers to decorate his keep. Namjoon stands near the staircase, respecting a well needed privacy between two betrothed and Jeongguk pats a space next to him on the cool stone. Out of care, he wipes the stone clean with his hand, removing the thin layer of snow that once covered it and like dust, it falls from the sky to the floor below. Apprehensive, you slowly drop to sit next to him, copying his position of legs hanging over the small wall, heels staring down at the drop.

The view is worth it. From where you are sitting, the view of Ravens’ Keep is breathtaking. You can see for miles, gazing at the snow haze hanging over the Kingdom and the buildings whose lights shine through glassless windows, glowing like fireflies in the night. It’s like a painting, colours paid close attention to and the smell of citrus and snowfall, faint aromas of bread from the bakery near the keep. Jeongguk observes your reactions to this freeing feeling of being on top of the world, and his chest tightens when you smile widely, a gasp leaving your mouth with a whisp of air.

“It’s gorgeous,” you comment. Jeongguk doesn’t look away.

“It is.”

Out the corner of your eye, you see his eyes on you. “I mean the view.”

“So do I,” he replies, and then you face him with raised eyebrows, a scandalised expression on your face. “What?” He laughs, “did I lie?”

“Sh,” you quip, and he laughs again.

This he prefers, much more than the forced formalities of being royal. Jeongguk likes it best when you’re you, the candid natural beauty unmissable. It’s the same thing he desired when he first saw you that day with your handmaid, the normal and informal squabbling he thought of as more endearing than insensitive, something he wished he could do with you somebody. It’s the same thing Jeongguk likes most about you, the same thing he wants to see you do more.

He closes these thoughts as he looks away, staring at the glowing lights of the ceremony and the sight of the Kingdom that might one day be his. While his brother is now betrothed to marry the Princess of Gwangju, his fate as King of Ravens’ Keep remains uncertain. He might even move to the Capital when the war is over, and rule the entire country. That would leave Ravens’ Keep to Jeongguk, and by extension, to you, and your future family. That thought makes him wriggle with nervousness.

“I think it’s starting soon,” Jeongguk says suddenly. He sees a flame flicker, like they’re getting ready to release the lanterns. They do this every year for their birthdays; the people of his Kingdom will light silver and orange lanterns and release them to the sky, a rising parade of glowing lights to celebrate the birth and age of the princes, soon to be Kings, of the North. “I remember this from last year.”

“Oh?” You sit up, arching to peek at the courtyard. “I can’t see anything.”

“You will,” promises Jeongguk. When you look at him, he grins and grabs your hand again, “You’ll love it, I promise.”

“I’m excited,” you confess shyly. “Everybody’s told me a lot about the ceremony for your birthdays.”

“Yeah?” Jeongguk replies with a light laugh. “Have any of your memories come back, by the way? I know the last time we met, things were still unclear.”

“They still are,” you admit honestly, “but things are getting easier. I’m finally back to where I think I was before. It’s definitely less confusing.”

Jeongguk laughs genuinely. “That’s good to know. I thought the idea of betrothed marriage disgusted you.”

“No, never,” you insist, shaking your head. “It was...a surprise, yes. But, it’s not so bad.”

The prince smirks playfully, “no?”

“No,” you tease. “I think it’s going to work out fine for me.”

You have no idea, but the sound of that fills Jeongguk’s chest with joy, something so warm and tight and good that he almost wants to cry.

Out of the corner of his eye, he can see the lights engulf the courtyard, lanterns being prepared. He wonders if they’ve noticed neither of you are there, or if they care- maybe they know their son well enough to understand what he’s done, where he’s taken you and what he’s about to do. Just before the first royal lantern is lit and lifted to the endless skies of ebony, clustered by blinking stars, Jeongguk’s fingers trace patterns on your skin and you pause, looking at him.

“My Y/N,” he starts, his voice unusually quiet and nervous. You try to meet his eyes but he ducks away.

“Yes?” you encourage, but he says nothing. You grasp his hand tighter, “Jeongguk?”

“It is expected of me to like you,” Jeongguk begins, and those starting words make you shudder cold, “and I’m sorry if this is...I don’t know...forward of me.” He sighs, gasping courage: “But I like you. So much.”

Your world pauses.

“And it would mean everything and more to me,” he continues with a deep and worried voice, “if you would take my hand. In courtship.”

When you say nothing, Jeongguk fears that perhaps you might not understand. He swallows the lump in his throat: “Um, Namjoon told me it’s also been called dating. We date. Like...a less intimate version of marriage, I think. Um-”

“I know what courting is,” you nod, unintentionally interrupting and his mouth opens to an ‘o’. He says nothing, feeling slightly embarrassed as time passes. His gut wrenches, he wants to cry and run away. But before he can do this, and before he can regret it, Jeongguk feels your body warmth closer to his and his eyes focus, watching as you gently lean forward and kiss his lips.

It is so gentle, and so fleeting, and missed greatly when you pull away. Jeongguk blinks, dazed, and as the lanterns in the courtyard are gently raised one by one in celebration of Junghyun’s birthday, Jeongguk leans himself forward as you join to kiss you again, one hand on his lap and the other cupping the side of your head, fingers in your hair, head in the clouds.

The sky is glittering and glowing with silver and orange, the sound of church bells and cheers in the Kingdom rising in the sky as they set off into the darkness. It is so beautiful, and peaceful as the colours engulf the sky, surrounded by the snow that falls lightly like a kiss, and in between each kiss comes the glimpse of silver from a lantern, the burst of life from fireworks that somebody is setting off deeper in the Kingdom. The colours are royal and gorgeous, reds and blues and whites and a bright gold, lost and missed between kisses as he closes his eyes, and yours, too.

Intimacy is sacred, something reserved for marriage, but after tonight, there is no way Jeongguk can resist the urge and need to be with you. You fill a space in Jeongguk that had otherwise been left empty and exposed, like a lost and found puzzle piece that completes the set. Eventually one hand on your head becomes two, and confidence inside Jeongguk is ripped through when your hands grasp his wrists, bringing him closer, the need and lust and yearning for one another so absolute and passionate that even Namjoon, who is still by the stairs, can feel the love. When Jeongguk finally realises he is being selfish, stealing your sight of the highly regarded birthday celebration, he pulls away and rests his forehead against your own, catching his breath.

He could shy away when he opens his eyes and sees your own looking right back at him, but he does not. Instead he smiles, so brightly that he resembles the life in the sky, and my Gods, he is so breathtaking, so divine and regal and beautiful that it hurts. The truth now is that meeting Jeongguk had been one of the biggest mysteries and accidents of your life, whilst also being the absolute completion of it. The sight of lanterns fills your eyes like a painting and Jeongguk notices that Namjoon is shuffling towards him, a lantern that he had fetched whilst you were otherwise occupied being thrust into his hands.

“Y/N,” Jeongguk calls quickly, and you catch sight of the lantern in his hands and smile widely.

Down below, from the courtyard dazzled with lights in the sky, Lady Jeon turns in awe at the sight, in circles staring at the sky. She pauses on her second rotation, her eyes piercing to gaze at the turret near Jeongguk’s bedroom; the sight of a lone silver lantern rising to the sky makes her heart burst with something new, something tight and relieving and warm. Everybody had noticed Jeongguk’s absence, along with your own, and it wasn’t hard to put together the pieces.

She smiles, knowing better. Oh, to be young and in love.

for context, the au was inspired a lot by moon lovers + so y/n actually gets teleported //back in time?// and is thrown into a royal universe where she is betrothed to jeongguk. i hope this au can be born soon and i hope this context helps !!! (it’s also a lil bit game of thrones inspired oops)

463 notes · View notes

lassluna · 5 years ago

Text

The Pumpkin Incident

Summery: It was supposed to be a quick trip to the pumpkin patch. Quick in and out, grab the pumpkins and get home. She was not supposed to meet newcomer Killian Jones. She was certainly not supposed to end up trick or treating with Henry, a pirate and little Robin Hood.

(But why does he look so damn good as a pirate?!)

Ao3 FFn

AN: This is my contribution to the @csrolereversal . Thank you so much @darkcolinodonorgasm for putting this event together it was wonderful to be a part of. Please see the art that this is based on by @carpedzem it's amazing Thank you so much for all your help making this story what it was, she also did some beta work on this thing, so please go check out her art. Also thanks soo much to all the people who helped inspire some of this over on discord!

What Emma will never understand is the fascination for pumpkins everyone has this time of year. Because seriously, why pumpkin of all things?

Pumpkin spice, Pumpkin carving, even pumpkin hummus! Pumpkin wasn’t even that good!

(She’d be lying to say she didn’t try the pumpkin hummus, it was as gross as she expected.)

“We need to find the biggest Pumpkin!” Leo announces proudly from the back seat of Emma’s bug. Emma smirks at her nephew’s assertion. At 12 years old, the kid thought he was ready to conquer the world.

“Nuh uh.” Henry disagrees. “We need to find the weirdest pumpkin. I want the one no one else wants.” Emma steals a glance at her big hearted kid. Henry, being 2 years Leo’s junior, always loves finding the underdog, whether it be the saddest pumpkin, or the smallest plant, Henry always wanted to give it a shot.

(Emma’s always surprised how well these smaller things blossom under Henry’s influence, as if he’s made them succeed with his pure belief)

“Smaller things are lame.” Leo retorts.

“You’re lame!” Henry replies bitterly.

“Hey, no calling your cousin lame.” Emma says immediately silencing them mid argument. If the boys are left alone, it would soon dissolve into a fight. “We can get both, how does that sound?”

Emma hears small mumbles of agreement. She suppresses a sigh herself.

Typically, it was David who did this kind of stuff with the boys, all the dirty messy stuff dads did with their sons. Henry was almost always included, something she was eternally grateful for. Emma hoped that David made up for Henry not having a father in some way.

It was why when David's shift got changed to work the afternoon before Halloween rather than the morning. She offered to take the boys instead to pick out pumpkins to carve. It was a tradition of sorts so she would hate for them to miss it.

"Alright, we're here." She announces, pulling into the parking spot besides Tiny's Farm. "Everyone remember the rules?"

"No talking to strangers, and always be within sight." Leo echoes in an annoyed tone.

"Good." Emma says unlocking the doors. The boys pile out of the bug and make a beeline towards the pumpkin patch.

She can see the one Leo has his eyes on, an absolute monster of a pumpkin that he most likely won't be able to carry.

"Maybe not-" but she's interrupted by the kid in question trying to lift the pumpkin.

“Leo-” She tried, before he managed to get it off the ground before nearly dropping it onto his foot.

“Easy lad.” says a voice, as a man came around to help support the pumpkin's weight and keep Leo from accidentally hurting himself. “That’s a big pumpkin for a little lad.”

That made Leo pout, and try once more to pick up the pumpkin“I’m not little” Leo says impatiently.

“Leo, do not pick up the pumpkin.” Emma snaps. “You can really hurt yourself if you’re not careful." The little brunette boy threw a glare her way.

"But I am being careful. Dad would let me." he says simply.

"Well your Dad's at work, so why don't you find a pumpkin that won't need a seatbelt." She glances around noticing Henry talking to a young boy, several appropriate sized pumpkins scattered about."Look, Henry's finding plenty." She points out.

With a huff, Leo crosses his arms and walks towards his cousin. Emma has no doubt that after seeing some more pumpkins he’ll forget all about the giant one.

"The lad is certainly spirited." The man says with a chuckle.

"Yup. Thanks for helping Leo." She says turning towards the stranger.

He was a bit taller than her, wrapped in dark leather, and more importantly handsome, very handsome.

"Anytime love," he says shooting her a brilliant smile. It makes her blush ever so slightly. She’s surprised she doesn’t recognize him, being a Sheriff in a relatively small town, Emma feels like she knows a majority of the locals by name.

“You’re not from around here are you?” She inquires with a smile, noticing him watching the young boy talking to Henry.

“What gave it away?” He asks, tilting his head slightly.

“I’m something of an expert of this place.” She says casually.

“Oh?”

“Plus the accent, not many foreigners in Storybrooke.” She says. “So what’s your story? Visiting family?”

His grin wides. “Killian Jones.” He introduces. “But not visiting family, hoping to use the holiday to help the lad settle in.” He says gesturing towards the boy. “His mother just got a job as the new District Attorney so here we are.”

Emma had heard David talking about that, with Spencer retiring, they were looking for someone new. Word around town was that she was a very blunt straight forward woman with a husband and son...

“Killy!” The boy calls out, beckoning their attention. They both venture closer to the boys “Can Henry come trick or Treat with us?” He asks, big wide eyes looking at the man.

“Why don’t we ask his mother lad?” Killian says smoothly, looking at the pumpkin the younger boy was holding. “That’s a mighty fine treasure you found.” He says.

“Can we Mom?” Henry asks. She looks to the two energetic boys, big wide eyes.

“Sorry kid, you know the rules.” She says. It had been a long held rule that holidays were for family. It was time for Leo and Henry to have fun as cousins. “Halloween is just for family, you’ll have a good time with Leo.”

Speaking of Leo...

"Leo. Put down the pumpkin!"

"Fine."

“Understood...” He confirms with a nod, trailing off.

“Emma.” She introduces. “Sheriff Emma Swan.”

"Swan." He says simply. "Well Swan”, he says fishing into his pocket. "If you change your mind about the trick or treating..." he hands her a card.

"Oh?" She says surprised. "Photographer?" She reads on the slip of cardstock.

"Usually weddings and the like, the address is outdated but the number...” He scratched behind his ear nervously.

“Do you usually give your number out to people you just meet?” She asks with a brow raised in curiosity.

“Typically that's how one gets business, besides you’re the sheriff.”

She smiles as he and his son walk off. He has the boy’s pumpkin in his arm, the other holding onto the boy’s hand.

For a moment, Emma wonders about calling the guy.

The next she wonders, if he was here with his son and wife, why the hell was he flirting with her?

They arrive back at the farmhouse with no less than five pumpkins. Emma’s not entirely sure how the boys swindled her into buying more pumpkins than they could possibly carve in a month, let alone the few hours till Halloween.

“Pumpkins Pumpkins!” The boys shouted the moment she pulled into her spot in the driveway, practically falling over themselves carrying their pumpkins into the house.

“We have Pumpkins Mom!” Leo calls rushing through the front door. Emma follows behind, holding the other two they just had to have.

Mary Margret, her sister in law looks like she just got home, purse still laying on the couch, kettle still simmering for her daily cup of tea.

“You did!” The pixie cut 4th grade teacher says, a brilliant smile as she embraces her son. She looks up at Emma thankfully, but with a curious expression.

Why so many?

Emma shakes her head.

Don’t ask...

“Go set them on the table and go wash your hands.” She says simply. The boys don’t miss a beat obeying Mary Margaret’s instructions. No one could disobey something when she used her teacher voice, even David and her sometimes caught themselves listening when she raised her voice to that teacher pitch.

“You know Emma.” Her sister-in-law says taking a seat on the couch “You’ll still be Leo’s favorite aunt if you say no to his demands.” Emma groans, collapsing into one of her nearby chairs.

“You know I’m not good at that, if it isn’t something that will put them in mortal danger I’m a sap.”

She laughs in agreement.

It’s then that they could hear a rickety truck pull into the driveway. Everyone in the house knew exactly what that was.

“Dad!” Leo proclaimed, racing towards the door as it swung open.

“Hey bud.” David says, giving his son a hug.

“Uncle David, Uncle David!” Henry exclaims behind his blonde haired cousin. “Look at the pumpkins we got!” He nodded, letting the boys pull him towards the table where the oddly shaped pumpkins waited for carving. Emma could vaguely hear all the ideas they had for the designs that David was going to help them make.

“Let him put his stuff down first.” Mary Margaret calls after them. “Don’t forget to wash your hands!”

“Yes honey.” David replies. There are moments like this that really remind Emma how perfect her brother’s life was. He ran an animal shelter on Main street, married his high school sweetheart, the most perfect person Emma had ever met.

It was really Emma to really feel like a screw up next to him.

Sure she was a sheriff, but that was more of an accident than anything else. The town really only needed two deputies with the sheriff. When Graham Humbert decided he wanted to leave town, Emma was the natural choice. Will Scarlet, the other deputy didn’t really fit the sheriff role.

“Are we going to cut the brain out of the pumpkin now?” Leo asks. “Are you going to use the big knife?”

She watches as Mary Margaret grabs the knife from the kitchen, helping David empty the centers from the pumpkins.

“Did you have fun with Emma today?” Mary says, once all the prep work had been completed and both Emma and she had a glass of red wine in their hands.

“Yeah.” Leo says casually, marker in hand as he draws a spooky face on the pumpkin. She could tell the blonde was concentrating as he had the same face both his father, and cousin had as they too were focused on their creations. “I had this huge Pumpkin I was going to get, like you wouldn’t believe it mom! It was so big!” He extends his arms trying to illustrate the size of the thing. “I tried to get it, but Auntie Emma said it was too big to fit in the car.” He explains.

Emma nods. “We probably wouldn’t have been able to get it to fit in the bug.” She agrees.

“The guy could have helped...” Henry pipes in rather cheerfully.

“Guy? What guy?” David repeats rather surprised, looking between the boys and Emma. He practically screamed over protective big brother mode, making Emma roll her eyes.

Emma closes her eyes, knowing what was about to happen.

"Emma was talking to a guy." Leo says, not even looking up, too busy carving the pumpkin while David helped Henry.

It certainly got Mary Margaret’s attention.

“There was a guy with his son...” She says at the excited look her sister in law was giving her. “He’s married, so obviously I’m not pursuing anything.” She says quickly.

“But this is the first guy you’ve gotten excited about since-”

“I don’t think I’m getting excited about anything.” She reminds her. “I just had a nice conversation. That’s it.”

It was silly, really, to read anything at all into this.

It was just a conversation. A conversation she’d enjoyed, but still just a talk. She'd talked to plenty of people. Perhaps she hadn’t smiled as much or laughed or been disappointed when it ended. Plus he never said anything about being married to his son’s mother. She knows better than anyone that just because you have a kid does not mean you’re married...

She should not be reading into anything.

“Maybe just consider it Emma. I know you don’t like talking about these things, but your walls, the walls you put up ever since Henry was born and Neal left...they may keep out pain, but they also keep out love too.” The older woman glances back at the boys carving. David overseeing them. “A lot can happen when you open yourself to the possibility of love.”

Emma shakes her head.

It didn’t mean anything.

Emma doesn’t need a man. She certainly doesn’t need to be fantasising about a married man, or one in the middle of a divorce or something, her life was complicated enough!

Ok, maybe being a simple sheriff in a small town wasn’t that complicated, but she had Henry to think about. Emma didn’t need tall dark and handsome to make her simple life ever the more complicated.

Mary Margret was going to take the boys trick or treating, and she was going to have a nice night to herself. Maybe she’d do her toes. She hates painting her own nails, so probably not, she’d certainly have a glass of wine. Maybe two.

It was going to be a good night. Emma Swan was determined to have a good night tonight if it killed her.

But of course, things never go according to plan.

“Mom! Leo set the pumpkin on fire!” She hears called over her thoughts.

Emma blinks, then looks up, seeing Mary Margaret’s ten year old standing in front of a currently aflame pumpkin.

Or maybe not...

“But it’s not fair!” Leo exclaims angrily. “Why does Henry get to Trick or Treat if I’m grounded?”

“Because your cousin didn’t put five candles in his pumpkin that caught the rest of the pumpkin on fire.” David says casually, from his seat on the couch.

Leo was in half of his green goblin costume glaring daggers at Henry in his knight outfit. When his parents saw what he was doing, they immediately jumped into action, putting out the fire and grounding their son effective immediately.

“The pumpkin wasn’t behaving.” The elder kid said darkly, arms crossed. “Why is that, my fault?” Mary Margaret sighs.

“Because we don’t light vegetables on fire in the house.”

“Can I go do it outside?”

“No!”

A very annoyed Leo slumped in his chair.

“But we’re supposed to trick or treat together.” He counters.

“Grounding trumps all family rules.” Mary Margret cuts in. “In addition, this is not the first time we’ve had trouble following fire safety Leo.” She too takes her seat on the couch, reality shows blaring in the background.

They had really spared no expense in teaching Leo a lesson. Not only was he grounded for a month, but right when she and Henry headed out, the plan was to play some informational movies about how not to set fires.

“But who am I going to Trick or Treat with?” Henry asks, glancing at his pumpkin pail sadly.

“Henry...” Emma says, not to sure how she was going to solve this problem. “Do you think any of your classmates would mind if you tagged along?” She asks. Henry instantly looks mortified at the suggestion.

“Henry doesn’t have any friends.” Leo says sarcastically. Throwing an eye roll their way.

“Leopold!” Mary Margaret says sternly. “You apologize to your cousin right now.” She orders her son.

Emma can’t help but glare at the boy as he mumbled through a half meaning apology. Henry barely glanced at the older boy, cheeks pink with embarrassment.

Did Henry really not have any friends?

“Henry...” She says simply, pulling her kid to the side. “Are you having trouble making friends?” She asks. They’d been in town for years by now, but when Emma thinks about it, Henry hasn’t gone to any birthday parties, no one had come over to their little apartment, he hadn’t gone over to anyone else’s....

Henry didn’t respond, which was answer enough for her usual chatty boy.

“Roland wanted to be my friend.” He says finally. “Can I trick or treat with him?”

Emma hesitates only a fraction, seeing her kid’s eyes light up when she pulls the business card out of her pocket. Jones Photos.

“I’ll give them a call.” Emma says. “But I’m going with you, non negotiable.”

Henry’s eyes light up, and regardless of Emma’s own worries about contacting Killian Jones, she’s determined to fix things for Henry.

Hey, this is Emma from the Pumpkin Patch, is it possible for Henry and I to come trick or treat with you and Roland?

“Are you sure this is going to fit?” Emma asks once more as Mary Margaret tightens the straps in the back of her costume.

“Of course Emma!” She says excitedly. “Bandit Snow is going to look so good on you!”

Emma hadn’t planned to trick or treat this year with the kids, so when Leo wanted to be the Green Goblin, and Henry wanted to be a knight, David and Mary Margaret decided to match the kids themselves, rather than going in couple costumes. David had gotten a perfect Spider Man costume, while Margaret had decided on going as Snow White, except Mary Margaret always hated the whole ‘Damsel and Distress’ idea so she had done some… alterations.

“So now that the leather vest is on, we can get you in the pants and here’s the bow and the sword, it’s a fake sword but it’s really realistic...” She rambles.

"Its fine, trust me. I really appreciate you lending it to me..." she says trailing off. It doesn't look half bad on her if she's being honest... She likes the look of the blue vest, the under shirt is a bit poofy, but its not unbearable. She got to wear her own khaki pants with some boots.

"You're phone buzzed." Mary Margaret notes handing her the device.

Absolutely! We're thinking of hitting Main Street first, would you like to meet us there?

"You said he was a photographer?" Mary Margaret asks. Emma nods as she types out her reply.

Yeah that works, what time are you thinking?

Emma barely takes notice as her sister-in-law takes the abandoned business card and types something into her phone.

“You didn’t tell me he was that handsome!” She hisses into her ear. It makes her blush brightly as she tries to get her hair tied up. She ties a messy ponytail, which Mary Margaret quickly undoes. Emma can see that she has the guy’s website pulled up, along with a photo of him taking some photos.

“Mary Margaret...” Emma says with a sigh. “You do know you’re married to my brother right?”

“Doesn’t mean I can’t admire hotness when I see it.” She says with a wink.

“Oh my God, stop please.”

She ties a much tighter one, letting a few strategically placed hairs escape the hair tie. It's much tighter than the one Emma had done.

45 minutes?

"Looks good." Emma says with a smile. But they have to get going. She stands, exiting the master bedroom. "Henry! Ready to go?"

He practically bolts from his chair looking every bit the knight from his fairy tales, flowing cape, dark blue puffy pants and a light blue tunic. He was practically beaming with excitement.

"Time for Operation Trick or Treat!"

I’m dressed like a pirate, Roland’s dressed as Robin Hood from the movie.

Emma takes another glance up from her phone, looking around carefully for them.

“Swan!”

She turns around, seeing a pirate and fox-bandit coming towards them. She waves at them, especially when she sees Henry jump to get their attention.

“Glad you could join us.” Killian says once they’re close enough. But Emma was too… distracted by his pirate get up.

“You look...”

His vest is a scarlet red color, his jacket is dark, long and flowy, his eyes were lined with eyeliner and his fingers have ruby rings on one hand, the other was...a hook?

He looks better than he did before, if Emma’s being honest.

She should not be thinking these things, not when he’s possibly married.

He smirks. “I know.”

Emma can’t help but roll her eyes at the smugness. “You look great too Swan.” Emma flicks her hair in agreement, watching as the boys chat excitedly as well. “Where should we start?”

It’s Henry that answers. “Granny’s, She always gives hot chocolate when we trick or treat, plus Ruby gives the best candy.” Roland nods in agreement and rushes in the general direction of the cafe.

“They’re getting along well.” Killian murmurs. “Henry goes to the local elementary school right?” Emma nods.

“4th grade.”

“Perfect, same as Roland. I’m glad the lad will have a friend when he starts school on Monday.” Emma didn’t expect that, she knew he was new in town, but the thought that he was about to be a new regular was a bit surprising. That meant PTA meetings, soccer games, bake sales, carpool lines...“Where’s your other boy, Leo?” Killian asks.

“Oh, he’s my nephew, Henry’s my son.” Emma clarifies. “Leo got grounded by his parents.”

“On Halloween?”

“There was a Pumpkin Incident...” Emma says casually, hoping he doesn’t press for details.

“Trick or Treat, Sheriff.” Granny says when they reach the dinner, handing her a styrofoam cup of hot chocolate, just the way she likes it.

“Hey Granny, have you met Killian yet?” She introduces taking a sip of her drink, inhaling the scent of cinnamon. The older woman nods, looking him up and down. The guy grins back at her.

“Didn’t realize I made an impression.”

“Of course, not many in this town are as fine as you.” She says with a wolfish smirk. This makes Killian’s cheeks turn pink as he scratches behind his ears.

He’s about to respond when Ruby, dressed as The Little Red Riding Hood, as always, quickly intervenes. “Granny! Stop hitting on people.” Pulling the older woman away. “We're nearly out of marshmallows!” She exclaims, shooting an apologetic smile their way.

“Come on Mom!” Henry groans, grabbing her hand. “Lets keep going!” Killian is also being pulled away by Roland. Not that she’s surprised, they decide to trick or treat down the stores on Main Street, before descending on the residential block just across from it.

“They seem to have this down to a science.” Killian points out, noticing that they’d only been at this for an hour and Roland had a completely full pail. She nods.

“It’s the usual route, most of the locals know what houses to hit first, and which to avoid. For example,” She points to a small quaint looking cottage filled with a beautiful garden. “Never visit Aurora and Phillip’s house, rumor has it they give out raisins.” Killian visibly shutters. “But they’re really nice people, just a bit too into healthy eating...” She points to the large mansion decorated with cobwebs and batts. “This is The Gold Residence, they give out...” She trails off as Henry and Roland race back from the large house, prize in hand.

“Movie Theater sized candy!” Roland exclaims, an entire box of whoppers clutched in his grip, one ear of his fox head hanging the wrong way.

“Wow...” Killian says dumb founded.

“The guy’s rich and his wife, Belle the librarian loves giving out candy. They always run out pretty quickly though...Be careful of the husband, he’s not nearly as kind as Belle.” She smiles and continues her introduction on How To Trick or Treat in Storybrooke.

“Marco doesn’t give out the best stuff, but his son August always hangs out in his garage giving the kids the good stuff.” She snickers at that one. “One time, Marco called me in because he thought August was dealing drugs, not Reese’s Pieces.”

That makes Killian laugh. “You certainly know the town pretty well.”

She does, doesn’t she? It hadn’t always been like that. When she came to town, she hated the fact that it was a ‘small town where everyone knew everyone. The rumors, gossip, but there was something homey about it too. Like everyone was talking about you because they cared about you, they warned each other about things they found fishy. A bit like a quirky family.

“I don’t know, it sort of snuck up on me...I wasn’t a small town kind of girl growing up...” She wasn’t an anywhere kind of person growing up.

“Too many happy families?” He assumes. It catches her off guard. She catches his expression and suddenly he knows. “You have that look Swan, the look we all get after being abandoned.”

Perhaps that’s what drew her to him. “Who was it for you?”

He smirks; even if the conversation was nothing to smile about. “My father. Left the day we buried my mother.”

Emma pauses. “My parents abandoned me on the side of the road. Then turned around and kept my brother.” She doesn’t resent her brother, not one bit, but to say that she never forgave her parents was an understatement. “I found this out after Henry was born, I wanted to know where we come from in case anything happened...”

Killian nods in agreement. “My brother tried to get custody of us, but a couple adopted us instead. We didn’t get along too well with the mother, but things did work out in the end… Sometimes things work out in bizarre ways.”

Emma definitely agrees on that. “Hey Henry!” Emma calls. Her kid looks up. “Why don’t we take them to the Haunted Mansion?”

“Ooooh, Good idea!”

“Haunted Mansion?” Killian repeats.

“Trust me, you both will love it.”

They did love it, even if the possessed monkeys did freak Roland out a bit.

“Does Henry’s father come to these very often?” Killian says suddenly, scratching behind his neck.

“He’s not a part of our life.” Emma responds automatically. His eyes widen with some sort of understanding.

“Aye. His loss then.” He replies. Emma raises a brow.

“Aye? Really getting into character aren’t you?” He waggles his eyebrows suggestively in response.

“Absolutely.” She laughs at that.

“Hey Mom, the house on the end has someone new in it.” Henry says, and he’s right, the white manner that had been empty for as long as she could remember had always been empty, a For Sale sign a permanent fixture of the neighborhood.

Now it was gone, in its place where graves and pumpkins, no less than six various carved pumpkins lines the walkway, bats hung from the arch. She could even see candles burning creepily in the windows.

“That’s our house.” Roland says. “Mom’s giving out caramel apple slices.”

Emma exchanges a glance with Henry.

Definitely not as bad as raisins.

“Can Henry come over?” Roland asks Killian, big puppy dog eyes that would have Emma hesitating. He glances at Emma.

“Just for a little bit.” She confirms with a smile. “We promised we’d bring Leo a few treats remember.” Henry nods in agreement. It sends the boys running in that direction. It takes a few words with the woman, dressed as an evil witch, before they disappear inside.

“We have a killer apple cider.” Killian says with a mischievous wink.

Emma’s not to sure what he’s getting at. Was he really inviting her inside to drink in front of his wife? This was getting too weird.

“Thanks, but technically I’m still on duty.” It was a lie, but it worked. He looks visibly disappointed. Not that she should care. Emma really can’t afford having rumors spread about crushing on the new District Attorney’s husband before the woman even moves into her office.

Not that she’s crushing on Killian.

“At least come in and meet Regina.” He says. “You’ll probably be working with her regardless.” Emma hesitates. “Besides, Henry and Roland are having a good time.”

That gets her, she’d do anything for Henry, even engage in pleasantries with the wife of the guy she did not have a crush on. Maybe just an interest? But not romantic. Not at all.

“Regina, this is Emma, Henry’s mom and the Sheriff.” Killian introduces. She smiles sheepishly.

She puts out her hand for Regina to shake. Emma’s rather impressed by her dark purple manicure. “Miss Swan.” She says “It seems we’ll be seeing a lot of each other soon.” She opens the door welcoming her inside. The home is...beautiful, white couches, beautiful marble floors, everything as pristine and perfect as possible. It has a forest sort of feel.

“Killy! Come see how much candy we have!” Roland says as soon as their inside. He grabs his hand and pulls. He looks back at them before he was pulled away into another room by the little Robin Hood.

Regina snickers. “He’s a total sap with him.” Emma nods.

“Roland obviously loves him.” Emma agrees.

“Cider?” Regina offers. She shakes her head. “Suit yourself.” She says pouring herself a glass. Then she sits on her couch, the woman’s gaze makes her feel nervous. She looks around for something to take the piercing gaze of the lawyer off her. “Are those family pictures?” She says suddenly, noticing the wall of frames in the far side of the room. It makes Regina’s expression soften instantly.

“Yes, this are when Roland was a baby.” Emma glances over, seeing a much softer version of the woman before her holding a toddler with the same curly hair as the boy she’s met.

“He looks so precious.” Emma says. Regina picks up another photo.

“This is him with his father starting little league in Boston, it didn’t really stick but they enjoyed it.” Emma sees little Roland in his uniform, it’s red with a shark on it, he’s holding a baseball bat grinning with a man.

A man who is not Killian. “Wait you said that he’s with his father in this picture?” Emma asks. It’s not making sense.

“Yes, my husband Robin. He’s a Marine overseas right now, but his tour ends December.” Emma looks at the photo and then back to the room where Killian disappeared.

“I thought...I thought Killian was your husband?!” she says still too shocked to understand.

“Killian.” Regina repeats. “You thought I’d marry him?” she seems genuinely appalled by the suggestion, but she lets out a laugh regardless. “Killian is my brother, adopted brother, but he’s family regardless. He moved with me when I got the job.” The woman narrows her eyes. Definitely looking like a woman who can read between the lines “But I assure you, he’s absolutely single.”

Oh my God. Emma thinks, face flushed with embarrassment.

“Honestly Miss Swan, he was over the moon when he got your text. If you’re going to be the key witness to a majority of my cases, you need to make sure you don’t jump to conclusions. ”

This can not be happening.

“Bloody hell, what did Regina say now?” Killian says coming into the room, chewing on something chocolate, his hook gone in favor of a small box of candy. “Milkdud?” He offers.

“I think I’m going to leave the two of you alone. I need to make sure that Roland isn’t eating too much candy.” Regina announces, giving her a pointed glance. A glance towards Killian.

“What was that about?” Killian asks. “Did she say something mildly offending? You shouldn’t take it personally, she can’t help herself.”

“Yeah, but it’s fine. She’ll warm up to me.” Emma assures him. “I tend to be prickly to most people.”

“You didn’t seem prickly to me.”

“You don’t strike me as most people.” She responds. “But anyway, I think I have to get going, candy for Leo, plus its technically a school night...” She says trailing off. “Henry! Finish up! It’s time to go.” She calls.

“Of course.” Killian agrees, scratching behind his ear sheepishly. He looks a bit sad by the idea of her leaving. Emma decides, in a spur of the moment decision, to fix that.

Ever so softly, she plants a kiss on his lips, until she feels him lean in and so she ends up grabbing him by the coat jacket, pulling him ever so closer. Killian Jones is a damn good kisser.

He’s wide eyed and surprised when they part. “That was...”

“...Gross.” Henry says, passing right between them. “Let’s go! I have to tell Leo all the stuff he missed!” Henry announces.

“Right.” Emma agrees, feeling her kid pull her away towards the door. “I get my coffee every morning at 8.” She announces in his direction, smirking. “See you then?” She asks.

“As you wish.”

Killian shows up for coffee that next morning.

And the morning after that...

The next year, Killian, Robin, David and the three boys bring home the largest pumpkin Emma’s ever seen.

It takes its place front in center in the new house they bought together.

#Captain Swan #cs role reversal #cs halloween week #csff #cs au ff

40 notes · View notes

waterchestnut123 · 5 years ago

Text

CHAPTER 1 / The Peculiar Perils of Straw Hat Parties

Common commentary throughout the 5 seas held that Straw Hat parties were notoriously wild. This is something that Trafalgar Law, as well as the rest of his crew, are also learning first hand. Not that Law particularly feels like partying; after Dressrosa, the Heart Pirates Captain has a little soul-searching he’d like to attend to. But one tends to become… drawn in, to certain things around Luffy—regardless of one’s plans or intentions. This is how Law finds himself developing an unlikely and unexpected friendship with his ally’s navigator—and how that friendship, much like Luffy’s parties, grows far beyond his intentions.

More About This Fic / Read on AO3 Chapter Index | Next >

-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-

Chapter 1: More Than Meets The Eye

Chapter Rating: T Warnings: Mentions of canonical character death, sexually suggestive content

Thinking back on her first impressions of him atop that bleak, snowy hillside on Punk Hazard, she would have laughed at anyone suggesting the captain of the heart pirates was anything more than a cunning sadist with hidden malicious intent; after all, one manipulator knows another. She had him pegged the moment she met him: sharp eyes belying a calculating brilliance beneath his cool exterior, who knew the power of few words and subtle suggestion. He was a shichibukai—and she never had met one she liked, with a sizable bounty to match her estimation of his dangerousness. Yes, she had him pegged; or at least, she thought she did.

Had anyone dared to inform her then of how she herself would come to view him in but a few months time—as not merely a valued ally and friend, but a lover, she would have choked on her own spit.

But a lot can happen in a few months time; this, Nami would come to learn with startling clarity. And perhaps she shouldn’t have been so surprised. After all, during Straw Hat parties, anything was possible.

—:—:—:—

“I think I see it! I think I see it!” Luffy hollered eagerly from the crow’s nest, arms already stretching to swing from the mast before he’d even finished speaking. Nami smiled, glancing down at the jittering vivre card in her palm before murmuring to Franky who stood beside her at the helm.

“Seven degrees starboard should bring us alongside them.”

“Aye aye!” he responded with a grin, turning the wheel with slight, precise movements.

Glancing out at calm water, she could see in the distance the telltale swell amidst the usual ocean waves as the Polar Tang began to near the surface. Glancing briefly up at the sun—it looked to be around 4:30 in the afternoon, she estimated it would be about ten minutes before they reached their ally’s ship. Though he tried to hide it, she could tell he was eager to be reunited with his crew—especially after the unanticipated events on Dressrosa.

With clear skies and smooth waters, their allies located and no enemies in sight, it seemed they would finally have a bit of a respite—and about damn time.

She walked to the railing, quickly scanning the deck for her crew mates. Usopp sat fishing off the starboard side, animatedly telling one of his tall tales to an enraptured Chopper, and Zoro hollered insults at Sanji from beneath one of the deck trees—just the men she needed.

“Oi, Usopp! Zoro!” As both men turned to her, she gestured above her. “Start raising the sails!”

Before they could voice protestations she turned her attention to Law who sat quietly against the fore-mast, his Nodachi resting against his shoulder—a comparatively calm presence in an otherwise chaotic array of personalities staggered about the deck.

“Ten minutes ‘till we reach your crew, Torao.”

He tilted his head back to look up at her, golden eyes bright beneath the shadowed brim of his hat as he smiled—or, well, his version of a smile.

“Thank you, Nami-ya.”

She had to admit, It was nice to have someone with some semblance of manners on board. She nodded with a small smile, returning her attention to the vivre card and the rolling ocean waves.

—:—:—:—

“Incoming!”

Franky’s shouted warning was followed by a loud thunk as the gangplank fell onto the deck of the Polar Tang, connecting the two ships.

“Oi, oi, easy on the paint Robo-ya!”

However Law’s protestation was quickly drowned out by the stampeding footsteps of his crew, Bepo well in the lead as he ran full-pelt across the gang plank towards him.

“Captaaaaain! I’m going to hug you!”

With little ceremony the bear launched himself at a wide-eyed Law, who staggered back at the unexpected force. Wrapping around his captain’s upper half, the heart pirates navigator gleefully indulged in what couldn’t be more appropriately termed a bear hug.

It was, if she had to put a word to it, cute to see the way Law reacted to the show of affection. It was subtle—likely by intention if she knew him at all, which she liked to think she’d come to at least a little; but Nami was well-versed in subtlety even if most of the rest of the crew seemed incapable of comprehending the meaning of the word. His head tilted down just a bit to hide the glimmer in his eyes, and a small smile tugged insistently at the corners of his lips, his posture relaxing easily into the bear’s fuzzy embrace. She leaned forward on the railing, smiling.

“Shishishi!” Luffy’s laughter echoed from the forecastle deck as he launched himself towards Law and his congregating crew.

“We should celebrate! Oi! Sanji! Make everyone some meat!”

Luffy’s sudden declaration startled her out of her amusement over Law’s covert huggle session with Bepo. She straightened, her eyes darting to Sanji—usually a voice of reason, who was instead walking towards the kitchen. Anxiously, she returned her attention to her own captain.

“Wait, Luffy! Don’t you think we should maybe dock at an island or something first?! We’re out in the middle of the sea and this is the new world—the conditions could turn on us at any moment.”

He turned to smile up at her without a trace of concern, draping his arms easily over a smiling Bepo and a frowning Law who stared at the offending hand but made no move to remove it.

“It’ll be fine, Nami! Who knows how long it would take to find an island; and besides, you’ll know if the weather changes before we need to do anything about it—you always do!”

She felt her ire flare at his statement. He was absolutely right, of course—but his shameless flattery did little to minimize the fact that he had openly admitted he was relying on her to keep an eye out for danger while the rest of the two crews partied. She couldn’t kick Zoro’s ass at a drinking contest (and fleece him for all he was worth while she was at it) if she had to be the responsible one! Responsible people were sober!

“Baka!” she shouted from the railing, leaning over it further in her anger, “You don’t get to have fun while I’m stuck keeping your sorry asses safe!”

Luffy simply laughed, releasing both Bepo and Law. “It’ll be fine, Nami! This is a celebration so you should have fun, too!” He then turned towards the kitchen, stretching his arms for the railing as he shouted again. “Oi! Sanji! Meat!”

“I’m already on it, you rubber idiot! Be patient!”

“Yohohoho!” Brook laughed from the swing, standing and pulling out his violin. “Shall I play something for the occasion?”

“Suuuuperrr!”

Nami sighed, leaning against the railing with a hand to her temple. As she glanced out at the deck with a resigned huff—she well knew when she was beaten with her crew, she felt eyes on her. Following the sensation, she found Law gazing up at her display of exasperation with a hint of amusement. He readjusted his nodachi on his shoulder, one golden eye twinkling beneath the brim of his hat as he smirked and gave the smallest of shrugs, before turning to follow an excited Bepo into the kitchen. She couldn’t help but feel a little heartened. At least someone else recognized the inconvenience, even if it wasn’t anyone on her nutty crew.

—:—:—:—

The sun was just beginning to set, amber light turning the blue water seafoam green as it hovered above the horizon. The party had just begun to get underway, and Law was on his third mug of ale. Limbs loose and a rare smile on his face, he gazed out at the water from the solitude of the upper aft deck. The sweet smell of citrus blossoms danced in the air with the mouthwatering tang of Sanji’s shish-kabobs, piped up to the deck from the kitchen chimney not far from where he leaned against the mast.

He felt… peaceful; free. It wasn’t a feeling he was familiar with, nor one that he yet trusted, but it was nonetheless welcome. So much of his life had been dedicated to seeking vengeance against Doflamingo—building his crew, honing his skills, training and preparing and planning; until that vengeance had been achieved, he hadn’t realized how much he had pushed aside, the simple pleasures he had ignored or left unnoticed—the desires and whims he refused to allow himself.

Like watching the sunset and enjoying the smell of citrus blossoms.

Though there was a small, instinctually protective part of himself that refused to believe Doflamingo was really, truly dealt with, with the Shichibukai’s imprisonment a tremendous weight the likes of which he hadn’t fully comprehended had lifted from his shoulders—and for the first time in over a decade he felt able breathe deeply. His world, once black and white and grey—life and death and suffering, had been suffused with color. Everything was just a little bit brighter; sounds were sharper, smells were stronger…

From the lawn deck, he heard the lilting laugh of the Straw hat navigator rise above the chatter of their two crews. Frowning down at the tightness forming in his pants, he shifted uncomfortably.

Other things seemed to be… stronger, as well.

He’d never given his sex drive much consideration over the course of his life. Sure he’d had the occasional liaison, but his physical desires had never been much of a preoccupation. It was yet another thing he’d come to notice these past few weeks—something that his fixation on vengeance had repressed over the course of years; now that his decades-long plan had finally come to fruition, his mind suddenly found itself wholly unoccupied, and quite open to new stimulus.

It was in the wake of this realization that he, for the first time really, noticed how little the Straw hats’ navigator actually wore.

While the archeologist also tended to prefer less fabric to more, she was nowhere near as daring as Nami. Sure, he had been aware of this fact for quite some time—in concept. On Punk Hazard she’d been wearing nothing more than a bikini top and jeans, and in Dressrosa she’d reduced those jeans to very short shorts. But it hadn’t quite… registered, in some higher part of his brain, all he skin left exposed.

And good God what she left exposed…

Objectively he recognized that she was attractive; she was all long legs and full breasts, with a narrow waist and bright eyes… Her wanted poster was a favorite among pirates and marines alike, something he’d noted with some amusement when he’d crossed the Navy’s path as a Shichibukai. But like with her attire (or lack thereof), he hadn’t quite… registered, how striking she really was, until a few weeks ago.

It had made life aboard the Sunny a bit more trying in a way he hadn’t been expecting. He’d grown accustomed to Luffy’s… exuberance, grown familiar with Sanji and Zoro’s constant bickering, the small explosions originating from Usopp’s factory. All things considered, he rather felt he’d adjusted quite well to the overall lunacy of Mugiwara’s crew. His gratitude for their (albeit unexpected) loyalty on Dressrosa certainly aided his patience.

But he had not anticipated, nor had he been prepared for the wholehearted return of his sex drive after recovering from his injuries aboard Bartolomeo’s ship.

He quietly sighed, leaning against the main mast as he watched the sun slowly sink towards the water. In the larger scheme of things, it was a relatively small price to pay. He had some catching up to do, perhaps, once they reached a habited island; find some woman to charm into his bed for the night (or several) and relieve the tension his own efforts failed to. Until then he’d just have to suffer through Nami’s undersized wardrobe. Subconciously he rubbed his right arm; he’d been through far worse, after all.

The sun was beginning to ripple and waver as Law breathed in the crisp ocean air, savoring the silence of the deck. The party would get into full swing soon enough, he was sure, and he aimed to get a little peace before the ruckus was inescapable. He lifted his mug to his lips, swallowing back the remaining ale in his mug. As he closed his eyes, basking in the warm amber light, the squeak of the observation room door caused him to creak an eye open and glance towards the source of the noise.

“Oh! Hey Torao, I didn’t think anyone was up here,” Nami said with a smile, shutting the door behind her with one foot. She had a basket on one arm and shears in the other and, he couldn’t help but gratefully notice, wore a thigh-length sweater—far more than she’d been wearing earlier in the afternoon.

“Nami-ya,” he acknowledged before returning his gaze to the sea, debating the pro’s and cons of descending into the commotion of the lower decks to refill his mug.

She walked towards him—or rather, towards her trees which occupied the space against the other side of the mast.

“Here.”

Without preamble she thrust her basket at him, beckoning him to her trees as she knelt before them. “Since you’re just standing there, help me with this real quick—I want to finish before the sun goes down and I’ll work faster with two hands.”

Perhaps it was the foreign feeling of calm aboard the Sunny making him unusually compliant—refusal only briefly crossed his mind, but he did as instructed. Standing next to her with the basket in hand, he watched as she thoughtfully pruned the first tree, inspecting each mikan carefully and gently placing the ripe ones in the basket.

“You know there are easier ways to fend off scurvy. You don’t have to keep live citrus trees on your ship.”

“That’s not why I keep them,” she answered smoothly without turning from her task, gently squeezing a mikan between her fingers before deeming it ready and giving it a gentle tug. She then turned thoughtful, pausing in her task before adding, “Well, not the primary reason anyway.”

He eyed her a moment as she moved to the next tree, placing her clippings in a bin beside the small grove.

“Then why do you keep them?”

She smiled softly as she reached for the next fruit, rubbing a smudge of dirt from it tenderly before answering.

“Because they’re from my mother’s grove. A little souvenir of home.”

“You’re from east blue, right?” he asked, though he felt he already knew the answer. Mikans were a common export from that ocean.

She hummed in response. “Bellemére—my mother, ran an orchard, where she raised my sister and I until I was ten. Best Mikans in all of the Conomi islands,” she boasted proudly.

Law eyed her as she carefully parted the tree’s branches to reach a more hidden fruit.

“Why did you leave then?”

He didn’t know why he was asking, but curiosity and boredom encouraged his curiosity.

She stilled, fingertips gently brushing a particularly broad leaf as she gazed at it, eyes faraway. It was several moments before she answered.

“She was killed; and I was kidnapped and forced into a pirate crew.” She was quiet a moment before adding with a small laugh, “It’s kind of how I met Luffy, actually.”

Law’s brow furrowed and he eyed her closely as she resumed her task, but did not respond. As he was learning from his time aboard the Sunny, all of the Straw Hats had more to them than met the eye—Nami was no exception. A pirate at ten years old… he could certainly relate.

She finished her pruning in silence, though it was a peaceful silence. Law’s eyes once more navigated out to the sunset, where the bright orange orb was meeting with the water, mind briefly returning to his earlier thoughts—tumbling and drifting much like the waves.

Doflamingo was gone…

When finally she stood, he extended the basket wordlessly and she took it with a smile, her eyes on him uncomfortably analytical. She placed her shears carefully beside the ripe fruit before returning her gaze to him, then following his eyes out to sea.

“It’s strange, isn’t it? Like there’s a little part of you that refuses to believe you’re really free.”

Her voice was soft, her eyes kind, yet despite that Law felt himself bristle at how easily she had seen through him.

“And what makes you say that, Nami-ya?” he inquired guardedly.

She hummed quietly, tilting her head at him with a small knowing smile as she answered.

“Because I felt the same way when Luffy saved me.”

She didn’t wait for a response, merely turned and walked towards the door with her hand raised behind her.

“Thanks for the help.”

Then, she disappeared into the library.

Law stared at the door for several minutes, not quite sure what to make of her words—or her, for that matter. She was the one member of the crew he’d had little time to get to know personally, and had perhaps dismissed the most readily. But there was quite a bit more to Nami than met the eye. She was far more perceptive than he gave her credit, for one; and he was seeing more and more how foolish that dismissal was.

He returned his gaze to the sea. The sun was now half hidden by the horizon, and he watched the rest slowly sink beneath the waves as he let his thoughts turn. She wasn’t wrong; Doflamingo had haunted him his entire adult life. Now he was gone, wrapped in twice his weight in seastone chains at the bottom of Impel Down. It was hard to believe that someone who had been such an omnipresent and looming specter could truly be gone, though It was a change he was happy to try and adjust to.

It did, however, make him wonder about her own life, and what her careful words had only hinted at. He’d had no idea she’d been a pirate before joining Luffy—for it had been on his crew that she’d gained notoriety, and it made him wonder: who was Cat Thief Nami before she was the navigator on a Supernova’s crew?

He heard her reappear on the lower decks a few minutes later, the assaulting shouts of Luffy pulling him from his thoughts.

“Oi, Nami! Have you seen Torao?!”

Law frowned. He had sought refuge on the furthest deck from the festivities specifically because he wanted some distance before the party became inescapable, hoping that the rest of his crew would be enough of a distraction for the other captain. Apparently not. He let out a sigh, pulling away from the mast as he made for the door—and another hiding spot—but stopped when he heard her response.

“Haven’t seen him,” she responded casually. “Have you checked the sub?”

He stilled, a smile growing before he let himself relax against the mast again. He uttered a silent ‘thank you’ before turning his gaze up to the darkening sky. Yes, Cat Thief Nami was full of surprises.

Stars were just starting to emerge, and he decided he’d enjoy what extra time she had bought him. Straw hat would find him soon enough, and besides, he would need to head down there eventually if he wanted to refill his mug. By the sounds of the growing laughter and the noodling of a guitar—Brook, no doubt—the party was just getting started; and he knew, soon enough, he’d be swept up into the pace of the straw hats—whether he wanted to or not.

-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-

More About This Fic / Read on AO3 Chapter Index | Next >

14 notes · View notes

lululawlawlu-writes · 6 years ago

Text

Softly Stained with Spring Part 2: Dreams

note: This fic was written for @lawlu-week!!

rating: T (maybe M)

tags: canon universe, fluff and angst, hanahaki

The entire fic so far is also on AO3.

______________________

Rosales, Law had told him, is a perpetual spring island with perfect weather year round and flowers constantly in bloom. Although, much like Law himself, seeing the island in person is infinitely better than thoughts or hearsay can really convey.

From the Sunny, Luffy can already spy a bunch of flowering trees along the shoreline, smattering the area with a virtual rainbow of colours—colours Luffy didn't even know trees could come in. A sweet scent dances on the breeze, something flowery and light. Pale pink petals of the fragile cherry blossoms rain down on them as they near the docks, sprinkling the ship. If the scenery is alone this beautiful, Luffy can’t wait to see what kind of elaborate restaurant Law is going to take him to—hopefully something with a hundred different kinds of meat.

There's a small building off to the side of the docks, adorned with a colourful sign that reads 'welcome center'. It looks more like a gardener's cottage than an actual welcome center. It’s got window boxes overflowing with bright yellow and orange flowers and the walls look nearly covered in carefully manicured ivies and morning glories with their purple buds huddled in on themselves as they wait for the warmth of the morning sun.

‘Robin will love this,’ he thinks off-handedly, hopes Usopp will find some kind of fun new plant to show him later.

Luffy knows they've been spotted when four people file out of the building, walking down the dock, waving to them. Although there’s an adrenaline-rush that comes with landing on islands unknown or marine-occupied, Luffy has to admit it is nice in a different way for them to be received with such a warm welcome. Hopefully they’re the kind of people to be generous with their food. And hopefully they won't interrupt his meal trying to capture him for a bounty or anything—there’s a certain charm in that.

“We’re going on ahead!” Luffy calls to his crew stretching out to snatch up Law from the deck, jumping out onto the dock before the rest.

“Welcome to Rosales, where dreams come true,” the locals echo each other as they offer them crowns woven with an array of different coloured flowers, and thrust pamphlets into their hands. All of them are chattering on at once about the attractions that their little island offers to visitors.

Luffy isn't interested in any spas or gardens though. He came here for food and Law has assured him that he called ahead on the den den mushi to reserve a place just for the two of them at a buffet restaurant that will not disappoint. He’s still holding out hope for a ton of meat--that would be the dream come true.

And he’s going to go eat somewhere with Law! He has Law all to himself all day. Law—just being with him is like being in a dream itself. Law makes every experience better by being there—even mealtimes—especially mealtimes because he always feeds him food he doesn’t like. Luffy’s heart feels high and happy just thinking about it and he can’t wait to get to their promised destination.

“There’s gonna be meat, right?” Luffy asks, looping his arm in Law’s, pulling him along at his own pace.

“You have nothing to worry about,” Law tells him, “so long as you stick to the plan.”

That doesn’t answer his question. And as much as Luffy likes being free to do as he pleases, the way Law said that, it feels like he’s being sneaky or something.

“So,” Luffy struts our in front of Law, turns to walk backward so he can look at Law face to face. “There’s gonna be meat if we go where you planned,” he surmises, looking at him for confirmation.

He thinks he catches the faintest of smiles on Law’s lips but that’s all he needs—it must mean he’s right.

“Let’s go, Torao!” Luffy cheers, giving Law’s hand a quick tug. He lets Law’s hand slip easily from his own, sprinting out ahead on his way into town along the stone street set out before them.

The scent of something meaty catches him on the breeze, enticing him away from the main road. Luffy follows his nose, lets it guide him up a hill into a wooded area. The path winds through the trees, but is well worn—enough that he’s sure to not get lost or catch his feet on any roots. His mouth waters at the thought of what kinds of meat this place will offer them. He half-expects there will be flowers involved and he's not really sure if he wants to eat those, but if Law says they're good to eat then he'll give them a try. It's all really exciting and Luffy can't wait to check it out.

But when he reaches a clearing in the woods, it’s not a restaurant awaiting him at all. It doesn’t even look like there’s any food even though the meaty smell is so strong, so promising it’s starting to make his mouth water. All that’s there is a circle of tall stone statues that look like people, flowers set in front of each of them. In the center of it all is a small structure of elaborate woodworking which houses nothing but a giant golden bell.

A pang of hunger rolls in Luffy’s stomach, churning out a low growl. There’s gotta be something making that delicious smell. He lifts his nose, sniffing around in the air, letting his feet wander to the left a little, then to the right, but he can’t locate whatever it is that’s teasing his stomach.

“Hey, Torao, where’s the- Torao?” Luffy looks around the clearing, but Law’s nowhere to be seen. He just did what Law didn’t want him to again, didn’t he? He ruined the plan. Law isn’t going to be happy. He hopes Law is still going to want to take him to the restaurant, hopes Law isn’t going to be tired of him and not want to be around him anymore. What if Law got mad and went back to the ship and he’s not going to-

Pain strikes him like a bolt of lightning through his chest. Luffy falls to his knees, the pain unforgiving. He’d thought this wouldn’t happen anymore. It hadn’t happened since Law had arrived at his ship but now it’s back. His fingertips clutch at his chest. Something inside threatens to continue stabbing at him unless he forces his breath shallow to better bear the shocks it sends through his body.

He eases himself to the ground fully. Maybe Law won’t be upset or anything if he waits for him, and Law did say rest would make him feel better. He lies down beneath one of the statues—one that looks like a sweet old lady—the kind of lady who would offer him food unconditionally.

But that meat smell, it’s just relentless. He can smell it even stronger than before. He reaches up to grasp the flowers at the statue’s feet. Maybe if he just smells the flowers instead, it’ll keep his mind off of meat until Law catches up with him. He pulls in a breath, taking in the scent of the flowers.

The flowers! It’s the flowers! The flowers smell like meat! Luffy pulls them back to study them carefully. They don’t really look like meat, but they are deep crimson—in a way like bloody, raw meat. He sticks his tongue out, gives one a cautious lick before shoving the entire thing into his mouth.

He downs an entire fist full of the flowers before he starts to feel sick to his stomach.

“Be careful,” the old stone lady seems to caution, “a dream come true may actually be a nightmare.”

“What are you talking about old lady?” Luffy asks, his eyebrows scrunched together. How is she talking without moving her mouth? And come to think of it, why does she sound so young?

“I think she means, those flowers might taste pretty good, but they’re poisonous if you eat too many,” Law speaks, learning over him. “You good?”

It’s Law! He really did come and he’s not mad!

“I think your friend is as good as dead,” a young woman says, leaning over him from the other side, her long hair falling over her shoulder. Her arms are full of the meat flowers but the smell of them just makes his stomach turn now. She places a hand on Luffy’s forehead. “He’s been cursed already,” she comments.

Icy shivers suddenly flood his body and he goes deathly cold for a split second before the sensation is gone. It’s a strange sensation. This lady is even stranger and not in a fun way.

“I don’t care about curses or whatever,” Luffy says, brushing her hand off him.

“He’s pretty resilient when it comes to poisons,” Law supposes, “but he shouldn’t have eaten them.”

“They’re an offering for the gods anyway, not him,” the woman grumbles, replacing the flowers he’d eaten.

“The rock people are your gods who eat flowers?” Luffy asks, sitting up a little too fast. His stomach churns with a warning. “That’s weird,” he comments, taking short breaths to keep his snack from coming back up.

“Of course not,” she scoffs, “these sculptures are a tangible representation of the gods, not an actual manifestation of them. And the flowers aren’t meant to be eaten. Not unless you want to die.”

Luffy’s either too sick to focus on understanding what she’s saying or she’s making up words. He does know without doubt he is starting to salivate a lot more than usual.

“Let’s go,” Law commands, holding out his hands to help Luffy up “We’re going to be late.” He seems bothered but it isn’t a gesture meant to put distance between them, so Luffy takes his hands.

Law pulls him up a little too quickly. Actually, a lot too quickly because Luffy’s snack takes one more turn around in his stomach and decides it really doesn’t like all the movement going on in there.

Law takes a quick step to the side, out of the way, to let Luffy void his guts onto the ground in front of them.

Viscous crimson liquid pours from his mouth. His body heaves, expelling more than he ever thought his stomach could even hold. Luffy really thinks he might die. All he can see is red. The acrid taste of iron, of blood and bile, sticks on his tongue. But Law just mercilessly swats him on the back, makes his stomach convulse again, his body heaving dry because there’s just nothing left.

Luffy wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, wonders how much of it might be blood and how much of it is because of the meat flowers.

“Guess you learned your lesson,” Law says, looking completely unbothered by what now looks like the remnants of a murder scene.

The young woman does seem pretty bothered by it. “Get out of here before you desecrated this holy place any more,” she barks, coming back over as if to chase them off.

“Don’t worry, we’re going,” Law tells her, taking Luffy by the wrist.

“You still want to go eat?” Law asks, looking down at him, the sunlight speckling his face through the trees, “There’s a ton of actual meat waiting for you.”

A ton of meat waiting for him--this island really might make dreams come true. “Yeah!” Luffy chirps. “I’m actually pretty hungry now that my stomach is empty.”

“I thought so,” Law chuckles low and subtle.

#lawlu #10 Days of LawLu #10 days of lawlu 2019 #softly stained with spring

21 notes · View notes

bombshellsandbluebells · 6 years ago

Text

Nomon

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: The 100 (TV) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Echo, Echo & Spacekru Summary: Echo is pregnant. Somehow, Bellamy is the last to know. Or: Echo struggles with the idea of motherhood and finds support with her new family. Set before Season 5 while Spacekru is still on the Ring. The title means "mother" in Trigedasleng.

(Also featuring Spacekru Doctor Murphy because I said so.)

Also huge shoutout to @infernalandmortal for still being the best editor ever! Love you!

(Read on Ao3)

Echo recognizes the symptoms immediately. She’d seen them in her mother when she was young – watched her grow sick, then achy, then large with child, though Nia’s scouts had taken her from her village before she could see her sibling born. Sometimes, when Bellamy talks of Octavia, as he often does, or Emori of Otan, as she rarely does, Echo wonders what the child would have been like – a sister as fierce as Bellamy’s Octavia? A brother as soft as Emori’s Otan?

If she had grown up with the child, if she had known it and helped her mother raise it, would she be more comfortable with children? Would that temper the overwhelming terror that threatens to devour her the very moment she realizes what’s growing inside of her?

A war would be easier, Echo thinks. A fight she could handle. Violence and bloodshed have been sown in her since she was young; it’s as simple and practiced as breathing. But what does she know of being a mother? What does she know of creating life instead of taking it?

Her stomach twists itself into tighter knots with every hour that passes since the realization. She feels constantly sick, unsure if it’s the worry or the child. Either way, she feels adrift – shaky and unbalanced in the same way she felt when she first came to space. Her world feels rocked, tipped on its side, and thrown into chaos.

She doesn’t tell Bellamy.

It isn’t worry for his reaction, but that telling him will cement it into something certain, as if the child is only a possibility until she voices it aloud. And maybe she does worry slightly for his reaction – that he might laugh at the idea of her with a child, that he might find the concept of her as a mother as ridiculous as she does. Most of all, she fears the news will strangle this thing that’s grown between them as soon as Bellamy starts to question why he chose her to build a life and family with.

Won’t he want a better mother for his child?

So she keeps the secret buried within her, lets her stomach twist and writhe and her nerves pile up inside of her and tries to hide it from him. Bellamy notices anyways. While they lay in bed one night, he smooths a land down her back. The ends of his fingers bring goosebumps to her skin. “What’s wrong?” he asks softly.

“Nothing,” Echo lies, and, though she’s good at lying, she can’t disguise the way her body tenses at the question.

Bellamy, with his hand and eyes upon her back, notices that too. “It doesn’t seem like nothing. You’ve been upset all week.”

The truth is a terrifying thing she cannot voice, but she doesn’t want to lie to him, either. She’s lied to him enough in the past; the thought of doing it again, doing it now when he trusts her enough to share himself with her, makes her insides burn like they’re on fire.

“I’ve been thinking about my mother recently,” Echo says, because it isn’t a lie – not exactly. “Something reminded me of her a couple days ago, and I haven’t been able to stop thinking of her.”

“Oh,” Bellamy says, then falls silent. It’s clearly not the answer he was expecting. “What was she like?”

“I don’t know,” Echo answers truthfully. “I was taken to train as a spy when I was young. I hardly remember her.” Bellamy’s told her many stories of his own mother. It hurts that she can’t do the same – that all that still exists of her are a few hazy details without the frame to place them in. Did her mother look like her? Did she have her eyes? Was she kind?

“I’m sorry,” Bellamy tells her sincerely. Echo knows he knew his own mother well enough to miss her dearly when she was gone and that he still holds the weight of that loss like a shackle around his ankle. She’s not sure he’d understand the way she views her own like a stranger.

“We all lose people. I’ve made my peace with it.” She’s not quite sure if she’s lying to him again or not, but if she is, it’s a lie she’s already told herself many times. “I remember this one song she used to sing me,” she adds suddenly, the melody drifting into her mind. She sings a line softly, aware that it’s butchered in her voice.

“That’s beautiful.”

Echo rolls her eyes. “Don’t flatter me. I can’t sing.”

Bellamy laughs. “You’re right – it sounded terrible. What’s it mean?”

“Blossom of snow, may you bloom and grow,” Echo translates. “I don’t remember the other lines.”

“That’s beautiful,” Bellamy repeats. “I just used to sing Rock-a-bye Baby to Octavia. That one’s not as pretty.” At her confused look, he sings a few lines of it. He’s no singer either, but Echo thinks his rendition sounds much nicer than hers. His voice is deep and gravely; it sinks into her chest and settles near her heart. She pictures him singing this to a young Octavia – and then the image shifts, and it isn’t Octavia he’s singing to, but their child.

It’s only Azgeda’s many years of training that help her keep her emotions hidden.

“See,” Bellamy says. “Not much. Yours was a lot prettier.”

“It was nice,” she manages, and then, daring, brave, and terrified all at once, she asks, “Have you ever wanted children?”

Bellamy looks caught off guard. His eyes are wide, his eyebrows high enough that they’re half-hidden in his wild hair. He trails his fingers down her arm, draws little circles on her wrist, then trails them back up towards her shoulder as he thinks about it. “I think so,” he says finally, words coming slowly as he gathers his thoughts. “Before Octavia got locked up, I thought about it. But I couldn’t even take care of her –“

“Stop,” Echo commands. The steel in her voice makes him pause, eyes flickering up to her in surprise. “Did you not protect your sister in the Conclave?” It’s a sore subject to bring up – and one that took them years to overcome – but it’s worth the discomfort she feels at the memory to convince Bellamy he’s wrong. “And I’ve heard the stories from the others about your camp – you protected her many times there. You protected your people in Mount Weather. I watched you stop a war without violence. You can protect people, Bellamy – you do.”

It’s one of the reasons she loves him. Protection is not a foreign concept in her world – she herself had been taught to give everything of herself to protect the interests of her clan and queen – but Bellamy’s version of it is. Protection for protection’s sake – purely because people deserve to live because they’re people, not because he’s sworn his loyalty to them. He hadn’t talked down the Skaikru man with his gun on Roan just because Echo would kill him if he didn’t – he’d done it to prevent more fighting. Echo has only ever known how to help win wars – never how to prevent them.

“Not always,” Bellamy argues, voice quiet, but it’s an argument that has lost most of its weight after years of carrying it. Every year it grows lighter. Hopefully one day it will be gone completely.

Before she can answer, Bellamy changes the subject. “I always thought about having more than one kid.” And then he laughs and the bitterness in it is tangible. “Which was stupid, of course. I knew the laws, and I didn’t want to lock one of them in the floor, but – it was nice growing up with a sister. Octavia and I always had each other. I didn’t really have friends growing up, but I think O and I were probably closer than most friends are. We tell –” He pauses, swallows something like grief. “We used to tell each other everything. I wanted my kid to have that.”

She doesn’t say, I had a sibling I didn’t know. She doesn’t say, I wish I could understand what that was like. She doesn’t even say, You might get to have that soon, if you wish.

What she does say, because it feels safer, is, “You could have had that on the ground.”

Bellamy frowns. His finger picks a spot on her arm and sticks, circles there around a scar she doesn’t remember receiving. “Not really. We were always fighting and trying to survive. Bringing a kid into that didn’t seem right.” His forehead wrinkles as he thinks about it. “I like kids, though. I think I’d want one – someday.”

The secret stirs inside her, but she’s too scared to voice it, so she stuffs it down deeper and wrestles with it until she falls asleep.

It eats at her. Lying has never bothered her before, but after all the time it took to earn her family’s trust, being dishonest feels like another betrayal. She will tell them, Echo assures herself – just not now. Not until she’s ready.

But as the days pass and she stays silent, she grows more agitated. By the time a week has come and gone, she feels desperate to spill the secret cased within her body – feels desperate, at least, to share her uncertainty and fear with another person. It should be Bellamy, she knows. After nearly two years of knowing each other in ways Echo didn’t realize you could even know another person, there’s very little she’s kept from him – she has opened herself up so many times for his viewing and given him permission to dig inside of her. This should be no different. And yet it is.

She goes to Harper instead; of all of them, she trusts Harper the most to keep the matter between them – and she’s been a source of support and comfort in recent years. Echo finds herself needing that now more than ever.

“Are you sure?” Harper asks when she’s done speaking.

“Very,” she says dryly. “I’ve missed a month.”

“Oh,” Harper says, taking that in. “Why haven’t you told Bellamy yet?”

Echo opens her mouth to explain and falters. I don’t know, is the truth. I’m scared, is also the truth. She isn’t sure which answer she hates more.

Harper catches on to her uncertainty and lays a comforting hand on her arm. “Hey, it’s okay. I won’t tell him before you’re ready.”

“Thank you,” Echo says, and then she finds herself opening her mouth and adding, “I don’t know anything about babies.”

The youngest children she had ever been around had been those of warrior age, and her only role had been to train them, not to mother them. There’s something far more chilling about the idea of a baby, young and vulnerable, reliant on her for everything.

“I do. They’re not that bad,” Harper replies easily. She doesn’t sound nearly as terrified of the prospect as Echo feels, and Echo hates herself for resenting her a little bit for it. Why couldn’t it have been Harper with the child growing inside of her, if she was so prepared to handle it?

“You have experience?” Echo asks. It comes out more cutting than she means for it to. She wishes she could blame it on her changing body, but she doubts that’s the cause.

Harper nods. “My neighbor had a baby when I was like nine or ten. Her husband died a few years earlier, and she had to work, so she needed someone to watch her during the day. My mom volunteered. And then when my mom was busy, I got to be the babysitter. They’re really not that bad, I promise. Not any harder than being a spy.” She nudges Echo’s arm gently as she says it.

It’s meant to be a joke; Echo can tell from her grin that she’s trying to lighten her mood. Still, Echo wants to argue – being a spy was easy, because it was all she had ever known. Raising a child will be the most difficult thing she’s ever done.

“You don’t have to tell Bellamy until you’re ready,” Harper tells her as they head back to the others. “But you should go to Murphy for a check-up.”

“You’re pregnant?” Murphy repeats dumbly. His face filters through a series of emotions and settles somewhere between shock and uneasiness. In a way, it’s more reassuring than Harper’s confident support had been – at least Murphy is on the same page about the issue as Echo is. She doesn’t feel as inadequate next to him as she did next to Harper.

“Yes,” she confirms.

His face settles even further into uneasiness. His eyes keep flicking towards the exit, like a cornered animal trying to flee. “Why are you coming to me?”

“Because Harper suggested I get a medical check-up.”

“Oh,” Murphy says. “Right.” Even after years of serving as their healer aboard the Ring, he still always looks surprised when people treat him like one. She wonders when – or if – that will ever wear off.

They walk to Medical in silence. Out of the corner of her eye, Echo watches Murphy glance at her frequently, eyes catching often on her stomach, even though it’s hasn’t grown enough yet to be visible.

“I’m surprised Bellamy didn’t come with you,” he says finally as they enter Medical and he pulls up his tablet. “Would’ve figured I’d have to deal with his overprotective hovering.”

“I haven’t told him yet,” Echo explains. She watches Murphy pause in his actions. His eyes jump up to hers in surprise.

“Really?” He raises an eyebrow. “Relationship problems? You guys breaking up or something?”

“Hardly,” she scoffs, hoping she makes it sound like she finds that possibility far more absurd than she really believes it is. “I just haven’t decided how to tell him yet, that’s all.” Murphy stares at her for a moment as he takes that in, then he shrugs and goes back to clicking around on the tablet in his hands. “Don’t –“ she starts, suddenly nervous.

“I’m not going to tell him,” Murphy interrupts her, sounding both bored and annoyed with the conversation all at once, which she’s come to realize is a particular skill of his. “You think I want to be the one to break the news? No thanks.”

Worry stabs her insides. She takes a deep breath to steady herself – without it, she thinks she’d spill everything in a torrent of worry the moment she opens her mouth – and calmly asks, “Do you think he’d be upset?”

Murphy pauses. He looks up at her, then grows awkward as he catches her eye and looks away again. “I don’t know.” He shrugs. “Does he like kids?”

“He said he wanted them.” Echo holds tight to that conversation, uses it to steady herself and keep her footing. Bellamy will want the child – he said he did.

“Well, yeah, but,” Murphy starts, and Echo’s chest grows tight with terror at his coming words. She can hardly breathe as he says, “That doesn’t mean he wants them here. I mean, it’s already hard enough keeping the seven of us alive. A baby’s going to suck.”

Echo’s silent during the rest of the check-up, only speaking up to answer the questions that Murphy prompts her with. The air of Medical is heavy. It pushes her unrelentingly towards the ground, and it takes great effort to not let it show – to keep her spine straight and her head high.

Afterwards, as she’s about the leave, she sees Murphy eyeing her again. It isn’t just the confusion or uneasiness of before – his gaze is intense as he turns something over in his mind. it makes her pause. She’s learned to trust when he looks serious.

“What?”

His mouth twists. “We’ve got a year left, right?” Echo nods, confused by the change in subject. “How the hell are we going to take a baby in a rocket?”

It’s as if he’s laid an actual blow on her. She hadn’t even considered that.

“I know you don’t want to tell Bellamy yet for some reason, but…” He pauses, shrugs. “Maybe you should tell Raven.”

“Are you shitting me?”

Of the few people Echo’s told so far, Raven is by far the angriest. She tries not to flinch under the force of the other woman’s words.

Raven mutters a curse under her breath and runs a hand roughly over her face, dragging at the skin. “What, Bellamy couldn’t keep it in his pants for one more year?” she snaps.

Echo bristles. “It wasn’t intentional, I assure you.”

“Do you know how hard it’s going to be to get a couple-month-old baby down in a rocket safely? Like it wasn’t already hard enough.”

Echo can’t help but feel defensive. She hadn’t planned to do this, and Raven’s anger is only making her feel even more aversion for the child growing inside of her. Feeling guilty and terrified and defensive, she throws something at Raven that she knows will hurt. “I tought you didn’t even know if we could make it down in another year.”

Raven flinches. It breaks the anger, and she’s left looking upset and vulnerable. Echo doesn’t feel at all better for it.

“Sorry,” she says. “Raven, I’m sorry.”

Raven nods, accepting it, though there’s still a terrible guilt behind her eyes that never fully goes away these days. She sighs heavily and takes a seat on her bed, then pats the spot beside her. Echo takes it.

“How are you holding up?” she asks, sincerely, after releasing a deep breath.

Echo tries not to crumble. She tries to stay resolute and strong. She tries to put up her mask.

Maybe it’s that the act of telling so many people has worn her down. Maybe it’s Raven’s anger, or the guilt about complicating the rocket situation, or the all-consuming fear that she will destroy the life of the child within her and lose Bellamy in the process. Maybe it’s all of it together. Whatever it is, Echo breaks.

Outside of Bellamy, it’s always been easiest for her to be vulnerable in front of Raven. She buries her face in her hands and sobs in a way she hasn’t since Roan banished her and stripped her of everything that made her who she was. She feels just as directionless now – how does she even begin to think of herself as a mother? How does she remake herself again, when doing it the first time was the hardest thing she’s ever done?

A hand rubs at her back; she angles herself into her friend and takes comfort in her arms, in the warmth of Raven’s body beside her and the steady beat of her heart.

“Hey,” Raven says softly. “We’ll figure it out.”

“I don’t want it,” Echo gasps, her voice cracking. “I’m going to be a terrible mother.” It burns her throat coming out, but once it’s free, it crumbles the floodgates she’s built inside of her and every other fear spills out with it. “The child will hate me. Bellamy will hate me.”

“Are you going to feed the kid?”

The question is so sudden that it startles Echo out of her crying. Baffled, she turns to face Raven. “What?”

“Are you going to make sure your kid gets food?” Raven asks again.

Echo nods dumbly.

“Are you going to trade the kid’s food away for booze?” Echo shakes her head. “Are you going to ignore it and pretend it doesn’t exist when you’re too tired to deal with it?” She shakes her head again. Even if she can’t help resenting it a little – for there’s no question that the thing inside of her will change the routine she’s finally settled into – she would never deny it what it needs. How could she, when doing so was her duty as its mother? Even if she doesn’t understand motherhood, she understands duty.

Raven pats her on the shoulder, then wraps her arm tightly around her. “You’re going to be a better mother than mine, then. And I turned out just fine.”

Echo collects herself. She wipes the tears from her face. “I don’t think it’s fair to compare my child to you,” she says, the humor creeping slowly back into her voice.

Raven laughs. “Damn right. I’m one of kind.”

Echo sits with Bellamy in their room the next night, sharpening her sword while he mends another shirt Murphy has managed to rip. There is little reason for her to do so, but it gives her hands something to do while her mind wanders, and it has always been a relaxing habit for her.

Nights like this are comfortable – and something Echo can only describe as soft and warm. They have grown familiar enough with each other that they don’t need to fill the space between them with words. Sometimes, Echo has found, simply existing beside each other is enough.

But on this night, she does not find the peace and comfort she normally does. Even the mindless, familiar act of tending to her weapon fails to settle her raging mind. She finds herself watching Bellamy far more than her sword and nicks herself once in her distraction.

Bellamy is soft on nights like this, as he quietly mends clothing or reads books, smoothing out the ragged, forgotten pages as he goes, speaking up occasionally to read aloud a line he finds particularly interesting or to share an anecdote from his day – or occasionally, Echo’s favorite, to tell her stories of his childhood when they come to mind.

On Earth, she had known him as a warrior with hard edges, just as she herself had been. There had always been something different about him – a kindness she had rarely experienced in the people in her life that pulled her in and captivated her – but he had still been harsh in the way the Earth demanded he be.

Space, Echo has found, softens things. It softened Bellamy until he was someone new to rediscover – a different sort of person entirely to anyone she had ever known, soft and gentle, preferring knowledge and books, and unfailingly supportive of the family he had chosen.

He would make a good father, she can’t help but think. He would be gentle and kind with a child, as supportive of them as he was with the others aboard the Ring. He would read aloud from his books and tell them stories and encourage them with kind words.

It’s easier to picture Bellamy as a father than herself as a mother. He will approach their child with the same earnest way he approaches all things: with his heart fully in it and without an ounce of hesitation. Echo doesn’t know if she can do the same. She doubts she can.

Bellamy loves fiercely and easily – perhaps too much, sometimes. Echo thinks her own heart is too hard for it. It struggles with love. Sometimes she fears she only has so much of it to give. Maybe she’s already given all of it away to the six people on the Ring.

Maybe there’s no more love left for the child.

She opens her mouth to speak, but her voice is strangled before the truth can escape. She closes it again and wraps the still-bleeding cut on her finger with a strip of fabric she rips from her shirt.

The group of them tend to take their meals together. It’s a routine Echo treasures dearly. She delights in the laughter of her friends, the antics of Murphy and Monty as they squabble over something unimportant, and the reassuring reminder that she is still offered a seat at their table. The familiarity of it is almost enough to make her ignore the thing inside her for a while and let her weary mind rest.

But this time, Monty catches her arm as she moves to leave. Echo turns to find he’s watching the others trickle out of the room, and it’s only when they’re the last two left that he says, “I have an extra portion for you in the kitchen. I figured you’d want to eat it in secret.” He frowns. “Since it’s still a secret.” There’s something odd about his tone and his expression – something like both support and disapproval all at once.

Echo freezes. “Another portion?” she asks stiffly and fights the urge to wrap her arms around her stomach, as if that would hide the truth from him. Which would be pointless, of course; he already seems to know. “Harper told you.” It’s very nearly a groan. She feels betrayed.

“Only because she was worried,” Monty rushes to assure her. “She knew you weren’t eating enough.”

Echo follows him silently into the kitchen and accepts the additional plate of algae without comment, wrestling with her emotions as she eats. That’s four people that know now. Sharing the secret has actually been a relief in many ways – she has been hungry lately, and Murphy’s instructions, pulled from the medical files that he treats as law, had demanded she eat much more than usual, but she’d been unwilling to tell Monty the reason why and had decided instead to suffer the hunger in silence.

But at the same time, every time someone knows, the child becomes a little more real, and with it, Echo becomes a little more panicked.

“I’ll sneak food to you if you’re so determined to keep it a secret,” Monty tells her as she’s finishing. In that moment, the disappointment seems to overwhelm the support. “But don’t just skip eating. You and the baby both need it.”

She thanks him and doesn’t admit that the word “baby” spoken so casually nearly makes her throw up what she just ate.

She feels even guiltier now that Monty knows. Now four people know before Bellamy does – the very person she should have gone to first.

She can’t help pulling away from him that night, keeping her back to him as she lays in their bed so she doesn’t have to see his face. It doesn’t make her guilt any easier to handle; her stomach still rages like a ferocious storm, pitching and wailing. She doesn’t speak to him that night, though he tries to start a conversation many times; she fears that when she opens her mouth a torrent of apologies will spill out, and though she knows she will have to tell him the truth soon, she wants at least to be composed when she does.

Echo knows Bellamy is wounded by her silence, but she holds it still, trying to fall asleep quickly so she can mask it as exhaustion. When he tries to pull her close, her skin crawls with shame where he touches her, so she pulls herself out of his grasp and shifts towards the edge of the bed. She doesn’t have to turn to sense Bellamy’s hurt behind her.

She tries desperately to ignore it, but it’s impossible. The tempest within her grows larger. She wonders how long it can rage before it tears her apart from within, before the shell of her snaps and shreds with the force and all of them see the truth of her – lost, cowardly, and the very furthest thing from a mother she could be, fearing and half-despising the thing within her in equal parts.

Bellamy won’t stay with her when he sees all that, she knows, and that insidious little thought is enough to spin nightmares as she sleeps.

In the morning, she feels as though she’s hardly slept at all. Her body is fraught with exhaustion, her mind worn and weary from the constant anxiety. She sits for a long time on the edge of their bed, eyeing the vacant spot beside her, trying to quell the storm inside of her before she meets the others for breakfast.

She’s sick once, before she makes it to the common area, and she can’t quite say whether it’s the sickness of pregnancy or simply nerves. As she takes a seat and gratefully accepts the plate of algae Monty hands her – despite the fact that the very smell of it turns her stomach – she notices Emori staring at her shrewdly. Echo feels, perhaps a little ridiculously, like one of the other woman’s many machines under her gaze – gutted and ripped open, all her parts exposed. The grounder-turned-mechanic has the same look of fierce concentration that she does when she works on the ship or listens to Raven’s careful instructions. Echo feels like a problem the other woman is trying to solve.

It takes her an embarrassingly long time to figure out why Emori is watching her so intensely, and she can’t help the heat that flushes her cheeks when she realizes, though she manages at least to keep her expression flat. A glance towards Murphy, who seems determined to avoid Echo’s eyes, confirms it for her. Surprisingly, she doesn’t feel anger – only bitter acceptance and an exhaustion so great it seems to pull at the very essence of her.

It was foolish to tell Murphy and not expect Emori to know soon after. Echo doubts there are any secrets kept between them; what one knows, the other will know soon enough. It very often makes her jealous; she’s never been sure if she and Bellamy could ever reach the level of easy closeness and unity that Emori and Murphy have achieved. Right now, though, it only makes the shame burn hotter, because how could she ever reach that place if she deliberately hides things from him.

And then realization falls over her as suddenly and chillingly as if she’d fallen through the ice into the frozen, winter water below. That’s everyone now.

Everyone but Bellamy.

Echo twists herself into knots all day. Her thoughts are a fragmented jumble of panic and worry, rehearsed and rejected confessions buried amongst imagined rejections. Her stomach remains in a constant state of nausea; she throws up several more times throughout the day, until little else comes up but bile.

She hides herself in her and Bellamy’s room, alternating between pacing the room like a caged wolf and laying on the bed. The day passes slowly, but eventually, it nears late evening, and Bellamy returns to the room.

“I have something to tell you,” Echo says as soon as Bellamy enters, before her fear can keep her silent.

He is clearly caught off guard by her urgency. “Oh, okay,” he says, and then his face twists. Echo can read the irritation in it. It rides the hard line of his mouth and the deep furrows of his dark eyebrows. “Does it have anything to do with why you wouldn’t talk to me last night?”

“Yes,” Echo admits quietly. She watches Bellamy wrestle with that answer, looking somehow both relieved at the truth and even more frustrated all at once. He sighs deeply and takes a seat on their bed, then looks at her expectantly.

Echo falters. She’s held onto this secret for so long that the fear attached to it has grown comfortable inside of her. How much force will it take to pull it out? “I –“ she gasps, feeling as if she can’t take in enough air to breathe. Feeling as if she’s under the ice still, freezing and drowning and trapped.

She’s horrified to feel tears on her cheeks. Her composure is gone, the years of training from Azgeda no match for her fear. Her body reacts like a mindless, panicked animal.

Bellamy, equally panicked at her sudden change, rises quickly from his seat and reaches a hand towards her. It hovers uncertainly in the air as he stares at her with wide-eyed shock. “Echo, what’s wrong? What is it?”

How does she say, I have lied to you again? I have betrayed your trust once more. I have saddled your child with a mother who cannot love fully and isn’t fit to raise it.

“I’m sorry,” she manages, and that’s all it takes for Bellamy to surge into action. He closes the distance between her and wraps her tightly within his arms. From her place of safety, Echo shudders, sobs, and breaks. The tears come faster than she expects. The sobbing steals the air from her lungs, until she’s hiccupping and gasping against him. It has been a long time since she has cried like this; it nearly feels like her body has forgotten how, tripping unsure into the motions of such strong emotions.

Through it all, Bellamy rubs a gentle hand across her back, murmuring soft words she can’t quite make out into her hair.

When it’s all spilled out of her and she feels empty and exhausted, she manages to regain control over her words. “I’m pregnant,” she says quickly, before the fear can strangle her again.

Bellamy tenses. His hand stops its gentle massaging, freezing in the middle of her back. For a minute, he forgets to breathe. “You’re pregnant?” he repeats dumbly.

“Yes,” she whispers. It seems it’s all she can say. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re –“

Echo chances a look at his face. He doesn’t seem to know how to respond, struck dumb with the news. He stares at her with wide eyes, mouth awkwardly shaping words he doesn’t seem to know how to voice. Finally, he manages to speak.

“I think I kind of helped,” he says weakly.

Echo stares at him in confusion.

“You said you’re sorry. I’m pretty sure I kind of helped make the – the baby, though.” He gives her a weak smile. His hand resumes massaging her back.

“I don’t know what to do,” she admits, disgusted with the way her voice cracks in the middle. “I don’t know anything about children, Bellamy.”

“Well, luckily, I have some experience.”

She turns to stare at the wall, unable to keep looking at him, but he cups her cheek and gently turns her face towards his. His gaze is warm. She doesn’t feel she deserves it. “You deserve someone better to start a family with.”

His other hand comes up to mirror the first on her other cheek. “No, I chose you because I love you. Because you’re loyal and determined and incredible. And our child –“ He falters at those words. And then he smiles, wide and full of joy, his eyes crinkling with it. “Echo,” he gasps, voice reverent. “We’re having a baby. We’re going to have a family.”

“You want that?” she can’t help but asking, staring intently at his face, checking for signs of dishonesty. She can’t find any.

“So much.” His words are as happy as his grin. Her heart flutters wildly. For the very first time, she doesn’t feel sick at the knowledge of the child inside of her.

“With me?” she nearly whispers.

Bellamy stares at her. He brushes at the tear tracks on her cheeks. The ice is melting underneath his gaze; she feels finally like she can pull herself free of the water and breath again.

“So, so much,” Bellamy says.

Echo feels warm.

When it happens, all Echo knows is pain and Bellamy’s voice, panicked as he yells at Murphy, gentle and filled with love as he squeezes her hand and tells her she’ll be fine. There’s chaos – her, in pain and screaming curses in Trigadasleng while Raven tries to tie her hair back, Murphy, in a state of panic like she’s never seen him as he forgets everything he’s ever read in the face of an actual birth, and Bellamy, shoving him aside and taking over.

The others hover around the edges of the room, and though Echo can hardly focus on them at all, she appreciates their presence.

After the baby comes and she hears its cries, she only has a brief moment of relief before the pain returns. With it comes more chaos, more panic, and more screaming, the room sent into a flurry of frenzied activity.

And then comes a new cry. A second baby, following just shortly after the first.

Siblings.

She loses track of time for a moment, and comes to when Harper places a bundle gently in her arms, smiling proudly down at her. “It’s a boy. Bellamy has the girl.”

A boy and a girl, Echo thinks. A brother and a sister.

The others leave the room. Only their small family of four remains. Bellamy has a stupid grin on his face. Giddiness bursts out of him as he stares down at the little girl that already looks so much like him. Echo hopes they both continue growing to resemble their father. She wants desperately to see them keep those dark curls. She wants them to have their father’s eyes, loving and kind.

“They’re beautiful,” Echo says. Her voice is still hoarse from the earlier pain. Exhaustion pulls her body to the bed; she wants to stay awake forever and watch the man she loves hold their children, but her body wants sleep.

“They are. Siblings. Echo, they’re siblings. There’s two of them,” Bellamy says, his sentences stumbling over each other in his excitement. His eyes turn on her, and Echo finds herself on the other end of his overwhelming love and joy, and, suddenly, she realizes that perhaps she can love as much as Bellamy can – because her love for him is more powerful and overwhelming a force than anything she has ever known before.

“What should we name them?” she asks, voice nearly a whisper.

Bellamy looks back down at their girl – their girl, Echo thinks wildly. They have a daughter. And she has a younger brother. Their son.

“Diana, for the girl,” Bellamy answers softly. “Apollo for the boy.” He has a familiar grin buried in the corners of his mouth, and Echo cannot help but roll her eyes with fond exasperation.

“What book are those from?” she asks.

Bellamy turns slightly pink, though his darker skin hides most of it. “Roman mythology,” he admits, looking sheepish. “They’re twins. Am I that predictable?”

“You are,” Echo says. She can’t contain her grin; it overcomes her entire face.

What had the child been like, she wonders suddenly, her brother or her sister? Had her sibling wished they’d known her, like she often wishes? How would it have changed her to grow beside them? Had her mother mourned her when Nia’s scouts stole her away? How would she feel if she watched the same happen to this little girl or this little boy with Bellamy’s eyes and curls?

She thinks it might ruin her. She thinks maybe they already have ruined her, because their entry into this world has snatched away any picture Echo could imagine of a life without them.

She has been remade twice now, and that cannot be undone.

But she thinks herself better for it.

#becho #becho fic #bellamy blake #echo #the 100 #the 100 fic #echo kom spacekru #spacekru #my stories

31 notes · View notes

soveryanon · 5 years ago

Text

Reviewing time for MAG153! … Abridged version because I messed up my planning orz

- And we finally got an actual Corruption statement this season!! You made it into season 4, babe!!

I like how its Crawling Moment Of Awesomeness came little by little:

(MAG140) BASIRA: Er… Jon. What’s this. [DRY SOUND] ARCHIVIST: Mm? … Oh. That’s… [SILENCE] That, uh, that’s… my rib? BASIRA: … Right. [PUTS IT DOWN] ARCHIVIST: Yup… BASIRA: And… the jar of ashes. ARCHIVIST: Not– Not mine; I–I mean, it belongs to me, I–I guess, but it’s not… Er, stationery is in the other drawer?

(MAG145) ARTHUR: [SNORT] Slumlording over a nest. GERTRUDE: Oh. A nest of… what? ARTHUR: Found a mass of the Crawling Rot growing, a while back. Managed to get a hold of the property before it became too big. Gotta wait ‘til it blossoms before we can properly burn it.

(MAG152) HELEN: Hello, Jon. Been a while since you’ve been down here. ARCHIVIST: [ANGRY EXHALE] I didn’t come here to see you. HELEN: Oh, come now. I’m sure I’m more interesting company than the late Jane Prentiss. ARCHIVIST: [SIGH] … It’s all that left of her now. Apart from a… jar of ashes in my desk. Just a circle of rotten stone on an otherwise… unremarkable wall.

(MAG153) ARCHIVIST: This, well… The Corruption at work, if I had to guess, though with unsettling echoes of a… “Fleshliness”.

Jane, The Hive, Jane&The Hive, and now The Corruption for itself.

It’s… an obvious things given Smirke’s name for it (well, at least Gerry’s), but one of the things I find very interesting with Corruption is how it… does that. Rather than insects for themselves, it “corrupts” something, quite often perceived as “pure” and/or “absolute”: Jane craving for “something beyond [her]self” (MAG032), the malarial research turning horribly badly (MAG045), Private Amherst giving his bed to the injured soldiers who needed it more than him (MAG068), little Gordon helping the old Maggie (MAG084), Lester Chang’s not-that-healthy new relationship with his father-in-law and his subsequent obsession for cleanliness (MAG093), Benoît Maçon’s desperation for love (MAG102), Jon’s third victim from season 4 (MAG146: “A man rejected by all who knew him, searching ever-darker places for love. When he told me his story, he started… weeping maggots.”), The Divine Chain cult turning the notion of selfless love into a requirement (MAG153)… which tied in with everything turning Wrong when the dog “Agapē” joined it and that so-called ~pure~ love just opened the door for… spooks.

- But also:

(MAG153, Barbara Mullen-Jones) “I hit my “lowest point” when I turned 41. That’s when my life came crashing down; at least on the inside. From the outside, I’m sure everything looked… pretty much okay. I was getting gigs, I had a job, I had plenty of friends and a supportive family… But that was when I started to properly look at my life, and I… really didn’t like what was looking back…! I was a stand-up comedian, you see, and a really good one. That’s not boasting, that’s just the truth. And I’d always assumed that that was enough to eventually have real success. And for the first… ten years, it seemed like I was right. I worked my way up, performed for basically nothing basically every night, and got to be pretty successful.

… And I stayed that way for the next ten years. [SIGH]

Trouble is, do you know how much a “pretty successful comedian” makes? Let’s just say I had a full-time office job and was still barely making rent. But between working full-time and gigging full-time, I just kept putting off everything else in my life. Always so sure the big time was just around the corner. “This is the TV spot that gets me noticed.” “This is the sell-out fringe show that makes me mainstream.” “This is the deal that actually goes somewhere.”

I made it through turning 40 with my self-image intact, but for some reason, at 41 I just… cracked. I realised I had spent most of my life with nothing to show for it but a few awards no one cares about, a string of… awful comedian exes who broke up with me for being funnier than them… and a dreadful office job [SIGH] I was going to be working until I died, because I’d never bothered to build a stable career. I was never going to own a home; never going to have kids; never going to have the life I’d spent my entire youth sacrificing for.”

… Yes, I know I just quoted the whole beginning of the statement but: a lot of the RQ crew and their friends are comedians, sooo, uhhh. RQ folks, are you okay.

- Abridged version as promised, but things I liked: how you could understand why the statement-giver got wrapped up in the cult, but also how… she didn’t really belong there indeed, because she was mostly focusing on the form of it (the kind words, the contact, the work in itself, the wine production), like she was attracted to the gratuitous symbolisms around the meditation course, but not truly receptive to… the meat of things, what was behind the shape of it, what was at the core?

How she was, at the end, extremely petty about the cult’s failure (“There’s a part of me that’s glad. A sick little part that’s happy that whatever “love” was there, whatever I couldn’t be a part of, is gone from the world. And no one else gets it either.”).

How, oops, a fair amount of officers in the American police may have signed their local equivalent of a Section 31 form… or else, Gertrude or Adelard had been around, because explosives (“The compound was destroyed in an “accidental generator explosion”, and everything was gone.”)

How, once again, we got a statement with an exterior shape reminescent of different Fears (Jon pointing it out at the end, a “fleshliness”), like a few other recent ones? Though this one was a bit spelled out for us. (“And when you’re at that point, it’s astounding what can crawl into your heart – and start to fester there. […] Or if they… came about after things started to change. Started to go rotten.”)

How the statement was about leaving everything to settle in America… while later in the episode, Julia&Trevor revealed that they had come back from it to England.

How the simple representation of the world encouraged by the cult found a kind of echo with Julia&Trevor, simplistically separating people between monsters (preys) and the rest?

- … So, once again: why is Jon reading these specific statements, since he came back from Ny-Ålesund?

* MAG146, “Threshold”: Jon did mention that he had been pulled towards that one when he began to focus on Hill Top Road (“I spent so long looking for it, back when I found his father’s, and… no luck. But now, I decide to start looking properly into Hill Top Road, and all of a sudden… I’m drawn to rearrange a filing cabinet – and what do I find behind it?”)

* MAG147, “Weaver”: left by Annabelle to Fuck Him Up.

* MAG148, “Extended Surveillance”: Beholding, someone getting taken over by Beholding and obsessing over his friend.

* MAG150, “Cul-de-Sac”: Hey, The Power Of MLM Love Can Save Someone From The Lonely Zone If You Reach For Them xoxoxo.

* MAG152, “A Gravedigger’s Envy”: Someone falling deeper and deeper (ha) into their shiny new patron and Enjoying What They’re Doing.

* MAG153, “Love Bombing”: how someone got indoctrinated into a cult, and dodged a bullet by being dismissed from it because they didn’t believe/Feel It enough.

Has it been Annabelle still messing with him? Beholding? A reflection of Jon’s own preoccupations, that’s been leading him towards the few last ones?

- Aka: was that once again Annabelle cackling in Jon’s face because WOW, these first few lines sure felt like someone cackling in Jon’s face:

(MAG153, Barbara Mullen-Jones) “Everyone thinks they’re too smart to get involved in a cult. I’m sure you do. You think, that at the first mention of “aliens”, or the end of the world, or the lost book of the Bible, where Jesus buried his Holy Staff in the foothills of the Himalayas… you’d go running. Trouble is, that misunderstands how it works. I mean, when I was with The Divine Chain, some of the smartest people there were also the most committed. Intelligence doesn’t make you less prone to taking on bad ideas, it just makes you better at defending them…! To other people, and to yourself. Smart people can believe some truly ridiculous things, and then deploy all the reason and logic at their disposal to justify them. Because belief doesn’t begin in your mind – it begins in your feelings.”

… So once again, Jon’s reaction is a priceless “jON???” moment because:

(MAG153) ARCHIVIST: Statement ends. [SIGH] … I swear. I almost find the cult dedicated to the Dark Powers of Fear easier to understand than the more mundane sort. At least they have some consistency.

“What’s going on?” / Jon: *clicks “I’m in this statement and I don’t like it.”*

Oh My Gods, Jon… you read so many statements… they work/proceed exactly the same… getting you when you’re vulnerable… filling in what you’re craving and lacking, with the mix of “making you think you were shaped for them” and “shaping you for them” in turn…

(At least, he wasn’t in denial over the fact that the Dread Powers are “cults”. That would have been harder for him to do, anyway; and he didn’t deny it in the past when Georgie (MAG083, “Look me in the eyes and tell me that it’s not part of the cult or whatever the hell it was that left you homeless.”) and Jude (MAG089, “I don’t suppose I could talk to anyone else in your, um…” “It’s fine, you can call it a cult.”) both used the term. Still. Jon, there is no comfort/pride/excuse to get by trying to claim that the Fears Gods you’ve been involved with are more effective than your ~regular~ cults.)

- … How did Julia&Trevor manage to leave America? Last time we had heard of them, they were stuck:

(MAG109) ARCHIVIST: And… [SIGH] why America? JULIA: [FAINT GROAN] TREVOR: [CHUCKLE] Heard tell there were a wolfman…! JULIA: [LAUGH] TREVOR: Old Dave, he’s down in Plymouth, swore blind his brother had seen one on the Pacific Crest trail– JULIA: I told Trevor he was a liar, but here we are anyway. Have been for a couple of years…! TREVOR: Hey, now – no wolfman, sure, but there’ve been plenty out here that would needs killing! JULIA: [LONG-SUFFERING SIGH] True enough. Plus, it’s hard to leave. We’re not exactly here legally and trying to get a flight home would get us noticed by authorities we’d rather avoid. TREVOR: I keep telling her we could hop a boat! JULIA: And I tell him I’d rather stay hunting here than trap myself on a boat for two weeks!

(Julia has Bad History with water.)

- I wasn’t incredibly clear on the post-statement scenography – I assumed there had been a gunshot at first (but it wasn’t tagged in the content warnings, although it had consistently been in previous episodes), so was that loud bang… Jon’s door? Or the trapdoor? being violently banged open?

(There was the chair scraping on the floor when Julia was ordering Jon to stay sitting, so for that, I pictured her hands on his shoulder and at some point, them pinning his arms in his back and slamming his head on the table.)

- Loving how Julia’s perception of Jon doesn’t change:

(MAG107) JULIA: We can chat in the car! I’m sure you’ve got a ton of librarian stories, the miles will just fly by.

(MAG153) JULIA: Sure. Or: I slit your little bookworm’s throat…!

Jon Is Just A Nerd, uh.

- I really love how Jon “Can’t Shut His Mouth” Sims and Julia “Sims, Shut The Fuck Up” Montauk’s dialogue:

(MAG153) ARCHIVIST: [VENOMOUS] Gerry wasn’t “yours”. You had no right– [SLAMMING SOUND] TREVOR: Oh, you hear that, Julia? “Gerry”. JULIA: Sounds like it got pretty chummy…! Where is he? […] JULIA: Sure. Or: I slit your little bookworm’s throat…! DAISY: Do it. That give me a chance to finish off your dad. TREVOR: I’m not her father…! ARCHIVIST: Not by blood, maybe…! JULIA: Shut. it. ARCHIVIST: [GROAN OF PAIN]

… was basically an exchange of “YOU’RE JUST A USELESS BI” “OH YEAH? AND YOU HAVE DADDY ISSUES.”

Jon. Jon, please.

(Guuuh over Julia’s “You always do what evil books tell you to, do you?” because… she can’t know, but to say that to someone who had almost been taken by Mr Spider because following the book’s thread? Aouch.)

- And my heart BREAKS over the fact that Julia&Trevor are reproaching him… what was the Most Obviously Anti-Beholding thing Jon has ever done, back in season 3 – fulfilling the promise he had made to Gerry, and freeing/actually killing him, even if it caused himself pain in the process. But for Julia&Trevor, it’s precisely what made him an enemy just like any other monster.

(MAG153) ARCHIVST: He asked me to. JULIA: Oh, really? You always do what evil books tell you to, do you? TREVOR: Gotta say, I’m disappointed. Genuinely thought you were different. But you’re just another monster. Not even worth the chase…! JULIA: You want the honours, old man. TREVOR: Don’t mind if I do~!

Aouch. (I wonder what part of it was rightful anger at being deprived of their “monster manual”, and how much was actually a pretext to kill someone they had so far deemed as vaguely spooky, though? Interestingly, they didn’t mention that they felt like Jon had gotten worse or anything. According to their words, they only wanted to kill Jon because they felt that he had betrayed them and that siding with Gerry meant that he was “another monster”.)

- And bringing back the mention of Gerry and the book… also puts Eric Delano back to mind. Gerry only knew that his mother had used his father as training material with the book, but he didn’t find him inside. We know that Mary gave Gertrude a page, implying that it was Eric’s (“what’s left of him”), but Jon didn’t find it in Gertrude’s secret stash either:

(MAG111) GERARD: I never knew my dad. Not really. He worked in the Archives like you, but quit once I was born. I think he wanted to help raise me. But mum didn’t need the help, and after me she wasn’t able to have kids again, so she killed him in his sleep to practice her bookbinding. I guess she failed. I always thought he was in here, but when I eventually got hold of it, there wasn’t a page in there.

(MAG062) MARY: The End, of course. I could never truly serve it; I just don’t find death that interesting. I’ve always found a singular devotion far too restrictive. Just ask Eric… or what’s left of him. […] GERTRUDE: And do you have any proof of this? Your… “magic book”. MARY: Yeah. [PAPER RUSTLING] You can keep this page. I made sure it was in English. GERTRUDE: Go– Who… who is it? MARY: A surprise, dear. Just make sure you’re alone when you read it. [CHAIR SCRAPING] Goodbye, Gertrude. Wish me luck. [DOOR OPENING] [DOOR CLOSING] GERTRUDE: Well. I–I don’t… really know what to add to that. If what she says is true, I should think carefully before reading this page aloud. I should probably destroy it. [GRUNT] I do rather hate the smell of burning skin. Anyway… that’s a decision for another day. [CHAIR SCRAPING] [FLOORBOARD OPENING] [FLOORBOARD CLOSING] […] ARCHIVIST: […] But in spite of all that, I’m… strangely excited. Because what sticks out to me more than anything else in that tape… is the very distinctive floorboard, at the end. [CLOTHES RUFFLING] One that hasn’t changed in the eight years since this statement was given. There’s never been any reason to look closely at a random section of floor. This bit wasn’t even breached by any of the worms. [FLOORBOARD OPENS] Because it had Gertrude’s hidden compartment beneath it. Hmm. No… strange skin page. But there is a laptop. And a key. I wonder what it opens. End supplement. [CLICK.]

So… the question is still up – did Gertrude burn the page in the end? We know that she had burned a few things down in the tunnels, including at least one Leitner. Did she keep the page and is it stored somewhere? And if so… why would have she kept it? Eric was likely one of her assistants before Gerry was born, and Gertrude sounded… rather fond of him:

(MAG085) ARCHIVIST: Date of original statement unclear, though paper quality likely puts it at between twenty and thirty years ago. […] There are some… short pieces of correspondence in the file, addressed to Gertrude, from someone called, er, Eric Delano, confirming that while he typed out this statement, he has no memory of doing so, and requesting some sick leave to address… persistent migraines he has developed.

(MAG137) GERTRUDE: […] And I will admit I’ve grown… fond of the boy. I wonder, if I told him about Eric – whether he’d follow in his father’s footsteps. Still, that’s not like it kept Eric safe in The End.

A few things: Gerry did point out to Jon that he was surprised that Gertrude had apparently managed to get Mary to teach her how to book-bind (MAG111: “I just had to make sure I took the book while my mum was fading, and brought it to her, and then she would free me. I didn’t really believe her, I don’t think, but I did it anyway. When she returned the book to me a week later, her pages burned and mangled, I think I actually cried with relief. I never even considered that my mum might have taught Gertrude how to make pages for it before she was destroyed.”). Could Gertrude have learned it through Eric instead of Mary? Gerry also mentioned that, beyond the fact that Gertrude had chosen to imprison him within the book, he didn’t understand why she had left him behind (MAG111: “I think… I think I finally understand why she brought me back. I just don’t understand why she left me behind.”) – and, indeed, why…? Was it because she had been too freaked out by her arrest (although the book… stayed behind, unclaimed, and she could have got her hands back on it legally)? Was it because Gertrude wanted to leave behind a few hints about her actions, in case she got killed before achieving her goals? Was it because she wanted to retrieve it later, when things would be safer…? (That’d be extremely sentimental coming from her, but if she had kept Eric’s page… could it be that she had planned for Gerry and Eric to meet somehow at some point? If so: AOUCH, because Jon gave Gerry what he wanted, what he asked for… but if Jon were to discover that Eric’s page was still intact and that Gerry could have met his father at last? That… would hurt, uh.)

- Julia&Trevor being back in the game means that they… potentially share a connection with everyone in Team Archives, one way or another:

* Jon was Hunted by Julia, kidnapped/“bodyguarded” by her (MAG107), took Julia&Trevor’s statement about how they met (MAG109), stole Gerry’s page from them (MAG111) before burning it (MAG117). They were already on the fence about Jon’s status as a potential prey back then, but they had at least some interests in common with him (the world not ending, perceiving Max Mustermann as an enemy); right now, Julia&Trevor are clearly labelling Jon as a target and as an overall “monster” – plus, they have the grudge about the page and… there is the fact that Jon’s dreams contained them:

(MAG153) JULIA: [LAUGHS] You’ve got something of ours. TREVOR: “Someone”. JULIA: Took him right from under our noses…! TREVOR: In our own house. JULIA: I call that rude, don’t you? ARCHIVIST: [VENOMOUS] Gerry wasn’t “yours”. You had no right– [SLAMMING SOUND] TREVOR: Oh, you hear that, Julia? “Gerry”. […] Not gonna ask you again, son. ARCHIVIST: I burned the page. Released him. [SILENCE] TREVOR: Aren’t that right noble of you. JULIA: Proper humanitarian. TREVOR: So. [INHALE] Let me get this straight! We take ye in; protect ye from the thing that’s huntin’ ye… JULIA: Spared your life! Even though you’re no better. TREVOR: Help you; give you access to one of our most valuable resources; and you steal it from us, piss off back to England, and then… burn it?! [SHUFFLING] That’s just inconsiderate.

(MAG120) ELIAS: The dark building is newer, but he knows it well; knows the two lost souls who creep through it with an alert hunger on their faces. He recognizes that look from the other Hunter whose dreams he's watched for so long. They stalk the darkness itself, and hope to catch and kill it before it can do the same to them. They see him watching, but they cannot catch his scent.

… Even for Jon’s standards, that’s a lot. Usually, people wanted him dead because of the “Archivist” title and/or because he was marked by The Eye (Jane Prentiss, the Not!Them, Nikola, Michael-The-Distortion in MAG101…), not for… personal reasons, for things Jon himself had done. (… The only exception had been, interestingly… Daisy. Daisy who wanted to rip him apart because he had forced her to give him her statement, and because she kept seeing him in her dreams.)

(* Obviously Peter, and potentially Martin, because:

(MAG153) TREVOR: [SHAKING SIGH] … Come on, Julia. JULIA: What?! TREVOR: There’s no rush. [CHORTLING] We’ve got all the time in the world. Besides… this place is just full of monsters. She can’t guard ’em all.

There Are Other “Monsters” Here.

Would they sense the spooks from Martin, nowadays…?)

* Daisy used to be a Hunter like them, but has decided to stop serving. Trevor used to perceive The Hunt as an “addiction”, occasionally managed to make himself quit it, but when Jon met him in June 2017, Trevor had returned to The Hunt and already decided that he was getting a fair deal out of it, all things considered:

(MAG056, Trevor Herbert) “In the early 80s, I was deep in the grip of my twin addictions. As I mentioned, after a while, The Hunt became an addiction of its own. Of the two, I’ve always found heroin the easier one to quit. […] But The Hunt… the hunt is a purpose. It’s not just a way to get through the day, it’s a reason for there to be a day at all. […] Ah, it’s a shame I’m on the way out. I will miss The Hunt.”

(MAG109) ARCHIVIST: I–I mean, yes… But the situation has changed quite a bit. Last I heard, you were dying of lung cancer…! TREVOR: I was. ARCHIVIST: And now…? TREVOR: I’m not. [CHUCKLE] ARCHIVIST: And, and that doesn’t strike you as… odd. TREVOR: Not much I see these days isn’t “odd”, somehow or other. Not gonna turn my nose up at that one bit that worked out well for me. I hunt monsters; my lungs don’t kill me. [HUFF] Seems like a fair trade. No big job, today.

Daisy antagonised them both, Julia & Daisy are quite obviously ready and willing to jump at each other’s throat again… Which is a bad sign for Daisy, since they’re bringing back her murderous thoughts.

(On the one hand, their antagonism could push Daisy back into The Hunt’s waiting arms. On the other hand… it could go another way – though that would feel very hopeful: now that Trevor has been acknowledged as being a father figure for Julia… could it lead to Trevor pushing Julia out of The Hunt, because he would care more about her well-being than about hunting with her and he knows what a life of Hunt does to you?)

* BASIRA WAS WITH THE SECTION’D OFFICERS WHO RAIDED RAYNER’S LAST BODY-THEFT ATTEMPT, AND SHE WITNESSED HIS DEATH.

Especially since Basira&Jon have just come out of a mini-Dark arc… it feels especially relevant? Julia lost both her mother and her father to the People’s Church of the Divine Host, because of Rayner, and she had herself been scared of The Dark for long:

(MAG109) JULIA: There was another reason that I chose to work nights. If you read my statement, then I’m sure it will come as no surprise that for most of my life, I’ve had a pretty significant fear of the dark. I used to lie awake at night; listening, straining my ears for the noise of movement or that… dreadful growl coming out of the dark. It was one of my better counsellors that suggested I try working nights as a way to address it. And it worked! For the most part.

Amongst other things, we recently had confirmation of what had happened to Julia’s mom through Manuela’s statement:

(MAG143) MANUELA: You were not the first to try and stop us, you know. Not even within living memory. I was but newly joined when [Lynette] fled the Church, and Maxwell had her silenced. But I remember her brute of a husband. He fed the beast for us, you know, when first he believed [Lynette] might still be saved. Then, later, we faithful served as his fuel to banish it. But, not for long. That’s the thing about Darkness, isn’t it? You try your hardest to eradicate, flood your surroundings with light, but it’s always there at the edges – waiting for the glow to weaken, to return and cover you forever. Robert Montauk discovered that the hard way.

(And in return: Manuela mentioned that Darvish had “crossed a Montauk, which has… traditionally gone poorly for us.”, which was an allusion to Julia and was covered by the story she told Jon in MAG109.)

Why Robert Montauk did what he did and what happened to her mother could still be elements that Julia would be interested to know. (Or… not anymore, because she tried to leave that life behind her, but… still, I have trouble picturing that it would be a coincidence that she would be back right after Jon&Basira heard that story.)

* … I’m especially worried about Melanie, since her “connection” to Trevor&Julia is that… they burned down the Ivy Meadows care home, including what was left of Melanie’s father:

(MAG036, Nicole Baxter) “I turned and began to sprint back towards my car. I had to get away, to get out. Then, without warning, I felt something heavy hit me in the side and I lost my footing, falling to the ground. I looked up to see an old man pinning me to the ground, his long, white beard matted and filthy. I screamed and tried to escape, but his age seemed to have done nothing to diminish his strength, and he kept his grip easily. Then he spoke in a thick Mancunian accent and told me to keep my voice down. I noticed that his skin was unblemished pink, and behind him stood a young woman, tall and lean with close-cropped hair and a deep scar over her right eye. She carried a large canvas bag, and was shaking her head, telling the old man to leave me alone. After a few suspicious glances, he got up. I could swear I recognised him from somewhere, but when I asked the two of them who they were, they just shook their heads and told me to leave. I asked them what was going on, and the old man looked at his companion, as if asking permission, said something about knowledge being a good defence here. She shook her head and said that leaving quickly was a better one. I didn’t need to be told a third time. I got in my car, and I left them to their work. I didn’t turn around even when I saw the smoke start to rise behind me.”

[…] ARCHIVIST: The Ivy Meadows Care Home in Woodley was officially decommissioned in July 2011, a month before the first of these alleged calls came in. It burned down on the 4th of September that same year after a leaking gas main caught fire.

(MAG106) ELIAS: Your father was your last real anchor, wasn’t he? [STATIC RISES.] MELANIE: That’s none of your business. ELIAS: Perhaps. Five years is plenty of time to grieve. It’s a real tragedy, isn’t it – dementia? Oh, especially so early. But he always remembered you, didn’t he? “Little moth”. MELANIE: Shut. up. ELIAS: At least, you got him into a decent care home. Hard to afford on an irregular income like yours, but… your mother’s life-insurance helped plenty. And Ivy Meadows wasn’t as expensive as some of them! It’s a shame, about the fire. But I’d have thought it would offer something of a relief. MELANIE: Wh–what are you talking about…? ELIAS: Oh. Of course. They told you he died in his sleep, didn’t they? Smoke inhalation. A real tragedy, but at least he didn’t suffer. MELANIE: I… ELIAS: Do you want to know what really killed him? [STATIC RISES] MELANIE: [SHOCKED INHALE] [RAGGED BREATHING] [TAPE RECORDER HISSING] ELIAS: Awful, isn’t it? He really suffered. Not… really your fault, just bad luck. MELANIE: [RAGGED BREATHING TURNING INTO SOBS] ELIAS: That doesn’t comfort you, does it?

And I have no idea how Melanie will take that news. Able to remain stable and/or to decide that it may have been a mercy-kill? Refusing to feel any gratitude-adjacent feeling towards then, since they did it as Hunters (so, not to save innocents or to put the residents out of their suffering… but because there were monsters to kill)? Anger and resentment at what they did? (Would Melanie team up with them if it’s about tracking down Amherst…?)

- … So, Julia and Trevor just Got Inside Of The Institute Like That, and violence’d Jon, and would have gone for the kill if Daisy hadn’t stepped in:

(MAG153) TREVOR: Gotta say, I’m disappointed. Genuinely thought you were different. But you’re just another monster. Not even worth the chase…! JULIA: You want the honours, old man. TREVOR: Don’t mind if I do~! JULIA: [CHUCKLES] TREVOR: [CHUCKLES] DAISY: [FAR] Get away from him.

……………….. So, once again: pETER.

(S4 trailer) MARTIN: … Yeah. Yeah, I know. [PAUSE] I’m, er… I’m actually with him now. [SNIFFING] You were right. [PAUSE] … yeah. Yeah, I know. [LONG INHALE] I… [EXHALE] … Will they be safe? [PAUSE] … Okay… [INHALE] Okay! I’ll do it. Yeah. Sure thing.

(MAG126) PETER: Martin, this is what we agreed. After The Flesh attacked, you came to me. MARTIN: [SIGH] PETER: And I’ve held up my end of the bargain, despite your continued hesitation. Your friends have been largely untroubled by the many – many – enemies that they have made. MARTIN: What about the delivery guy? Breekon. And the coffin? PETER: Was that its name? To be honest with you, I thought it was dead. MARTIN: You thought wrong. PETER: True enough. And as soon as I learned it was here, I moved to intervene, but, well. It turns out I wasn’t really needed. And as far as the coffin goes, there’s not much I can do about a bull-headed Archivist– MARTIN: [EXPLOSIVE EXHALE] PETER: –who seems hellbent on self-destruction. My powers only extend so far. […] As I said, one of the last shreds of the Circus delivered a gateway into Too-Close-I-Cannot-Breathe. I went to help, but was too late. Then, your detective friend– MARTIN: No, she’s not a dete– PETER: –went on one of Elias’s wild-goose chases, then Jon wilfully hurled himself into the coffin. I did not intervene, because thankfully, I did not agree to protect your friends from their own idiocy.

(MAG142) MARTIN: … Anyway. So, what’s this field trip they’re on? DAISY: They, uh… they didn’t tell you? MARTIN: [DRY CHUCKLE] No, I… What. … [QUICKLY] Daisy, where have they gone? DAISY: You know that town in Norway? MARTIN: What? I… Wai– Wh–what?! You don’t mean Ny-Ålesund? DAISY: Yyyeah. They reckon there’s a ritual they need to, you know… MARTIN: Yeah, but Peter didn’t even men–…! [OPENS DRAWERS, SHUFFLES THROUGH THINGS] I don’t believe this! DAISY: Sorry. Shouldn’t have said anything. MARTIN: No, no, it’s… thank you, I just… [CLOSES DRAWER] For God’s sake, can he not stay safe for like, for like ten minutes?!

(MAG151) MARTIN: How honest has he been with me? SIMON: About which part? MARTIN: Protecting the others. SIMON: I think he tried. I suspect he may have slightly exaggerated his abilities when you first made the deal, but he certainly expended a reasonable amount of influence and resources to follow through. MARTIN: But… [EXPLOSIVE SIGH] But that was never the endgame, was it? He just wanted me on side long enough to rope me into his… his plans for The Extinction.

1°) I doubt that we’ll get to hear Martin learning about Julia&Trevor’s irruption in the Archives on tape, but PLEASE, I WANT TO HEAR HIS SHRIEKS WHEN HE DOES…

2°) We’re more likely to hear him explode in Peter’s face about it, though.

3°) That is, if Peter doesn’t flee into The Lonely forever to escape Martin’s wrath. Jokes aside: I don’t think that Martin will be surprised, at this point, because Simon has now confirmed to him that… Peter isn’t as strong/useful as a defender as he claimed. And this probably won’t be a game-changer for Martin… unless it pushes him to press Peter to unfold The Plan already, at last, because the longer they wait, the longer Jon and the others are kept vulnerable.

(… Though: they should still be defenceless, whether Martin&Peter’s plan(s) succeed or not? Peter promised their safety, however… was he referring to extending his own protection to them (because we now have confirmation that that deal was mostly a scam), or because Martin would become something else and/or trigger something that could keep them safe in the long run…?)

- … Meanwhile, Elias had suggested another “defender” to Basira:

(MAG127) BASIRA: … So why am I here? What do you want that’s so important you needed to tell me to my face? ELIAS: I believe you’ve recently lost Melanie. BASIRA: … We saved Melanie. ELIAS: As a person, yes, but as a defender… I would have thought you would want all the help you could get, or… have you forgotten what happened last time you lay your guard down? BASIRA: … We’ll work it out. ELIAS: Possibly. Then again: you are beset by enemies on all sides, Basira. And unless you expect Jon to record them into submission, it would seem you’re in rather dire need of another option. BASIRA: … And you just happen to have one. ELIAS: I might have an idea, yes. BASIRA: And what does it cost? ELIAS: Just some of your time, Basira. Just your time.

(MAG135) BASIRA: Like hell you don’t! Every lead, a dead end. Every contact, vanished or dead. I’ve spent three weeks bouncing all over the globe on your bad intel, because you said there was a way to bring Daisy back. ELIAS: There was. It required you to be absent. BASIRA: [EXPLOSIVE EXHALE] You wanted him to go in there. ELIAS: And you would never have allowed it, had you been present. BASIRA: Why? ELIAS: Would you simply believe I wanted you and Daisy reunited? BASIRA: No.

… and did he mean Jon (who would have developed his powers further), or Daisy, in the end? Directly post-coffin, Basira had been absolutely disappointed in Daisy’s state:

(MAG133) BASIRA: Yeah, I just… I didn’t realise she’d change into someone who… can’t look after herself. ARCHIVIST: [INHALE] BASIRA: Even without the muscle atrophy. ARCHIVIST: You were hoping for a defender. BASIRA: I was hoping for someone I can trust to share the load. Because right now, it’s all on me. ARCHIVIST: [SLOC EXHALES] It doesn’t have to be. BASIRA: Hm. ARCHIVIST: You’re not happy she is back. BASIRA: I didn’t say that, Jon. I would never abandon Daisy and, having her back is… [SIGH] But right now, she’s dead weight. And I need to be able to travel light.

But Daisy is proving that she’s still… kicking a bit, indeed. Or at least enough to chase away Julia&Trevor despite her, uh, current state:

(MAG153) DAISY: [FAR] Get away from him. JULIA: Oh… TREVOR: What’s this…? You got yourself a watchdog? JULIA: Well, more of a lapdog…! Scrawny, isn’t she? DAISY: [MENACINGLY] I said get back…! TREVOR: Malnourished, I’d say. How long since you last tasted blood? DAISY: [SHARP BREATHING] JULIA: You think you can take us both~? DAISY: … I’d enjoy it. Start with the old bastard – he’s slower, doesn’t guard his neck. And you worry about him too much, don’t you? I go for him, you get sloppy, predictable. […] TREVOR: [SHAKING SIGH] … Come on, Julia. JULIA: What?! TREVOR: There’s no rush. [CHORTLING] We’ve got all the time in the world. Besides… this place is just full of monsters. She can’t guard ’em all. JULIA: [PANTING] … Fine. DAISY: [GROWLS] [DOOR SLAMMED CLOSE]

I’m not absolutely sure whether the final growl was hers or Trevor’s and/or Julia’s, but, in any case, GODS, I love how Daisy has turned fiercely protective of her idiot Archivist.

- And at the same time, I’m heartbroken over Daisy but IN A GOOD WAY because I… was really fearing that she might have gone back to hunting behind the tapes’ back. But no. It’s… “just” that not Hunting is slowly killing her:

(MAG153) ARCHIVIST: Are you alright? DAISY: [BREATHLESS] Don’t touch me. ARCHIVIST: Christ, he was right, I, I didn’t… When did you get so thin? DAISY: I’m not, it’s fine. ARCHIVIST: … It’s The Hunt, isn’t it? Without it– DAISY: I’m fine. Just haven’t been hungry. I’m strong enough. ARCHIVIST: Clearly. DAISY: They’re not gone yet. We could still get them. [CLOTHES SHUFFLING] ARCHIVIST: Daisy, no. It’s like you say. “Don’t listen to the blood.” DAISY: [SLOWER BREATHES] … “Listen to the quiet”…

… And I wasn’t expecting Jon to spontaneously remind her not to Chase. To respect what Daisy had been fighting for, although he tried to argue with her overall decision shortly after. Gods, so with Melanie going on an Eye-strike, Jon not taking live-statements anymore, and Daisy being slowly killed by (the lack of) The Hunt… current Team Archives is slowly crumbling, and how long can it truly last…? Unless they find a way to temper the effects, or get better after a very bad period…?

- Also, no wonder Melanie and Daisy were getting closer, aaaah!! Same mindset of choosing death over feeding/getting fed by a Dread Power… with some nuances between the two: I’d say that Melanie’s stance feels more… ethical, after all (she didn’t want to contribute to The Fears’ system), while Daisy’s is really about doing things on her terms and not letting anything control her anymore? Although, as she pointed out, she is aware of the fact that she herself used to be involved in a (non-spooky, still very harmful) system and to be protected by it:

(MAG153) ARCHIVIST: Even so, if it’s having this much of an effect on you– DAISY: I’m not going back. I can’t let it in again. ARCHIVIST: But it– … What if it kills you? DAISY: [CHORTLE] Always said I was dedicated to justice…! ARCHIVIST: Daisy! It’s not… You can’t think like that. DAISY: Jon. Do you have any idea how much damage you can do if you’re a police officer who wants to hurt people? How much the system will protect you? [SHARP INHALE FROM JON] I managed to keep most of it from Basira, but…

(Well, despite Daisy’s attempts to hide it from her, Basira did know at the very least about Daisy illegally killing “monsters”. Basira wasn’t Perfectly Pure And Innocent when it came to condoning it, either.)

- I’m love Daisy, I love how frank she is about what she did, the fact that it was her… and also, that she decided she wouldn’t condone those things anymore ;;

(MAG142) MARTIN: It’s alright. Wasn’t you. [INHALE] Not really. DAISY: No, it was. I hate… a lot of what I did back then; doesn’t mean I’m not… responsible for it, doesn’t mean it… wasn’t me.

(MAG153) ARCHIVIST: That wasn’t you, that was The Hunt! DAISY: … [SIGH] We were the same. [SILENCE] ARCHIVIST: … You’d never known anything different. [SILENCE] DAISY: Because I never wanted to.

… And she’s also, implicitly, throwing what Jon Taught Her at his face:

(MAG121) OLIVER: I made a choice. We all made choices. Now, you have to– […] Make your choice, Jon.

(MAG132) DAISY: I hurt… a l–lot of people… and some who… who I shouldn’t have. Did you ever hear the, the story Elias told me? About what I did. How I am… He, he didn’t get a detail wrong. The Hunt… Hunger was in me all my life. Telling me who to chase, how to hurt them. I never needed to think… who I was outside of that. But down here, where I… I can’t hear the… blood anymore, I d–, I don’t… I don’t know who I am without, without the chase… I just know… that I… I don’t like who I was back outside. I don’t want to be her again. I want… to be… better… [PANTS] Y–you know what I thought wh–when I woke up here? I thought this was hell; I wa–, I was dead, and within hell. And I… eh, I–I knew I deserved it… I don’t want t–to be a s–sadistic predator again… I–I don’t want to… hobble around, like some pathetic, wounded prey either… I don’t know which would be worse. And I’m sc–scared, now, that I’ll never get the choice… ARCHIVIST: One thing I’ve learned, Daisy, is that we all get a choice. Even if it doesn’t feel like one.

(MAG136) ARCHIVIST: My– [PAUSE] [INHALE] [SIGH] My memories of the coma are not clear. But I know I made a choice; I made a choice to become… something else. Because I was afraid to die. But ever since then, I… I don’t know if I made the right decision; I–I’m stronger now, tougher, I can… … If I do die, now, or get sealed away somewhere forever… I don’t know if that’s a bad thing.

(MAG153) DAISY: All that time trapped was good for one thing: thinking. And I did a lot of it. I’ve made my choice. ARCHIVIST: Okay…! So what do we do when they come back? DAISY: I don’t know.

(Jon… you threw out so many encouraging words but still didn’t follow through on them yourself, uh? Because meanwhile, he had already attacked two people, and was trying to convince himself that he was being manipulated/pushed into doing it without having a say in it…)

And Jon Trying To Argue Hurt A Lot, because it’s very obvious that he’s projecting / seeing himself in her? He was eight when he encountered Mr. Spider’s book. Daisy was eleven when she met something (Slaughter woman?) who turned Calvin Benchley against her; indeed, she’s “never known anything else”, and it shaped her as a person (she became “Daisy” because of the scar the experience left her with). So, if Daisy, who has taken a stance (to stop being a Hunter and hurt people), were to decide that in the end, it’s too painful, it’s not worth it… maybe Jon thinks that he wouldn’t feel too bad about doing the same?

But no, Daisy is still saying that it’s not worth going back to her patron and hurting people, stripping Jon of that excuse and possibility right away. I still have no idea whether Jon will take inspiration from Melanie&Daisy, but… whatever he chooses in the end, we’ve had prime demonstrations that it’d indeed be his own choice – not the Web manipulating him, not Beholding replacing by something else, not the “ineluctability” of becoming a careless or ruthless monster, just his own personal decision to hurt rather than be hurt.

So; I still have no idea, I still feel like only Martin is the only one who can make things go forwards at the moment, but also, lots of plot threads are accumulating to just… explode at the same time and make a carnage.

MAG153’s title is Magnificent in its simplicity and… evocations. So. Could be a Slaughter thing, with a mix of Team Archives (/Daisy) getting wasted, but obviously, it puts Mary Keay and The End to mind. Though I don’t know what else we could get about Mary? Jon hasn’t said anything about running out of the stash of Gertrude’s tapes from Elias’s office, so it… could be one of them again (last one was MAG145, Gertrude&Arthur) – Gertrude talking with Ended!Mary after having invoked her page? Something from Eric Delano (in written form, or a recording with Gertrude while he was alive or dead) about his ~lovely wife~?

#X_X #2 #3 #4 #5 #the magnus archives #mag153 #tma liveblog #tma season 4 #long post/

3 notes · View notes