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leggomylino · 4 years ago

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Roses Are Red | Bang Chan

Genre: fluff, a little (ridiculous) drama, and a whole lot of crack

Pairing: Bang Chan x princess!reader

Au: royal / fantasy au

Word Count: ~11.2k

Warning(s): some censored language…?, author rambling on and on, some underdeveloped plot what can I say this is mostly for laughs and giggles

Summary: Royal Gardener Christopher Bang only ever wanted to make music all his life, but being orphaned due to a senseless war against the Fire Nation left him at the hands of the kingdom to decide his fate. When tending to some of the many royal roses one day, he happened upon the kingdom’s princess, Y/n, and love at first sight was quite the understatement. However, what they are both unaware of is that she may already be betrothed to another…

A/n: Requested by @hanniiesuckle17 | Masterlist linked down below and in bio!!!

Tag List: @hanniiesuckle17 / @distrikt9 / @hanstagrams / @hyunsunq / @smolboiseavey / @jisungsjheekies / @iluvlix / @straycozy / @stay-nctzen (Let me know if you’d like to be added! Comment, ask, or DM me! <3)

ღ Stray Kids M.List | M.List ღ

~ꕥꕥꕥ~

Howdy y’all

It’s been a while since I’ve written anything in this format…

I know many of you are still waiting for me to finish light switch and let me tell you it IS still...under construction ._.”

I can’t stay loyal to one story at a time and life gets hectic ya dig?

...But I promise that EVENTUALLY MAYBE SOMETIME SOON I’ll get around to carving the second half of it

N E way let’s get this ball rolling! ->

So once upon a time in a far away land…

...Did you just roll your eyes or yawn? >:(( Don’t do that this is totally exciting

Okay so once upon a time in a far away land

There was a princess named Y/n <3 yes, that would be you, sis

She was the cream of the crop, the bees knees, the peanut butter to everyone’s jelly

...Well maybe like 90% of the jelly

There’s always gonna be haters or skeptics nothing we can do about that ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Anyway you were basically loved by almost everyone in the kingdom, for your kindness, hospitality, forthcomingness, honesty, bravery, generosity, and sophistication

Also, you were quite beautiful <3 like now teehee

But there was only one problem

Besides the fact that 10% of the jelly jar had peanut butter lodged in their brain

And that was that your father, the king, refused to let you go outside. Like ever. The only time you saw the sun and felt the wind through your hair was from your highest-Rapunzel-tower window, during required festival appearances or during emergency evacuations because THE FIRE NATION WAS ATTACKING!!!! 🔥 (╯°□°)╯🔥🔥🔥

This, however, rarely happened...er, maybe just once, but it was a false alarm because your half-brother Felix had stayed up too late playing video games (YES there is technology in this medieval au sorry not sorry) and he was just...seeing things

He’d been really stressed because his mother, your actually kind and not at all wicked stepmother, had been lowkey pressuring him to find a lovely princess consort or young fletching maiden

He didn’t necessarily have a problem with that, except for the fact that the whole thing was a huge problem that was stressing him out...marriage??? What was that again??? He kinda just wanted to run around the forest practicing archery with his friends, Dark Knight Changbin and Court Jester Jisung (read: pizza and video games)

BUT THIS WASN’T ABOUT HIM, THIS STORY IS ABOUT YOU (ง'̀-'́)ง

...Which is what I was getting at

You see

Felix was a great brother regardless of his mistake of screaming about a false Fire Nation attack and throwing you out of bed at 4 am

Besides being fun and great support/company, he also had this...friend...

A boy named Christopher Bang (♥‿♥)

He often went by Bang Chan tho, and he was ALSO your kingdom’s royal gardener

You know this because you often enjoyed watching him tend to the roses outside your tower, and occasionally would hide in the closet when you were SUPPOSED to be at violin lessons but instead dressed Felix up as your stunt double to spy while Chan watered and changed out the soil of the daffodils in your room

Daffodils were your favorite flower next to tulips and cherry blossoms and sunflowers

And

Almost every other flower in existence that Chan had anything to do with (♥‿♥)

...What could you say, you were hopelessly in love

But he didn’t know that

And the odd thing was

He felt the very same way about you

~ꕥꕥꕥ~

Can we finally get to some real-time story now?

Okay well

Channie’s pov now here y’all

Bang Chan had been the castle gardener for what felt like eons

His parents had disappeared to fight in the war with the Fire Nation and never came back…

:(((

So from a young age, before he was old enough to count, his mom and dad entrusted him to kingdom’s orphanage with care

The local nuns raised him well, and blessed him many times over

He grew up with two best friends there -> a shy boy named Han Jisung and a more confident one named Seo Changbin

The three of them were transferred to work under the kingdom after the local coming-of-age ceremony given to all children when they turn 15

And I totally didn’t steal half of that from an anime or anything...well, just a bit; 25%

So the three of them were whisked off to be given roles of their own to fulfill in order to contribute to society

Changbin was given the title of Dark Knight for his bravery and supreme combat skills

Jisung was awarded the title of Court Jester due to the fact he always made everyone laugh, despite his naturally shy and more introverted demeanor

And Bang Chan, as he preferred to be called, was granted the title of gardener...because...well, they actually denied his musician application, believe it or not

Now, before you get mad

I KNOW, RIGHT?!?!

ARE THESE GUYS FOOLS OR SOMETHING???

WHO WOULD DENY SUCH A TALENTED--

...Well, they were ignorant buffoons, unfortunately (｡•́︿•̀｡)

So he was forever stuck as a royal gardener because, he worked hard, the court knew it, and their predecessor gardener at the time was kidnapped by the Fire Nation

No one knows why and it’s not important (sorry random garden dude)

He’s okay though...we think

Anyway

So Bang Chan fit the role

And now at 23, to this day he still fit the role

It was the same mundane routine every day

W a t e r t h e p l a n t s

C u t t h e v e g e t a b l e s

S n i p t h e t h o r n s

T r i m t h e v i n e s

C h a n g e t h e s o i l

U G H ! ! !

It got to be downright tedious and vexing repeating the same routine like a Zombie by Day6

Which is the song he often hummed with a lull in his eyes as he w a t e r e d and c u t and s n i p p e d and t r i m m e d

And c h a n g e d eua;bhuisahfvirs WAIT A SECOND

(Oh, we’re backing up to age 16 for a sec)

He’s outside the tallest tower s n i p p i n g the thorns on another rose bush when

He looks up to see what time of day it is and stretch his aching back

And he sees

Up in the window

A g i r l ? ? ?

……

Who is she

She’s GORGEOUS

WOW

HE HAS TO SQUINT BUT HE’S STILL GOT 20/20 VISION AND HE KNOWS A CUTE GIRL WHEN HE SEES ONE

HE’S GOT TEENAGE BOY RADAR

Wowza

She’s h o t 🥵🥵

Like the sun beating down on his face right now

Hot hot

Bruuuuuuuuuuuh--

OUCH! The thorns…

He can’t be getting lost in the waking daydream glancing out her window above him, he’s got a job to do

Flashforward to a few days later, when he makes an excuse to go back to Tower C and tend to the roses that don’t need tending to

She’s not there :((

Darn

He looks left and right before burying himself into the bushes so he can wait and see if she shows up

But this poor boy is so overworked that he falls asleep

Poor guy needed a nap anyway 😔😔

He’s having a peaceful dreamless sleep when a song enters his mind

It’s actually a song he wrote, when he applied to be a castle musician

He wakes to hearing the song above him

The sweet, sweet melody just wafting daintily through the air

It’s coming from somewhere above him

...But he’s snagged in the thorn bush and can’t get out 🗿💧

O o p s

Rip

Maybe the bushes did need some work after all--

By the time he rips himself out and basically lost half of his shirt in the process, the song is almost over, coming to a soft decrescendo into a gentle pianissimo

That’s fancy music talk for slowly growing softer and more quiet and ending with a soft, maybe slightly breathy tone

Thankfully it’s cloudy that day so he doesn’t have to squint this time

And BOY IS HE GLAD ABOUT THAT BECAUSE GOOD GRAVY

IT’S HER AGAIN

THE LOVELY MAIDEN HE SAW TWO DAYS AGO

WHO IS SHE?!?!

“Oh, that’s Princess Y/n.”

JISUNG?!?! WHERE DID YOU COME FROM

Boy deadass just pops out of a rose bush like a weasel 🗿💧 what the what

His court jester hat has a few loose thorns in it, and it’s fallen askew to cover half of his face

“...That’s Princess Y/n?” Chan askes, totally in awe

You have such a lovely voice

And he’s bewildered as to how you know his song, seeing as it was a confidential piece he only played for a private group of royals once when auditioning

Jisung just nods, fixing his hat only to have a few of the bells bounce around and whop him in the face

One jingled all the way right into his eye…

But he carries on unaffected; must be used to it <_<

“Yeah, her dad is a total overbearing crazy-protective psycho. ...Well, maybe not psycho, but...he’s crazy protective of his daughter. He’s scared if she takes one step outside, some Fire Nation goon is gonna come popping out of a bush like Team Rocket in almost every old school pokemon episode and kidnap her like Pikachu.”

“...I thought Pikachu always got away.”

“...Oh yeah. 🤔 Bad example then.”

“You are a bad example.”

“Oh yeah?! Well you’re...a good example!”

“...Jisung that was a compliment. And thank you.”

“.........”

...Moving on

“What can you tell me about her?”

“OOOOOOO...Why? You got a crush on her, bro?”

“...I’m just...curious why the king would wanna keep her locked away in a tower like a Christian Anderson tale.”

Jisung sighs and places his hands on his hips like a lecturing mother. “Are you serious? I just told you, His Majesty is crazy overprotective of his only daughter...also, wouldn’t you wanna keep a beauty like that locked away if she were your daughter???”

Chan gives him a disgusted look. “No? Because I’m not an insecure psychopath?? Everyone deserves to be happy and free…” He glances up to the tower. “That can’t be healthy being held prisoner in a giant dungeon like that.”

“True, true...I’d still keep her locked away, though.”

“Jisung!!! Seriously?!”

“WHAT?” (ง'̀-'́)ง “I KNOW HOW TEENAGE BOYS ARE!!! THEY’RE GONNA CATCH THESE HANDS BEFORE I LET ONE OF THEIR GRUBBY LITTLE--”

Chan clamps his hand over his friend’s mouth. “I’m gonna stop you right there. Goodbye, Jisung.”

He looks at you one last time, marveling at your beauty with a hint of pity in his eyes before walking away

~ꕥꕥꕥ~

You hadn’t noticed that day, seven years ago, being too lost in a daydream over whether you wanted tea or a nice iced latte with your lunch...despite how loud they were being

It was one of the few enjoyments of your day

One the few things you got to look forward to: choosing what to have for a meal

Choosing what to wear that was within your parent’s standards

Choosing whether you wanted to wile away the hours reading a book or watching Royal TV or scribbling some poorly drawn comics of what your life COULD be like were you NOT a princess with an overbearing father…

S i g h

You’re hanging upside down on your giant canopy bed in a very unladylike fashion when Felix enters the room. You must have not heard him knock, and he’s like

😳😳💧

To which you “oop-” and quickly throw yourself over in an upright position

“...Sorry you had to see that.”

“It’s fine.” He laughs a bit and closes the door behind him. “So, whatcha up to?”

“......”

Did he have to ask you that? The question sort of burned. What were you supposed to do??? “Just...chillin.”

“Like a villain?”

“In the...millen.”

He laughed at your attempt to carry out the rhyme. “What’s a millen?”

You shrugged. He sat down at the dining table you normally ate at, crossing his feet over the table. “Well, I’ll do you one better. I came to ask if you’d like to accompany me to--”

“WHERE?!?!?!”

\(ಠAಠ)/

You’re right there in his face, shaking his shoulders before he can get another word out.

Felix, wanting to take you OUT OF THE PALACE?!??!?!?!?

THAT WAS HUGE

THIS WAS HUGE

OMGRAVY WHAT WOULD YOU WEAR?!

YOU DIDN’T EVEN CARE WHERE YOU WERE GOING, JUST THE FACT THAT YOU WERE GETTING OUT OF THE HOUSE WAS ENOUGH

...You should still probably let him finish, though

Felix (@-@) <- was dizzy for a moment, but once he got his head back on straight, he explained that he’d ask your father if the two of you could go shopping together-- just for a few hours

Felix was the sweetest brother ;-; the sweetest BOY ಥ_ಥ

You were going to have so much fun browsing the shops that you’d only ever read about in novels and seen on TV

The two of you would get popcorn and ice cream and feed the pigeons and do rain dances around the park fountain

And you’d come back with so many souvenirs and nostalgic timepieces from your little journey (╥﹏╥)

It was going to be the BEST. DAY. EVER!

*insert that Spongebob episode here*

……

Or not

Because

Shortly after the two of you skipped hand-in-hand like Hansel and Gretel down to the Royal Throne room

Your father gave the two of you a big fat N O

Jerk…

His booming voice declared, “NO BEAUTIFUL DAUGHTER OF MINE WILL BE SEEN BILLOWING ABOUT THE CITY STREETS!!! That’s like asking to be kidnapped and used as a means of war!!!”

UUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUASDFGHJKL;;SVBU;IABV;SIFABVIFARHVS

HE DIDN’T UNDERSTAND ANYTHING BUT WAR AND TAXES!!! IT WAS SO ANNOYING!!!

So, the two of you are forced back to your room alone…

And Felix comforts you and apologizes a thousand times over, words that should coming out of your father’s mouth instead

~ꕥꕥꕥ~

~LATER THAT DAY~

Well, it’s more like evening now

The sun is setting comfortably over the horizon

And Felix has just returned from his shopping trip without you 😔😔

Now before you get angry and call him a traitor, he actually had a fit and refused to go

He even came close to knocking over a table

But that wouldn’t be very gentlemanly and his mother was present

It was his mother that insisted he had to go in order to make a required public appearance for the kingdom and “hopefully find a lady that spotted his fancy” or whatever

Yeah, Felix rolled his eyes too

But he had no choice ://

If it makes you feel any better, he didn’t enjoy himself at all

He spent the whole time thinking about you and looking wistfully at the palace in the distance, to the tower you were most likely glaring wistfully back from

He was now tromping tired princely feet up the winding steps to at least give you a nice gift he’d brought back for you, and some flowers he’d gotten from a recently opened flower shop called Christopher’s Garden

A very nice not-yet-elderly couple ran the shop in honor of their lost son, who they hadn’t heard from since they returned from war

The story was quite sad and bittersweet

……

Shhh we’ll get there later it’s called foreshadowing（∩‿∩）

He’s about three-quarters of the way there when he’s suddenly ambushed by-- you guessed it-- Team Rocket!1!1

Jk it’s Jisung and Changbin

They’re the new Jessie and James of this story except they’re actually good

“Felix!!!”

“SH*T!!!”

Oop

They nearly gave him a heart attack!!! >A<

He almost beats them with the flowers, too, until he remembers last minute they’re for you

“WHAT DO YOU WANT NEVER DO THAT AGAIN”

“I CAN’T MAKE ANY PROMISES BUT WE NEED TO TALK TO YOU ABOUT SOMETHING”

“WHAT IS IT”

Changbin sighs in his heavy, overzealous knightly gear. “Maybe the two of you can keep it down before you wake the princess?”

Felix shrugs. “Eh, Y/n is always up at this hour. She’s actually a night owl, but don’t tell the king that. Or her teachers.”

Bin smirks. “Noted--”

<_<

Felix has to smack him, which is a hard two second decision but you’re his sister and family comes first 😔😔 But he makes it up by giving Bin a flower, which he awkwardly accepts

“So what was it you wanted to tell me?”

Jisung nods his jingle bell hat all over the place like a bobblehead. “Yeah, okay, so-- check this out!”

He jumps a few steps ahead so he can have room to put on a one-man show. Changbin groans and crosses his arms, while Felix eyes him curiously

“I have this friend, right? Well, we do, actually! Me and Changbin!”

The Dark Knight tilts his head. “You mean Chan?”

“YEA-- I mean, yeah!” He starts bouncing around, mining walking around the garden surrounding the palace walls. “So...I never told you this, but a few years ago...more like seven, I was going for a walk when I spotted him outside the princess’ tower! And I stopped and went ten-thousand stealth mode!”

He mimes diving into the bushes. Changbin rolls his eyes.

“He’d totally fallen asleep in the rose bushes, so I--”

“Could you maybe not talk like you’re twelve?”

“......”

Before the two can start quarreling like a couple of twelve year olds, Felix takes on a responsible air, stepping between them

“Hang on...your friend? Was loitering outside my sister’s room?”

Jisung pops his head over Changbin, which really isn’t that hard. “Yeah, he’s the royal gardener! But like, I don’t think the roses needed tending to that day...and after I revealed myself, he was asking a LOT-- well a few...questions about her. Hint hint, my boy’s in love.”

“Love?”

“Love, bro. Like the real sappy stuff.”

“...Love.”

“...Yes.”

“Your friend. Is in love with my sister.”

“...That would be what I just told you, yes.”

“...Wait. Chan as in, Bang Chan? ...OUR friend Chan?!”

“That’s him!”

“Okay okay hold on,” Changbin waves his arms through the air. “Love is a strong word...and this is Chan we’re talking about. He loves just about everybody. He’s nice and empathetic to everyone. Just last week I had to turn away two maids and a palace chef who’d gotten the same mixed signals.”

Jisung shrugs. “Yeah, well…”

“Also this was seven years ago?!”

“...Yeah…”

Changbin deadpans. “So you got me all hyped about jumping Felix for some love story that probably isn’t even real. Seven years is a long time, Jisung. He may have forgotten about her already-- NOT THAT SHE’S SOMEONE TO BE FORGOTTEN.”

He had to finish that last sentence real quick from the look Felix was giving him. The boy sighs, shifting his gifts into one arm so he can run a small hand through his wind-blown hair. “...This is kind of crazy Jisung, even for you. Why are you bringing this up now of all times?”

“...Well…”

👉👈

“I overheard a royal meeting I shouldn’t have about an hour ago...and your dad was talking about having Y/n engaged.”

“What?!?”

“To the Fire Nation king.”

“WHAT?!?!”

“People often refer to him as Zuko, for reasons unknown, but his real name is Minho.”

“.........”

With fever and a newfound energy, Felix tries bursting up the steps to your room. But unfortunately, Team Rocket stops him.

“MOVE! I have to talk to Y/n about this!!!”

“Hang on! The whole reason I brought up my homeboy in the first place was to maybe stop this suspiciously dangerous and shady deal! If Y/n has already fallen in love with someone else, maybe the king will have a change of heart!!!”

Felix groans, glaring harshly in a manner that isn’t really like him. “Han, her father keeps her locked away in a plush-tailored dungeon and refuses to let her go outside, not even on a short shopping trip with her own brother. He doesn’t want her to be seen, and he certainly doesn’t want her falling in love.”

“Well--!” Han balls his hands into fists. “I WAS TRYING OKAY?! I LIKE Y/N TOO, SHE’S A TIMEPIECE GAL WHEN I’M ACTUALLY ALLOWED TO BE WITHIN TEN FEET OF HER!!!”

“Dang…” Changbin groans. “So you don’t think I’ll be able to ask her out this weekend?”

“......” “......”

The glare he gets from both men is a definite no

~ꕥꕥꕥ~

So what are we to do about a situation like this?

Well I’m glad you asked because we’re about to find out

IRONICALLY right at that moment, you were supposed to be in a late-running math session on how taxing the economy works but

Instead you were blissfully hidden in the closet, watching Chan plant a newly discovered breed of roses on your balcony the author forgot to mention you even had

It was an indoor balcony of sorts; fenced in with mesh and curtains to keep the bugs and trespassers out

There was a cute little garden table with comfy chairs and a small bookshelf

As well as a mini bar and even a small stereo system B))

You’re the princess sis

This was your world since you weren’t allowed to experience the real one

To explain, you had a window right next to it that you often looked out, since your balcony was more or less closed off…

Hopefully that makes sense ._.”

Alright anyhoo

So Chan is planting some gorgeous purple roses that only ever existed in Animal Crossing until now

The most lusciously soft and purpley purple that ever was and ever would be

And here’s you, hunkered down in the closet like a stalker spying on him with one eye and a slit through the cracked door

WHEN ALL OF A SUDDEN

Bang!

The door flies open!

A wild Felix appears!1!1

Uh-oh

He’s probably looking for you, but given the equally wild look on his face

He’s probably not aware of Chan’s job, coming in to tend to your plants when you’re scheduled to be absent

Wait they’re friends right

So he isn’t gonna kill him...right?!

Or does this mean he was gonna kill him that much more?!

OH NO

FELIX NO PLS

You’re holding your breath and waiting for the right moment to pounce and topple your half-brother to the floor when apprehensively

He checks his surroundings quickly before shutting the door behind him

……

What the what is this about--

“We need to talk,” Felix starts, pacing to the dining table where he usually sits. Chan freezes, blinking a few times into the roses and the air above them before turning a blank stare the prince’s way.

“Okay,” he states back, “what’s on your mind?”

“About Y/n…”

About you?

“Princess Y/n? What about?”

Yes, what about you?

“...Jisung…” he sighs. “Look, I know it’s been a while since we’ve talked. Let me start by apologizing about that.”

“Oh, no need to apologize. You’re the prince, and I’m the gardener. We’re both quite busy with our—“

“Jisung told me you like Y/n.”

………

…………

……………

I’m s o r r y

WhAT WAS THAT

WHAT DID HE JUST SAY?!

Okay okay hold up

Han Jisung was the court clown and notorious for pranks and lying his ass off

Surely this was just a (albeit cruel) joke…

...Right?!

…

Bang Chan’s ears are turning red

Redder than the roses outside your window

He’s biting his lip, like he wants to say something, but is trying hard to suppress said something

His hands are clenched down into the dirt…

“...Well?” asks Felix. “Is it true?”

“...It’s…”

!!!

WHAT WHAT IT’S WHAT

TELL ME FLOWER BOY WHAT IS IT

SPILL THE BEANS ALREADY

Haha get it…

Beans……

Like seeds……..

...Anyway

“......”

He nods, softly, barely. Bang Chan nods his approval at Felix’s proposed statement.

Is this even real right now…?

Is this allowed?! 😩

Instead of jumping the guy like you thought he would, Felix instead smiles, so brightly it would be enough to scare off the Fire Nation and save thousands of lives

“Oh wow. Oh f*ck. You like my sister. This is...shouldn’t I be mad right now?”

He begins to pace

“...But I’m not. I’m genuinely okay with this. Better than okay. It’s...weird.”

“Probably because Y/n may be saved from marrying Prince Hellhole of the Underworld now.”

The two of them (and you still in the closet) jump at the sound of a new voice wafting in from the ceiling. Looking up, a set of bells can be seen hanging out if the air vent

...Has that always been there?!

Oh my gravy what if Han Jisung has spied on you before

What if someone else has?!

Felix scowls angrily at the vent before lifting a pen off your desk and throwing it with surprisingly good accuracy

It must have hit something because next thing you know Jisung is saying “ow!” and climbing down at the Prince’s demand

“What the hell were you doing up there?!”

“Detective work.”

“You’re banned from doing detective work anywhere near this room.”

“What about Changbin?”

“What?!”

“Oh uhhh...nothing.”

The clanking of heavy armor trying to escape travels across the ceiling…

And Felix huffs.

“CHANGBIN I KNOW THAT’S YOU.”

~~~

So I’m gonna do a mini skip right here to get the ball rolling

After Bin is dragged down and everyone (minus you) is accounted for

The four guys are sitting around your dining table, a sinister(?) plot coming to notion

“Okay,” Felix begins, “So what we know is, according to what Jisung overheard, this arms race war of sorts against the Fire Nation is coming to a rock and a hard place for both sides. And to resolve this issue, it would appear that Y/n is being offered as a bargaining chip. A wedding to unite the two kingdoms.”

……

Everyone is pretty silent

You included, not that you can say anything at the moment…

But just because you’re silent on the outside doesn’t mean you don’t have a million thoughts racing through your head

Let’s get to the most pressing one that’d likely catch your attention first: MARRIAGE?!?!

With whom?!?!

How dare some old geezers try and pawn you off without your permission?! To the enemy?!? To a man you didn’t even know?!?!

WHAT IF HE WAS REALLY OLD

OR GROSS

OR BOTH

OR WHAT IF--

Han suddenly has something to say

Then again when does the boy not

He lunges across the table to grasp at Chan’s hands. “PLEASE, YOU HAVE TO MARRY THE PRINCESS SO SHE WON’T BE SENT AWAY AND I CAN STOP AWKWARDLY CATCHING YOU SPYING ON HER OUTSIDE!!!”

!!!

OH UH

WHA?!

Chan’s ears are turning red again. He’s got a brow quirked like he doesn’t know what Jisung is talking about, but averts his gaze all the same in a guilty manner

Felix is tapping his fingers against his forearm in an attempt to ignore that confession

And Changbin is just sitting next to Chan half confused and half annoyed

“I- I can’t just… Jisung what you’re asking is…”

“It’s too much,” Bin cuts in. “Jisung you can’t just ask someone, much less tell them, to marry a person they have a far-longing crush on, but really know nothing about. They’ve never even spoken to each other before, I can assume, and you’re telling them to spend the rest of their lives in a commitment? That’s intense.”

Jisung pouts. “Yeah, but…!”

“What if we just faked a marriage?”

Three stunned faces (four if we’re counting you) turn eyes upon the eldest and only prince. He smiles warmly, sending a warily comforting shiver down your spine that you have trouble placing as good or bad.

“What do you mean?” Changbin asks.

“I doubt the king is going to accept Y/n’s wishes in all of this, so we can’t just have her or Chan ask to be wed. But if they’re already married…”

Jisung’s face lights up. “Then there’s nothing the king or Fire Nation fools can do about it!!! That’s BRILLIA--”

“But it would just be a ruse. We’ll have a fake license made, and I can supply the rings. I’ve got plenty of underground connections~”

You’re looking at Chan’s face to see what he thinks of all this, but unfortunately his back is to you, and Changbin is blocking 90% of your view…

You can, however, see that his ears are still a flushed scarlet, as well as the base of his neck

“Would you be okay with that?”

He jumps. Felix and the others blink expectantly.

“...Huh?”

“...Are you okay with being my sister’s fake husband for a few hours?”

It’s gotta be the awkwardest question you’ve ever heard coming out of your brother’s mouth, but then…

“Yeah. If it’ll protect Y/n...let’s do it.”

……

It’s the first time you’ve heard him not refer to you as the princess, but rather, just yourself

~ꕥꕥꕥ~

OKAY WE’RE GONNA TRY AND START CRAMMING THINGS WITHOUT CRAMMING TOO MUCH BECAUSE HNNNNN I DON’T WANT THIS TO BE TOO LONG AND DRAWN OUT ಥ_ಥ

SO ON THAT NOTE

Meanwhile in a diabolical castle not too far away but still kinda far

(͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)⊃━━☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ

We’ve got an evil firelord named Zuko over here

But he’s not really evil :(( In fact he’s not evil at all!!!

His name isn’t even Zuko it’s Minho

And he’s just kinda mean is all…

Just a smidge | |

“My Lord Zuko!!!” An attendant bows, groveling at the steps to the throne

He’s some weird guy with an eyepatch

Not important but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

The Fire King growls, swirling a glass of something strong

“I told you that’s not my name,” he states, tossing the glass after a single gulp. Dang. Intense.

The attendant :((, covering his face like a scared manchild. “PLEASE FORGIVE ME YOUR GRACE!!!”

Minho rolls his eyes. “If I do, will you man up and give me the details on the Nation of (Your Kingdom Name Here)?”

“Oh, yes, yes! Thank you, sire!!!”

“...S u r e.” He blinks a few times, only sparing the slightest hint of a smile when one of the three cats wandering the kingdom jumps onto his lap. “Well? Get on with it.”

“Yes, sire, right away!” Patchy pulls out an enormously large scroll that should NOT have been able to fit in his pocket similar to the mechanics of Animal Crossing (seriously how is it you’re able to fit a giant whale into your pocket and like a freaking tarantula and a hive of wasps like idk about you sis but I would NOT be putting those things in my pocket-) “It would appear that the Princess of (Nation) has given her consent to marry His Royal Highness of the Tallest Order Fire Nation King Zu-- ...L-Lee Minho of the Tallest Order of the Nation of Fire and All Things Cat Related.”

Minho is nodding, a pleasant smirk on his face. Things were just going swimmingly for him. “Perfect. Just as I thought they would. Seungmin? Jeongin?”

From the shadows, two boys stepped forward. “Yes, Your Grace?”

“Please plan my arrival to the Nation of (Your Nation) at once. I’d like to arrive no later than the end of the week.”

“...Sire, with all due respect…” Seungmin swallows. “That’s in two days. Normally, I’d have to send a carrier pigeon to customs since you banned technology after that one disapproving cat commercial, and as you know, your cats are constantly eating both the birds and the notes…”

“......”

Minho shrugs. “And? So? Just write a new note and buy more birds. There’s no time to waste!”

Seungmin and Jeongin share a look. Arguing against the King would be suicide, so…

“...Yes, Your Unreasonable Grace.”

“Grea-- wait what?”

Comically, they both vanish before any more words can be said.

~ꕥꕥꕥ~

Moving right along here

That night, after the sun has fully set and you’re getting ready to tuck yourself into bed

There’s a strange sound coming from the window…

. . .

Creepy but probably nothing

It’s just the wind, right?

You choose to ignore it and continue organizing the pillows (and dolls?) on your bed in a fashion that suits your fancy when

Tap Tap Tap

. . .

It’s either an incredible coincidence that wind can tap in such a rhythmic fashion, and not so sporadically, or…

There’s someone at the window

...No, really

SOMEONE IS OUTSIDE SIS

THERE’S A FREAKY LOOKIN’ SHADOW RIGHT THERE

On the twelfth floor tho?!

…

Should you answer it

Survey says no

Are you going to?

The stars say yes

BUT FIRST WE MUST ARM OURSELVES BC WE AREN’T TOTAL DUMDUMS 😩

You grab an ornate candlestick from your nightstand and start heading that way

Slowly, carefully, one foot at a time

The closer you get, the more prominent the shadow outside the window becomes…

It almost looks kinda like…

...A tumbleweed? A scarecrow???

………

You’re scared

SOMEONE COMING THIS HIGH MUST BE SKILLED AND DETERMINED AND HAS TO KNOW IT’S YOU OR MAYBE IT’S A THIEF THAT--

“Princess? Princess Y/n?”

!!!

Gasp you know that voice

It’s… …

Without a moment to lose you ditch the candlestick and unlock the hinges, tossing the windows open to…

Watch your beloved…

...Almost fall and crack his head open ._.”

Chan is laughing nervously hanging onto the windowsill with a faint pink mark on his cheek from where the window popped him

You cry out nervously and with an effort on both parts, manage to hoist him inside

Where he clichely falls on top of you 🌚🌚 Teehee 🥴

You can feel the heat rising to your face and swirling around your head that’s already been spinning with thoughts for a while now

And Chan, catching his breath over you, practically mirrors that reaction

I Am You

I see me in you--

Okay sorry

Chan laughs the whole thing off and rolls himself off like Nishinoya performing his famous Rolling Thunder, and helps you up while profusely asking if you’re alright, if you need to sit down, you should probably sit down, oh I’m so sorry Felix told me you stayed up late so--

Ah wait

“He told you that? When?”

You’re now sitting on the side of your bed, and Chan is standing a few feet away with windblown hair that could easily be mistaken for a tumbleweed through the dead of night

The fact that you’re staring at it makes him a little self conscious, but really you were just thinking about how cute he looks

“Uh, he told me a few hours ago. We were just...chatting, and um…”

……

He cuts himself off and sighs into his hands

“I’m so sorry. You probably don’t even know who I am.”

“I do.”

“You do?”

“I do.” You smile. “You’re the gardener. Your name is…” You blush. “Christopher Bang. You take care of the roses at the base of the tower and you planted the purple ones on my balcony today. You’re also a friend of my brother’s.”

“Wow, okay yeah.” He smiles back. Seeing him smiling at you while acknowledging the other, the faint flicker of candlelight (Felix broke your lamp during a karate stunt to make you laugh)...it’s almost too much to handle. “That would sort of explain why you let an absolute stranger into your bedroom at night.”

………

Oop

He had a point there

Blame the author sis she’s got three other WIPs rn and wanted to get this done while doing a semi-decent job (｡•́︿•̀｡)💧

“I-I just...have a strong sense of adventure,” you lied. Kinda. Reality was, you really WERE longing for a chance to explore and have just a little excitement in your life instead of the same boring gray stone walls each and every day

Lucky for you, that’s exactly what Chan was here for

The next thing you see is his hand in your face (a still-respectable distance away), offering you quite the gentlemanly smile. He managed to fix that windblown hair of his in the seconds you spent spaced out over your longing to leave this place

“Come on. I actually came here to ask if you’d like to go somewhere with me.”

~~~

A little disclosure here

Normally, you should never, EVER let someone you don’t really know into your home (much less your bedroom) late at night, and you certainly should not agree to go somewhere with them

This is just common knowledge, I know

But, for crack, time, and in the spirit of classic fairytales, I’m going to allow it to happen :)))

~~~

AND SO, Y/n chooses to defy common sense, and takes the hand of the boy she really likes (▰˘◡˘▰)

~ꕥꕥꕥ~

To make things slightly less weird and insanely unnatural, Chan gives you a note from Felix. It’s got his secret seal of approval that he only uses when addressing letters to you, one that only the two of you know about, so it’s gotta be legit and valid

🙄🙄

Just pretend it makes things A LITTLE bit better for me, okay?

“Author do you know how illogical this all is and that, like, ANYONE could figure out--”

YEAH OKAY JUST GO WITH IT PLS 😩😩

The note says:

𝒟𝑒𝒶𝓇𝑒𝓈𝓉 𝒴/𝓃, 𝒴𝑒𝑒𝓉! 𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝒸𝒶𝓃 𝓉𝓇𝓊𝓈𝓉 𝓂𝓎 𝓂𝒶𝓃 𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓃, 𝐼 𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓌 𝓎𝑜𝓊'𝓋𝑒 𝓁𝒾𝓀𝑒𝒹 𝒽𝒾𝓂 ��𝑜𝓇 𝒶 𝓌𝒽𝒾𝓁𝑒 ;) 𝐼 𝒹𝒾𝒹 𝓈𝑜𝓂𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝓀𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒶𝒻𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝒶 𝒸𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓅𝓊𝓉 𝓉𝓌𝑜 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓉𝓌𝑜 𝓉𝑜𝑔𝑒𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇...𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓌𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒶𝓉, 𝓌𝑒𝓁𝓁, 𝓅𝑒𝓇𝓈𝑜𝓃...𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓈𝑒 𝓉𝒾𝓂𝑒𝓈 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓈𝓅𝒶𝒸𝑒𝒹 𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝑜𝓃 𝓂𝑒. 𝐼𝓉 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝒷𝑒𝒸𝒶𝓊𝓈𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝒽𝒾𝓂, 𝓇𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉? 𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝓌𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝓁𝑜𝑜𝓀𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒶𝓉 𝓂𝓎 𝒷𝑜𝓎 𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒. 𝐼'𝓋𝑒 𝑔𝒾𝓋𝑒𝓃 𝒽𝒾𝓂 𝓂𝓎 𝒷𝓁𝑒𝓈𝓈𝒾𝓃𝑔, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓃𝑜𝓌 𝐼'𝓂 𝑔𝒾𝓋𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒾𝓉 𝓉𝑜 𝓎𝑜𝓊. 𝒢𝑜 𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝒶 𝓃𝒾𝒸𝑒 𝓉𝒾𝓂𝑒, 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓌𝒶𝓎 𝓃𝑜𝓃𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝓊𝓈 𝒾𝓃𝓈𝒾𝒹𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓅𝒶𝓁𝒶𝒸𝑒 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝓅𝓇𝑜𝓋𝒾𝒹𝑒 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓎𝑜𝓊. 𝒫.𝒮. - 𝒯𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒷𝒾𝓉 𝒾𝓈 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓃, 𝓈𝑜 𝓈𝓉𝑜𝓅 𝓇𝑒𝒶𝒹𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒, 𝒴/𝓃!

𝒜𝓁𝓇𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉 𝓂𝒶𝓃, 𝓃𝑜 𝒽𝒶𝓇𝒹 𝒻𝑒𝑒𝓁𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈, 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝐼 𝑔𝑜𝓉𝓉𝒶 𝒹𝑜 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒷𝒾𝓉. 𝒴/𝓃 𝒷𝑒𝓉𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝒷𝑒 𝒷𝒶𝒸𝓀 𝒽𝑜𝓂𝑒 𝓊𝓃𝒽𝒶𝓇𝓂𝑒𝒹 𝓊𝓃𝓉𝑜𝓊𝒸𝒽𝑒𝒹 𝓊𝓃𝓈𝒸𝒶𝓉𝒽𝑒𝒹 𝓃𝑜𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓁𝑒𝓈𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓃 𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓅𝓎 𝒷𝓎 𝓃𝑜 𝓁𝒶𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓃 𝓂𝒾𝒹𝓃𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝐼 𝒷𝑒𝓉𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝒻𝒾𝓃𝒹 𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝒶𝒷𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝒶𝓃𝓎 𝒻𝓊𝓃𝓃𝓎 𝒷𝓊𝓈𝒾𝓃𝑒𝓈𝓈 𝑔𝑜𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝑜𝓃 𝑒𝒾𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇. 𝐵𝓊𝓉 𝓂𝑜𝓈𝓉 𝒾𝓂𝓅𝑜𝓇𝓉𝒶𝓃𝓉𝓁𝓎, 𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝒶 𝓃𝒾𝒸𝑒 𝓉𝒾𝓂𝑒. :)

-- 𝒲𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝓂𝓊𝒸𝒽 𝒹𝒾𝓈𝓂𝒶𝓎 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓈𝓉𝓇𝒶𝓃𝑔𝑒𝓁𝓎 𝑜𝓀𝒶𝓎 𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓅𝒾𝓃𝑒𝓈𝓈, 𝐹𝑒𝓁𝒾𝓍 (ℱ )

...Well, there you had it

Now, onto the date! …

WAIT DID THIS COUNT AS A DATE?!

uHHHHHH

ಥ_ಥ 💧

IDK SIS JUST GO WITH IT FOR NOW, GO GO GO!

Chan is about to take your hand and wisk you out the window like Rapunzel or some Romeo and Juliet au (hey btw??? That ain’t a bad idea someone request this from me)

He nearly forgets about the height difference and the fact that he don’t have any rope or long flowing locks to grab onto to :D so instead the two of you opt for an idea that comes to you after nearly tearing your room apart to look for rope:

THE AIR VENT!!!

You have to move some furniture around but it’s not like anyone is gonna come into your room or find out about you missing anyway

Reader: “Chan came into my room tho--”

SHHHHH THAT’S DIFFERENT IT’S CALLED PLOT CONTINUATION

Now

After getting lost for approximately ten minutes in the winding air ducts, Chan manages to get his poor sleep deprived brain together and leads you down the right path, coming to a purifying viel(?) he knocks out of the way to kick the door open to outside

AND THEN

IT’S THE MOST GLORIOUS AND MAGICAL THING

IT’S

（つ﹏╰）

SIS IT’S OUTSIDE

IT’S THE OUTSIDE WORLD

YOU DID IT--

……

You can’t do it

Chan jumps out easily onto the grass to some East side of the palace, but you just sit there, hunkered down in the opening space of the vent

Just staring at it

The grass

The trees

The tumbleweed that is Chan’s hair blow by

It’s almost too much…

Your body won’t move. You’ve been locked away in the palace for so long now...something inside of you is telling you it’s morally wrong to change that now.

“Hey wait author I have a question”

I’m kinda in the middle of telling a semi-deep part of the story but okay sure

“If Chan and I were on the twelfth floor how is it that we made it to the--”

SHHHHH AGAIN JUST HUMOR ME AND DON’T OVERTHINK THINGS

Chan is watching you with some sort of softness in his eyes illuminated by starlight. He holds his hands out to you.

“It’s okay. If you need me to, I can carry you for as long as I’m able.”

…

But you refuse

You need to cross this bridge

And then you need to burn it 🔥

NO GOING BACK SIS

NO GOING BACK 😤😤

...Except you’re always open for an excuse to be close to Chan so 🤪💓

You jump in his arms without much of a second thought, and without thinking he spins you around, and a moment later

Both of your slippered feet hit the ground below

Soft earth enveloping your heels

Blades of grass tickling your skin

It’s so WEIRD BUT

It’s a good kind of weird

A kind of weird you’d love to get used to

Hand in hand the two of you slip off after that, out into that starry starry night that looks like a Van Gogh painting

It’s beautiful and blurred yet sharp and soft yet bright and you feel like queen of the world as you’re running through Central Park, riding on Chan’s shoulders

Dancing around the center fountain

Nearly blowing your cover when a racoon runs by

It’d be kinda bad if someone saw you, much less recognized who you were 😅

The two of you lay on the hillside, where Chan makes up stories about the stars and you smile at the sound of his voice, and the feeling of wildflowers against your cheek

You’re so enthralled that you scarcely notice when his voice trails off as he’s watching you, admiring your beauty as he often has in days gone by, only this time it’s up close and nearly surreal

The girl of his dreams lying in a bed of flowers

Not palace-tainted ones either -> wildflowers, flowers that are free to billow any way the wind takes them

And the moonlight casting perfectly angular shadows over your body

He has to get a hold of himself and tear himself away with a sharp breath

……

But he’s adding the image to a memory in his heart, that’s for sure

He takes a moment to mull over it a few more times before dusting himself off, standing, and reaching out to you. Something you also want to get used to other than being in the Great Outdoors. “Come on,” he says, “We’ve almost used up all our time, and I haven’t even been able to show you the town yet.”

SHOPPING~! (っ◔◡◔)っ ♥

...Ah wait it was night time 😔 You’d have to settle for just seeing the sights and playing pretend

“We’re gonna do something called window shopping.”

“Window shopping?” You ask, taking your first steps down main street. “What’s that?”

Surprisingly, there were a few stragglers still out and about at this hour, so you had to keep your head down and wander as seamlessly as possible off to the side of the road.

“Window shopping is when you wander around a shopping district just to look at the stuff on display. You shop with your eyes and pick out things you like.”

That sounded kinda fun

Of course anything with Chan sounded like a good time to you (♥‿♥)

And so, still hand in hand, the two of you quietly walked the cobblestone streets, examining clothes and trinkets in the large glass windows of stores and commenting lightly on things you liked/disliked

And, over a short span of time, you felt a gentle shift as Chan entwined his fingers with yours

ƪ(˘⌣˘)┐ ƪ(˘⌣˘)ʃ ┌(˘⌣˘)ʃ

You wander the streets for a while longer, taking a left here, a right there, when after pacing a little ways down a side street connecting to a sleepy neighborhood, Chan stops quite abruptly

His arms and posture is rigid af, so it almost yanks you back a bit, and a little startled you look up to see what it is he’s gawking at

…

It’s a flower shop

And the big sign across the roof’s edge says, “Christopher’s Garden”

~ꕥꕥꕥ~

Christopher’s Garden was the name Chan’s parents had wanted to name the flower shop the two of them had dreamed of opening together

Chan knows this because of the letters he’d receive at the orphanage during the war

The last letter he received was when he was eleven years old; a simple “hello we miss you” update with a miniature bouquet of pressed wildflowers

Flowers he still kept in his small room at the palace, tapped to the inside of the box where all his letters are stored

Faintly, he reaches out towards the sign, like it’s the only thing around him; suddenly there is no village, no night time, and there almost isn’t a Y/n either

Not that you aren’t important…

He just simply can’t believe that…

…

This couldn’t be real, it had to be a coincidence

A cruel one, but still

A coincidence nonetheless

And he’d continue to think that had he not lowered his hand, and found the face of an older man staring back at him

A man with burn marks on his cheeks and the scars of war apparent in both his features and his eyes

He has to grip the doorway to keep himself from falling backward

For it may have been many years, but he could never forget the face of his own son; not even after time had aged him

The parental spark was just there, a father’s intuition

……

As if seeming to understand, Y/n lets him go

She retreats stage left, one, two paces

And watches with heartfelt joy as the two men embrace somberly beneath the moonlight.

~ꕥꕥꕥ~

You wanted to stay and watch

You really really did

You wanted to be that support beam for Chan, but

In a way, you also didn’t want to intrude on such an important family moment

...And you were more or less due back at midnight 🙄 Cinderella much?

You’re racing along the alleyways right now

Slippers puffing a muffled breath with each step along the pavement

Buildings casting shadows and jagged shapes of light along the way

A random cloth you borrowed from behind a grocery masking your head

You found it lying over some crates of produce; and you may or may not have borrowed a few plums for the road, too…

...You’d have someone pay them back with interest 🤷

You probably should have told Chan you were heading back, but

He needed his family, right?

This was really important to him, you could tell he obviously hadn’t seen his dad, uncle, or whoever that man was back there in a while

You could catch him up later, right?

He’d probably spend the night there and be back by morning or mid-afternoon

You’re just now reaching a fork in the road

You could keep going straight or make a slanted right venturing toward the front gate, which connects the pastures of hills (making up Central Park) to the palace

……

It would probably be better to stick the backways, but you didn’t know the area that well…

If you went back into civilization, although it was after curfew and despite your disguise, someone may still spot you

What to do what to do what to--

“So you’re the Princess of (Kingdom Name).”

!!!

Did

Did someone just--

ARE THEY TALKING TO YOU?!?

RUN?!

DO WE RUN ...

“You don’t have to be frightened.” the voice says, stepping closer. “I’m here to take you home.”

……...

🚩🚩🚩

:))))))))

Yes okay now we RUN 🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️💨

You make a break for it down the straight path, letting your veil fly away from your body and temporarily blind whoever’s following you

You also make good use of those plums you stole, tossing them like bombs over your shoulder

“Argh--! Dang it, sh*t, I can’t sEE--” Your pursuers flail about before shredding the cloth to bits, whipping the fruit off their faces. “AFTER HER!!!”

!!!!!!

DID HE JUST SAY--?!

HHHHHHHHHHHH

The sound of heavy metal clanging against cobblestone bounces off the space behind you as you’re pounding, scrambling, flinging yourself in a zigzag pattern in case someone is trying to snipe you

IT’S WHAT ALL THE RIDICULOUS HEROES IN MOVIES DO, OKAY?!

IT’S MORE OR LESS EFFECTIVE

But alas there are so many boxes and wheelbarrows and junk in the way...

MOVE FASTER YOU CAN HEAR THEM GAINING ON YOU

But wait who even is “them” anyway???

Do you even need to know?! It was probably some councilman your stepmother or father pissed off

You’d seen it all on TV and read plenty of horror stories in books to know there were endless reasons why someone would be targeting you for vengeance

...And, also…

……

Blast it all

You could hear your father’s voice echoing:

“NO BEAUTIFUL DAUGHTER OF MINE WILL BE SEEN BILLOWING ABOUT THE CITY STREETS!!! That’s like asking to be kidnapped and used as a means of war!!!”

“A means of war!!!”

…………………………………...g u l p

ಥ_ಥ

YOU JUST WANTED TO HAVE A GOOD TIME OKAY

THAT’S ALL

GIRLS JUST WANNA HAVE FUN 😩😩

HE SHOULD TRY SITTING ON HIS ASS DAY IN AND DAY OUT IT’S MIND-NUMBINGLY BORING 🔥🔥🔥

But boy were you getting your fill of excitement now

If you could just make it back to the palace, maybe you could use this as an excuse

Say you were kidnapped and made a grand escape

...It wasn’t a TOTAL lie…

“Oh Princess~ Princess Y/n, slow down, won’t you please?!”

LIBSDIBVISAFBILSFIL

NOT ON YOUR LIFE BUDDY 🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️💨

WE AIN’T ABOUT TO DIE

GOTTA

HURRYYYYYYY

~ t r i p ! ~

Oh-- ...

THUD

Owowowowow… (｡>︿<｡)💧

………………

……………………………

ಠ_ಠ

You slowly look up to the enemy

(͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ❤️ “Guess who? ...Oh, wait, we’ve never met before.”

………………..

Crap.

~ꕥꕥꕥ~

The plan was going to be very simple: swoop in, rescue the princess, and take her back home to appease to the King and speed up the royal wedding of the century

Unfortunately, nothing was ever simple in the Fire Nation

That and, well, Minho had spies everywhere

He’d seen your photograph

He knew what you looked like

And when one of his minion’s squeaked saying they spotted a certain soon-to-be-and-technically-already-so engaged princess and coming-soon queen of the Fire Nation running around after hours with another man, well

He just couldn’t have that

It simply wasn’t allowed

The king had promised him your hand

And that’s exactly what he was going to get

“Tie her wrists tighter. Yes. Now a little closer to the left…”

He smiles at you from inside the back of the carriage. He was about to make this go his way faster than he could have hoped for.

He leans forward, now dressed in some ridiculous royal garb festive with plated armor and flapping ribbons, patting your knee with smooth-lined fingers that shouldn’t belong to someone ruling the Fire Nation. And he knows this, too. He was and still is the youngest king to ever hold the throne. “Don’t worry, Princess, I simply wish to escort you home. This is, however, a pleasant time for us to get acquainted. Since I will become your husband in the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours.”

To this, the Princess of (Your Castle) makes some sort of a scoffing remark beneath her cloth-covered mouth and fidgets herself away, as far back against the plush carriage interior as she can. Even beneath the pale moonlight and faint swaying torchlight outside, bobbing in the hands of soldiers, he can see the scowl of disapproval and hatred on her face.

That would have to change real’ fast. No way he was tolerating a disobedient bride for long.

A rapping comes from outside the window. Carefully, Minho opens the small glass door, pulling the curtain aside along with it. “What is it?”

Seungmin’s face appears in the open space. “We may have a problem. Two, actually.”

“Yes, yes, what are they?”

His first attendant licks his lips nervously. “Well for starters, Jeongin is going to have a mental breakdown if Doongi scratches his face one more time. Your pets--”

“My family.”

“...Your family is getting antsy being cooped up in the carriage for so long.”

A hissing can be heard in the distance, followed by Jeongin’s muffled scream. Minho sighs.

“Fine, Fine…” He glances tentatively at his soon-to-be bride. “We’ll stop at the next fork in the road and switch passengers. I will ride with the children and Jeongin can accompany Princess Y/n until we arrive.”

“Very good, Your Majesty.”

Minho makes a face, suddenly. “...It shouldn’t be long now, yes?” ((After all, you and Chan did WALK into town.)) “What’s taking so long? How much farther?”

Seungmin looks a bit grave. “...That’s...the other thing I wished to speak to you about.”

“???”

~ꕥꕥꕥ~

You can hear the shouting from your new location inside a smaller (yet still quite plush and fancy) carriage that’s covered in cat fur...and a pitiful attendant with a bloodied face

“So we’ve been traveling in circles this whole TIME?!?!”

Oof

That kind of anger didn’t bode well for whoever’s plan this was

“Ahh…we’re so sorry, Your Majesty! But the guard won’t let us through! They refused to take us seriously when we proclaimed to be the Fire Nation escorting the Princess home…”

The Fire King let out a groan.

You zoom your attention on the boy before you, holding a dampened cloth of alcohol to his face and hissing as it makes contact with several wounds. Poor guy is young, and he couldn’t be too much younger than you. Give or take three to four years.

“M-mm-m, mm mm-mm mm m.”

He looks at you like you’re speaking in tongues. Which, quite frankly, you may as well be. “...What?”

“Mm mmm, m-mm-m, mm mm-mm mm m!”

“.........”

Peering left and then right, he makes sure both curtains are closed before leaning forward and pulling down the cloth over your face. You cough a bit, spitting out pieces of string and fabric and the dry taste in your mouth. “...”

“......” Jeongin seems to be admiring you in a new sort of light. It’s a bit weird, but flattering. “Um, what was it that you tried to say?”

You look him dead in the eye, which is somewhat hard to do, but your anger helps you manage. Jeongin winces backward, something twitching in his mind. “I said, if I were you, I would blow this joint.”

“.........” Jeongin glances down at his shoes, staring hard at the laces. He seems to be taking your words quite seriously, though you’d half meant them as a joke. “...I’m in no position to do such a thing. Just thinking about it is treason.”

“Treason? For having thoughts? You don’t have any mind readers in your country, do you?”

Slowly, he shakes his head no. It was kinda cute how seriously he was taking your words...and a bit sad, too. “No, we don’t dwell in psychics or anything supernatural. But the author of this story has been kinda thinking about making a supernatural au for some time now--”

“Huh?”

“Hmm?”

“.........”

A rapping comes at the carriage door. Jeongin acknowledges it with a nod. “...Never mind.” He opens the window. There, again, was Seungmin’s floating head alongside a ball of fire.

“His Majesty Pain-in-the-Ass is being difficult again. Imagine that. He wants us to make camp and then plans on playing the martyr card come tomorrow morning.”

“...He expects us to camp out in the woods?”

“That’s the order.”

Jeongin groans. He leans back in his seat, tossing the rag down in frustration. “...Maybe I really should consider running away…are you hiring, by chance?”

It was meant to be a joke. But you take it all too seriously.

“Why, yes, actually, I am.” :))))))))))

“....................”

~ꕥꕥꕥ~

And so that is how you have now ended up here

In front of a roaring fire

All comfy cozy in the new fleece pajamas Jeongin and Seungmin sewed for you out of one of Minho’s extra capes and some “spare” fabrics

Sipping some freshly pressed apple juice and flipping through King Minho’s edition of Royalty Daily

Seungmin, to your left, is fashioning you a new pair of slippers that you can wear both indoors and out and will feel as if you never stepped out of bed

And Jeongin, to your right, slowly moving an electric fan around your face, in a pleasant manner that wasn’t at all distracting

It was glorious, really ٩(˘◡˘)۶

You never imagined being so relaxed in an enemy camp held hostage, even if you were a Princess…

...The only thing sour was the sour look of King Minho brooding at the other side of the fire.

“What is the meaning of this?” he hisses, eyes flitting back and forth between his two former attendants and you in-between. “Why aren’t the two of you doing your normal duties?”

“We are doing our normal duties,” Seungmin explains, snipping the thread he was working with.

“No, you’re not.”

“Yes, we are.”

“Are you defying me right now?!”

Minnie scoffs. “Defying? You? Wouldn’t dream of it, Sire.”

“......” Minho dramatically rose from his seat, snatching a slipper off the boy’s lap. “Then what is the meaning of this,” he demands, shaking it about. You notice from a new angle of lighting the cute white polka dots patterned along dark pink fabric. Adorable. “Why are you...restyling my slippers?!”

Seungmin gives a reputable glare, snatching the slipper right back in the sassiest way possible, and dusts it carefully, as if it were tainted by the mere touch of another. “These are not for you, dear King. They are for My Lady, Princess Y/n.”

O-O

Now surely you can imagine, the look on Minho’s face is not a good one. “They’re… They… Y-Your whAT?!?!”

“SHHHHHHH!!!” Jeongin chimes. “Lord Zuko, you must keep your voice down! The Princess is trying to read, and she has sensitive hearing!” >:((

“.........”

(✿︶‿︶)

*Sluuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuurp*

You sip that apple juice like it’s the sweetest tonic out there

And Minho, stunned, can only watch...until he throws down his foot and starts having an unroyaly absurd hissy fit

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOUR PRINCESS?! SHE’S MY BRIDE, AND THE HOSTAGE!!! And what do you think the two of you are doing?! What are you saying?!? Have you...are you telling me you switched sides?!?!”

“Well…”

“We aren’t telling you, we were hoping you’d get the memo by watching.”

!? “ARRRGH!!!”

._____.

The three of you watch with second-hand embarrassment, along with a couple of nearby guards, until

The King has to pause mid-fit

For a rustling in the bushes pulls his attention aside-- along with the others.

Minho seems to gain his composure surprisingly quickly. With serious glint in his eyes, he pulls his sword, in unison with the surrounding army he’d brought.

Behind you, Jeongin respectfully pulls you close, Seungmin brandishing his own blade and standing protectively before you.

You’re confused, almost, at how high the tension had magically become

You can feel Jeongin’s heartbeat against you back, and the silence amid the rustle is deafening

A single bead of sweat rolls down your neck…

And then evaporates when a field mouse screeches at the glinting of sharp metal objects and flees. 🗿💧

“Oh...false alarm…” the Fire King sighs. His army groans, reupholstering their swords and spears

And then jump in surprise at the ambush that comes after

~ꕥꕥꕥ~

I know we’re 🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️ flying through this story kinda fast now but just hang tight

Cause a few familiar faces had come to save the day B))

Familiar faces known as Sir Changbin, Newly-awarded Knight Jisung, and brother who loved you a little too much, Felix

The way your brother’s sword clashed with Minho’s as your new attendants hurried you into the awaiting cart was a sight to behold

And you could still hear the screams of startled men even now :(((

Luckily Felix held a philosophy unlike your father to not cause any permanent damage at all costs, so no casualties occurred; just a lot of smoke-bombing and a few cuts and bruises

Then there was Jisung, who had to hang on to the roof bc he went flying during the ambush and landed in a tree and there just wasn’t enough time to get him inside so Changbin had to snap a branch and let him fall on top...but

You know

No casualties :))))

“Are you okay?!?!” Felix is demanding, checking you face, your neck, your hands. You sigh and shake your head, which at first he takes as a no and has a small panic attack but you give him a little shove followed by a hug

“I’m fine. I’m sorry I was gone for so long...but thank you for saving me.” <3

Felix hugs you back, though a grim look resides on his face. “I’m gonna have a serious talk with Chan. I can’t believe he just left you out in the city-- or the forest-- to find your own way home in the dead of night when you’ve scarcely left the palace before!”

!!!

You jump back, startling him a bit. “Chan didn’t leave me! Please...don’t be mad at him.”

“Wha?” He lists his head. “Then what happened?”

“......” Oops. “I...I left him. I thought I could make it back on my own.”

His arms cross. “And what the heck made you think that?”

>:((((((((

At this, you almost felt a sense of defiance. Almost.

Felix didn’t think you could make it on your own?! You?!? A twenty-something year old young woman?!?!?

...Well he was right because you had absolutely no sense of direction except where the shampoo was in your royal bathroom 😔

BUT HE DIDN’T HAVE TO RUB IT IN Y’KNOW?!?!

“I--!”

“You? Yes?”

“......”

“......” Sigh. “Okay, okay, I’ll tell you...but first you have to let my friends go.”

The screen pans over to Seungmin and Jeongin, tied back to back with apples shoved in their mouths. Seungmin stared a hole into Felix’s head while Jeongin was actually making some decent progress getting a bite out of the apple to free himself...until some juice went down the wrong pipe and he started choking.

“RhUK--!!!”

“Your friends?” The prince huffs. “These are the Fire Lord’s attendants. I’ve met them on two occasions in the past. Trust me, they aren’t your...friends.”

You stamp your foot, to which everyone comically flinched. Outside, Han howled at the branches slapping him in the face and the dust in his eyes. “They work for me now, and they’re my friends!!! 😤😤 So let them go right now or I’ll push them out and roll out of here right beside them!”

“!!!”

Felix couldn’t have this, so

He gets to untying, and once freed, the four of you sit on the empty cart floor: you and your attendants on one side, Felix on the other. He exchanges a few words with Changbin up front and Han still on the roof before settling down for your story

“We should be arriving to the west gates shortly. Also, Han is fine, so don’t worry about him. Tell me everything that happened.”

You do. You start from the beginning, with Chan, and the wonderful time the two of you shared. Then you tell him about the village, and how lovely window shopping was, and the moment that all came to a halt. You explain Christopher’s Garden, the aging man who sleepily walked out the front door, the exchange that occurred between him and Chan...the way they embraced. You’d felt so happy but out of place, you decided to venture off and give them the privacy they very much deserved.

Then you come around to Minho. How you’d tried to run, but only made it so far thanks to your new mortal enemy, rocks. You’d become a hostage, and you quickly rush through the rival king’s evil(?) plan to lie his way to victory.

And, of course, you mention the proud and wise decision of his most loyal and trusted adversaries switching sides and how good you are at making friends (ღ˘⌣˘)♥ so that happened

By the time you get through the whole (short? Not really) story, the six of you have arrived at (Castle’s) West Gate.

~ꕥꕥꕥ~

M E A N W H I L E

In the past tense bc the author’s random switching is a meme

A certain evil(?) king named Minho was angry

You can understand, right?

I mean, his future bride had escaped, his former friends(?) betrayed him, and he got his ass beat pretty flawlessly by some punk prince who didn’t even injure him that badly...ON PURPOSE

This was a DISASTER

A TOTAL NIGHTMARE

😭😭😭

SCREW THIS HE WAS GOING TO BE VICTORIOUS WITH CHAMPAGNE POURING OVER US AND ALL HIS FRIENDS AND HE WOULD BE GLORIOUS NO MATTER WHAT

In fact, he was following the trail with a few uninjured guards as he spoke

“Keep following the tracks,” he demanded from the window of his carriage. Doongi, Soongi, and Dori all meowed in agreement. “I want those fools hand-tied and the princess back in her station before the sun rises. Is that clear?”

“Crystal, Sir!!!” They all cried. Minho scoffed, closing the window and falling back exhaustively in his seat

He messaged his temples...since Jeongin wasn’t there to do it for him

How did this happen?

How could he lose?

How could he let you and the others just escape like that...and fall for such a subtle, dumb trick?

Also…...there was the matter of his childish behavior from before

In front of the princess, his future wife

His friends

His army

……

That really hadn’t been like him at all

He just...was so stressed lately

And exhausted

Did he mention exhausted?

What time was it, like, 1 am???

That might be fine for you, but normally this king had his ass under covers by 11 pm

He could scarcely keep his eyes open were it not for all the rocks and potholes and--

…

And the curious young man that just stumbled out into the road.

Minho leaned forward, staring through the open front window, squinting in the darkness to make out a face; was that one of the boys? Was that Seungmin, or Jeongin perhaps?

It certainly didn’t sound like it-- the sap was calling out a name, and seemed to be dressed in tattered old clothes. Probably a peasant looking for his lost sheep or dog.

But then his men pulled the carriage closer, since that previous battle had spooked all the horses away, and Minho was able to make out a name: “Y/n!!! Princess, say, “here I am!!!””

…………

(͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Gottem.

~ꕥꕥꕥ~

To be continued...maybe.

ღ Stray Kids M.List | M.List ღ

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t-o-m-hollands · 4 years ago

Text

PARIS PART II of III

Warnings: Swearing, heavy drinking, smut. +18.

SUMMARY: Timmy is an artist living in Paris in the 1950′s. You come to him to model for a painting but you have an unusual demand for the artist.

R E A D P A R T O N E H E R E

1st of October, 1952 - Paris.

It’s Tuesday and Timothée is tired. It’s 1 in the afternoon but his head is still aching from last night. It's been seven months since you left Paris, and somehow, life has gone on.

The sun is shining mercilessly bright and he wishes he was back in his studio, so he could hide from it. But it’s a place he spends as little amount of time as possible in as of late. Instead he’s sitting on a bench just below Sacré-Cœur, wearing last night's clothes, a mess of curls framing his tired face. In one hand a cigarette and in the other a freshly printed copy of the Tatler. On the front page is your face, radiantly beautiful, in a wedding dress and veil, diamonds in your ears and diamonds on your head. Next to you is your Freddie, looking straight at the camera, unnecessarily smug; or so Timothée thinks. Inside the magazine there’s an entire montage in the happy couples’ honor, complete with exclusive pictures from the high-society occasion.

“Dubbed the wedding of the season this intimate affair took place on a drizzly September morning between baron Freddie Fairfax and his blushing new bride. Freddie, who is the son of the 9th Earl of Abington, was overheard by some guest remarking over the beauty of his new bride, who was wearing a bone-white couture gown signed Christian Dior and accessorized with a diadem, an heirloom of the Fairfax family that has been in their possession for generations and borrowed to the bride on this special occasion. The nuptials were exchanged in St Margaret’s Church, gloriously decorated with bunches and bunches of yellow chrysanthemums, aconites and white lilies, in front of an audience including representants from most of the royal households of Europe and the English social elite. The reception took place at the Earls 25,000 acres estate in Oxfordshire and upon arrival the guest were served ice cold”

Timothée stops reading and throws the magazine down on the bench. For a long time he sits there, watching as people climb their way up the stairs to the church, and smoking cigarette after cigarette until his throat feels sore. It’s a fine October day, the air crisp and clean. The leaves on the trees changing from emerald green to vibrant shades of orange and yellow. Some have already fallen to the ground. A melancholic part of him, the majority in fact, can’t help but to think of it as a metaphor of his life. He’d met you and the entire world had seemed in bloom. Now it was rapidly fading.

Someone sits down beside him on the bench, but he ignores them, mind too far away to care.

“You are monsieur Chalamet, I presume”. With a startle he looks at the person next to him. It’s an elderly lady, possibly in her 80’s, with hair in a sophisticated updo, burgundy lips and sparkling eyes. She’s clothed in an expensive fur coat and with diamonds on every finger. He suddenly feels dirty in his unwashed clothes.

“Yes madam, and who are you if I may ask?” he answers politely.

“Marguerite Beauchêne-Wright” she introduces herself, stretching out her heavily bejeweled hand. He shakes the elderly woman’s hand. It feels strangely cold in his.

“And what can I do for you, madam?”

She doesn’t answer at first but looks down on the magazine between them. “Pretty, isn’t she?” she asks. He doesn’t answer at first, doesn’t know what to say to that. “Yes, very pretty” he answers at last.

“It was a terrible wedding” she continues. “Terrible”.

“And how do you know the bride?” He asks, feeling rather uncomfortable

“She’s my grandniece” she says and looks up at him again, studying his face. “She lived with me for a period, here in Paris. I believe you know one another?”

He doesn’t answer her question, knows she already knows the answer to it, instead he asks “and why was the wedding so terrible?”

“Oh” she says and swats with her hand, but there’s a look of worry on her face he can’t look past. “When the bride’s wearing the wrong dress, or the bridesmaids won’t behave, or the food’s terrible, well those are all things one expects at a wedding. But when the bride marries the wrong groom, well, that’s not quite as easily overlooked. Then you find yourself actually praying for an ill-fitted gown instead”.

He stares at her in confusion. “What do you mean, the wrong groom?”

She observers him with shrewd eyes. “Isn’t it obvious?”

“Madam, with all due respect, I not sure what you want with me” he says slowly. He finds himself wondering if maybe he’s still asleep and this is a strange dream produced by too much absinthe. If he’ll perhaps wake up in a ditch soon, with a hangover from hell.

“But don’t worry” she says with a kind smile “We can still fix this”.

He wonders if he should leave, for this is not a conversation he wants to have, especially not with a complete stranger. But despite himself he says “there’s nothing to fix”.

Then she takes him by surprise, for she grabs the magazine from the bench and hits his arm with it, not hard, but enough to get a reaction out of him. “Ow!” he bursts out, “what was that for?”

“For you to get a grip of yourself! Don’t be so defeatist, I told you we can fix this. You still love her and she loves you, not that absolute buffoon”.

“It’s too late, she’s already married him. And I'm over it” he lies, trying to keep on to some kind of dignity in this bizarre situation.

“Don’t be ridiculous, you haven’t moved on from any of it, I know an idiot in love when I see one, and you’re it”.

“Gee, thanks” he mutters, rubbing the sore spot where she hit him with the magazine.

“Now, what are we going to do? Are you going after her?”

He stares at her in disbelief, “no, she’s married, I told you, it’s too late”.

“Do I need to use this again?” she threatens and holds up the magazine, but there’s a humorous gleam in her eyes that makes him smile.

“Why are you trying to help me?” He asks.

“Well, quite frankly dahling, I'm not trying to help you. But that girl, my dahling niece, is miserable.” There’s sadness now in her old eyes and something twists uncomfortably in Timothée’s chest.

“It’s that bloody women's fault, her mother!” She bursts out, taking him aback. The venom in her voice almost palpable, “She’s whispering ideas of self-sacrifice in her ear. Not that her father’s any better – defeatist! That’s the only word to describe him! Never could fight for himself. To think that my dahling sister could have given birth to such a fool. And now my grandniece...” she trails off, sadness in her voice again.

“Now your grandniece has a title and is married to one of the richest people in England.” He states firmly.

She throws the magazine down on the bench again and swats her hand in front of her, as if to get rid of a particularly annoying fly, and the diamonds on her hand sparkle in the sun. “Yes, but it’s not what she wants. Is it? What she wants is, well, it’s you.”

There’s something so penetrating about her eyes and the way she looks at him. Crinkled and full of wrinkles her face may be but those shrew eyes shine bright as ever. They are very familiar eyes, a strong remembrance to another pair of eyes that haunt his dreams. He looks away,

“But she did decide to marry him, that was her decision. Doesn’t mean I don’t understand it, but there’s where we’re at. There’s nothing to be done.”

“I saw the painting you made of her” She says in a voice that make him think she’s fishing after something and in the corner of his eyes he can see her inspecting him. He lights a new cigarette and avoids her eyes. “The one with yellow tulips?” she adds, making it sound like a question.

“’s just a painting” he mumbles, feigning nonchalance.

She continues to observe him before sighing. Then, she pats him on his arm and in a gentle tone she says “we both know that’s not quite true”.

And suddenly he wants to weep. Weep in a way he hasn’t since he was a child. Without holding back, without grace or shame. Weep, and subject the poison from his body. But he doesn’t. Clenching his hands around the rim of the bench with all of his strength he manages to keep the storm at bay. Only when he feels he has his emotions locked up and under control does he look at her again. Her familiar eyes, full of sympathy, observes him and something inside his chest is screaming.

“Could I paint you, madam?” he asks with a smile, to lighten the mood.

She throws her head back in laughter. “Oh, how sweet of you, but I'm afraid my modelling days are far behind me. But if you ever need something, a listening ear or” and she looks at his dirty clothes “or perhaps a loan, then feel free to keep in touch.”

She gently pats his shoulder, then gets up and leaves.

February 12th, 1953

In a dimly lit club in Pigalle Timothée is writing a letter. Smoke surrounds him and the dim light shining through gives the illusion of a halo around his head. It’s a bad place to conduct letters in. People around him are cheering and talking, singing and howling with laughter while a modern band plays experimental jazz. It is rowdy, and it is wild, and it’s the perfect distraction.

It’s a shabby sort of place, where the floors are sticky with god knows what, the music is loud and the liquor comes cheap. Timothée thinks it’s heaven.

A man sits down next to him in the bar and orders a Gin Rickey.

“Terrible, aren’t they?” He questions in a broad American accent, gesturing toward the band as the bartender hands him his drink. Timothée nods in agreement and gestures with his empty glass to the bartender, implying need of a refill of his whiskey neat. The barman catches his gesture and pour him a new glass of Glenlivet and hands it to him just as the band begin a new tune.

“Hardly Duke Ellington” he says to the stranger and nods to the scene. He folds the unfinished letter and puts it in his pocket for later. The other man snorts in response, “that’s putting it kindly” he says, amusement in his voice. Timothée takes a good look at the stranger. He looks to be about his own age and is wearing a nice grey suit and hat tilted to the side. With a square jaw, a tall stature and piercingly blue eyes he could pass for a movie star. Lighting a cigarette, the man then offers one to Timothée, who gladly accepts the offer in a gratified manner. He’s been running low on his own stash these last few days.

They start talking. Discussing the differences in American and French jazz, the best drinking holes in Paris and who really is the great American writer. Timothée claim it’s Hemingway (“mark my words, he’ll win a Nobel price one of these days) whereas the stranger argues for F. Scott Fitzgerald (“the way he writes about the promise of the American dream, no one can rival Fitzgerald” he proclaims and Timmy wants to argue that surely he writes about the failed promise of the American dream, but they move on to a less dividing topic). The discuss bourbon and whiskey and rum as the bartender refill their glasses and the liquor no longer burns his throat and his eyes have adjusted to the smoke in the room as they mindlessly chat on. Timmy finds out that the strangers name is William and that he’s originally from California though went to boarding school in ‘good ol’ England’ but that he’s spent the last year in New York. Also, that he’s just separated from his wife. Timmy in turn tells him of his own life in broad strokes, his American mother and French father, art school and life as a painter in Paris. A few drinks later still and they get a hold of an old, wooden table at the far back of the room and so they cross the room, avoiding collision with the dancers, all in various states of drunkenness, and they begin a game of cards. The jazz band plays on.

William turns out to be quite the gambler and Timothée, who’s been walking around for months now with a feeling that he has nothing more to lose, can’t help but bet on the few things he has. They laugh and play and share stories of their youth while the jazz band play louder and louder. Perhaps the good company and distracting surroundings goes to his head, because a couple games in and Timmy is indebted to the American. He has had a bad hand overall as of late and he tells his opponent as much. The man in turn laughs and leans back in his chair, his cards in one hand and a cigar in the other. He takes a long drag from it before blowing out smoke across the space between them. Around them people dance to the chaotic music.

“Hell, I’m feeling generous tonight and you’ve been good company. Not many people I can talk to here in France, my French is terrible. So, you’re a painter, how about a painting, then? And I’ll write the whole thing off.” he suggests and smiles broadly.

Timothée hesitates. His apartment has been unusually empty of paintings as of late. The few ones he had he sold just last week in order to meet rent. Inspiration to paint new ones had not been with him. Not since you left. Everything he had managed to paint had come out drained of colour and bleak and he ended up losing interest in it.

He only has one painting left. But he couldn't, could he?

“Alright” Timmy agrees. Because what choice does he have? Maybe it’s time to put this ghost to rest, once and for all. Your gone and no wishful thinking or practices in gratefulness can change that simple fact. You’re married and there’s nothing he can do about it, despite madame Marguerite’s words of your misery ringing in his ears. There’s nothing he can do to save you now. You’ve made your choice, and all there is now is the aftermath. The post mortem. You have to live with that decision and so does he. Even if he doesn’t want to. So, why should he keep the painting? The baron got to keep the real you after all, and the only thing he has is the picture of you. A picture that can’t talk or laugh, can’t smile or play with his hair or touch him or dance to Chopin or lecture him about classical music. A painted image that he has stared himself blind at for these past few months, grieving that he cannot bring it to life, while the baron got the real you.

His unfinished letter burns in his pocket but he ignores it.

And so they leave, on unsteady legs and heads swirling with liquor, and the jazz band plays them out to their worst tune yet as they exchange the smoky club air for a cold night’s breeze.

“Fuck” William mutters as they enter the night. “Fucking freezing” he adds and shivers in his nice suit. “No worry” Timothée slurs “not far”. They stumble their way across the cobblestoned streets. “You damn Frenchmen” the other man mutters after some distance, “always got to fucking walk everywhere, taxis where invented tor a reason, you know!” Timmy snorts and points to a building just a couple of meters away. “Live there, yeah?”

And with a lot of effort they help each other up the stairs to the loft. Once inside William asks if there’s any brandy, for ‘recovery purposes after their hellish journey’ and so, they drink some more. They start discussing politics, a bad idea all around, before venturing into the less dividing topic of French cinema. It’s not long after that they’ve both fallen asleep, William slung on the sofa, his long limbs hanging over the edge, and Timothée’s sprawled out on the carpet, the bottle of brandy clutched firmly in his hand. (For recovery purposes.)

A few hours later and Timmy’s hurling down the toilet. He wants to check his head for bullet holes, that’s how bad it’s aching. After having cleaned up, although there’s nothing to be done about the mess of curls that is his hair, he joins the American in his living room.

William is sitting up on the sofa, but it looks very much as if he’s just woken up, hair a mess and a 5 o'clock shadow, his expensive suit all wrinkles now. The sun is shining mercilessly bright and its rays lights up the room as he rubs his eyes. “Coffee?” he requests in a gruff voice. Timothée nods, before realizing that any movement of the head is a terrible idea as pain shots through it.

“What a fucking night” William mutters some time later as they drink their coffee. “And I’ve got a meeting with the lawyers this afternoon, not the sort of thing one should do hungover.”

“Oh yeah?” is all Timothée manages to get out, head still too sore to put any thoughts together.

“Yeah, divorce proceedings”

“Rotten business” Timmy states and the other man laughs. “Rotten business, indeed” he agrees and cheer him with his mug of coffee. “Still, a necessity that must be endured.” He looks around the loft. “But I’ll have a new painting to hang in my bachelor pad, that’s something to write home about!” he says, more cheerful now.

And fuck, he’d forgotten that part.

Feeling nauseous again he puts down his coffee cup. “Yeah, you’ll have a new painting” he agrees, mostly to fill the silence.

“Haven’t seen any of your work yet though” William considers. “You might be shit. My five-year-old niece might be a better painter, and I’ve just promised to write off your debts to me” he adds and laughs. Timmy gets up, there’s no putting this off. “I’ll go get it and you’ll decide” he says and heads for his bedroom.

The paintings leaned against the wall. He doesn’t turn it, doesn’t want to see it one last time. There’s not enough brandy in the world for that recovery. Something inside his chest is rioting against the very idea of handing the picture over to anyone else, but he pushes down the feeling of nausea and heads back to the living room, canvas clutched firmly in his hands.

“Well” he says and holds it up, so the other man can see. “Here’s your winnings”.

William looks up at it and then, the strangest thing happens. His entire being freezes, his mouth ajar, stuck mid-movement as he had begun to say something before having seemingly been struck by lightning. Bells are ringing alarmingly in Timothée’s head, going off like sirens. Somethings wrong.

He observes Williams glossy eyes taking in the portrait in front of him, mouth still agog in chock. He places to painting on the dingy little table but William still doesn’t take his eyes off it. He gets up slowly and walks over to the painting, as if in a trance, like a man bewitched, and he reaches out a hand to touch the painting and with hesitant fingers he gently touches your cheek. The nude portrait of you, the one Timothée had painted on the day that you left him, posing slung on the very same sofa William’s just slept on.

And it hits him then, like a collision.

That this is William. The William. The man who broke your engagement and sailed across the Atlantic with his new bride. A bride he’s apparently already separated from.

“How, how-” William begins but he seems unable to finish the sentence.

A sudden feeling of being a side character in somebody else’s story settles inside of Timothée. Words like destiny and star-crossed comes to mind as he observes the other man and his wide, wild eyes, the way he looks at the painting in absolute wonder.

“Is, is she still here? Is she still in Paris?” and his voice is weak but full of hope. Slowly Timothée shakes his head. “She’s left.” He confirms, and the crushing disappointment is so clear in the other man’s face that it feels cruel to continue, but he does. “She’s married now. To a baron”.

William’s head snaps away from the painting for the first time since he saw it. “Freddie?” He asks, voice bitter and Timmy nods. “That fucker” he swears “he always was sniffing after her” he adds resentfully. He looks back at the painting and his expression soften, but he looks sadder too.

“That’s why you came here, isn’t?” Timothée asks hesitantly. “To look for her?”

William nods, seemingly unable to look away from the picture. He reaches for it and an overwhelming urge to stop him, to remove the painting from his sight washes over Timothée. To hand this portrait of you away to a stranger had seemed like a sad but unavoidable thing to do. But to give it away in due for his debts to your ex fiancé… It felt dirty and cruel.

But what choice did he have?

And so, he watches William take the painting and watches him leave with the only thing he has left of you.

Because Timothée is 26 and he still hasn’t got any money. And he can’t compete with handsome William, or to Freddie the baron. Because Timothée is 26 and all he’s got to show for it is an apartment he can’t afford anymore and a broken heart.

He runs to the bathroom and hurls in the toilet again, unable to ignore the feeling of nausea and guilt any longer.

That night you come to him in his dreams. Like a vision you appear at the end of his bed, drenched in water. White, wet silk clenching to your body, hair slicked to your face and such a haunted look in your eyes that he involuntarily reaches out for you, to hold you, to help you, to save you. He’s not quite sure. But before he can reach you the scenario changes. Because suddenly – as is the way of dreams, you’re the Tate museum watching John Everett Millais Ophelia. Your standing next to him, water dripping from your drenched body down on the floor. He looks at you, but you keep your eyes on the painting.

And when he looks back at it, it’s no longer a portrait of Ophelia lying dead in the water. It’s you.

He wakes with a jolt, drenched in cold sweat, gasping for air. It feels like he has to force fresh air into his lungs, like he’s been under water for too long. He feels around himself, automatically, to feel for your body, make sure you’re safe.

Bur you are miles away.

February 14th, 1953

Timothée writes a new letter.

It’s 5 am and I'm drunk and I am thinking of you and in a few hours it’ll be 12 am and I'll be drunk and I'll be thinking of you. And so the story goes.

I met your William, charming bloke, shame about his wife. He came here looking for you, you know? Don’t worry, I told him you got married to a baron. Your wedding pictures looked lovely in the Tatler, by the way. Diamonds suits you.

I haven’t painted much since you left. I have no inspiration. For anything.

You know, we've made a beating heart out of my pain. It’s a living, breathing creature and it walks with me everywhere, hidden somewhere under my ribcage. Like a second heart. Where I go it follows. What I feel for you, it’s a Frankenstein's monster kind of grief, bits and pieces cut out from us both, turned into a living creature. Can you hear it beating for you? Can you hear it screaming out for you? Saying ‘where did she go? Where did she go? Why can’t I follow?’ Like a child begging for its mother. Come back, come back and collect your second heart, take it out of my body, remove it from me, I cannot stand its begging. I'd kill the monster, but it’s the only thing I have left of you now. Don’t think I could stomach the loss.

I’m not the same I was before I met you. This love has made a different man out of me. This love has made a bitter man out of me. This love sure feels a lot like drowning. In my dreams you come to me, all Ophelia-esque and suffering, and I want to pull both our bodies out of the water, but you’re determined to sink and I don’t want to let go of your hand and so – we drown.

I know it’ll pass, this longing I have for you. It must. I cannot keep walking these streets wrecked with grief. One day at a time. That’s what I tell myself each morning as a watch the sun rise over Paris, my head and heart pounding in revolt, one day at a time.

There’s a Swedish saying that goes ‘a lot of water shall run under a lot of bridges before I forget you’. What it essentially means is that it’ll take a lot for me to forget you, or the way you made me feel.

But I'm sorry. One mustn’t be morbid. I won’t write you again. I’ve tried to be grateful; I am trying. I hope married life is treating you well. I hope you’ve gotten all you ever wished for. I hope you’re happy. I honestly do. You deserve the best life has to offer. I’m just sad I can’t be the one giving it to you. Being without you is a hard thing to be grateful for.

One day at a time.

Yours,

Timothée

The next morning, he calls the model agency. Later, just as his headache is subsiding, a blonde model named Lucy knocks on his door. She’s chatty and friendly and moves around too much when he paints her. Her laugh is loud but childlike and she keeps the conversation going. He plays a Benny Goodman record and her hips gently swing along to the rhythm almost involuntarily and she sings along in a sweet voice to ‘The Sunny Side of the Street’.

Outside the sun is shining and the whole world seems at rest. It’s not the same – God knows it’s not the same – but for the first time in months it all seems, not alright perhaps, but bearable.

Later that night as he washes himself clean from the yellow paint that’s stained his fingers, he tries to push the feeling of guilt down from where it seems to be stuck in his throat. When that doesn’t work he tries to wash it down with absinth but as he lays down on the livingroom floor, too tired to make it into the bedroom, he watches the golden painting of Lucy gleam even in the dark, he wonders if perhaps absinth is what makes guilt grow.

1st of Mars, 1953

Timothée wakes to sunlight streaming in through the large and unwashed windows. For a long while he lays there completely still, sprawled out on the white linen sheets, curly hair draped over the pillow; trying to force his eyes to get used to the light. His head is pounding, and his body aches, but the sensation feels as familiar as the scent of turpentine and oil paint. Slowly he moves his limbs, first wiggling his toes and his hands; as if to count them all, and then, with monumental strength of character, he gets out of bed. Naked as the day he was born he walks over to the window. Far down on the street Paris is already awake, cars and passer-byers chasing down the streets. Some have changed out of their heavy, winter jackets to lighter coats as the bustle off to their individual destination.

It is the first day of spring.

He turns away from the window, in search for some clothes but stop in his tracks. As if seeing the room with new eyes he takes it in. Around the bed lay bottle after bottle of liquor, the sheets are old and dirty, the room hasn’t been dusted in months, and various pieces of clothing lay scattered everywhere.

He can’t go on like this. It’s time, whether he wants it to be or not. He has to go on.

He pours down the absinthe, the rum, the whiskey and the brandy down the kitchen sink and watches as it disappears. He cleans and wipes the floor, washes his sheets and clothes and then carefully folds them and puts them away in his closet. He finishes his painting of Lucy and then starts on another. He calls his delighted art dealer and informs him of the progress, tells him that he’ll have more ones in no time. He then swallows his pride and calls madam Marguerite, asking for the loan she offered. Pride won’t keep him warm if he loses the apartment due to not paying rent. She too sounds delighted and tells him he can pay her back by coming over for dinner. They both need the company.

And so, he walks to her apartment, a bouquet of daffodils in hand, smelling like clean laundry and with his newly brushed hair it all feel an awful lot like going to church. Upon arriving at Marguerite’s home, a maid opens the door for him and he tries not to smile when she wrinkles her nose and takes his old and patchy coat. The apartment is palace-like in grandeur, white marble everywhere, and decorated with expertise. She leads him into the lounge and announces him.

“Mr. Chalamet, madam”.

“Yes, thank you Louise” Marguerite answers and the maid leaves them.

“A cocktail?” she asks, holding up an empty martini glass. He politely accepts and looks around the room as she prepares it. “Is that a Picasso?” he asks astonished, pointing at a blue portrait of a woman on the wall opposite.

“Yes” she says and hands him a martini.

“How- how?”

She smiles at him indulgently. “I knew him in my youth” she explains and takes a sip from her own drink. He stares at her in amazement. “You know Pablo Picasso?”

She scoffs. “Oh, don’t be jealous of that, man’s an absolute fool”.

And so, they talk, all through drinks and then dinner. About art and music. About both of their childhoods, different though they both may have been. She tells him stories from her long and impressive life. About dahling Humphrey. After dinner, which had been a superb affair of duck confit; served on the finest of porcelain and paired with the finest of wines, they’d gone out on the terrace for drinks and smokes. He sticks to his old Lucky Strikes and she to imported Russian cigarettes, (a habit she’d picked up during the war, she’d told him).

“Darling Humprey would have liked you, he would have rooted for you” she says and leans back in her chair, a Hermès blanket in her lap to keep her warm.

“Oh really? Was he a good gambler?”

“Oh god no, he was terrible better. And a sore loser.” she says and smiles in the fond way she does when she thinks of her late husband.

“How reassuring for me” he says dryly.

“Dahlinh” she begins in a drawl that would have made Betty Davis proud, “what should be reassuring is that I’m fighting in your corner, and I don’t believe in a losing hand”. Then, changing the subject she says “My niece is quite right you know, your knowledge of classical music is subpar, so I'm educating you. Next week, I'll take you to the opera.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes, indeed. Gianni Schicchi. I have a spare ticket so feel free to bring someone along with you”.

“Puccini?” he says with a grimace.

“Now boy, I'm fond of you but if you say bad word of Puccini I will throw you of this balcony myself”.

He smiles, but she reminds him so much of her grandniece in this moment and something in his chest is calling out for you

Later that week he calls Lucy and they go out dancing. He doesn’t take her to Pigelle, wants to keep away from its smoke-filled rooms and sticky floors. Escapism isn’t heaven. Not anymore. Instead he takes her to La Noyade, a nice place where nice people go to have fun. And they dance, and she makes him laugh and it’s not world-altering or butterfly-inducing but it’s a good way to pass the time. They mindlessly chat about movies, and music and film stars over glasses of Champagne and they never once wade into personal territories. She wears a nice and tight dress in a sunny color, her golden blonde hair cascading over her shoulders, and as he watches her seductively move her hips to the live band's music, he finds himself thinking ‘why not?’ And when she kisses him with painted-pink lips under a streetlamp he kisses her back. Because why not. And when he takes her to bed that night and fucks her into the mattress, her moans ringing in his ears, and her yellow hair sprawled over his pillows he nearly manages to forget you.

Nearly.

He holds her as she falls asleep and he tries to get used to the unfamiliar scent of her hair, the unfamiliarity of her body next to his. One day at a time.

(In his dreams you come to him, through the haze of a misty beach. You take his hand and guide him into a boat. And there you lay, as the boat drifts away and you watch the stars. You hold him close, and breathing feels easier. The rioting creature inside his chest finally at ease.)

Walking of the stairs of L'Opéra Garnier one can’t help feel anything but small. The supreme grandeur of the palace is designed to make you feel inferior after all. The high ceiling, gloriously painted by Isidore Pils, is enough to knock the breath out of anyone, and then white marble and gold for as far as the eye can see.

Timothée is wearing a tuxedo, the cheap rental kind, and the collar hasn’t been starched properly. It itches, and he fights the urge to scratch at his neck, and so he keeps his hand occupied by taking Lucy’s hand in his, and they make their way forward.

They make their way down the grand foyer. All around them people are dressed up to the nine’s in evening dresses, furs and tuxedos and more diamonds than he’s seen in his entire life, and god, Timothée misses Montmartre. Through the crowd he can see madam Marguerite, fitting her surroundings perfectly.

“Madam” he greets and kisses her cheek.

“Timothée” she responds, and she sounds fond. However, before he can introduce Lucy to her Marguerite looks over his shoulder and excitingly exclaims “Oh, there you are darling!” Without thinking he turns around to look at whomever Marguerite is greeting.

His body reacts before he does and goes completely still and for a moment he doesn’t understand what’s happening to him.

It’s you.

With your hair up in an eloquent hairdo, wearing a black velvet gown that he bets costs more than his apartment, and diamonds around your neck, you’re walking towards them. Arm in arm with you walks a man Timothée recognizes from the Tatler, Freddie, with blond hair and upturned nose. He’s certainly not wearing rental wear. “Timothée?” you ask in a weak voice as you reach him. You’re seemingly unable to believe your eyes. “Is it really you?” And with your painted blood-red lips you lean in to kiss his cheek, but they never touch his skin. You pull away and he sees how Freddie’s arm tightens around your waist.

Then you look at Lucy.

“Oh, yes of course, this is Lucy she’s my, uh” he halters.

“Muse” Lucy fills in and Timothée wants to protest, wants to catch the word midair and change it for something else, something less familiar. But he can’t. So, he watches in silence as she stretches out a hand for you to shake, which you elegantly do and even though you’re politely smiling there’s a frozen look on your face that unsettles him. With effortless grace you introduce yourself.

Then, “and this is my husband, Frederic”. You smile up at him and something inside Timothée chest is wreaking havoc. Freddie looks bored.

“Should we move along?” Freddie says in a drawling, posh voice that makes Timmy’s skin prickle in displeasure.

“Of course” Marguerite says, and leads the way, calling out ‘hello’s’ and ‘dahling’s’ to various familiar faces as she goes. Lucy crosses arms with him and they follow the older women's lead, you and your husband at your heel.

Timothée feels disorientated, head swimming with thoughts. There are too many feelings at once inside of him, too many different emotions fighting for dominance. But somehow, he continues to put one foot in front of the other and before he knows it, they’re in the auditorium. They’re in one of the boxes, and Marguerite places herself front row, next to an elderly gentleman she greets with fond familiarity. In the row behind them Freddie guides his wife and then sits down next to her. He and Lucy take the two seats behind them, Timothée ending up in the seat right behind you. He sees how Freddie leans in to whisper something in your ear, but he can’t hear his words. All he can see is that you stiffen, and slowly shake your head.

He looks at you, you’re perfect updo, not a hair out of place, the immaculately painted lips, the swan-like neck and perfect stiff posture. Your face still with that unsettling frozen look, as if you’ve retracted somewhere far inside yourself and he remembers how you used to dance in his studio, unguarded and free. Laughing and dancing while he painted you. A sudden urge to take your hand grabs hold of him. To take your hand and lead you away from all of this, away from the man sitting down beside you. To loosen your hair and limbs. To take you home and play Chopin and make you laugh again. Erase that frozen, still look from your face.

The lighting dims in the auditorium and then the orchestra begin the dramatic first chords of the opera but Timothée finds it hard to concentrate. Lucy has her eyes set on the stage, her hand on his knee. He feels like a trapped animal.

He thanks his lucky star that it’s at least only a one-act opera he tries to focus on the performances, but his eyes keep moving back to your neck. Your dress is backless and if he reaches out his hand, he could touch your skin. But doesn’t. Knows you wouldn’t want him to.

When O Mio Babbino Caro starts playing he sees how you lean forward, mesmerized by the beautiful voice of the soprano and he smiles, for he remembers you telling him it’s your favorite aria. But he sees how Freddie puts a hand on your arm, making you sit straight again.

‘Huh’ Timothée thinks and looks at your husband, ‘so this is what pure hatred feels like’. He digs his nails into his hand, leaving little half-moon shaped marks.

Eventually the wretched thing ends and after having applauded the performers and the orchestra you all rise up to leave. You turn and look at him and he wants nothing more than to reach out and touch your cheek, tell you how beautiful you are, how brave and wise and kind, and how undeserving the man next to you is. But he doesn’t.

Once outside it’s decided that you and your husband are going back to George V with your aunt for drinks. Politely you invite him and Lucy but he reclines with a bad excuse. He observes you, and even with your perfectly polite manners it’ like you’re walking around half-asleep, still with that frozen look in your face that’s beginning to scare him. And Christ, you’re just so guarded. You bid your goodbyes, and kissing her cheek he thanks Marguerite for the tickets, but when he tries to say goodbye to you, he can see Freddie’s arm tighten around your wait again. So instead of leaning into a kiss on the cheek he politely bows his head and you and in a gentle voice he says “goodbye then, it was nice seeing you again”. You smile back, eyes glossy and for a moment he wonders if you’re about to cry but a moment later you’ve pulled yourself together and politely bids goodbye to Lucy. And then you’re walking away, Freddie’s arm still around your waist.

* The next morning he goes to visit madam Marguerite, a book in hand. Louise lets him in, looking down on him as usual. “Would you like me to mend this, monsieur?” she asks, both sarcasm and contempt clear in her voice, as she looks takes his coat, indicating the big tear in one of the sides. “If you wouldn’t mind” he answers cheekily and walks past her.

Marguerite is sitting on the terrace eating breakfast, Le Monde in front of her. He puts down his copy of Jane Austen’s Emma in front of her.

“There” he says and sits down in the chair opposite her “your literary soulmate”.

She scoffs “Mr. Knightley really isn’t my type”

He rolls his eyes, but smiles fondly at her “No I shouldn’t think so. And I meant Emma, not Mr. Knightley. You and Emma are the same”. “Oh what utter nonsense!” She burst out, indignant, “I’ve never meddled a day in my life!”

Timothée stares at her in disbelief.

“Honestly!” she defends herself “I didn’t know they were coming to Paris until the day before and then, well, it seemed unnecessary to tell you”.

“You should have warned me she’d be there” he says sternly. “If nothing else then because then I wouldn’t have invited Lucy”.

She has the decency to look ashamed. “Oh, I dare say I should have warned you. But I was afraid you’d cancel, and I needed you to see it with your own eyes.”

“See what?”

She looks him dead in the eye then, a grave look, “the change in her, of course”.

He stays silent, doesn’t know what to say, drags his hands through his hair in distress.

“So” she says after a few moments of silence, “what do you make of Freddie?”

“The words princeling comes to mind”.

She observes him for a second, a sceptic look on her face, “I’m sure that’s not the only word that comes to mind”. He can’t help but smile at that, because she’s right. “True, but those are not words I'd use in front of a lady. She bursts out in laugher. “Darlinh, I practically invented swearing, no need to hold back in front of me.”

“What do you think of him?" He asks instead.

She huffs. “I prefer Picasso”. *

14th of Mars, 1953

Timothée is painting. Specks of yellow and gold adorn his hands and white shirt. The afternoon sun is lighting up the room and Chopin is playing for the first time in months on the record player. The knock on the door startles him, and since he was in the process of painting the details of Lucy’s eyes a stroke of dark paint ends up on her eyebrow as his hand jerks in surprise at the sudden noise.

“Fuck” he swears, and with a great deal of annoyance does he go to open the door.

You look surprised as he flings the door open.

“Sorry” you say, apologetically. “Is this an inconvenient time?”

He doesn’t answer, can’t seem to find his voice, just steps aside, inviting you to come in. You do, and move into the studio. He walks after you, seemingly in a daze.

“Drink?” he asks eventually, interrupting the pressing silence.

“Yes please” you answer. He looks at you, your hair is elegantly styled and your wearing another expensive looking dress. You’re not looking at him though, but instead at the golden portrait of Lucy he’s in the process of making. You don’t say anything. There’s still that still look on your face and it unsettles him.

He hands her a glass of gin. “Where’s dear Freddie then?” he asks, in a feigned nonchalant manner as he offers you a cigarette. You step closer to him so that he can light it. You’re so close he can smell your familiar perfume, and feel the heat from your skin. He looks down on you as you try to get the end to gleam. He can count your eyelashes from this distance, see every single feature in your face, every crook and corner. In the beginning, when you had first come to this studio, he had felt obsessed by the idea of painting your perfect likeness. But the closer he looked at you, the more impossible it felt. “Freddie is at a business function. I was not required” you answer and steps away from him, blowing out smoke into the room. “And where’s your muse?” you ask, and there’s a certain amount of resentment in your voice that you can’t seem to keep at bay.

“Right here” he answers simply, looking at you.

“And Lucy?”

“I don’t know” he responds truthfully. “I got your letter” you say, calmly.

Ah,

“Sorry” he says. “Shouldn’t have sent that. I was drunk”.

You keep looking at him, seemingly deep in thought. And before he loses all courage he asks, “may I paint you again? One last time?” “In what colour?” “In all your colours, just as you are” he answers, and then “I don’t have rose-colored glasses when I look at you anymore”. The room goes very still for a moment. “Do you still want me?” you ask, voice small. And with sincerity clear in his voice he answers. “More than ever”.

“No” you say and put down your drink, stubbing out your cigarette in the ashtray. “No, I don’t want you to paint me”.

Something twists painfully in his chest.

“That’s not what I want you to do to me” you continue and step closer.

And then you kiss him.

He grabs hold of you and kisses you back, trying to express every ounce of longing he’s felt since you left into the kiss. But he can tell part of you is holding back. “Don’t do that” he says in a low voice, pulling away from you. His eyes are bright and shining. “If you’re with me, you’re with me. Don’t keep foot out the door. If you’re with me; be with me. If you don’t want to be, then you have to leave. I don’t want you half-heartedly. I understand you can’t stay with me longer than today but if you’re with me then don’t keep your mind on him.” You stare at him, taken aback. “Well?” he asks “is this what you want?” Your answer is a red-hot kiss. Your answer is your hands, trying to tear his shirt off of him. Trying desperately to get your hands on his skin and he wants to cry from the sheer relief of feeling you touch him again. Frantically you’re tearing at his clothes. He grips your hands to stop you. “Slowly” he whispers in your ear. He can tell that you’re worked up from your labored breathing, chest rising and falling quickly, your eyes gleaming as you look up at him. The frozen look finally gone. You look alive again. He can tell that all you want right now is for him to lay you down and fuck you as hard and fast as he can. But he doesn’t want to rush this, knows this is all the time he’s going to get. And he feels like a man living on borrowed time. He kisses you, languidly, and your lips taste like gin. He leads you down, so you’re lying on the soft carpet, hovering above you. For ages all you do is kiss, your hands roaming his body, like you can’t stop touching him. Eventually he starts to remove your clothes, the silky material of your dress soft like water in his hands as he takes it off you, sneaking in kisses all over your body as he does so. You in turn help remove his dress shirt and trousers. Until eventually there’s nothing but air separating you. He looks you directly, deep into your eyes “Sure?” he asks, because he must hear it. Couldn’t live with himself if you ended up regretting this. “Yes” you say, voice barely louder than a whisper, but it doesn’t waver. The last rays of golden sunshine lights up the room and maybe it’s his overactive imagination, but he swears the light forms a halo around your head. He’s prowling over you, settled in-between your legs. He thinks you must see, surely you must see, all the wonder in his eyes that he feels when he looks at you. He kisses your sensitive nipples and you shiver in delight. Your hands in his hair and you move up against him, desperate for him to touch more of you. He bites, nips, licks and sucks your breasts, leaving wet traces as he goes and god, he’s missed this; missed you. The taste and feel of your soft skin, your gasps and moans, your hands tugging at his hair. Some part of him, a particularly cynical part of him, thought he’d must have made it up, that in the aftermath of you leaving his brain had beautified the memories of you until you’d reach almost divine proportions. But it was all real.

He grinds his body against yours, fill his hands with your breast, kisses you everywhere he can. He reaches down a hand to the wetness between your legs. “So wet” he murmurs against your skin “have you been thinking about this all day?” He pushes a finger inside you and you buckle up against him in response. “Mon cœur” he continues as he presses wet kisses against your throat, and adds another finger inside you, touching you with expertise in just the way he knows will send sparks of pleasure all down your spine. He remembers exactly how you like to be touched. “I asked you a question”. “Yes” you moan. He looks down on his fingers, moving in and out of you, glistening with your wetness. “Have you missed it?” he asks, voice low, and he speeds up the pace, his thumb moving over your clit. Your head thrown back you let out a deep moan and in a breathless voice you answer “yes, yes, missed it so much”.

Your hair has fallen out of its elegant hairdo, your cheeks flushed and wet and lips swollen from kisses. You look wild and free.

“I’ve been thinking about this, touching you; fucking you, ever since the opera” he leans down and kisses your clit, fingers still moving inside of you. And then he sucks on it and you explode around his fingers, cramping down around them, hips bucking and moans falling freely from your lips.

He strokes your cheek and kisses your face as he lets you catch your breath. Eventually you start kissing him back, softly at first, then ardently. He so hard he feels he could self-combust but as he lines up at your entrance, he looks you in the eye and asks “sure?”

“Never been more certain” you reply, voice like honey, and you wrap your leg around his waist, trying to guide him inside you.

He lets you get used to him, adjust to his size, before he starts moving. Your hands are in his and he can feel your wedding ring against his skin.

You try to incite him to move faster, bucking your hips against him, but he doesn’t speed up. Doesn’t want to go too hard on you.

“I’m not made of porcelain” you hiss, frustrated “you’re not going to hurt me. Fuck me like I'm yours”.

He’s starts fucking you with more force then, grinding where he knows you like it. Your nails are scratching his back, pulling at his hair. Sounds – moans, whimpers and begging's of more – escaping your mouth uninterruptedly. You can’t seem to stop them. He looks down on you and he swears out loud. The good damn sight of you like this, he knows he’ll never get the image out of his head. Knows that in months from now – when you’re back in good old England with your husband and he’s all alone here in this apartment – that he could paint this moment with picture-like perfection. Your glossy eyes filled with bliss, wild hair and flushed skin, lips still painted red and formed in a moan. But he won’t. He’ll let it be a memory, the thought of anyone else seeing that painting too unsettling for words. You come again then, eyes tight shut and head thrown back, mouth wide open in a silent scream. He feels your orgasm, can feel you spasm around him and he swears he’s gone to heaven. And as the final rays of sunlight disappears outside, he calls your name – half prayer half cry– and releases inside you, white hot pleasure racing down his spine, and then the whole room goes dark. The only reasons he knows the world hasn’t ended are your warm and sweaty body beneath him. The only sounds in the whole, wide world are both of your breathless gasps. * After, you put on your clothes in silence, avoiding the others eyes. He feels almost shy. The thing inside his chest is crying, knowing that you’re minutes away from leaving again, that this time it’s forever. How do you do something even though it kills you? “I’m sorry, for everything” you say and it startles him. “For everything?” “Yes. I’m sorry I came back” you avoid his eyes as you speak “well, I’m sorry but I don’t regret that part. And I’m sorry I can’t stay. I’ve never meant to hurt you.” Because it’s the right thing to do.

You are staying with your husband. This is your decision. He can’t force you to leave, or stay. He can’t save you, no matter what Marguerite says. Not when you’re determined to drown. “I’ve loved you wholeheartedly and I have no regrets. I’ve loved you of my own free will. You don’t owe me anything.”

The frozen look is back on your face and your spine straight again, hair fixed in place. You’ve put your armor back on. And like this, you leave.

* 18th of April, 1953

It’s a fine morning in April and Timothée is headed over to madam Marguerite’s apartment, a box of treats from her favourite patisserie in one hand and bouquet of magnolias in the other. Later this week she’s taking him to the opera again, Rossini this time, and he wants to give her something as a thank you.

Outside on the street an ambulance is parked. He walks past it and starts climbing the many stairs to her apartment. When he gets to Marguerite’s floor he’s taken by surprise. The apartment door is wide open and in the doorway stand a sobbing Louise, being comforted by a medic. Dread settles in his stomach.

“What’s going on?” he asks, and he can hear the panic in his own voice. “Where’s madam Marguerite?”

Louise starts sobbing even louder and the kind-looking medic pats her sympathetically on the shoulder.

“She passed away in her sleep last night. This woman here found her this morning”.

Something falls inside Timothée and is lost forever. The ground feels unsteady under his feet and for a second, he waivers. “Have you notified her family?” He asks.

The man shakes his head, “no, not yet”.

“I’ll do it” Timothée says firmly, letting it be known that this isn’t up for discussion.

* “Frederic Fairfax speaking” Freddie’s drawly voice answers when Timothée calls your London address.

“Hello, it’s Timothée Chalamet, could I speak to your wife, it’s urgent”

Silence for ten long seconds.

“No, anything you want to tell her you can tell me” Freddie eventually answers and there’s tension in his voice.

“Is she not in?”

“Yes, she is, but I'd rather you take this with me, Mr. Chalamet”.

“I see” Timmy answers, and he somehow manages to keep the rage he feels out of his voice. “But I have some very distressing and urgent news I have to pass on”.

“Then I suggest you share them with me”

Timothée wants to bang his head against the wall. But he keeps his voice calm. “You see, her greataunt Marguerite has passed away.”

“I see” the other man answers in a cold, unfeeling voice. “Well, if that was all, Mr. Chalamet, good bye.”

And he hangs up.

* May 1st, 1953.

In a red brick building on Chancery Lane, London, Timothée is sitting smoking in an armchair. The solicitor’s office looks like you would imagine a solicitor's office to look like, with oak furniture and cabinets full of files with important documents, outside busy men in suits hustling by and secretaries in pen skirts tapping on their typewriters’.

Madam Marguerite’s solicitor Mr. Lancaster looks on the crowd gathered for the reading of the will.

There’s Timothée, lounging in his chair, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else and avoiding looking at you. There’s you, perfectly poised and wearing black, hands clapped in your lap to stop them from shaking. Then there’s your parents, your black-clad mother sniffling into a tissue and your father, with a grave look on his face.

Freddie is nowhere to be seen, and this surprises Timothée.

“Shall we begin?” the solicitor starts, organizing the papers in front of him. There’s a general hum of agreeing from the crown and Mr. Lancaster clears his throat. “Very well then. I had the great fortune of knowing Mrs. Beauchêne-Wright and I considered her a personal friend. She was a remarkable woman” he clears his throat again and Timothée shuffles with his feet, still not understanding why he’s been called to be present at this occasion. “An extraordinary woman” he repeats and look down at the papers in front of him. “Very well then” he says, before beginning to read from the will. “This is the last will of me Marguerite Beauchêne-Wright of 55 Rue de Châteaudun 75009 Paris -”

* It’s raining outside, a gentle but persistent drizzle. TImothée stands under his umbrella and observes as your mother storms off, her husband at her heel, into a taxi. She slams the door and they drive off, water splashing up on the sidewalk. His head feels foggy. The whole situation feels unreal. He’s standing outside the red brick building smoking, trying to get a grip on the situation. In a few hours he has to get back to Victoria station to take the night train back to Paris.

You walk out of the solicitor's office, a dazed look on your face, seemingly not even noticing the rain falling down. You seem him and walk up to him and he lifts his umbrella so you’re under it too.

“Gotta admit, didn’t see that one coming” he states and hands you his cigarette. You take it gratefully and inhale deeply.

“No” you say, some seconds later, “no I didn’t quite see that coming either”. A homourless laugh escapes you. “They’re furious about it” referring to your parents. “Asked if they could contest the will. Mr. Lancaster told them they didn’t have a leg to stand on”. “So” you say and look up at him. “What are you going to do with the money?”

The money. Marguerite’s entire estate divided between him and the woman in front of him. There had been a few smaller bequests to various people and charities, but the absolute majority of the fortune where to be split between you. Even after all the death duties it was by all consideration a fortune.

“Dunno” he answers. ”Haven’t really thought ahead that far”. And then, because he can’t contain his curiosity anymore. “Where’s dear Freddie then?” You’re silent for a moment, avoiding his eyes as you watch the rain create patterns in the puddles. “Freddie’s left.” you say eventually. “He’s seeking for a divorce. God knows he’s got grounds for it.” the cigarette shakes in your trembling hand. “I’ve been a terrible wife all things considered.”

He’s stunned into silence, too much life-altering information having been dropped on him already today. Eventually he gets a hold of himself and states, because he already knows it to be true, “he knows about us, doesn’t he? About what happened in Paris.”

You nod, and two tears fall down your cheeks. “They’re furious with me.”

“Who are?” he asks, confused.

“My family” “Why?”

A grimace, then “doesn’t matter”. Drop the cigarette on the ground and stomp it out. “Mr. Lancaster says we have to go to Nice. Apparently, most of her possessions are there and we need to go through them. He says that since we own the house now, we can live in it while we do so”.

He observes her for a moment. “I have an exhibition in Paris this month, I can’t leave before that’s done.”

You smile, but it’s still devoid of humour. “And I have a divorce to settle.”

The rain keeps falling around them.

“How about this” you say “we’ll go there in July, a summer on the riviera doesn’t sound too bad, and we’ll...” you trail of for a second “and we’ll settle everything then”.

Gently he puts his fingers under your chin and tilts your head up so that you look at him. You look as if you’re bursting at the seams, like you’re at your last straw. “Alright” he says and leans in to gently press a kiss on your forehead. “Alright, sounds like a plan”. And then he looks you in the eyes again “Everything will be alright, you know. Everything will be fine”.

You smile again, and this time it’s more genuine. Then you lean in, and place the softest of kisses on his mouth.

Then you leave. A/N: jesus christ, I spent a good 25 minutes of my life googling the rules of aristocratic titles in England. Freddie’s father is an earl, that makes freddie as the oldest son a baron and his wife a baronet? Right? If that’s not correct then, well, sorry, but those rules are mind boggling.

Other things I've googled a lot is the language of flowers and what different flowers symbolizes.

That ‘Swedish saying’ timmy refers to in his letter is not a saying but in fact from a song by Veronica Maggio called Stopp and very badly translated by me.

Also. I know that timothée’s letter is a bit... disturbing, but the thought of it wouldn't leave my mind so I had to write it.

I am planning on writing the last part, but this story always takes a lot of effort to write so it’ll be a while.

#timothee chalamet #timothee x reader #timothee x you #timothee x y/n #timothee chalamet x reader #timothèe chalamet #timothée x reader #timothée x you #timothée chalamet #timothee imagine #timothee fanfic

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brandyovereager · 5 years ago

Note

pls write elorcan

Elorcan Fluff

This got long and very fluffy. Enjoy some modern, college au Elorcan!

On ao3:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/22327141

Summary: Lorcan has a crush on a girl in his anthropology class, cue awkward pining Lorcan

She hadn’t arrived yet. She always sat in the fifth row, six seats from the left, with her silver-haired friend. Lorcan always sat next to Fenrys in the eighth row, ten seats from the left, where he had a perfect view of her dark head.

It was the perfect distance. He was close enough that he could see her long mane of silky hair, but not close enough that his golden-haired friend beside him could tell who he was looking at. If it were Rowan or Gavriel in this class with him they would’ve noticed he never took any notes, but Lorcan was lucky he had Anthro 205 with Fenrys—who was often too distracted and rambunctious himself to pay Lorcan much attention.

—

Their first—and only—interaction was weeks ago, day one of the semester. He’d seen her walking in the corridor outside the Anthro lecture hall. She was a small woman—probably didn’t even come to his shoulder in height—and she had about six different books weighing on her arms.

Lorcan headed over with the intent to help her out, but his hulking frame coming up from behind must have frightened the poor girl and she dropped them all on the pavement. Falling to the floor with her hair slipping in front of her eyes, she immediately scrambled to pick them all up, muttering foul curses that sounded absolutely adorable coming from such a tiny thing. He knelt down to help her.

“Sorry about that, I didn’t mean to scare you. I was coming over to help you with all those but sometimes I forget I’m a bit…large.” He grimaced. First he’d scared her, now he was describing himself as large. He was making an absolute fool of himself.

“It’s alright, I’m the brilliant mind who thought she could carry six hard-cover volumes down the hallway.” She still hadn’t looked him in the eye. They’d finished gathering all the fallen books and were standing back upright in the hall but her gaze was firmly fixed on the floor. Her features were small and delicate—the exact opposite of Rowan’s own. Just looking at her brought a slight grin to Lorcan’s mouth.

“My name’s Lorcan.” With that she finally looked up at him. Her dark eyes had him transfixed.

“I’m Elide.”

—

Just sixty seconds before the lecture was set to begin, he finally saw her. Her taller friend was pushing through students in the seventh row to get to the empty seats towards the center, Elide following close behind. The two of them quickly set their bags down and made to pull out their notebooks, but Lorcan barely registered their movements because the seats they’d found were directly in front of him and Fenrys.

She was right there. He didn’t even have to turn his head to see her. Strands of dark hair took up half of his vision (and nearly all of his mind). She was so close he could smell her flowery shampoo, he need only breathe to take it in—of course with the shock of it all breaths were a little difficult.

“I can’t believe you made us stop at three different coffee shops to find a stupid danish.” Lorcan’s eyebrows rose at the annoyance in the silver-haired woman’s tone.

“It’s not a stupid danish—it’s a raspberry danish—which they usually have at Sadie’s but they were out this morning.”

“They had plenty of danishes at Sadie’s.”

“Those were all strawberry. I’m allergic to strawberry. That’s why whenever we go out for breakfast I suggest Sadie’s, and then I order a raspberry danish.” The professor began his lecture just then, but by the irritation still evident in both girls’ faces that wasn’t going to stop them.

“Well, are you happy now? We finally found you your special danish and then we had to sprint all the way here, only to sit in the back with the weirdos.” Lorcan could see Fenrys’ affronted expression from the seat next to him.

“No—actually—I’m not happy, because Sadie’s danishes are beautiful creations of decadence and the one we found at Starbucks of all places is absolute piss in comparison.” Lorcan mentally chuckled.

“Ladies, as strong as my own opinions are about breakfast pastries, some of us weirdos are trying to learn about anthropology.” Both Elide and her friend turned around to see Fenrys’ wicked smirk.

Lorcan could tell Elide’s friend was about to throw back a sharp retort at Fenrys, but one look from Elide silenced her. The remainder of the lecture was significantly less exciting.

—

Lorcan’s palms were sweating harder than they did after sparring with Rowan, the pastry in his hands safely encased by a little pink box from the bakery. Should he have gotten rid of the box? Put it in something else? Maybe a tupperware would have kept it safe from his tense hands squeezing too hard?

It was too late now. He was here. Anthro lecture just finished and he was standing outside the exit with a stupid pink pastry box in his hands. Maybe he should just leave. She would never know he’d done something so pathetic. He could maintain some of his dignity and cool exterior.

Nope. There she was.

“Elide.” His eyes were glued to her as the tiny head of dark hair turned to him. His brain and pride must’ve been jammed down his throat because all three weren’t working properly. She stopped walking and stepped off towards the wall with him.

“Lorcan, right?” She remembered his name. That was good, right? It could also be terrible because then she’d have a higher chance of remembering when he inevitably made a fool of himself.

“Yes, I—” He let a cough that sounded more like a choke. This was pathetic. He’d beaten even Whitethorn to the ground at some point. Why was this small woman making him a stumbling buffoon? He held the pastry box out to her. “This…is for you.”

“For me?” There was a curious smile on her face. It was beautiful.

“Yes. That’s why I have it. For you.” For the gods Salvaterre, stop talking. Just give it to her and get out of there.

“What is it?”

“I heard you—I mean—you mentioned to your friend—“ another choke “—it’s a raspberry danish, from Sadie’s.” Her face lit up—dear gods it was worth making a fool of himself ten times over to see that. He did that. He made her face like that.

“Thank you Lorcan, those are my favorite. This was wonderful of you.” He couldn’t look at her anymore his face was burning—Mala save him he was ridiculous.

“I made sure they didn’t put any strawberry syrup on there either—they wanted to—but I told them no cause I didn’t want your face to swell up or anything like that.” Oh for the love of all that is holy she’s smiling. It’s beautiful. He was so in for it.

Elide threw her arms around his neck—as best she could with how much bigger he was—and then actually squeezed him. He was two hundred pounds of solid muscle and somehow this tiny creature managed to squeeze him.

“This is perfect, Lorcan, thank you so much. I can’t believe you would do something like this.”

“Well I—I wanted to, you know, for you.” The angel’s smile widened. No matter how much he felt he was doing this wrong, he must’ve been doing something right.

“Have you ever had one of these before?”

“No, I’m not really one for pastries.” He had to look away. She was too much.

“Well this is the best one out there, so I think I must insist that you share it with me.” Lorcan’s head snapped to her.

“Oh no—I can’t—I got it for you.”

“Well, if you got it for me then that means it’s mine to do what I want with, and I want you to eat it with me.” What a delicate temptress she was, so small an enticing.

“Would that make you happy, if I stayed and ate with you?”

“It would make me very happy, Lorcan.” He was a goner. If he wasn’t already wrapped around her finger before, he was now.

“Well then, I must stay.” And he did, for a lot longer than just to eat the pastry.

#elorcan #elorcan fluff #elorcan fic #elorcan fanfiction #elide #elide lochan #lorcan #lorcan salvaterre #throne of glass #throne of glass fic #tog #tog fic #tog fanfiction #tog fanfic #elide x lorcan #sjm #sjm fic #sjmaas #sarah j maas

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shatteredglassanimated · 4 years ago

Text

Shattered Glass Animated Season 1 Episode 5 - Nice To Melt You

The resistance receives a distress call from their spy in Sumdac’s ranks. With the help of the Decepticons, will they be able to get him out in time?

Overlord Sumdac was not having a good day.

The robotic creature he’d had restrained in one of his labs had gone into some sort of internal lock-down after his first accessing of it’s database, making the retrieval of new data nigh impossible. Not to mention the weeks it had taken to to clean out his private laboratory after his first disastrous attempt to re-animate the robotic head. The cleaning drones he’d sent were efficient and quick (he had designed them after all), but even they could only do so much.

He hadn’t been able to work on any private projects for a week and it would cost him a fortune to replace the equipment lost in the failed extraction-attempt. The resistance kept eluding him and his police-bots proved utterly incapable of tracking them or any other giant, metallic creatures.

If he had been able to, Overlord Sumdac would have isolated himself in his private quarters for the rest of the day, doing nothing but working on simpler, smaller robots as he had often done in his youth when the world seemed determined to undermine his efforts.

Alas, today marked the final test run of a batch of new and improved police-drones. Taller, sturdier and with much more advanced recognition software. For the moment, they were his best bet for nailing the resistance-scum. And thus, too important a project to leave overseeing the tests to one of his underlings.

Especially to one specific underling.

Standing behind the railing of the platform overlooking the assembly hall, Sumdac took a sip from his coffee, noting with annoyance that it was rather cold already. From up above he could see the human workers, scurrying about like mice and throwing nervous looks at him every now and again. They knew he was in a bad mood. And it was never good when Overlord Sumdac was in a bad mood. The only smile in the room came from Fanzone, who was standing to his left, eyes wide with anticipation, like a child about to receive birthday presents.

“Man, this is exciting! Those machines are gonna do so much good on the street sir, I can tell! Dunno what my wife keeps whining about, I’ve never seen those bad boys target anyone they weren’t s’posed to-”

Sumdac did his best to blend out the man’s ranting, gave half-hearted wave. “Begin the final test run.”

The scientist working the console to his right, a nervous man with blond, long hair that made Sumdac keenly aware of his own bald crown and ridiculous sunglasses turned to push a few buttons.

The light signaling the drones being active flared up and the machine straightened from it’s motionless slump and raised its arm cannons. It’s build in police sirens blared as it moved forwards toward the target set up for it across the room. Sumdac huffed approvingly. At least some machines wouldn’t disappoint him today.

But then it happened.

The drone twitched, stopping in it’s advance. Then, all of a sudden, it began to turn away from the target, arm canon still raised.

Sumdac frowned. Fanzone nervously shuffled his feet next to him.

“Deactivate it,” Sumdac ordered, pointing at the malfunctioning drone.

A few hasty typing-noises came from behind.

The drone didn’t stop. Instead, it’s canon whirled to life and fired - right at the wall behind the terrified spectators. Bullets tore through steel and metal, sparks flying everywhere. Workers screamed in a panic, running for the emergency exists.

Sumdac barely managed to dodge a shot. He heard Fanzone give a panicked screech as he dove down.

“What are you doing you incompetent buffoon?” Sumdac barked at the scientist. “Deactivate it!”

“I’m trying, Sir! It’s not reacting!” the man yelled back, frantically pushing button after button on his console.

He needn’t have bothered. The drone suddenly stopped dead in it’s tracks. Sparks flew out of it’s joints, making it’s body twitch. Smoke billowed out of it’s back, followed by a small explosion that made it jerk forward, before, with a last, pathetic creak, it fell in on itself altogether, a sad pile of burning, sparking, smoking metal.

Sumday watched it all, the grip on his mug getting tighter with every second. A small crack formed itself on the mug as the robot burned away.

“How could this have happened?” he growled, slowly turning around to the scientist on the console.

The man flinched under his boss’ piercing glare. “I-I don’t know, Sir. Probably a glitch. I’ll have it disassembled an thoroughly checked for bugs!”

“I’ll do that,” Sumdac snapped. “Evidently I am the only scientist around here worth his salt!” He whirled around, heading for the exit, ignoring Fanzone who was currently whimpering on the floor in a fetal position, mumbling something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like “I’ll never doubt my wife again.”

Sumdac snorted. How easily humans were cowed by minor setbacks. He would never have gotten so far in the world, had his enthusiasm been as easy to curb as his chief of police’s.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Prometheus Black watched his ‘boss’ leave, feeling as if a huge weight had been lifted off his back. Sumdac hadn’t suspected a thing. He’d been worried he’d been too obvious this time.

Though he suspected most of his luck in that regard was due to Sumdac being utterly uninterested in keeping up with his human subordinates beyond the most necessary interactions.

It was this attitude that had gotten Black into several high-ranking position in the first place. He’d merely had to show enough aptitude to be promoted and simultaneously be subservient enough to not get Sumdac’s attention too much. It was easier than it sounded. And it certainly made his job as a mole all the easier.

Though his latest maneuver might have possibly changed that. Prometheus wasn’t really happy with it. The new police drones would have proved disastrous to the rest of the resistance if he’d allowed them to be released at this point in time. He rarely got away from his job long enough to see to Aaron’s equipment and Cyrus’ mutation-device often enough these days. Penny was a good student and did maintenance well enough whenever he wasn’t available, but she was still only a child and it would have been irresponsible to put the work on her full-time. So he’d decided to take one for the team by risking his anonymity - and sabotaged Sumdac’s latest work.

It hadn’t been easy. It had taken him days to develop the acid he’d carefully applied to the drone before the final test and he hadn’t anticipated that it would affect the thing that much. The acid was developed from the blood (?) of the giant metallic creature Sumdac was currently housing in one of his bigger labs. Prometheus had snuck some of it away while his colleagues hadn’t been looking, after witnessing how some of it eat right through one of the toughest surveillance drones patrolling around the body.

Thinking about it now made him remember that his own laboratory still contained the vial he’d used to concentrate it. He’d have to clean that up first things first. Sumdac never visited his employees at their workplaces, but now was probably not the time to rely on a tyrant’s bad habits. Especially when said tyrant had loudly announced that he would investigate the matter himself.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Failures! All of them!”

Sumdac brought his fist down hard on the table, shaking up the pieces of metal in front of him. At his orders, the drone had been disassembled and delivered to his private laboratory. He no longer trusted the scientists from combat-drone development to not completely muck up their investigation. And the ever-growing suspicion of sabotage had flared up again as well.

The drone had been working perfectly before the fateful test run this morning. It simply could have been bad luck that a machine that would have brought him closer to wiping out his fiercest enemies just happened to break down on the day he’d wanted to determine if it was actually suitable for field deployment. But only fools believed in abstract concepts like luck. And Sumdac was anything but.

And so he examined. Upon closer inspection he managed to isolate a foreign substance unlike any of the fuels used to power the rest of his army. But no matter how he analyzed it, what methods he used to determine his origin, he found nothing. It was like the substance had appeared form thin air. There was nothing on earth even closely resembling it’s structure, no components that seemed in any way familiar. It was maddening!

“This is hopeless,” he grumbled, letting himself fall back on his chair and massaging the bridge of his nose. “There is no being on earth who knows of this substance.”

“I do.”

“Well, no being on earth but you-” Sumdac stiffened. He whirled around, eyes wildly searching the room for an intruder - only to land on the disembodied head behind him, still hooked up to a multitude of cables. It’s eyes were glowing a piercing red. And it was watching him.

Sumdac blinked. “You... you spoke.”

It wasn’t his most astute of observations, but it was the only thing he could think of at the moment.

The head’s eyes narrowed a little and Sumdac got a feeling if it’s mouth had still been complete it would have given him a derisive smirk. “I did, Professor Sumdac.”

Sumdac felt an involuntary shiver run down his spine. “You know my name?”

“I know a lot of things,” the head answered nonchalantly. “Things that would surely benefit you. For example, that fluid you spend the last two hours analyzing. It’s concentrated energon.”

“And you know this how?” Sumdac asked, frowning.

“Because it’s an essential part of every cybertronian. Cybertronians like me or the Decepticons. And those last ones, for your information, are the ones that have been causing you so much trouble as of late.

“Fortunately for you, I have a score to settle with them. Specifically with their leader. So we’re currently, as you humans would say, in the same boat. You need information about... everything, really. And I need a body, so I can rip Megatron apart with my own servos. I’m sure you can see where I’m going with this.”

Sumdac was silent for a moment. His mind was reeling. In just a few seconds, this talking head of an alien creature a, a “cybertronian” had answered almost every burning question that had plagued him for over ten years. And it was offering more. Still, his paranoid self remained skeptical.

“And how do I know,” he said slowly. “That you aren’t in some way associated with those ‘Decepticons’? That you’re not just feeding me lies, to trick me into repairing you and then have your big friends out there break in and tear my empire apart?”

The head made a sound that sounded a lot like a snort. “I would have to care about your empire to want to break it.” It’s eyes flashed for a moment. “And do not compare me to the Decepticon-scum! My name is Optimus Prime and I am an Autobot. We are infinitely superior to them.”

Sumdac nodded and allowed himself a small smirk. Interesting. There was more to those aliens than he’d realized. Evidently some sort of conflict took place between the two factions, the ‘Decepticons’ and the ‘Autobots’. And his guest seemed very invested in it. It was not much information to go on, but he’d built his empire from less. For now, he would have to gauge how serious ‘Optimus Prime’ was about cooperating.

“Let’s say I believe you,” Sumdac started, getting up and walking towards the head. “It still seems as if you are more dependent on this relationship than I am. I will need something from you, to know you really are as useful as you claim to be.”

“I can tell you the identity of the spy in your ranks,” Optimus replied.

“And how would you do that?”

“You’ve connected me to your entire network when you first tried to wake me up. My audials and optics are practically everywhere in this building. And they just so happened to pick up how one of your trusted employees sabotaged that primitive drone you tested this morning.”

Sumdac’s eye twitched at the insult to his robotics, but he suppressed his anger and kept his face neutral. “Tell me more.”

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Prometheurs sighed. cleaning back in his chair. It was still hours until he could call it a day and he steadily found himself more nervous. He’d had no time to remove what remained of the acid from the drone before it had been delivered to Sumdac’s private lab. There was nothing about it that could have linked him to the failed test, but he was still on edge.

Sumdac would find it, that was for certain. Meaning he’d have to think of another way to keep the new drone from release. Maybe he could plant a signal-disruptor on it, to mess up it’s recognition software? Behind him, the leftover acid dripped away into a chemical waste container. It would take some time until he’d be able to dispose of it safely.

A blip sounded from his computer. Prometheus frowned and turned to face the screen. On a normal Sumdac-device, the sound would have been a reminder to get his computer to maintenance. Prometheus had tweaked his a little. Now it was connected to a private encrypted channel that would allow him to safely contact the outside world and be contacted safely in turn.

He pressed a few buttons and a video chat opened, showing a frowning,rotund man in his fifties wearing blue sunglasses and a grey suit.

“I was just informed that the new Sumdac Police Drone failed it’s final test run,” he said, not even bothering with a greeting. “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that?”

Prometheus sighed, dragging his hands down his face. He should have anticipated a lecture, really. “Look Mr. Powell, if those new drones would have gotten released, we would have been in big trouble. Their recognition software-”

“Prometheus,” Powell interrupted. “I’m well aware you wouldn’t take such risks unprompted. But I need you to realize what’s at stake here. Currently you’re our only inside man. And we’re thinly staffed as it is. I think Sumdac’s been suspecting me as of late. If he gets wise to you, I won’t be able to help you. Do you understand?”

Promtheus gulped. “Yes, Mr. Powell.”

“Watch your back, Prometheus.” The video call ended before Prometheus could answer.

Only a second after, a blip on the official message channel for Sumdac-employees popped up. Prometheus stiffened, before forcing himself to relax. It was most likely nothing. Probably a subordinate asking for advice. He would get those every now and again. He had a reputation for being surprisingly lenient for one of Sumdac’s inner circle.

His hopes were dashed as soon as he opened the channel and was met with Sumdac’s grinning face.

“Professor Black,” Sumdac said, tone cordial enough to make the hairs on Prometheus neck stand up. “I am afraid some issues have come up with your personal file.”

“R-Really?” Prometheus gripped the arms rests of his chair to keep his hands from shaking.

“Indeed,” Sumdac nodded. “I will need you to report to my office.”

Prometheus knew an order when he heard one. His left hand wandered into his pocket, coiling around a small quadrangular device with a single button on it.

“Sir, I really think I should supervise the reconstruction of our new drone model-”

“I did not ask what you were thinking,” Sumdac cut him off waspishly. “And neither do I care. You will report to my office, now. Do not make me wait.”

The video feed was cut off. Prometheus wasted no time. He pressed the button. He had approximately a few minutes before Sumdac would send security drone to collect him. If he hurried, he’d be able to grab a few of his makeshift emergency weaponry and fend them off enough to escape.

Prometheus turned around, only to stop right in his tracks, eyes widened. Unnoticed by him, the acid had eaten itself through the container, to the point the ground was about to give in. And it did. Warning sirens flared up as the acid hit the ground, noxious gas rising into the air and engulfing the lab.

Prometheus coughed, feebly trying to close his nose and mouth with his hand at the same time. He felt the gas seeping into his skin. It burned, a thousand times worse than any of the burn- wounds he’d ever gotten while working on gadgets for Sumdac or the resistance. It was all he could do to keep himself from screaming. Teeth clenched he frantically felt for the door, stumbling into the corridor, one hand still clasping the frame.

He couldn’t die yet. Who would supply Cyrus with the vitamins he needed to keep his body stable? Who would do maintenance of Aaron’s bow? Who would read stories to Penny? With newfound determination, Prometheus let go of the door and stumbled onward, unaware that the part of the frame he’d gripped had started dissolving.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Several miles away, in an abandoned mine in the woods, in the Decepticon’s medical bay, Aaron Archer looked at his communicator with a worried frown.

“Is something wrong?”

Aaron looked up at Megatron, who had made his way over upon seeing his on his human ally’s face.

“I feareth it is so, friend,” Aaron said gloomily. “Our scout stationed in the despot’s castle haseth send me a distress call on a secure channel. He would not doeth that, unless he was in dire peril.”

Cyrus gave an apprehensive grunt and looked over his partner’s shoulder. “If the prof’s in trouble, so are we. Our equipment’s been lagging behind for a while now. We’ll be hanging out dry if Sumdac get him into his hands.”

Blackarachnia, who until that point had been busy knocking a dent out of Lugnut’s leg, perked up at that. “You think he’s been compromised?”

“Optics on the repair-job, woman!” Lugnut snapped, nervously eyeing the small but solid hammer hovering over his leg.

“I should tell you that,” Blackarachnia fired back, turning back to him. “What kind of malfunction was your processor having for you to think exploring one of the oldest, most broken tunnels would be a good idea? You’re lucky you’re heavily armored or you’d have been scrap-metal when it came down”

The bigger ‘Con huffed. “I was participating in an honorable organic ritual with the young organic, called ‘hide-and-seek’. That tunnel seemed like an ideal hiding place.”

Blackarachnia chose not to comment on that and went back to her work.

“What will you do now?” Megatron asked.

“Get him out, what else?” Cyrus growled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Won’t be easy though, ‘specially if Sumdac’s already gunning for him.”

Megatron nodded. “We will support you in any way we can. I will inform Blitzwing and Starscream as soon as they and Penny return from their ‘hide-and-seek’-ritual in the woods.”

“The woods!” Lugnut shouted, smacking the medical berth with a servo. “Of course! Why did I not think of that? Truly, the small organic called Penny is a genius of strategy.”

“No, she’s just not a complete bolthead,” Blackarachnia mumbled, finishing up the repairs.

A few hours later, the Decepticons were standing outside the entrance to the mines, waiting for their two human companions to finish their preparations. Cyrus and Aaron had agreed to fly with Lugnut and Blitzwing respectively, instead of their own vehicle.

“He has no way to track us and we are sturdier than your glider,” Megatron had told them. “If we have to confront Sumdac’s forces in the air, you will be safer flying within one of us.”

Penny stood by the entrance, arms crossed and tapping her foot, Miles standing by her side quivering anxiously. He still didn’t fell safe around the Decepticons without her and even with her present he had a hard time keeping it together.

“Why can’t I come?” Penny questioned, pouting. “Miles and I can fight too!”

“We needeth you here to protect the metal knights’ base, Penelope,” Aaron said, giving her a smile. “Someone haseth to protect it from Sumdac’s metal fiends!” I wasn’t entirely a lie. In an emergency, Penny would have the skill needed to use the base’s defenses to their full effect. And she’d be as far away from Sumdac as possible.

“Transform and rise up!” Megatron called.

The Decepticons transformed, and the humans entered their partners’ vehicle mode, while Blackarachnia used a thread hold onto Lugnut. They took off Penny waving at them from the ground until she was out of sight.

After a few minutes of flying, the Sumdac Tower came into view.

“I say we break right through!” Lugnut shouted, immediately ramping up his thrusters.

Blackarachnia yelped, digging her legs into the metal to hang on.

“Lugnut, wait!” Megatron called.

Before he could react, Lugnut crashed into what seemed to be an invisible wall and slammed down on the ground, almost flattening Blackarachnia, who managed to jump off his back barely before he hit the ground.

Lugnut’s cockpit opened and Cyrus stumbled out, falling to his knees and taking deep breaths. “That’s it, I’m flying with the red one next time,” he wheezed.

“What the spark was that?” Lugnut complained, transforming back into robot-mode and rubbing his helm.

Blitzwing, who had touched down behind him and transformed as well after letting Aaron out, walked over to the sizzling blockade and laid a servo on it, frowning.

“It appears to be a force field. And it looks like it is going around the whole tower.”

“Pardon us, dear knights we shouldeth have told thee,” Aaron said sheepishly. “The tyrant possesseth an automatic shield that activates whenever his tower cometh under attack.”

“Great,” Blackarachnia grumbled, ambling to the group and rubbing her posterior. “Because we didn’t have enough trouble already.”

“Worry not! We hath prepared for just this instance!” With an elegant movement of his arm, Archer pulled out a small, rectangular card from his tunic. “Our noble scout hath given us this to trick the fiend’s foul, dark magic! It shouldeth allow us to break a hole int his shield and enter with nary a scratch!”

“That’s awfully convenient,” Starscream remarked. “What’s the catch?”

“The catch is that it only works for maybe half an hour,” Cyrus replied, having mostly recovered from his nausea. “After that we’ll be trapped like rats, unless we can turn it off for good.”

“Then we should not waste time,” Megatron said. “We will look for your scout, collect him and evacuate immediately.”

Archer nodded, then walked towards the field, pressing the card against it. A small current of electricity sparked up from the area around it and in the next moment, a small hole began to expand from the card, growing bigger until it was about ten times the man’s size.

“Err, hate to be the bearer of bad news, but that doesn’t look big enough for us,” Starscream pointed out.

Megatron frowned, kneeling down next to the opening. “It will have to do. Blackarachnia, you and the humans will enter first. The rest of us will transform into our vehicle modes and try to enter that way.”

“I think not,” a heavily accented voice said.

The group collectively jumped, before realizing it had come from a loudspeaker attached to the front of the building.

“Sumdac,” Cyrus snarled, clenching his fists.

“So this is the famous resistance I’ve heard so much about?” the voice said, sounding amused. “How disappointing. Though I would be lying if I said I’d ever had any interest in you. Humans, even insolent ones, are beneath my attention. Your companions, however, are another matter entirely. ‘Decepticons’. What a silly name for such an advanced species.”

The Decepticons stiffened. Blitzwing’s face shifted to Hothead who gave a menacing growl, Blackarachnia’s stingers twitched, Starscream readied his blasters and Lugnut’s optic narrowed.

“How do you know of us?” Megatron demanded, keeping a calm face, but reaching for his swords.

“Ah, let us just say I was ‘ahead’ of you this time,” Sumdac chuckled. “You will have ample time to figure it out - once I have you in my possession.”

“Thou wilst not lay a hand on the metal knights!” Archer shouted. “We shan’t allow it!”

“I thought so,” Sumdac said, voice taking on a disinterested tone. “Which is why I will have you disposed of first. And do not count on your little spy to save you. I have already send my drones to take car of him.”

With a crackle, the loudspeaker turned off, leaving the group to let Sumdac’s words sink in.

Archer turned to Cyrus, shaking slightly. “Cyrus, do you believeth-?”

Cyrus shook his head. “If the prof was dead, he would’ve lorded that over our heads. He said he send drones after him. That means he could still be alive. We’ve gotta get in there, now!”

With that he dashed through the hole in the shield, not waiting for any of them to follow. Blackarachnia groaned.

“What is it with my allies and running helm-first into danger?” With a bit of difficulty, she maneuvered her body through the opening.

Just as Archer was about to follow, the sound of screeching metal pulled everyone’s attention to another part of the tower. Another door had opened, admitting a swath of police drones to exit the building. The drones headed out of the force field and opened fire.

Blitzwing jumped forward, scooping Archer up in his servos and carrying him out of harms’ way.

Lugnut roared, bringing his explosive servo down on a cluster of drones. But he misjudged. The explosion destroyed the drones, but the recoil threw him backwards - right towards the hole. His body went half-way through, then stopped.

“This was not supposed to happen,” Lugnut snarled, trying and failing to pull himself out.

“Move your overgrown thrusters!” Hothead shouted, grabbing Lugnut’s arm and pulling. “You’re blocking our only way in!”

“What do you think I am trying to do here?” Lugnut snapped back.

“It’s no use, “Megatron shouted. “Blackarachnia, you will have to help Cyrus on your own.”

“Lucky me,” Blackarachnia murmured. She turned around to Cyrus. “You heard him, it’s just you and-”

The human wasn’t there anymore. When she looked up she could see the entrance door was open.

Blackarachnia ex-vented. “This just isn’t my solar cycle.”

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Cyrus ran through the halls, doing his best to blend out the blaring alarms and not sure where exactly he was going, but also to angry to stop. Every now and again he’d rip open a door, find the room behind either completely deserted or out of spare parts and then slam it closed again. He finally screeched to a halt in a circular room, a huge elevator in the middle. In front of the elevator stood a sleek, white reception desk, with, Cyrus noted with annoyance, a robot behind it.

“Identify yourself,” the machine said in a monotone voice.

“Yeah, sure,” Cyrus growled, approaching the desk and cracking his knuckles. “Lemme just hand you my calling card.”

The robot gave a peep. “Voice scan does not match up. Intruder identified. Calling security.”

Cyrus froze. “Aw, slag.”

Suddenly a stream of a dark green acid hit the robot, immediately melting it down to a clump of deformed metal.

“Have a nice daayyyy...,” the robot slurred, before it’s voice box liquefied as well.

Cyrus jumped back, eyes wide and slowly turned his head into the direction the attack had come from. In front of the now open elevator door stood a human-shaped.. thing.

It was smaller than Cyrus (then again, most of his allies were) and seemed to consist of a slimy green fluid. It was wearing t remained of a modified lab coat with a ridiculously wide collar and a pair of goggles where Cyrus supposed it’s eyes were.

“I dunno what kind of sick Sumdac-goon you are,” he sneered, assuming a fighting stance. “But you picked the wrong day to mess with me, buddy.”

The thing took a step back, holding it’s palms up. “Cyrus, wait! It’s me!”

Cyrus eyes widened and he abandoned his stance. “Professor?”

Before either of them could say anything more, a white stream of web shot up from behind Cyrus, pinning the thing he now knew to be Professor Black to the wall.

“Do organics just have no survival instincts whatsoever?” Blackarachnia snapped at him, running into the room. “That thing would have slagged you, if I hadn’t found you in time! What were you thinking, running ahead?”

“Hey whoa, chill spider-lady,” Cyrus said, quickly positioning himself in fro of Professor Black. “Sorry for ditching you, but this guy’s on our side! He’s the spy we told you about!”

Blackarachnia gave Professor Black a skeptical look. “That’s him? No offense, but are humans supposed to look like that?”

“Normally not, no,” Cyrus admitted, turning around with a frown. “What’s the story behind that, Prof?”

“It’s not something I’m proud of,” Prometheus sheepishly. “But I think we should focus on getting out of here first. If you would please tell the nice lady to cut me down, then - oh, wait, I suppose that’ll take care of itself.”

While he was speaking, the acid that made up his body had managed to eat itself through Blackrachnia’s string, allowing him to drop down to the floor again.

Balckarachnia whistled, impressed. “That’s some pretty strong stuff.”

“I could do without it,” Prometheus replied sourly, making his way over to the reception desk. “Cyrus, come over. I’ll need you to press the buttons for me. We have to deactivate that force field, if we want to make it out.”

“U-Uh, yeah! Coming!” Cyrus stumbled after the professor, awkwardly standing beside him on the other side of the desk. A multitude of buttons, levers and dataports greeted him when he glanced at the desk’s surface. Professor Black already seemed to be searching for something in particular, though how he could make out any sense of coherence in this overly complicated device was beyond Cyrus.

Eventually, Professor Black pointed at a specific lever. “This one.”

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Outside, the rest of the Decepticons and Archer were still fighting off the drones.

“They just keep coming,” Starscream shouted, blasting a drone that had just attempted to shock him to smithereens.

“Let them!” Hothead snarled. “I nee to let off some steam!”

A yelp came from behind them.

“Either I am growing bigger, or this shield is growing stronger,” Lugnut grunted.

Megatron hastily put a servo to his helm. “Blackarachnia, whatever you are doing in there, stop it! You are strengthening the l!”

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

“It’s not working,” Blackarachnia told Cyrus. “Try something else!”

Prometheus tsked impatiently. “He must have changed the layout.One moment, I’ll have this figured out...” He leaned over the panel, eyes scanning the different levers, until they landed on a specific one, a little to the left of the on he’d told Cyrus to pull. “This one! I’m sure this time!”

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A slight buzzing noise was the only warning Lugnut got before the force field holding him up flickered and disappeared, letting him drop to the floor.

“It’s open! We should move!” Blitzwing called.

“No! These drones keep on coming,” Megatron answered, shooting a couple of drones attempting to surround him. “If we retreat inside, they’ll block the exit. Lugnut! Go and help Blackarachnia and the humans! We will hold Sumdac’s forced off here and secure our escape route!”

Lugnut gave a curt nod, then stomped into the building.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“That should have done it,” Prometheus said, satisfied. “Now we should be able to-”

The rattle of metal joints interrupted him mid-sentence. A swath of security drones spilled out of the adjacent halls.

“Aw, slag,” Cyrus cursed, instinctively putting himself in front of the professor.

“Guess I didn’t interrupt the call fast enough,” Prometheus said, awkwardly putting his hands up. “I don’t think I can melt them all.”

Blackarachnia’s optics flipped between the crones and the panel. Ina few seconds, she made a decision. “You won’t have to.”

The drones got into position. Blackarachnia jumped forward and planted her servos on the panel. Her upper arms sprouted devices reminiscent of magnets. She lifted her arms towards the drones and just as they started to fire, a barrier closed around her and the two humans.

“Fascinating!”Prometheus exclaimed, watching her with awe. “You duplicated that advanced technology in less than a second? Just by touching it?”

“It’s kind of my thing,” Blackarachnia replied. “Any idea how we get out of here?”

Before Prometheus could answer, loud thundering footsteps rang down the hall and in the next moment, Lugnut entered the room, clearly in a bad mood and smashing every unfortunate drone in his way.

“Well that takes care of that,” Cyrus remarked.

Balckarachnia lowered the shield and Lugnut came to a halt in front of them. When he noticed Prometheus, his optic narrowed. “What is that?”

“The spy,” Blackarachnia cut in, before Cyrus or Prometheus could answer. “No time to explain, I bet there’s more of those things-�� she pointed at the smashed drones on the floor,”-already on the way.”

Lugnut nodded. The four quickly made their way through the hall and back outside. The other Decepticons moved out of the way a Blackarachnia’s urging and she erected a barrier similar to the one she’d use inside, protecting them from the drones’ gunfire. Now in a safer environment, Megatron, Lugnut, Starscream and Blitzwing transformed into their vehicle modes, with Cyrus and Archer entering their previous rides.

Prometheus hesitated. “I don’t think I’ll be able to board any of you in my current-”

He felt a light buzzing under his feet and yelped when he was lifted up in a bubble consisting of the same material as the force field in the next moment.

“Already thought of that,” Blackarachnia called, steering the bubble on top of Lugnut and positioning herself beside it. “Can’t melt what you can’t touch!” She wasn’t looking forward to making the ride back in robot-mode, but in this case she’d just have to bear it. She knocked on Lugnut’s armor-plating. “Hurry up! I don’t know how long my download’s gonna last!”

The Decepticons took off, leaving the tower and the drones behind them.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sumdac watched his foes slip from his grasp on the monitors, shaking with rage.

How? How could this be??? He’d had the advantage this time! Victory should have been his! The resistance should have been crushed then and there! And yet they had again managed to elude him!

Snarling, he wiped the documents from his desk. For a moment, he considered activating the canons on top of his tower to try and shoot them down. But they were already too far away and he didn’t want to waste ammunition. Besides... he was not completely beaten yet.

Sumdac smirked. he still had an ace up his sleeve. Slowly, he stood up from his chair, calling upa few cleaning bots and then making his way to his personal labortatory.

Optimus Prime was following him with his eyes as he entered the room. Sumdac tried not to let him see how much he still unnerved him.

“The information I gave you turned out to be correct,” Optimus said. It wasn’t a question. “So? Do we have a deal?”

Sumdac didn’t answer immediately. He took his time comfortably settling himself in his chair, before looking up at Optimus with a sinister smile on his face. “Yes. Yes we have.”

#shattered glass animated #sga #episode 5 #transformers animated fan-write

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kayteewritessteve · 5 years ago

Text

Love and War - 14/16

Description: In a harsh medieval world, you set out on a perilous quest that will lead you onto a forbidden land. A land ruled and controlled by a ruthless Warlord King, one who does not look favourably upon trespassers of any kind, and punishes all with an iron fist. You may not know exactly where this quest will end, but what you do know is you will forever be altered by it. And that knowledge alone is what truly terrifies you the most.

Catch up HERE.

Word Count: 5,800 ish.

Pairing: Medieval!Steve Rogers x Reader.

Rating: PG for now. May become 18+ later.

Warnings: Violence. Curse words. Mentions of fears and potentially brutal medieval tactics. Most likely more to come down the road. Please don’t let these warnings scare you too much, give the story a try before you judge it.

A/N: I sadly don’t own any of these characters. And no beta reader either, so I do proudly own all these errors and this story, so there’s that.

You awaken to the feeling of being jostled, before you’re laid down on a plush, yet cold surface. It feels almost like a bed, but one that has been left unused in a cold room. You shiver from the chill slowly seeping into your body, as you slowly open your eyes to peer around. To establish where exactly you are.

Last you remember, you were in your room, wrapped up in the arms of the man you loved. The man you’d just married. The man you’d get to spend your eternity with.

But now, now you are alone. Now you are laying on some cold bed, with no muscular, warm arms anywhere in sight. Which means no Ari anywhere nearby, at least as far as you can tell. He must still be speaking with Athos, and you can only imagine how that conversation is going—though conversation is probably not the proper word to use here, it would probably be more accurate to say argument. As you knew full well that it would become very heated between them the moment Ari told his father the truth. Told him you were now wed, and that the deal with Hepha would be impossible now.

You smile at the thought, both of foiling Hepha’s ridiculous plans, but also at now being able to call Ari yours. Truly and entirely yours. He belonged to you, as you belonged to him. And nothing, or no one, could stand in the way of your undying love now. It would always be just the two of you, for forever and a day.

Your eyes finally fully open, but all you see is darkness. You wait for them to adjust to the low light of your room, but they never do. And it’s after a few moments that you realize something is over your face, some soft material is blocking your sight. You go to reach up to pull, what you assume is blankets, from your face, but your arms don’t move. They don’t respond to your commands, and that—well, that just isn’t right.

You begin to panic as you clue in that you have no control or power over your own body, your own form, and that you are essentially trapped within your skin. That realization only stand to cause you more anxiety, more panic. Why can’t you move?! Where is Ari? Where are you?!

“Ah, I see she has finally awaken,” you hear a disturbing voice comment, and a chill runs down your spine at the voice. One you knew all too well.

Before you can even think about why he is here, the fabric is pulled from your head and you blink a few times to clear your panicky haze. It doesn’t take but a moment to notice you aren’t in your room anymore.

No, from the looks of it, you aren’t even in a structure of any kind. Your eyes dart around as well as they are able, what with your current paralytic state and inability to even so much as move your head. The jagged rock surfaces, looking as if they were chiseled away painstakingly, bit by bit, and entirely by hand, is all you see. You are clearly underground, or maybe in a cave of some sort.

But then your wandering eyes land on 3 shadowy forms off to the side. 2 you recognize instantly, but the 3rd, a feminine form, is new to you. You go to speak, but no words come out, your lips not even moving at all.

“Don’t try to speak,” Hepha says as he moves from the darkness and into the light. Coming towards you and you go to shrink away from him, but once again, your body remains immobile and unresponsive. As he nears you, you can’t miss the smug grin on his face, as if he is proud of himself somehow. As if he is pleased with all of this. “No words will come out, you are under a spell that has paralyzed you.”

You want to snark back at him, make some sassy comment about having already clued in to that. But once again you can’t utter a word, so you settle for a loud sigh and an eye roll, only having control over your breathing and eyes. He’ll know your true disdain for him, if it takes every ounce of strength and determination that you have within you. He’ll know you loathe him in this moment, as you wouldn’t have it any other way.

He chuckles, shaking his head, “I see you still have your spirits about you, even in your current state.”

You just glare up at him, channelling all your hatred for this, this good-for-nothing bastard, into your eyes. Hoping he’d get the message.

A movement behind Hepha catches your eye and you snap them in that direction. Seeing a strange woman and Charandas; Hepha’s loyal dog and servant, now both moving towards you. The woman’s face is neutral, calm even, and something in her eyes tells you that everything will be okay. That you are safe here and she will protect you. But you don’t understand how that is even possible, or why she is even here.

You are curious how Hepha managed to bring this woman here, how he talked her into being a part of all of this. Something about her tells you she isn’t the type to partake in kidnap or imprisonment. So he must be holding something over her, he must be threatening something she loves. And if that is true, it wouldn’t surprise you in the slightest. Hepha was a manipulative snake, through and through.

The strange woman begins to pull out weird objects from her satchel, and you study her for a moment, before your eyes snap back to Hepha. A question settling within your curious glassy orbs.

And luckily for you, the buffoon seems to recognize that, and gives you a wretched grin, “I gather you are curious as to why you’re here?” He raises a brow then glances at the woman, “and who she is, perhaps?” You go to nod, but once again nothing happens. So you just stare pointedly at him, waiting for him to go on.

He chuckles. “I’ll start with the simple question,” he gestures to the woman, “this is Medea, and she is here to do a few different things. One of those was to paralyze you, and then to put you into a deep sleep. As I can’t have you escaping on me this time, now can I?”

You just glare up at him. Millions of questions and concerns running through your head, but you can’t seem to focus on any of them. The only thing you can feel in this moment is sheer anger and unwavering fear. Both of which are clouding your mind.

“As for why you are here, there are also a few different reasons for that as well, but the main ones being that you lied to me. You’ve made a fool of me, Y/N, and I can not allow that to stand. Aasira does not love me, she does not love anyone. You tricked me into believing she did, and for that you will pay.”

His hands move to clasp behind his back, as he begins to slowly pace. You can only intermittently see him, as his slow wandering brings him back to your line of sight, before he disappears again. Only to reappear a moment later. This goes on for a moment before he speaks again, his voice dripping with sheer anger and venom, “and because I overheard Alarick,” he spits the name out like spoilt milk on his tongue, “telling Athos about your little union. About how you both went behind everyone’s backs to secretly wed.” He abruptly stops pacing and leans towards you menacingly, “you think some stupid piece of parchment will stop me from obtaining what I desire most? The one thing I have yearned for above all else?”

He laughs loudly, standing back up as his head tips back, “if you truly do believe that, then you are more of a fool than I thought.” He shakes his head then his eyes meet yours, “I will stop at nothing to destroy the love between Alarick and you. He doesn’t deserve you, he doesn’t deserve to be happy. I have, and will always, love you more than he ever could. He will never care for you as I do.”

You narrow your eyes at him, this man truly is an utter buffoon. Taking someone against their will isn’t ‘love’, stealing them away in the night and bringing them to a desolate place such as this, is not ‘caring’ for someone. It’s kidnap, it’s deceit. He doesn't love you, he is a lunatic if he truly believes this is love. That this is how you show your feelings for another.

Why can’t he see this is madness?! That you don’t love him and you never will! That you love Alarick, and only Alarick, and that will never change. No matter how ridiculous his ploys become. Ari is your one true love, he is your everything, for eternity.

He is pacing again, his voice still oozing malice and spite. “I was so angered by your actions, by your betrayal, that I came up with this little plan. One that would effectively kill two birds with one stone, so to speak,” he abruptly stops pacing, his hands unclasping from behind his back to gesture around the dimly lit space, “I will imprison you within this cave, and keep you and Alarick from each other. He will live out his days searching for his true love,” he spits venomously, “unable to rest, unable to so much as breathe without you. He will crumble, he will wither away, he will become a shell of the man he once was. And that will be my revenge on him. He will spend his entire life endless wandering, hopelessly hunting for you. But he will never find you, and will instead be left entirely alone and miserable. Which, in my eyes, is all he deserves.”

He chuckles, a zestful sound to match the joyous smile now upon his lips, as if that image of Alarick brings him great comfort. Allows him sheer happiness in this moment.

He looks down at you once again, his calloused hand coming up to caress your cheek. The feeling of his disgusting hand upon you, makes you sick. Makes you want to cringe away from him, puke and smack him, all at the same time. You are utterly revolted by the contact, the only man who should ever lay a hand on you, is Alarick. And if he knew of this, of this bastards hands upon your skin, he’d be on a warpath, a complete rampage. He’d be truly out for blood.

“Now that just leaves the final reason as to why I’ve chosen to imprison you here, my love.” Those two words leaving his chapped lips only stand to disgust you further. “I refuse to share you with another, I refuse to lose you to that, that beast. I will hide you here, in this place, where I may visit you whenever I so please. Where you will belong to only me. My most prized possession for which only my eyes may gaze upon. You will be only mine, forever.”

He glances over his shoulder, ushering the strange woman forward with a movement of his fingers. She quickly scurries to the other side of you, picking up your left hand and clasping it tightly within her own. Though not tight enough to hurt, just enough to have a firm grip on it. Then she closes her eyes and begins to chant, the words foreign to you, sounding as if she is speaking in tongues.

After a few moments of this, your heart pounding hard against your rib cage, like a galloping horses hooves against the ground, your eyelids become heavy. You try to fight to keep them open, but the immense weight now upon them slowly begins to win out. You start to lose the battle as they flutter for a moment, before all that is left is darkness. Is a black void for which you are now trapped.

The final thing you feel is complete and utter hopelessness, and the crippling fear that Alarick won’t find you, that he will not be victorious in rescuing you this time. You prey he can find peace with this, that he can move on from the loss of you. That should he never track you down, should he never set eyes upon your skin ever again, that he can come to terms with that. That he can learn to live without you.

Those thoughts break your heart, but true love is hoping with all hope that the one you adore is alive, is happy with their life, and content in its outcomes. Even if the cost of that is your own wellbeing, even if the price is your own heart, happiness, and future. You want nothing more than for them to be settled, to be happy, to be truly okay.

Ari’s face, the last image you see as the darkness finally consumes you, swallowing you whole.

“My Lady,” you hear a frantic whispered voice attempting to pull you from the dark. “You must open your eyes, My Lady.”

You groan, your eyes slowly fluttering open, feeling as though they are currently being held down by some invisible force. They finally open fully and take a second to adjust to the low light, before they settle on an unfamiliar face leaning over yours.

“My Lady,” she whispers hastily, “I haven’t much time, but I need to tell you something of grave importance. And you must remember these next words entirely,” she glances around the space quickly before her eyes lock with yours. “I have made a talisman from your ring,” she holds up a beautiful ring in front of you. One you’ve never seen before, but yet she claims is yours. “It is the key to all of this, My Lady. It will unlock everything. When you finally rise, you must put it on, it will give you all that has been stolen from you. It will return all that is lost.”

You furrow your brows at her cryptic words, your eyes moving from the ring in her hands, to glance around the dark unfamiliar space. Where the Gods are you?! And who is this strange woman?!

She chuckles quietly, “I am Medea, My Lady.”

Your eyes snap back to her, seeing a sweet yet sad smile upon her lips. Did she just—How does she know what you’re thinking?!

“I can hear your thoughts,” she whispers. “You will escape this place one day, but until then, I promise you will be safe here. This is all part of the prophecy, Fate has chosen this path for you. It was set in stone long before my time, and will play out exactly as it should, long after I am gone. You will see, all will be made right in the end. But you must remember this ring, My Lady, you must replace it to it’s rightful spot upon your finger. Heed my words, this ring is the key to it all.”

Why are you doing this?! Why am I here?!

“Because the Fates have decided upon it, because this is as it should be. All will come into the light one day, all will be made known to you in due time.” She smiles, but you can tell it’s forced, “even if Hepha had not sought me out and threatened my life, or the lives of my children, I would have been here. As this is my destiny, my part in Fates plan, and I’ve known it all along. I always knew he would come, and that his arrival would be my undoing.” She sighs, “though even with that said, can you promise me one thing. Just to ease a dying woman’s mind.”

You furrow your brows again, and attempt to slowly nod but nothing happens. Your head doesn’t move, not even slightly. Promise you what, exactly?

“I knew this would all come to pass many moons ago, that this is how my life would end. But a mother's love is unwavering, it is unbreakable, and even with the knowledge of all that is to pass, I still need to hear the words. To know without any shadow of a doubt that they will be okay.”

What do you mean? Who will be? Your children?

“Yes, my children,” she sighs, tears now forming in her eyes. “Promise me you will look out for them. Promise me you will love them.”

You stare at her for a moment, completely and totally lost. Where will you be? Why do you need me to promise this to you?

“I will be long gone from this place.” She glances up at the rocky roof wistfully, as if to look to the sky, “somewhere near yet far.” Her eyes drop back down to meet yours, “and I just need to know they will be okay, that someone will watch out for them, will truly love them. And who more fitting than you, My Lady,” she gestures to you.

Who are your children? Where will I find them? How will I find them?

“You won’t find them, they will find you, when the time is right,” she grasps your hand tightly. “Please, promise me they will be safe with you?”

I don’t know if I can promise that. I don’t even know who I am, or where I am. How can I make a promise to you that I can’t possibly keep. How can I vow to keep them safe, when I have no idea what the future will hold for me.

“I know what it will hold,” she nods and squeezes your hand gently. “They will rescue you one day, but you must promise to watch out for them once they do.”

Okay, I promise I will do everything in my power to keep them safe. To love them. And to watch out for them.

She is about to speak, when the sound of rocks crumbling halts her. Her whole body becomes rigid and unmoving for a moment, before she leans down and whispers, “sleep now, My Lady. And thank you for allowing this old woman one final moment of peace before her end. But please remember, the ring is the key to all of this. You must find it and put it on once you wake, it will be hidden somewhere within this cave. Find it. Return it to it’s rightful place. And follow your Fate chosen destiny.”

Okay, I will, Medea. I promise.

She smiles one last time at you, before your world begins to slip into darkness. Your eyes feeling heavy, and the only thought running through your mind is your promise, and the image of the ring you will need to find once you awaken.

And then, all is just never-ending blackness. A void of nothingness that’s clouded in utter silence.

“Y/N!”

“Oh Gods, Y/N please wake up!”

“What’s wrong with her? Why isn’t she responding?”

“How should I know?!”

Your eyes snap open, as your body lunges up from your laying down position. You hear gasps around you as your eyes adjust to the low lighting. You frantically search the space, as the hazy forms around you begin to morph into people. Not just people but your friends, your family.

As they come fully into focus, you see the worried and startled expressions now written all over their faces.

“The ring is the key to all of this,” you whisper, going to stand but your limbs are wobbly and tingly.

Sam quickly grabs hold of you, “slowly, Y/N. Nice and slow.” He helps you stand, holding you up for a moment while you regain your balance and control.

After a few moments you feel okay, and give him a nod, “thank you, Sam, I believe I can stand on my own now.”

He looks hesitant, but reluctantly releases you. His hands staying close just in case you start to plummet to the floor again.

“Are you okay?” Wanda asks as she moves in front of you and her eyes assess your whole form, as if to see if you’re hurt. “How do you feel?”

You think it over for a moment, then respond truthfully, “I feel fine. A little hazy, but normal.”

“Oh thank the Gods,” Pietro sighs deeply, as he engulfs you in a hug, causing you to chuckle softly. He pulls back after a moment, “you had us really worried there for a moment, Y/N.”

You glance around at the others, “what happened?”

“You just passed out. We have no idea why,” Wanda tells you.

“You touched the glass coffin and just dropped,” Sam adds, worry still prominent in his voice.

You nod, your eyes now scanning the room, “I remember being brought here.” You look to Wanda and Pietro, “I made a promise to someone. One I fully intend to keep, now that I can actually remember it.”

They both nod slowly, glancing at each other before turning back to you. And you can’t miss the confused looks on both their faces now.

You take a few shaky steps, Sam directly behind you, his hands out as if to catch you should you fall. Your eyes continue to search the dark space, glancing to Natasha as you reach a hand out to her, “may I borrow that?”

She furrows her brows as she looks down to the torch in her hand, then passes it to you. “Thanks,” you smile and begin to move around the space. Checking the small dark crevasses thoroughly as you do.

“What exactly are you looking for?” Natasha asks as the four of them follow closely behind you.

You don’t turn to them, keeping your eyes focus on searching. “The ring.”

“The ring?” Wanda asks slowly, sounding utterly confused.

“Yes, it is the key to all of this,” you nod.

“Should we be searching for this ring as well?” Sam asks.

“If you could,” you finally glance back, smiling at him. “It is vital that we find it. It will unlock everything.” Then your eyes return to scouring the dark areas, “you can’t miss it, it will have a large moonstone in it.”

He furrows his brows, but nods. Him and Natasha then move to the other side of the space, and begin searching. Thankfully they both have exceptional night vision, meaning you can keep the torch for your own search efforts. Wanda and Pietro then join you, searching the areas along with you. As the light hits new spots, the three of you thoroughly check them for anything that stands out, that resembles a ring.

A few moments later, a small twinkle catches your eye. You quickly make your way towards it, lowering yourself down and holding the light up to the area. The light hits something and causes it to glimmer and shine. You reach your hand into a small crevice, your fingers grazing something small and cold. Something not made from this place, a foreign material. One that feels very much like metal.

You stretch your fingers as far as you can, finally grasping the small object and pulling it out from it’s hiding place. The others are surrounding you now, having noticed you crouching down to retrieve something.

You hold it in your hand, staring down at it for a moment. It looks exactly as it had in your memory, only now more weathered and tarnished. The others stand around you, looking at the ring now sitting atop your open palm.

You hand Natasha the torch before you move to place the ring on your finger, but a gentle hand grasps yours and prevents you from continuing the action. You look up to see Wanda staring back at you. “Are you sure this is a good idea, Y/N?”

“What if this is all just some elaborate trick?” Sam asks.

“Or what if this causes you to fall into another deep sleep?” Pietro adds.

You turn to Natasha, who hasn’t spoken a word yet. She is looking intently at the ring, as if she recognizes it but yet doesn’t. Her eyes flick up to yours and you can see the confusion in them. The conflict. “Part of me wants to agree with the other. To think logically here,” she starts, her eyes dropping back to the ring in your hand. “But something else tells me that ring means so much more than any of us can even fathom. That it stands for so much more.” She shakes her head, as if trying to joggle a memory loose, “that it was made in the name of love, and that fact alone will never allow it to harm you, to deceive you, or to steer you wrong.” She locks eyes with you again, “I think you should put it on.”

“What?” Sam gasps, eyes wide as he spins to look at Natasha. “You’re just going to go along with this? You’ve never even seen this ring before in your life, how do you know it won’t harm her?!”

She shrugs, “I don’t, but my instincts tell me it won’t, and I always trust my gut.” She looks at the ring again, “But I do think I have seen it before, I just can’t remember it.” She sighs, shaking her head again, “it sounds ridiculous, I know. But I’m positive I’ve laid eyes on this ring before. It’s like I recognize it, yet I don’t.”

Her eyes meet yours and you smile, nodding that you understand what she means then you look between Wanda and Pietro. “She was right, you did end up finding me. You did end up rescuing me. And even though I had forgotten her words, I somehow managed to keep my promise to her.”

They both furrows their brows. “Who?” They ask in unison.

“Medea. Your mother,” you whisper, glancing up at the rocky roof just as she had. As if you could see her up there, looking down on you all and watching. “I made her a promise that I intend to keep.”

Wanda gasps, her hand releasing yours as it moves to cover her mouth. “How did you,” she begins to murmur but trails off as your eyes drop back down to meet hers.

“You knew her?” Pietro asks softly. “How is that even possible?”

You flick your eyes to his and give him a small, unsure smile, “I don’t know how it’s possible. But she was here,” you glance around, “in this cave. She came to me, and told me of the ring. She made me promise to watch out for you both, to love you both.” You nod once, “and that is why I need to do this,” you say determinedly as you quickly push the ring onto your finger, before anyone else can even attempt to stop you again.

And instantly your head pounds, you gasp as you clench your eyes shut and your hands move to your temples. The immense pain ripping through you is like nothing you’ve ever felt before. The throbbing causes you to cry out in agony as your legs buckle and you collapse to the floor. Landing heavily on your knees as you lean forward, your fingers digging into your skin in any attempt to rid your skull of the intense and immeasurable pain coursing through it. The feeling of millions of tiny knives slicing and cutting away at your brain, at your mind.

Memories begin to return to you at a rapid pace. Images, feelings, emotions and sounds all coming back to you in chunks and pieces. All slowly forming full stories, entire recounts of past moments in your life. It feels as if you are the sand, and your memories are the oceans unrelenting waves continuously crashing down upon you.

You grit your teeth, your lids scrunching together tighter as you attempt to endure this agony for as long as you can. You pray you can take this all, you hope you can survive this torture. That you can just hold on long enough for it to all be over. For it to be finished.

After what feels like an eternity, the pain finally subsides. It finally ends. And you take a few deep shaky breaths, your hands drop from your head and land on the cold ground, as you lean forward and allow yourself a moment of reprieve. A few seconds to just breath.

You finally open your eyes, pushing yourself back up to rest in your folded legs. The two Lycan’s both look even more concerned than they had before, they have this strange helpless look in their eyes and you instantly realize Wanda and Pietro are seating on the ground as well. Both on their folded knees just like you. Both have the same dazed, yet aware look on their faces that you are sure resembles your own features in this moment.

A silence falls over the cave as you just glance between the 2 siblings, taking them in, in an entirely new light now. As they both do the same, just staring right back at you.

Sam is the first to speak up, “okay, what the hell was that!?”

You chuckle as you look up at him, seeing his furrowed brows as he also glances between the three of you now seated on the floor. Before you can say a word, Wanda pipes up, “Do you remember everything too?”

You smile at her, nodding, “I do. I remember everything and more now.”

You go to try to stand, Wanda and Pietro noticing and quickly jumping up to help you. “Here, My Lady. Let us help you,” Pietro says politely as he gently grasps one of your arms, Wanda taking the other as they softly pull you up to stand.

“Just because we all have our memories back, doesn’t change anything,” you sweetly scold him. “I am, and always will be just Y/N to you both. Got it?”

They both nod, softly saying, “yes,” in unison.

“Good. So none of this ‘My Lady’ crap. I didn’t like it before I got my memories back, and I still don’t like it now,” you grin at them.

“Alright,” Sam starts, drawing all the attention back to him, “can somebody please explain what the hell is going on? What did you all just remember?!”

The fiery redhead across from you sighs loudly at Sam’s interruption. “You’re always so damned impatient,” she says as she rolls her eyes, and an involuntary smile breaks out upon your lips at the action. You can’t seem to tear your eyes away from her, giving her a full assessing once over. It had been too long.

He glares at her, playfully, “oh, and you aren’t even the least bit curious as to what we just witnessed?”

She crosses her arms and glares right back at him, though hers isn’t playful. You know that for a fact. “Of course I am, but I also know we will find out eventually. When the time is right. As I actually have this thing called patience.”

He scoffs, shaking his head then turns to you again with curious, questioning eyes.

You chuckle at him, “you’ll know soon enough, Sam. But right now, we all have to get back to the castle. There is something I urgently need to attend to. I promise I’ll explain everything once that is finished, but this can’t wait any longer.” You turn on your heel and begin to make your way out of the cave, hearing 4 sets of footsteps following behind you as you do.

You exit the hidden passageway and step back out into the dazzling light of the setting sun. The sky a beautiful array of blues, purples and pinks.

“Wait,” you feel a hand grip your upper arm, turning to see the feisty redhead now behind you, her eyes scanning the forest's edge.

“What is it?” You ask, turning to look in the same direction she is, and a gasp leaves your lips when you see what she does.

Men. So many men. All now emerging from the dense tree line, and coming to stand along it’s edge, with weapons in hand.

“Thank you for returning her to me,” a booming voice shouts and your eyes snap over to see Hepha, standing in the middle of the vast line of warriors and mercenaries. “If you leave her here and go, none of you will be harmed. You are severely outnumbered, so I’d recommend you don’t do anything foolhardy.”

Two deep, menacing growls rip from behind you as you are pulled back and pushed behind them both. Wanda and Pietro also tucked protectively behind the two larger bodies, along with you.

“Like hell we will leave her behind,” the redhead yells back, then side eyes Sam as she quickly whispers, “Sam, get them back to the castle. Now!”

“What, and leave all the fun to you?” He scoffs.

“Don’t argue with me right now, Samuel. I’ll hold them off for a bit, while you all get away, and then I will be right behind you,” she snaps back at him.

“You can’t be serious,” he gapes at her. “You can’t take all of them on by yourself!”

“I can,” she affirms. “Now get them out of here! I won’t be far behind you.”

He is about to argue with her, but you desperately need to get back to the castle. You can’t let Hepha get anywhere near you, nor prevent you from finishing all of this once and for all. You need to reach the King, you need to tell him the whole truth. You now know exactly where Alarick is hiding, where he is currently waiting for you, and now you just need to figure out how to reach him.

You grab Sam’s arm and forcefully turn him to face you. “Sam! We have to go. She will be fine, I promise you that. She is more than able to hold her own, trust me, I know exactly what she is capable of. Now you need to shift, you have to get us back to the castle. There is no time to argue.”

He stares at you for a second then nods, “okay, fine. But once I shift I won’t be able to talk to you, so I’ll lower down and then you all have to climb on and hold on tight to my fur. Don’t worry, it won’t hurt me. And whatever you do, don’t let go.”

“Shift?” Wanda asks quietly, to no one in particular. And you instantly realize that the siblings have no idea about the fact that the whole kingdom of Winterbourne consists entirely of Lycan’s. This is going to be a little intense for them both, but you don’t have time to explain everything in detail to them right now. They will just have to trust you.

You nod quickly at Sam, “okay, got it. You’ll need to send word to,” you hesitate for a second, “Steve that we are coming. Now shift!”

He nods then leaps into the air, handing gracefully on all fours, the shiny fur of his beautiful chocolate brown wolf glistening in the setting sunlight. You’ve never seen a more enchanting creature in your life—well, aside from the King’s golden wolf.

Wanda gasps loudly at the sight and you turn quickly to look at them. “I don’t have the time to explain any of this right now. But Sam won’t hurt either of you, and we will need to ride him back to the castle. I just need you both to trust me on this, I’ll explain more when this is all over.”

They both tear their eyes away from Sam’s giant wolf and look to you, taking a deep breath before they both nod shakily. You nod back then turn to focus on Sam, just as he lowers himself down. “Okay, hop on,” you instruct them, “and grab his fur tightly, it won’t hurt him.”

They both nod again and then the three of you quickly climb onto his back, adjusting and grabbing firm holds on his fur. You glance back at Wanda and Pietro, “ready?” They both nod one last time and then you quickly say, “alright, go Sam! We are good up here!”

And just like that, he takes off like a bat out of hell. The trees and shrubs zipping past you at an alarming rate, you didn’t realize until this exact moment just how fast Lycan’s could actually move. Sam expertly maneuvers between trees and bushes, over rocks and fallen trees, every step is calculated and precise. As if he can predict every upcoming obstacle and the exact movement it will take to get around it. Like he is watching it all in slow motion. It’s truly awe inspiring to witness first hand, and if you weren’t so preoccupied with reaching the safety of the castle, you may have put more interest into just watching how he moves so gracefully in his wolf form.

But right now, all you can think about is getting away from Hepha, reaching the King, and then finally locating and reuniting with your one true love, your husband, your world, your Ari.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

@caps-lockdown @tfandtws @boxofteenageideas @wangdeasang @giggleberts @casuallydarktiger @theonelittleone @agentbadbitch @ratwrites @starrystellars @bandsandanimefreak @rockyroadthepastryarchy @lovvliies @cuffski @icesoccerer @alwaysright4 @lilsthethrills @steeeeverogers @zombiepotterfour @ledandan1244 @straightforwardly @denzmallows @xremember-me-notx @gwynethjodie @lollipopdomination @capstopavenger @jemimah-b99 @rcvenqers @justkending @alagalaska @silent-loucidity @sabertooth-potato @pies-wands-and-more @interstellarmess @gabriella69816 @phantom-soilder @wordlesscaptain @captain-hammer-of-asgard @starstucknature @viarogers @pixieferry @kaithezaftig @the-kinkiest-goblin @hysterically-original @heyiamthatbitch @zlixlle @capsicledoll @givemehopenfandoms @pretendingandpreposterous @frozen-phoenix17 @emotionallysalty @atomicsludgedonutbiscuit @saturngirlz @ivannagotthebeat @bohemian-barbie @marvelous-capsicle @ivoryhazlewood @steverogersxreader @cjhorseback @secondstar2disney @jessiedaeum @betsynodak @sister-of-stars @wiserebelpartypie @patzammit

#au fanfiction #fanfiction #long post #long read #marvel au #marvel fanfiction #steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x you #medieval!steve rogers x reader #medieval!steve rogers #medieval au #fantasy!steve rogers x reader #fantasy!steve rogers #fantasy au #steve rogers au #love and war #chapter 14

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daquanfromthetrap · 5 years ago

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Sebastian x Reader(Chapter 1)

You groaned hearing the news that you, along with your father, were expected to attend a ball at the Phantomhive estate. You dreaded these high-class social gatherings and found it a bit suffocating to be an unmarried, unbetrothed young lady of your social standing. It was comparable to being a sheep among wolves. Wolves that were ravenous for titles, money, and power. Personally, you didn’t care much for nobility or the gentry. You found it all to be quite boring. Unfortunately for you however, you and your father were formally invited to the Phantomhive manor to attend a ball the young lord was hosting. Your father had recently been given the new title of the “Queen’s Spider” due to the untimely death of the previous Spider and now had the dutiful obligation to attend these ridiculous parties. Alas, being a woman of noble birth as well as being your father’s only child, you too had duties to fulfill, if you were going to inherit your father’s land and title.

“Tonight, I need you to be on your best behavior, Darling”, your father remarked as he studied the scowl you wore on your face. “I need you to look your best as well. This will be my first meeting with the Earl Phantomhive and I intend to make the best impression. No doubt, he is just as eager to meet his new counterpart as well.”

“Hmph, you speak as if I behave like some sort of savage”, you muttered.

“That is not my intended meaning, Darling,” he chuckled. “I just would like to emphasize the fact that we will be in the company of some very prominent families tonight, and you know how the nobility can be once they see anything that is deemed indecent in their noble eyes. We must make the maximum effort to exhibit our worthiness of this title as well as upholding the honor of our family’s name.”

“Yes, yes, I know Father. I was just teasing. You do know how I loathe these petty gatherings. Nonetheless, Adira and I will begin the preparations for tonight’s ball, since I am to look my very best for all those fatheaded peacocks” you smiled, grabbing your handmaiden and rushing out of the room before your father can lecture you on your language.

***Meanwhile at the Phantomhive Estate***

“Sebastian, what else do we know about the Queen’s new Spider?” Ciel questions his butler while sipping on his tea.

“Well, my lord, let me see...” *Sebastian dramatically pulls out a long scroll* “Lord Reginald Herbert, 15th Earl of Pembroke and 12th Earl of Montgomery. He is a direct descendent of William Marshall, 1st Earl of Pembroke, who is also often referred to as the greatest medieval knight. Through the generations, this family has maintained their title and traditions of knighthood as well as being formally acknowledged by the royally family. He currently has no wife or sons and is to be succeeded by his only child, Lady (Y/N) Herbert... oh, and he also has a fondness for cats and proudly holds an impressive collection of stamps.”

“Interesting”, Ciel takes a moment to consider all Sebastian has told him. “When Lord Herbert and his daughter arrive, I want you to keep a very close eye on them. Watch who they mingle with. I want a full report of their whereabouts throughout the night.”

“Yes, my lord.”

____________time skip to the arrival at the Phantomhive Ball___________

Your carriage was steadily approaching the Phantomhive estate. It was impressive. You could already begin to hear the excited clamoring of the party guests as you near the entrance of the manor. You could just barely make out the figure of a young boy next to a tall, lanky man, greeting each of the guests at the door.

You turn to look at your father before he states, “You look absolutely radiant, Darling.”

“It’s true milady. This dress is gorgeous on you” Adira, your handmaiden, expresses proudly.

You remain quiet, looking out at the manor before you. When the carriage comes to a halt, you take a deep breath, preparing yourself for the night ahead.

The three of you are greeted at the top of the entrance steps by none other than Lord Phantomhive and his butler. He’s shorter than you imagined. A lot younger too. When you heard of the renowned Earl Phantomhive, you would have never imagined such a young boy.

After greeting your father, the boy turns to you and smiles, “We are honored to have you here my lady.”

“The pleasure is mine, my lord.” you curtsy before looking up to catch the crimson eyes of his butler, watching you intently.

You never break eye contact with the butler as you stand back up from your curtsy. To this, he seems surprised, widening his eyes ever so slightly. There is something about this butler that you can’t quite place your finger on. You notice that Ciel also quietly notes the reaction his butler has had to you before introducing him.

“This is Sebastian Michaelis, my butler.”

Sebastian quickly regains his composure at the words of his master and takes a step forward, bowing. “We welcome you to the Phantomhive estate. My lord. My lady.”

You continue to watch him while he remains bowing, one hand on his chest and the other behind his back, eyes closed with a polite smile on his lips. As Lord Phantomhive welcomes you into the manor, your father takes your arm while they continue their conversation on the way inside. You pass Sebastian, still silently watching him, and from the corner of your eye, you catch a glimpse of him opening his eyes to watch you too.

Once inside, you take an observation of the party in front of you and those who are in attendance. Adira quietly excuses herself to stand amongst the other servants. Seeing that your father is deeply in conversation with the young lord, you excuse yourself to walk through the crowd of mingling nobles. Much to your chagrin, you are stopped by some bloke sporting an elegant white suit with a ridiculous amount of ruffles and jewelry.

“And who might this young dove be?” He asked while grabbing your hand and pulling you into him.

You were dumbfounded by the boldness and sudden closeness of this stranger but remained calm, remembering your father’s request to be on your best behavior tonight.

At this rate, I won’t last the night with the likes of him hanging around me, you thought as you gently pushed the man away from you. Judging by the blond hair, lavender eyes, and the animated melodrama, you determined that the nuisance that stood in front of you was the Viscount of Druitt, Aleistor Chamber. You had heard of the Viscount’s eccentric behavior but you had never thought it would be this brash.

You gritted your teeth, mustering up any resilience you had in you to give the Viscount a polite curtsy and smile before introducing yourself. “Pardon me, my lord. I am (Y/N) Herbert. My father is Lord Reginald Herbert. I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure of meeting you, sir.”

“My Lady (Y/N)! My beautiful dove! I have so looked forward to meeting you. I have only but heard of your exquisite beauty!...”

You rolled your eyes, quietly backing away from the blabbering buffoon. The fool is so caught up in his own voice that I could be removing my frock and he wouldn’t even notice.

“For me to have you, right here, in front of my eyes, I cannot bear it!! You must stop playing coy and simply dance with me this instant, my darling! Let us take flight into the night as turtledoves do and dance this night away with a passion so fiery that even the devil himself, could not withstand it!!”

By the end of his act, he had struck a rather dramatic pose right before opening his eyes and noticing your absence. Hiding behind the ballroom doors, you listened to his over-exaggerating exclaims of lost love. You couldn’t help but giggle, as you turned to relieve yourself from this crowd of insufferable individuals. Just as you turned, you hit something. Or someone.

“Pa-pardon me. I wasn’t paying attention. I’m sorry.” you stuttered bashfully. Embarrassed of your clumsiness and carelessness. Damn it, pay attention you idiot!

You looked up to see that you had actually bumped into Sebastian, the butler. He smiled before bowing, “The fault is mine, my lady. I was not paying any mind to where I was standing, and for that, I sincerely apologize.”

You laughed. “You surely, cannot be apologizing for merely standing in a spot you, by no doubt, were ordered to stand in. I accept your apology, sir, but the fault is mine.” You nodded your head at him, gently placing your hand on his arm for a moment.

At the touch of his arm, you felt something. A shock? A spark? No. More like a pulse. A hum. A tangible energy of some sort. As sudden as the feeling came, it disappeared. It was clear that the butler had also felt this same feeling as he stood there, wide-eyed and frozen, gaping at you in bewilderment. His look of astonishment was soon switched to one of intrigue along with something else. Distrust? Wariness?

The butler regathered himself before clearing his throat. “Please my lady. Call me Sebastian.” He politely smiled at you. “And, if I may, that was some rather impressive maneuvering I seen you do back there. The Viscount of Druitt can be very...” He paused for a moment searching for an appropriate word, “...intense.”

“That’s one word for it.” you muttered under your breath.

“If I may ask, my lady. Where is it that you were off to?”

“Anywhere’s better than here”, you looked at the crowd of people dancing, drinking, and laughing.

“Oh? Would you like me to retrieve your handmaiden to accompany you?”

You scanned the crowd to spot Adira talking to the other servants. She seemed to be enjoying herself. You quickly looked over the crowd to see your father amongst a group of nobles, including the ball’s host. He too seemed to be enjoying himself. You sighed and shook your head, “Poor girl needs a break. I think I can manage on my own.”

“Well, if it’s not too much trouble milady, may I accompany you on your trek to anywhere?” He smiled, lacing the last few words in sarcasm. “If you like, I can offer you an exclusive tour of the Phantomhive manor.”

You eyed him warily before accepting his offer of accompanying you. Don’t want to let the new spiders out of your sights aye? I appreciate the vigilance Lord Phantomhive. “Very well then. Although, I don’t care for the manor very much. I wish to be shown the gardens.”

“As you wish, milady.”

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Author’s note:

So it begins... I didn’t want to make this post too long bc I have so many ideas for future parts/chapters so here is a bit of introduction to the story!! Think of this ending as that part right before commercial break. Promise things will start picking up soon!! Hope you guys like it!!!!! <3

#sebastian michaelis x reader #sebastian michaelis #sebastian michaelis imagine #black butler #black butler imagines #black butler x reader #ciel phantomhive #kiroshitsuji

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eris223 · 5 years ago

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@kokkoro tis I, your Secret Santa!

It’s been a pleasure chatting with you these past few weeks. I hope you have a wonderful New Year’s Eve full of relaxation after the craziness of the holidays. I wrote something for you. Just a fun little fic inspired by some of our chats:

Charming Bites & Lady Knights

The parking lot was packed. Lexa’s shoulders slumped, and she pulled into the final available spot, steeling her mind, body, and soul for the inevitable irritation that came with being in a crowd of holiday treat shoppers.

As she slugged through the snow-dusted lot, Lexa reminded herself that this quest came only once a year. Only during the holidays did her mother, who never asked anything of her daughter, request a few charming bites, as she called them. And dammit, Lexa was a noble and true daughter.

So here she stood, calming herself before the local dairy farm and bakery.

The tintinnabulation as she pushed open the heavy door was nearly lost to the constant chatter of bakery employees and frantic customers. Lexa weaved in and out of bustling shoppers, coming to a halt at the end of a ten-person line.

The bakery counter line crawled forward, and every time Lexa dipped her head to the side to gain insight on why the line was moving so slowly, all she saw was a flash of blonde hair attached to a blur of a frenzied yet striking young woman.

“It’s moving slowly, isn’t it, dear?”

Lexa smiled at the old woman who just hopped in line behind her.

“It’s always a mess during the holidays.” Her words were direct and easily interpreted as annoyed, yet the elder’s smile was anything but.

While Lexa was no deipnosophist, she could manage a bit of chit-chat with a kindly old lady who reminded her of her best friend’s doting grandmother. “I think that employee is the only one working the counter. It can’t be easy with this many people,” Lexa motioned towards the counter just as the blonde woman heaved a sigh and greeted the next customer.

“That poor dear,” the old woman clicked her tongue. “We’ll be sure to leave her a nice tip, won’t we?”

Lexa nodded, her cheeks aching with the smile she sported. It wasn’t every day she met someone genuinely kind.

The line still moved at a glacial pace, but with the light and easy conversation with her line partner, the time passed quickly. Soon enough, Lexa stood only two people from the front.

“What do you mean, ‘it’s not ready’? I called it in three days ago!”

A hoarse voice crashed into Lexa’s ears, and she whipped her head towards the front of the line. A burly man leaned forward, hands on the counter, shoulders tense, as he continued to berate the pretty employee.

“I left a message on the machine. I said it needed to be ready today!”

“Sir,” the woman’s voice was calm yet peppered with exhaustion, and it was so much more luscious than Lexa anticipated. “Did someone from the bakery call to confirm or give you an order number?”

“Can’t you just give me one of those?” He motioned towards the stack of cakes on the back counter, and Lexa’s skin bristled.

A bout of pure protective nature coursed through her veins as she watched the young woman set her lips in a firm yet polite line.

“I’m sorry, sir, but those are reserved for other custo-”

“This is ridiculous,” he spat at the employee, and Lexa’s muscles tensed. “I can’t believe how far this place has fallen. Hiring fools instead of employees. I want a cake. There are cakes right there…”

Lexa wrapped her hand around the hilt of her sword, her leather gauntlet stretching as she flexed her fingers. She drew the blade slow and with purpose, holding it at the ready.

She tapped the tip of her sword to the rude man’s shoulder. “Thou must apologize to the fair maiden. She art naught but a kind woman caught in a difficult situation.”

He turned with malice laced throughout his gaze. “And who do you think you are? Her knight in shining armor?”

Lexa stood tall, her heavy hauberk shifting and jingling, filling her with pride and confidence. “If she would permit me to be, aye.”

She spared a glance to the maiden in question, and the small nod Lexa received bolstered her further. “Apologize, or I will be duty-bound to defend her honor.”

The man gave Lexa an acute once over, sizing up his competition. With a low growl, he reached behind him, pulling a longsword from the scabbard on his back.

The metal blade scraped loud and dull against his sheath, and Lexa smirked. An expert swordsman could draw silently. This oaf was just a rude buffoon who needed to be taught a lesson in humility.

He swung without warning, his four-foot blade slicing through the air. Lexa, much quicker with her arming sword, ducked beneath the clumsy attempt.

With a flash of steel, Lexa whipped her lighter and swifter sword low, confident her foe would be unable to block such a blow. As her blade clanged hard against his battle-battered greaves, he stumbled backwards.

Lexa leapt into action, assaulting the retreating man with a succession of sudden attacks.

He grunted, his breath drawing in quick bursts with the peripeteia of combat. Emboldened by her enemy’s perpetually slower parries, Lexa ducked under a final graceless swing and landed a devastating blow to the center of his cuirass.

The large man stumbled, and this time, fell to his knees. Chest heaving with exertion, Lexa held the tip of her sword to the soft underside of his throat. “Thou hast lost. Apologize.”

“Dear? It’s your turn.”

Lexa shook her head, ridding her overactive mind of knights and chivalry. She cleared her throat and stepped up to the counter.

“Hi.”

The blonde employee was overwhelmingly gorgeous, with bonhomie dripping from her eyes down to the soft smile adorning her lips. Despite the heat in her cheeks and the fluttering in the pit of her stomach, a halcyon wave crashed around Lexa. After what seemed like an eternity, she muttered back a simple greeting.

“What can I do for you today?” The woman rested her hands gently on the counter in front of her, and Lexa, the suddenly smitten woman she was, completely forgot the reason she was actually there. She thought of nothing but the rude man who insulted this beauteous creature before her.

“I would like to formally apologize on behalf of that man from earlier.” Lexa locked eyes with brilliant blue. “He was out of line, and you were nothing but professional and courteous towards him-” Lexa leaned forward to get a better view of the simple name tag pinned to the woman’s white shirt. “Clarke,” she added with a smile.

“That’s sweet of you to say. Thank you,” Clarke bit back her smile. She dropped her voice low, and with a little twinkle in her eye, nodded behind Lexa. “But if you don’t order something in the next ten seconds, you’re going to be witness to a whole lot more rude customers.”

“Right, sorry,” Lexa mumbled as she tried desperately to contain her blushing cheeks. “Half a dozen cannolis, half a dozen peanut butter cookies, and one cream puff, please.”

“Just one cream puff?” Clarke paused, the pastry box half-popped open in her hand.

“I get one for myself every year. A little treat,” Lexa shrugged as she watched Clarke expertly pluck two fluffy pastry cream-filled treats into the box. “Oh, just one.”

Clarke looked up from the display case with a smile so big and bright she could have lit the night sky. “Try meat.” Her full cheeks ignited into an impressive array of pinks and reds as she manically shook her head. “My treat,” Clarke corrected, and Lexa couldn’t help but smile at the fluster-induced spoonerism.

“For being my knight in shining armor,” Clarke finished with a wink that transferred that impressive blush from her cheeks straight to Lexa’s. Her heart triple-timed, desperate to catch up to her racing brain. It wasn’t every day she met a beautiful woman who perhaps, just maybe, shared her slight obsession with lady knights.

“Can you please stop flirting and get on with your job?”

Lexa whipped around, shooting a death glare to the middle-aged woman standing three customers back. “Some of us have better things to do than watch this-” she waved her hand dismissively towards Lexa and Clarke. “Whatever this is.”

“Yeah, flirt on your own time!” Another snappy customer shouted, starting a low rumble of assertion that quickly grew to a cacophonous roar.

Lexa’s jaw hardened. In the minute she’d been standing there, Clarke had never stopped moving. The entire time they were talking, Clarke had been expertly plucking treats from the display case and packaging them neatly. These chthonian people should just crawl back under the filthy rock they came from.

“A little patience goes a long way,” Lexa narrowed her eyes at the woman who started it all.

She was met with a sneer that stoked the fire of anger deep within her belly. Lexa wrapped her fingers around the hilt of her sword once again. “I wish you all no harm, but if provoked, I will respond with force.”

The corybantic crowd drew their weapons: long swords, daggers, maces, axes, all glistened under the fluorescent lights.

Lexa waited atiptoe for some fool to make the first mistake. But her patience soon wore thin, and unwilling to be caught unprepared, she pulled her own knightly sword from her hip.

A jumble of footsteps echoed behind her, and Lexa gasped as Clarke, donned in a black Gambeson cinched around her waist with a golden belt and sheath, leapt over the bakery counter. Her boot-clad feet landed with a graceful thump, and she drew her own arming sword.

Lexa wanted to exclaim, to ask a million questions, but the crowd around inched forward. The gleam of polished steel glinted in her eyes. The stuttered adrenaline-infused breaths prickled her ears.

Lexa tightened her grip around the leather-clad hilt, her muscles coiled and ready. Clarke’s back pressed against hers as they both took cautious steps, painting an unseen circle on the old hardwood floors, surveying their numerous enemies.

The ephemeral dance ended in a flick of a wrist. The crowd fell in on them, a mess of steel and wood. Clang after clang, Lexa deflected the attacks, all the while keeping an alert ear to the sound of Clarke fighting.

Her fair maiden was no amateur.

The whistle of a well-made blade cut through the air behind her like a song of combat. Clarke’s back bumped against hers as a particularly devious blow caught Lexa’s sword.

A steady hand grasped her free one, and with a knowing squeeze, they twirled on their heels, exchanging foes in a deadly dance that couldn’t have been better choreographed if they tried.

They fought, side by side, deflecting here, helping there, until their foes we’re nothing more but a groaning mess of plate armor and chainmail amongst the floorboards.

Lexa wiped the sweat from her brow, sheathing her sword with a satisfied smirk. “My lady,” Lexa assessed the destruction around them. “You wield a sword to rival me.”

With a satisfied twirl of her blade, Clarke slipped the weapon securely into her sheath. “I expect not a savior, but a partner, my good dame.”

She smirked at Lexa, all satisfied and battle lust-filled. The kilig was unbearable, so Lexa took a bold step forward, wrapped her hand around Clarke’s neck, and leaned in.

“I’ll be right with the next customer,” Clarke smiled politely to the back of the crowd. She caught Lexa’s gaze, her face a little more flushed. “Thirty-seven dollars even.”

Lexa signed the electronic pad and accepted the pastry box from Clarke. With nothing more than a shy smile, she sulked towards the door, mindful to give that middle-aged love-hater an intimidating glare as she passed.

“Dear, this is unacceptable.”

Lexa turned around just in time to be leveled with a heartbreaking disappoint glare that grandmothers executed with perfection. Her line partner heaved a heavy sigh, her plastic shopping bag crinkling against her long coat in the process.

“What do you mean?” Lexa swallowed down the urge to cower.

“This shilly-shally-” she waved frantically at Lexa. “Just ask that young lady out. There isn’t a nobler cause in the world than matters of the heart, dear.”

The woman was right.

Lexa squared her shoulders and marched straight to the front of the line, ignoring several annoyed glares in the process. But when she reached the display case, Clarke was nowhere to be found. A chipper brunette stood in her place, tending to customers with a smile too big to be considered normal.

A few more frantic minutes were spent scouring the shop, and when she finally caved and asked an employee, she was informed that Clarke had been sent home for the day.

Lexa sulked out of the bakery, slipping the pastry box carefully into the passenger seat of her car. Her fingers gripped the keys, when out of the corner of her eye, she caught a flash of blonde.

Keys forgotten, Lexa hopped out of the car.

Clarke whirled around the parking lot, her unbuttoned coat fluttering in the freezing wind, searching for something. She turned down Lexa’s row. Her frantic movements halted.

Lexa offered a gentle wave, and Clarke began the slow walk towards her. The closer she came, the more manic Lexa’s heart. Clarke, rid of her bakery uniform, strode towards her with a gleam in her eyes. Her jeans, the midnight blue scarf tied haphazardly around her neck, the little gray beanie perched atop her blonde waves, it all added to the gawsy appeal.

“Hi.”

A glorious gallimaufry of emotions washed over Lexa with that one word. Her stomach fluttered, her brain fuzzed, and her fingers tingled with the need to touch. But Lexa stamped it all down and smiled a simple, “Hello.”

Clarke shoved her hands in her pockets, suddenly insecure, the vicissitudes of her emotions written plainly on her face. “My replacement finally showed up,” she mumbled into the frigid air.

“Long day?”

“The longest.” Clarke shifted from foot to foot, and the wind caught the lapels of her winter coat. A flash of a familiar symbol burned into Lexa’s eyes. A logo.

Not just any logo. The logo to the state renaissance faire. A faire Lexa regularly frequented during its season, soaking in the swordplay and artisans, the weaponry and the atmosphere. And here her new love was, standing before her, broadcasting to the world her interest in medieval merriment.

If Lexa wasn’t already a mess from a simple conversation in the bakery, she certainly was a catastrophe now.

“Would you like to get a drink with me?” Clarke’s voice held none of the worries her body showed.

Lexa stepped forward, grasped Clarke’s hand, and pressed a feather-light kiss to her knuckles. With gentle flourish, because what kind of noble knight would she be if she denied a lady such as Clarke a swoon-worthy acceptance, Lexa nodded, “It would be my honor.”

#clexa secret santa 2019 #hi #clexa fanfic #clexa

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pitifulmagicalocs · 5 years ago

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Samuel was the birth of each of your daughter's like?

((This is a long-ass fucking post, but I’ve never really given the girls’ birth-stories a good, thorough thought, so I kinda just let him ramble and uh… god, did he ever. Putting a read-more separator in to save some lives.))

“Well… Amy’s pregnancy with Crystal was rough. She was a good bit overdue, we lived in a tiny apartment and I remember her getting up at night and pacing back-and-forth throughout the whole length of the place just trying to get her labor started. The hospital was talking about inducing, which scared Ames to death because she was heart-set on a home birth. Thank God, during one of her midnight ‘walks’, her water broke. I remember sitting at the kitchen table, watching her go back and forth and then I looked away for one second and when I looked back, she was standing in a stunned silence with a puddle on the carpet beneath her.

Amy’s sister has been Amy’s midwife for all of our girls– and she’s been phenomenal. We called her up. She showed up in no time at all and we got Amy set up and comfortable on the bed. I’d never seen more sheets in my life. I had to ask Michelle if she’d robbed a Bed Bath & Beyond.

From there, I remember that I was completely goddamn useless. Please take into mind that I was twenty-four and stupid. All I knew was my wife was in pain and I wanted to do something about it, but I got in the way so fucking much that Michelle actually told me to "Go stand over there and shut up”, but Amy, like usual, saved my skin by actually directing my oafish self to sit behind her and rub her back. I highly doubt I was actually helping, at that point, but it was the job I was given so I remember putting a ridiculous amount of effort into… yeah, rubbing her back. That was entirely all I could do. I was useless, I’m telling you.

Amy was amazing, though. My god, she was ethereal. I remember watching her deliver our baby girl and I was just… in awe. Amy was… just… incredible. I was amazed.

Crystal was born and Michelle handed her to Amy and I remember just staring in shock. You couldn’t get a word out of me. I just couldn’t believe she was ours and that was it. I don’t know what I expected, but I didn’t get how I could go from not being a father to being a father in a moment’s time and I couldn’t believe that Amy and I had done th– Well, Amy had done this. Let’s be honest, I didn’t do much, hah! Anyway, yeah. Two-and-a-half people saw a grown man cry that day. But yeah. It was just surreal. I stared at her and I don’t think I stopped for at least the first month. She was incredibly small, even though the doctors told us she was a long baby, she just seemed tiny and she had this puff of black hair on her head and the funniest little… scrunched-up nose. My god, I just loved her. She was marvelous. I couldn’t get enough of her.

…

Anyway, Jade. When Jade came around we were still in that apartment. We did not have the room for a second child, but when Amy turned up pregnant again, we both sorta… pretended to be stressed out? But we couldn’t do it. We were excited. We were so excited. Crystal was three at the time and we asked her if she wanted a little sibling and she said “Yup and I want cereal.” Pffffttt. I don’t think she understood, but it was good enough.

This time around, Amy went into labor early and of course, this time, Michelle wasn’t prepared and was on the other side of the community doing a checkup on some other woman, so she needed time to pick up her supplies and get all the way to us.

That was one of the top-ten most terrifying goddamn moments of my fucking life. I called my parents and my father came by to pick Crystal up and take her out to their place and I remember stopping him and just being like… “Dad, what do I do?” and he looks at me, looks into the room where Amy is just howling and he says to me “You’re the father. When the midwife comes, you go to the corner store, get a magazine and go sit in the pub until it’s over.” He was from a different time, I know that, but holy shit was that un-fucking-helpful… and he just left after that.

So I call Michelle again, no answer, I call my mom and my mom tells me to just keep her comfortable. I have no idea how to do that, so I bring Amy some lemon water and a cold rag for her forehead and I just sort of… sit behind her like I did before and let her dig her nails into my forearm when she has a contraction and we pass the time just like that.

Finally, Michelle shows up, sets everything up and it’s probably five minutes after that when Jade was born. I thought I wouldn’t cry the second time around, but I was a damned fool, a buffoon, to think such a thing. Waterworks; just pathetic. Anyway, just like Crystal, she was a long baby, but instead of the mop her sister had, Jade just had this ridiculous little tuft of hair in the dead center of her head. She looked like Pebbles from the friggin’ Flintstones or something, but she was adorable. I remember we’d take her out and people would just gush over her. She was an angel. For the next few years it was just the four of us and we started looking… and I guess feeling like a little family… .Amy getting pregnant with Amber happened just after we’d just finished building the house we have now and I remember running around like a headless chicken trying to get the place ready. By the time it came time to have her, we were still eating dinner off of the living room coffee table, but the baby room was immaculate! All our shit was in boxes but the girls had picturesque bedrooms, as if they paid the bills or something. Haha! I am getting way off track. Anyway, yeah, Amber’s birth was probably the easiest. We planned way ahead and Michelle actually stayed with us for the week surrounding Amy’s due-date this time, which Amy came rather close to. Amy’s water broke while she was laying on the bed reading next to me, I hollered across the hall for Michelle, my mother came to get Crys’ and Jade, and we were set up and ready to go in…really no time at all. Amy’s labor was pretty similar to her one with Crystal and I was older and wiser by that point, so I was actually able to help talk Amy through it instead of gaping like a goddamn dead fish the entire time. By this point, I knew I was gonna cry. I also remember it being half tears and half jaw-slack shock because she was short, fat and bald. She was exactly what you’d picture a baby being, but none of the things her older sisters were. She was a magnificent little bundle, though. She fit perfectly in the crook of my arm. I remember being so proud of us, too, because we finally actually had a suitable home for the little one… .Ruby was the most shocking pregnancy, because we weren’t actively committed to not having another kid, but after five barren years, we weren’t expecting it. We were thrilled, though. Fuck. I moved the girls’ playroom downstairs and turned the old playroom into Ruby’s nursery and I was so dedicated to that project because, let’s face it, up until that point my real job during Amy’s pregnancies was to feed her and keep her in a good mood. This time I had the space resources to create this space for this little girl… Oh, and by the way, when the sonographer told us “It’s a girl” we said “We know.” She was all embarrassed thinking we’d already been told by another doctor and we had to explain that we had three other girls at home. We knew. Hah.

Anyway, we planned-ahead again and Michelle slept over. The girls went to stay with my sister this time because my mother desperately wanted to be present at the birth of one of her grandkids, so we had her over, too. This time, when Amy’s water broke, I think the novelty had worn off. I remember she just looked down, looked at me, I raised my brow at her, she said “Yup” and I said “Alright.” Hahaha! Don’t get me wrong, we were super excited, but this wasn’t our first rodeo.

This time, Amy had heard all about the concept of water-births from her sister and was dead-set on trying it, so this time we’d set up this literal fucking kiddie pool in our living room and filled it with warm water and I remember as soon as Amy got in there she was “Ooh-ing” and “Ah-ing” and going “Why didn’t I do this with the other three” et-cetera. She was happy.

But then, yeah, that labor was rough. It went on for hours and Amy was so distressed and tired and I remember she started to panic and was telling me to hold her and that she changed her mind and wanted to have the baby on the bed. Honestly, I think she was just scared and not sure what she wanted. So then, yeah, we couldn’t get her out safely because she couldn’t walk, so I got my ass in that kiddie pool, fully clothed and I situated myself behind her just like the other three births and that seemed to do it. It took a while but she calmed down and we were able to get Ruby out.

Holy mother of god was that one ever emotional. Amy was so fatigued so she gave Ruby to me and I remember laying with my head against my wife’s and holding my daughter and knowing that she was our last and our family had become completely whole and… Jesus. There is no feeling like that. Absolutely none. I can’t describe it, but I know I loved my wife more than I ever have and… Yeah, I don’t really know how to explain that moment further, it was incredible. Yeah. I got a little out of hand here, but you– you really should have expected this. I’ve had four children, hah.“

#holy crap this could be a chapter in itself #but my god this was cute to do #samuel angioli #IC Answer #last answer for the night I think #this took over an hour... so... I need a break #faceclaim ~ benicio del toro

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aprettyaveragestudent · 6 years ago

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#6-A passing Good Lady

This is a little piece of fanfiction featuring two women named Eleanor and Lillith, titled ‘A passing good lady’. The story opens up a little while after the incident with Gawain, Sir Pelleas, Lady Ettard, and the Lady of the lake.

(It’s not my best work)

“I never thought it would come to this, I mean I guess I always knew someone would get hurt, but not quite like this.”

“But if it had to happen, it had to happen, we can’t control destiny”

“I blame that fool Pelleas, he ruined everything with his doldrums. What was the need to get Gawain involved in his problems I ask? Him and his passing fits of fancy. And ultimately Pelleas ended up happy, but what about me? The entire plan failed, we’ll have to follow Gawain for longer now, what a pain. I hope he doesn’t suspect anything.”

Ten days ago

“Alas”, said Sir Gawain, “It is great pity of him! And after this night I will seek him tomorrow in this forest, to do him all the help I can.”

Eleanor sighed and smacked her head. “Of course he would want to help this buffoon”, she muttered under my breath.

“What”? asked Lillith, looking up from the bag she was rifling through.

“Did you hear that? That idiot Gawain just agreed to help that other idiot, Pelleas”

“He’s a pretty good knight isn’t he?” Lillith asked distractedly, still rooting through her bag.

“Yeah, but this has RUINED the plan, he’s going to spend another ten days dealing with this, then we won’t be able to lay our trap!”

“Oh, stop whining, Ellie, we’ll figure it out. Plus traveling is quite pleasant isn’t it? We get to leave the castle on our own so infrequently”.

“I guess”, I admitted grudgingly. “But I’m not helping his idiotic posterior when he lands in even more trouble”.

“Ah, I’m sure he’ll be able to get himself out of this one, he’s managed before”

“Barely...Quick! He’s looking here, hide!”

Lilly quickly muttered a charm and touched the bark of the tree behind her, as Eleanor did the same. Both women turned the color of the tree and waited silently while Gawain passed by.

“Okay, I guess we’ll wait and see how he goes about this”, said Eleanor sighing again.

Ten days later

“Well, that was a disaster”, blinked Eleanor

“At least I got a chance to perfect the age advancement potion, it just needed a pinch of frog’s leg”, said Lillith, writing in her potions book.

“Wonderful”

“You don’t have to be rude, you never know when it could help!”

“I know, I know, you’re right, I’m just trying to figure out how we can fix this”

“What if we call Nynyve? She’s usually good with this sort of thing. Much better with broken hearts than us”

“Hmm, not a bad idea, said Eleanor, fiddling with a lock of brown, curly hair that had fallen out of the circlet on her forehead.

“Should I?” asked Lillith eagerly, “I miss her”.

“Yes yes, go ahead”, waved Eleanor before looking down at the small tattered diary in her hands.

“Greetings, children”, Nynyve emerged from behind a tree, almost gliding along the forest floor.

“Oh! You scared me”, said Lillith, who had jumped almost two feet into the air. She spoke while slowly floating back to earth.

“We’re only two years younger than you, calm down”, grumbled Eleanor.

“I missed you too, sister”

“Thanks for coming”, interjected Lillith, before her two sisters began to bicker like always.

“So what seems to be the problem?” asked Nynyve.

“Well, we seem to have gotten ourselves into a little bit of a mess on our latest assignment”

“Did father send just the two of you? No knights? Squires? Nothing?”

“No, we convinced him to let us come alone”, grinned Eleanor.

“Risky decision”

“Nyn...”

“Anyway”, Lillith cleared her throat, “The problem was our task concerned Sir Gawain, but he’s gotten himself involved in an affair with Sir Pelleas and Lady Ettard...”

“The idiot”, added Eleanor.

“So we need a way to get him out of this situation so he can continue on his questing”, finished Lillith.

“Hmm, I see, I think I can take care of this” muttered Nynyve.

“What do you mean you’re going to marry him”? asked Eleanor, flabbergasted.

“I love him!” vehemently proclaimed Nynyve.

“This is ridiculous Nyn”, added Lillith.

“It’s my life, I’m old enough”

“You’re not that much older than us!” Eleanor said exasperatedly.

“I’m old enough to know what I want”

“And it’s this? asked Lillith.

“Yes, he completes me”.

“Makes sense for two idiots to be together” whispered Eleanor

“I heard that!

“You were meant to”

“Can’t you just be happy for me? I know it seems like a hasty decision, and that I’ve rushed into things but this is something I really want. Especially after that horrible ordeal with Merlin”, shuddered Nynyve.

“I mean, we are, we want you to be happy. But what are we supposed to tell father?” asked Lillith.

“The truth”

“I still think this is a mistake”, Eleanor crossed her arms and leaned against the rickety table in their small hut.

“Look, I don’t expect you to understand, you haven’t felt love like this, and I know I sound a little crazy and romantic, but somehow he makes me feel like that”, said Nynyve, coming closer to Eleanor.

“What about work?” asked her younger sister.

“I’ll keep going on assignments of course. no one would find it suspicious for the wife of a highborn Knight to travel if she wants to see marvels, or whatever it is that those ladies travel for”

“I guess...”

“I’ll still always be there for you, you know that right?” Nynyve took her sister's hands in hers and held them for a minute, blinking back tears.

“I know”, whispered Eleanor, “I guess I just didn’t expect this day to come so fast”.

“Before you know it, you’ll be here as well”.

“Unlikely. Have you met her?” scoffed Lillith.

“So are we invited for the big wedding?”

“I can’t believe we’re a full month behind schedule”, moaned Eleanor

“I still can’t believe we just attended Nynyve’s wedding”

“Yes, father was surprisingly happy about it. Do you think he knew this would happen?”

“It’s possible, it’s hard to tell with him. He was also quite understanding about the time lost, so you never know”

“I guess, I wish he would stop giving us such half-finished pieces of information. Even with this assignment, all we know is Gawain is going to meet somebody in the green fields of York who’s going to test him, and we’re supposed to protect him when that happens. That’s so vague! And do things change now that his questing has been delayed?”

“We’ll just have to wait and find out”

Thirty days later

“Why is he traveling so slowly?!” moaned Eleanor.

“I know, does he really need to stop and help every random shepherd and lost maiden? It’s a little ridiculous.

“He’s such a flirt, too. And not quite as good looking as all these lost maidens are making him out to be”.

“Ah, I think he’s okay, perhaps a bit cocky”.

“A bit? Try extremely”

“You’re quite annoyed with him, Ellie”

“I’m just bored”

“Quick! There’s someone up ahead, look!”

An old man on a horse trotted up to Gawain and bowed down to him before leaning conspiratorially towards him.

“Are you a Great Knight?”

“I’ve heard that I’m passing good”, responded Gawain.

“Of who’s court?”

“I’m Sir Gawain, of King Arthur’s round table”, answered Gawain, drawing himself upwards haughtily.

“Showoff”, muttered Eleanor.

“Well then, good Sir, you’ll definitely be interested in this curious tale!” exclaimed the old man.

“I’m interested in all tales of adventure and curiosity, do tell me”

“Well, it involves a Knight with only an upper body and the ghost of a horse”

“How strange! Show me!”

The old man and Gawain rode off, with the two women close behind.

“This is where you’ll draw your final breath,” said the nameless Knight with just a torso. “How dare you try and face me?”. He moved his sword for the final blow, as Gawain lay panting. The Knight’s magic had made Gawain unable to retaliate to his crushing blows.

Although everything about the situation, and everything the old man had told him, had made Gawain think this task was beyond him, his pride won out. It always did. He had faced the Knight alone and woefully underprepared, and if this is how he was going to die, then so be it.

“I am a better and more just Knight than you’ll ever be!” Gawain bit back, wanting to know his last words would be worth something.

“Bah!” The Knight brought his sword down towards Gawain’s throat.

“Enough!” Eleanor burst out of the woods with Lillith close on her heels.

She drew a sword from a scabbard at her side and deflected the blow that would have ended Gawain.

“This is not a fair fight, and you are not a true Knight!” she shouted while muttering incantations under her breath.

“And who are you? A rhyming Witch?” Laughed the Knight while parrying Eleanor. “I don’t usually fight women, but for you, I’ll make an exception”.

Lillith went over to the wounded Gawain and began helping him up to his horse, all the while muttering healing incantations of her own.

“I’m no lady”, Eleanor spoke softly.

“Who...who” Gawain whispered before fainting. Lilith snapped her fingers and floated him onto his horse.

Eleanor parried with the Knight, shouting unladylike curses (both magical and ordinary).

“You have a tongue on you, for a lady”.

“I told you” Eleanor gritted her teeth. “I’m no lady!”, she pushed back, causing the Knight’s horse to stumble and the Knight to loosen his grip on his sword.

“The spell won’t last long, we must hurry out”, shouted Lillith, holding the reins of hers and Gawain’s horses.

“I’m...almost...done” panted Eleanor, still parrying. She finally pushed his hilt out of his hand and pointed her sword straight into his heart.

“Surrender or be killed”

“Never”

“Then you leave me no choice”, Eleanor pushed the sword into his heart and twisted it. “He won’t die so easily though, I need time to set the spell”.

“We don’t have time”, urged Lillith. “Look, there are more coming along the horizon”.

Eleanor turned to see where she pointed and saw a horde of Knights, all missing legs and all on ghostly horses.

“I just...need...a minute” Eleanor grimaced, still twisting.

“Hurry!”

“Done!” Eleanor sealed the spell with a flash of light and a shower of ice.

“Let’s go!” She clicked her fingers, and she, Gawain, and Lillith all disappeared from the field, just when the horde of Knights reached them.

“Has he woken up yet?” asked Eleanor, standing outside the tent they had set up in the clearing.

“Not yet, can you go and check on him? I have to let father know what happened. This is what he was talking about, right?”

“Probably. But this is much worse than I thought it was, I didn't realize the Nameless Wind’s were back or involved”.

“Neither did I, I think father will want to call the Council”.

“Do you think this is a Council issue?”

“Seems like it might be, this is above even our capabilities”.

“Hmm, you’re probably right. Anyway, I’ll go check on our ‘noble warrior’“.

“Try not to be too rude to him”.

“I make no promises, sister”.

Eleanor walked into the tent as Lillith began muttering a summoning incantation.

“Who is this lovely vision who approaches?” A heavy voice filled the tent.

“My name is Eleanor, daughter of Tritan”.

“Oh, now I recognize you! You’re the one who got involved in my fight, and you’re also one of the three witches! I’ve heard of you sisters, stay away from me!” muttered Gawain, sitting up and wincing as he did.

“Oh, calm down. I saved your life”

“I was faring fine before you showed up, I would have managed”

“He would have killed you!”

“I don’t need help from the daughter’s of Tritan. I’ve heard about his deeds”. Gawain attempted to get up but collapsed back onto the makeshift bed after failing to stand.

“He’s a much better and nobler wizard than your precious Merlin”

“Merlin was a good and noble Warlock, God rest his soul”

“Do you want to know what that “noble” wizard did to my sister?”

“I’m sure she deserved whatever it was”

“You men, you’re all the same, you only trust other men!”

“Women are inherently untrustworthy, my good lady”

“Oh, please don’t call me Good Lady, we all know that’s not what I am”

"Either way, I never needed your help, please let me leave”

“I want nothing more than for you to leave, but unfortunately our lives are going to be entangled for a while”, sighed Eleanor. “Plus, your wounds aren’t yet fully healed”.

“Oh, what have I got myself involved with?” Gawain moaned and lay down on the bed.

“Something greater than both of us”, Eleanor whispered before sweeping out.

#Arthur #Camelot #gawain #witches #adventure #fantasy #fanfiction

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mysweetkittae · 6 years ago

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BTS LOVE YOURSELF TOUR: LONDON DAY 2 (10/10/18)

I recorded most of the concert so to see the videos please check my pinned thread on twitter (@bunkook20)

Let me just say right from the start that the UK LOVED Jin, and when I say that they loved him I mean that every SINGLE time he appeared on screen, whether in the MVs, the videos in between or just Jin himself, everyone LOST IT and screamed their lungs out to the high heavens. It was amazing.

I was in lower tier seating so I can’t say for sure since I wasn’t in standing myself, but every time I looked over everyone was being really respectful and no one was pushing (at least on my side) which made me really happy!

Also! All of the security and staff at the arena that I came across were really lovely too!

Maybe around 5 minutes before the concert was supposed to start an annoucement came from the translator that Jungkook wouldn’t be performing again because of his injury. He was apologising loads on their behalf but we were all like IT’S OKAY DON’T WORRY WE LOVE YOU!

A quick note on Jungkook: you could tell he wasn’t feeling well throughout the concert. He was very playful of course and was smiling and singing beautifully as always, but at times you could tell from his face that he was frustrated/upset at the situation which broke my heart because it’s not his fault :( He was also limping a bit when he walked, which shocked me because at that point we didn’t know that he had stitches on his heel and it made me really sad because I love him so much and the last thing I want is for him to be hurt and feel guilty about it :(( But, there was pretty much always a member with him and playing with him so thankfully baby bun was never too lonely! He definitely smiled the most and looked happiest when they were around him T-T

They went back to playing MVs after that, and played DNA, Mic Drop, and Fake Love. I think the concert started abut 10 mins late?

THEN, my friends, the concert began with the beginning video and it was so pretty and magical.

Idol started playing next and I swear, as soon as the doors opened and they walked out I felt my body ascend to another plane and enter a state of pure bliss. For all these years I had only seen them through a screen, but now I was breathing the same air as them and looking at them with my own two eyes? Unfathomable. Also I could feel the heat of the fire from where I was sitting so I can’t even imagine how hot it must have been for them :/

Next was their opening ment and it was so surreal to hear them speaking and akdjakjfafa idk it was weird to expereince that but they sound so beautiful ;-; I kept saying hi back to them like the idiot I am lmao I couldn’t help it they were so adorable T-T Namjoon mentioned Jungkook’s injury and made sure to remind people to be mindful of their neighbours because he is the king of safety and we Respect that in this household.

They performed a bit of Save Me and all of I’m Fine but because I’m an absolute buffoon I forgot to press record so I’m really annoyed because I really love that song :( BUT at least I watched with my eyes and so I have the memory of it :’) It was an amazing performance and I loved it so much :(

They had their second ment here and then performed Magic Shop (one of my faves) which is just pure evil because how can they hit us with the feels so early on and expect us to be okay?? I was not fine. But it was so beautiful with all the purple lights and everyone singing together and it made me feel all warm and so happy :( You could really feel the love in the air

Just Dance was here but because I continued to be stupid I frickin forgot to press record again!!!! I’m super angry at myself. Hoseok though, his charisma and the way he entrances the crowd is insane! And his dancing!! omfg he is honest to god one of the best dancers I have seen in my entire life. He’s so mesmerising and you couldn’t take your eyes off him for even a second.

After this was Euphoria, which is one of my favourite songs ever because it makes me so happy and like everything is going to be okay. Jungkook has the most beautiful, soothing voice and I just can’t describe how hearing him made me feel. It made me feel like I was safe. He kept looking at the crowd with so much adoration and the most beautiful of smiles and he was listening to us singing along and it made me so happy because he looked so happy :(

I Need U was straight after and this made me !!! because this was the song that changed my life and made me an army so hearing it live made me totes emosh :(

Run was pretty hype and Joonie got us all jumping so it was really fun!

Serendipity!! Jimin has so much stage presence it’s crazy, it was truly a magical performance and it felt like we were all in a trance. He also kept putting his hand up his shirt to make it do the flappy doodle thing which was the epitome of rudeness :)) He is a beautiful dancer and you’d be a fool to deny it.

Love started and it was so much fun! He really knows how to work a crowd, everyone was singing and it was like we were all performing together aajfakfak I loved it. I also really liked Joonie’s jacket. idk if it’s clear in the video but at the end when the members were joining him on stage Jungkook was walking really slowly and that’s when I first saw that he was limping :(

DNA was amazing but all I could focus on was how sparkly Jimin was. I loved it. I love sparkly things. I’m like a magpie... or a niffler. ANyway, baby bun did as much of the choreo as he could in his chair and the members kept looking at him when they were singing at it was so cute huhu they love him so much he’s their precious baby.

They had another quick ment here before the medley of Dope, Go Go, Blood Sweat Tears, Boy In Luv and Fire. Jin and Jimin were playing with Jungkook so much it was the cutest thing and Jungkook had the biggest smile TT-TT

Airplane Pt2 was super fun but also kinda sensual and idk how to explain the feeling but it’s like there was something radiating from my chest throughout my body and I Felt It(TM) in my soul okay?

FAKE LOVE!!! tbh I had forgotten that they might perform this lmao so it was a super pleasant surprise! I really love this song and the energy from them and the crowd was amazing. The video didn’t pick it up very well smh but the fanchants were so good! Especially for the WHY YOU SAD? IDK NAN MOLLA lmao it was like we were a cult summoning the devil it was Great. Also! At the end when jinkook are supposed to do their arm thing together Jungkook did it from his chair with Jin in the actual formation so they did it together but from a distance :(

Seesaw omfg I love this song so much and I was looking forward to it so much and it did not disappoint. It’s such a good song and such a good performance and he has such a pretty voice and I really really liked it ;-; Everyone went wild for when he slid down the bench it was so cool omg. The fanchants during the bit at the end could’ve been better but it definitely wasn’t bad and people were screaming loads! I would’ve done the fanchants better myself but my voice was hoarse from my cold before the concert even started and progressively got worse as it went on since I was screaming so much that by this point I was struggling to breathe and trying my best not to choke to death in the midde of the performance and have it be caught on camera because y’know, Priorities.

SING.U.LA.RI.TY. Oh my goodness gracious me this performance was something else. The dance he does at the beginning with his hand was so sensual and mesmerising and I honestly couldn’t look away. It was so realistic as well, I obviously knew that there was no one there but it looked so real that if you told me that it was someone else’s hand I would’ve totally believed you. Also his hands are ridiculously beautiful. The first thing I noticed was how perfect Tae’s live was. Obviously they’re all amazing live and have been in all of the performances, as has Tae himself, but in this song it’s unlike anything I’ve heard before. It literally literally genuinely truly sounded EXACTLY like the studio version to an almost scary point. This man is an incredibe singer and if you can’t see or hear that god help your soul.

Oh god Epiphany. This was the performance I think everyone was looking forward to, and you can clearly hear it with how loud everyone was screaming. Jin looked absolutely ethereal with his parted hair and beautiful face and beautiful voice and beautiful jacket. His voice has so much emotion that just pierces through your heart. This man has a true gift that is impossible to deny. Every was singing “I’m the one I should love” together and whether that was something we believed in or not, in that moment we all truly loved ourselves, and there’s nothing more beautiful than that. Listening to Jin sing Epiphany surrounded by the most beautiful lights... I felt at peace. I felt safe.

If Epiphany wasn’t emotional enough they went straight into The Truth Untold and I do not lie when I say that the emotions were tangible. Every single one of them looked angelic in their gorgeous outfits and their voices were like honey and I felt so light but my heart felt heavy at the same time? It was a very bizarre feeling. Everyone was singing along and it really was so beautiful. Jungkook’s adlibs at the end and Jimin’s change of the high note were incredible and if I didn’t have such a stone cold heart then I’m sure I would’ve cried like I thought I would.

Listen. I had seen so many fancams so I KNEW that Outro Tear came immediately after The Truth Untold, but nothing could’ve prepared me for how insane that performance was. Not only for the whiplash it gave me since the previous 2 performances were so emotional, but the 3 of them are such phenomenal rappers and have so much control and power over the stage and audience that it’s almost terrifying. You couldn’t keep your eyes off them even if you tried. They each have their unique styles but the way they come together so perfectly and beautifully is unbelievable. I have no idea how they manage to show such individualty yet perfect synchronicity at the same time, but they do and it truly is a sight to see. They are a force to be reckoned with and I know for a fact that down the line they are going to have such important roles in shaping the music industry. Don’t ever doubt their abilities, not even for a second.

Next was Mic Drop, which Namjoon announced was the last song and I was like??? How??? It honestly only felt like it had been about half an hour but it had been 2 hours. Jungkook didn’t come out for this performance, not even sitting on a chair, so the whole time in the back of my mind I was really worried about him. This is only speculation of course so don’t take it as the truth or anything, but he really must not have been feeling well for him not to even be able to sit on a chair. Either he was in loads of pain or he fainted or something?? idk, I just hope it wasn’t too bad :( They just played the backing track for his parts with the members sometimes singing over it too. The performance itself was amazing though! They had so much energy and the dance break was the bomb dot com.

After this the main part of the concert had officially ended and the girls next to me were asking each other if it was over so I was like no no don’t worry there’s an encore they’re coming back! Don’t leave yet!

After some time it was ARMY TIME so everyone held up their banners and it was so nice! So What had started, which I was surprised about because I thought that they’d want us to hold the banners up during a slower, more emotional song but nope. So What was the hypest song out of the entire concert and everyone was jumping so much and it was just so so so much fun??

Jungkook was back for this performance but it was very obvious that he wasn’t doing well. He was singing fine and trying to be playful but you could see in his eyes and his face that he wasn’t okay, which is why I feel like he might have felt faint before or something, though I’m still just speculating so don’t hold it again me. Jin stayed by his side for basically the whole time and walked slowly with him down the ramp to the extended stage and!! You guys, when Jungkook did the shoot dance, although it was very slow he looked so so happy, it made my heart melt :( I’m glad he was able to do it because honestly that was one of the times he smiled the biggest :( Jin did it together with him and it was so sweet and I’m just so glad they all have each other to look out for them. Taejin had their Moment again it was fantastic. There was lots of cuteness throughout the whole thing and they looked like they were having so much fun! It made me very happy.

Anpanman was super fun and very enjoyable! It really is such a cute song uwu it made me smile a lot :’) Jungkook was looking at the audience a lot for this one and doing as much of the dance as possible in his chair what a cutie pie and Joonie and Jimin played with him too and he kept laughing uwu uwu this song was too much for me.

Then it was time for their ending ment. They started off with such a sweet event for us :( They made the army bombs turn rainbow coloured and took a picture with the arena in the background and it was so lovely :( Also lmao Hobi said it was photo time with an American accent, but Joon corrected him saying that is was “phoTo” with the enunciated ‘T’ sound like you say with an English accent if that makes sense?? It was really funny and after that Hobi kept saying photo with the harsh T and it was adorable. Joon then went on to say that Yoongles was going to do his ment first but he kept saying “sweetie sweetie sweetie suga” in an English accent again and alfjfkjfna I love him ma

Yoongs had his bling bling SUGA rings on and they were so sparkly! He was so smiley and just super cute. He repeatedly talked about how they were going to see us again soon so I’m certain that they’re coming back next year with either an epilogue tour or something so Wembley you better be prepared because next time we’re coming for you.

Hobster spoke in English and it was so good and it never fails to amaze me how hard he tries for all of his comments in all of the concerts. He was totes making fun of us though, when we said aww because he was sad it was the last concert day he said aww back and I felt the mockery but he’s so flippin adorable I don’t understand how can one human being possibly have so much power to make so many people happy it doesn’t make sense I don’t understand.

Tae. Eyebrows. Rude. He was being super cute talking about how he had seen London in movies (none that I knew of because he is evidently much more cultured than I am) and that he thought it was such a beautiful place and that armys were beautiful too (what a flirt). He then went on to saying some word but honest to god I hadn’t the faintest clue what he was saying and neither did my friend or anyone else around me and in the video you can hear a very faint “what?” because I was just so confused lmao. Apparently he said bloodclat? but I’m not from London so I have no idea what that means and I’m still no wiser. Twas a very confuzzling time.

Jin. Jinnie. Kim Seokjin. My man. My bro. Dude. Please stop looking so handsome, it hurts me. He was talking about how he looked like Kingsman and that next time he’ll dress up like Harry Potter. I’m holding that promise to you Jin, don’t let me down. At that point Namjoon said “shut up Malfoy” like he did in that one vlive last year(?) and it was so funny I couldn’t stop laughing why must they be so adorable??

Jimin was next and he kept saying that everything was lovely again and again and it was so sweet and oh my god he is literally the cutest thing ever I love him so much he is such a precious person please protect him 5eva. He also said that he wanted to come back so Jimbles! I’m holding that promise to you too don’t let me down.

Baby bun was next and he was apologising for not being able to show us more but we all just screamed NOOOOOOO really loudly because we love our precious baby in this household and he must never apologise for something that was out of his control :( Even though he was injured he still gave it his all and did his best and his health and happiness is more important than anything else!! We don’t need to see him perform, we just need him to be healthy.

Nimnams was next and my god he was so radiant. At first he tried doing an English accent but he quickly gave up on it lmao what a cutie pie I love him. He said that he fell in love with London and that it really inspired him and that he might write a song called London and we all just went !!! Because with Jungkook being injured in London it would’ve been understandable for them to associate the UK with negative feelings because that’s just how human brains work, but the fact that they seemed to have loved it so much and were inspired by it and want to write a song about it? It just made me feel so proud. I hope that when they come back they get the chance to travel around a bit because there is so much to see and it has such a different vibe to London and I’m sure they’d love it! He said how he was proud of himself for chosing this path in life and becoming a part of BTS and therefore being able to come to London :( This boy completely owns my heart and I would do anything for him :(

After this was the last song, Love Yourself Answer, but I didn’t have much space left on my phone so I couldn’t record it :( It was so lovely though and as one of my favourite songs it made my heart all wibbly wobbly :( Tae was on my side a lot and was beng super duper cute and it was the best. Jungkook’s seat was still in the middle so the members were playing with him lots and being all round cutie pies. Everyone was singing “you’ve shown me I have reasons I should love myself” and it was so beautiful to hear people saying that to themselves and actually believing it in that moment. This was another song that made my heart happy and made me feel very peaceful and like everything was okay in the world.

Then it was the ending and they were walking around the extended stage and waving to us all. Jimin kept saying that we were lovely and Tae said I purple you and urgh it was just so incredible and magical. They thanked their dancers and bowed with them and we all screamed for them too! There was loads of confetti and it was so so so beautiful.

It ended then, and I remember suddenly feeling so empty. The past 2 and a half hours had without a doubt been the best of my life and the fact that I has seen bts live with my own eyes and been in the same place as them was still hard to comprehend.

One thing I can say for sure though is that they truly love performing on stage. They must have been so exhausted with how crazy their schedules have been, but they were constantly smiling and had high energy and put on the best performance that they could. Never once did I feel like they were being forced to do something they didn’t want to do, not like I sometimes feel with some other singers. No words can fully express how genuinely happy they looked to be on stage, and that in itself makes me so happy. Knowing that they are doing something that they love so much and are so passionate about is incredible and I hope that they are able to do the things they want to do for a long time. Anyone watching them can feel the amount of love they have for the stage, each other, and us.

And that’s the thing - people can try and dissect them and figure out what the ‘bts formula’ is as much as they want, but they will never find the answer; because you cannot formulate love, and you cannot formulate authenticity. Every moment since the creation of the universe led them to where they are today. It led them to each other, the most beautiful of soulmates, and it led us to them, our guardian angels who came into our lives when we needed them the most. Everything that has happened in our lives, both the good and the bad, led us to the moment where we discovered bangtan, and something in us told us that this was where we belonged. We all come from so many different walks of life, so many different journeys and destinations, yet here we all are, coming together because of these 7 beautiful boys with even more beautiful hearts, and intertwining our lives with one another. Despite all odds, we survived, and we’re living this life together; and that is nothing short of a miracle.

#i have so many feels #this literally took me hours to do please appreciate it #and the twitter thread took a couple of days because twitter is terrible at processing videos #bts #love yourself tour #bts in london #my stuff

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backto-trc-things · 6 years ago

Text

Chapter One

Nesta couldn't believe it.

Well. Yes she could.

Of course they wouldn't want her around. Of course even her sisters would go along with the plan to send her away. Even Elain hadn't bothered to protest the banishment of Nesta a single time.

Honestly, Nesta supposed she shouldn't care. None of them did. Unless they cared in a way that meant they were furious with her. Like Rhysand— who clearly was not able to deal with anyone he couldn't order around or bend to his will so easily.

Well, no matter how he tried to bully her, Nesta swore to herself that she wouldn't be just another one of his cronies, following his will like he was the one that hung the sun and moon.

Except... wasn't that exactly what she would be doing if she followed orders and traveled to the Illyrian Steppes?

White hot fury burned through her. The only feeling she seemed able to access anymore.

Despite the burning anger she felt, Nesta knew her face was rigidly set and stone cold.

Her eyes narrowed. There wasn't much time to plan. She hadn't been given much time to start with and had wasted a good amount of what she had on "packing". Which actually consisted of sitting on her bed and cursing those ridiculous, self centered, obnoxiously happy fools that insisted she leave the city and go to that dirty camp full of dirty Illyrians.

And to top it all off, she was being "escorted" by... Cassian. The brute.

The more she thought about it, the angrier Nesta became. So when she met Cassian to leave she simply stalked right past him, not saying a thing or caring in the slightest that his mouth had opened upon seeing her and he obviously had something to say.

Nesta walked out onto the front steps of the house— mansion really.

"Well?" She called without looking back.

"Well what," Cassian snapped back peevishly.

She rolled her eyes and sighed so he could hear. "In case you have forgotten, which I could believe you did with that... you know. I can't fly on my own. You carry me."

Cassian walked up to stand next to her, his footsteps slightly louder than usual with irritation.

"First," he began tersely. "What do you mean about me? With that. Second you don't order me around like that."

Nesta sighed again internally. Of course he would ask. She knew he would. What she didn't know was why she wanted to bait him; what reaction her subconscious hoped to receive from the male.

"Why shouldn't I? You let so many others give you orders. Like a good dog." She deliberately didn't tell him what she had meant by "that...." that caused her to believe her would forget her flightless state.

A small growl escaped Cassian but he didn't press the issue. Instead, he scooped Nesta into his arms so fast she barely registered it before he was pushing off the ground.

The pair flew in silence, both unwilling to be the one to speak first. They still hadn't said a single word to each other when, hours later, Cassian finally stopped at the inn they were to stay at for the night.

Nesta pushed at his chest and hopped out of his arms nearly before the Illyrian had even landed.

She stalked away towards the front of the inn without a single glance back at Cassian. He let out a weary, frustrated huff and followed after a few minutes.

Nesta had already procured a room- unsurprising as there weren't many boarders staying for the night besides them anyway.

They got ready to sleep facing away from each other and laid down in their own beds silently.

Nesta waited for nearly two hours for the Illyrian to fall asleep. When she heard him snoring, she rolled her eyes in exasperation. Of course he would snore.

She slipped out of her bed and crept over to her prepacked bag which she slung over her shoulder. And winnowed away.

That was something no one else knew about. She wasn't ready to accept it. Barely admitted to the ability even in her own head. Even while using it.

Nesta stood stone still in her new place. She had no idea how far away she had winnowed, honestly. She was still in the forest, though. Or a forest at any rate. She didn't really care.

Now that she was away, Nesta had absolutely no idea what she was doing. Her sole objective had been to get away from Cassian- to be vindictive towards Rhysand and disobey his clear order. She had no... no... just nothing. Just had nothing here.

Having nothing included having no idea where she was in this case.

Nesta wandered vaguely through the forest for a few minutes. Or maybe a few hours. Who really knew.

Eventually, she just stopped. It wasn't truly a conscious thought; she made no particular decision to stop there. Nesta just... stopped. Just stopped. Stopped walking, stopped caring, stopped.

The female sat right there on the ground, her hands burying in the earth and her dress becoming coated in a layer of dirt and forest debris.

She sat there and stared off into the distance. Nesta watched her memories like they were playing out before her listless eyes in real time.

Scuffing boots interrupted her replay of a memory on which she watched Elain plan their week- dinners and parties, various social events, parades and feasts and dances.

Nesta didn't bother looking up at the Illyrian she knew was towering over her.

"Nesta," he murmured softly. Sadly.

She refused to acknowledge him.

"Nes. Nesta. Nessie."

Her eye twitched in irritation.

"Why?" Cassian asked. His voice was so startling, Nesta couldn't help glancing at him. He sounded furious.

"Why what," she replied. Toneless. Icy. Uncaring.

"Why are you like this? What is going on with you?"

Nesta whipped her head towards the stupid brute. He was the only one who could elicit emotion from her. It was nearly always anger.

"What is going on with me?!"

Cassian sighed. "That's not what I meant."

"Oh, really?" Nesta snarled back, her eyes narrowed. She lurched unsteadily to her feet.

He simply shook his head. "I'm not doing this right now."

"Like hell you aren't doing this right now," Nesta told him. "You started this now, you can finish it now."

The Illyrian opened his mouth to interrupt but Nesta cut him off before he could issue a single word.

"What is going on with me right now is I lost my home! I lost my sister. I lost myself. I am stuck in this idiotic, pointless world where Fae live that are more powerful than anyone else in the world! And what do they do with that? Nothing. They- you do nothing. You don't help anyone in the other continents, you don't help the humans who are still starving and alone and now also vulnerable to these useless races here! You barely do anything to help the people here! Including those stuck in your beloved war camps. There are still a million prejudices here! There are still females whose wings are clipped and children are still sent to freeze in these camps you insist on caring for! You have had 500 years to fix things. And you've done nothing."

Cassian looked halfway between hopelessly lost and utterly furious, mouth open and poised to interrupt.

Nesta didn't let him speak, though.

"You all in you fancy mansion with your little jokes think everything is perfect now. Happy ending! Story over. But just because your stories are over doesn't mean everyone's are! You don't seem to understand that just because you can go to a home with a family and plenty of food that there are kids who can't. You sit in that house and stick your tongues out at each other and buy exorbitantly expensive gifts no one even cares about and drink all the alcohol you possibly can and you forget about everyone else!"

The Illyrian was dumbfounded. He looked gutted.

Nesta simply shook her head at him and stalked off without even a last icy glare.

She walked for a long time. Eventually, she fell into a sort of daze where she just wandered listlessly, lost in memories. Both good and bad. The best and worst of her life, swirling around in her head like gauzy curtains billowing in the wind.

The next time Nesta let herself slip to the forest floor, Cassian was by her side almost instantly. That pushed at the haze she'd allowed to surround herself. He must have been following the whole time, not forcing her to return with him but being sure she was safe.

Cassian picked her up with a slightly uneasy sigh before launching them both into the air.

He carried Nesta in the direction of the camps, muttering about how he wouldn't sleep now anyway so they may as well continue on. It wasn't long before the female in his arms had drifted into an uneasy slumber.

˙°˙°˙°˙°˙°˙°˙°˙°˙°˙°˙°˙°˙°˙°˙°˙°˙°˙°˙°˙°˙°˙°˙°˙°˙°˙°˙°˙°˙°˙°˙°˙°˙

Nesta woke when Cassian landed. In the forest. Or.... a forest? Who could even tell the difference between these forests with all their identical trees and undergrowth?

Nesta stubbornly pushed at Cassian until he set her down on the layer of pine needles carpeting the forest floor.

"Where is the camp," she asked in a flat voice, as devoid of emotion as she could manage.

The Illyrian gestured vaguely somewhere to the side. "It's a few minutes by foot that way."

"Take me there, then. If I must go i will go now instead of lingered about just outside like we are in the midst of some illicit meeting. Or like I am afraid of those buffoons."

Cassian raised an eyebrow at the same time Nesta crossed her arms.

"I wonder, which do you find a more unappealing prospect: that someone would dare consider the idea of you lowering yourself for me or that they would dare believe you could possibly be afraid of them?"

Nesta sighed disinterestedly, allowing her mind to drift back into a fugue state where her memories swirled around in faded sensations.

"I have a proposal for you," Cassian continued, blushing and stuttering a little over the word 'proposal.'

Nesta had absolutely no desire to feel positively about Cassian in any way at the moment, but damn it all, her heart softened just the tiniest bit at the male's unexpected awkwardness. Just enough that she willingly stayed to hear the rest of what he had to say.

"I know you don't want to go to the camps. I don't blame you." He swallowed hard. "And I won't force you. In fact, if it is what you wish, I will help you get away and find a place to go. I'll make sure nobody bothers you—"

"Wonderful," Nesta interrupted in a voice that suggested she felt much less magnanimously about the situation than 'wonderful' implied. "I choose that option. Take me some place else. I will tell you when we have reached an acceptable place to stop."

Cassian raked a vicious hand through his own hair. A bird shrieked distractingly.

"Or you can walk into the camp of your own volition. You want things to change, so help me change them. We can fix things. I know we can. If you really care as much as you seemed to earlier, you'll help me."

Oh, now Nesta understood. He was making it seem like she had a choice, when really she had none. He would guilt her into staying at the camps while pretending a different outcome could have been possible. The— no Cassian's High Lord would be obeyed like always and Cassian would get to feel good about himself because Nesta wouldn't hate him when he gave her choices.

"Hear me out," Cassian said quickly. He must have seen the change in her eyes. Nesta didn't want to think about how he could have noticed. The change in her expression had been miniscule. He must know her tells very well— better than she had thought. Nesta was unsure how to feel about this new kknowledge.

"You can terrify all the Illyrians. They're already pretty afraid of you. Fear is an excellent motivator. You can use that to reform parts of the camp— of all the camps."

Nesta tuned Cassian out as he barreled on. She observed him silently. How utterly obnoxious that he managed to look much the same as always despite the long hours of flight. And traipsing through the forest after her. His mouth moved in interesting ways when he spoke, too. It was oddly fascinating. As long as one didn't listen to what actually came out of that mouth. Then the only fascinating thing about it was the pure idiocy.

At least, that's what Nesta told herself. What she had chosen to believe.

She knew what she would choose, already. She supposed that meant Rhysand would win this but.... maybe not. He couldn't possibly expect the changes Nesta hoped to bring about, therefore they couldn't be in his plans. Therefore, Nesta wasn't obeying said plans and he wasn't the victor.

That satisfied some small part of the strange creature that was Nesta Archeron enough that she deemed it a worthy time to put the Illyrian before her out of his misery and accept his 'proposal.'

"I'll do it," she said simply.

Cassian beamed at her. He almost looked... proud.

"As long as it is a standing condition that you will help me leave anytime I wish."

"Standing condition, yes."

"And you do not intervene between me and the other Illyrians."

Amazingly, his grin got larger. Nesta wasn't sure if she wanted to smack him for it or grin back.

"Agreed," Cassian said with an odd, sweeping motion of his arms that seemed, for some reason, to indicate something about the surrounding trees.

"Except, I will intervene if things go too far."

Nesta bristled. He thought he would have to rescue her like some hero coming to the aid of the pathetic damsel?

"The Illyrians here are my responsibility. If you start dismembering too many, I won't have much of an army to work with."

Finally, Nesta did smile at the Illyrian before her. He practically exploded with excitement at the expression and Nesta almost felt guilty realizing she had been capable of causing this happiness in him all along. The she realized she felt guilty and discarded the emotion as easily as though it were a soiled dress.

Cassian bounced and chattered all the way to the camp. Nesta ignored him in favor of the various forest-y objects littering the ground and her ever present memories.

When the pair reached the camp, Cassian mercifully shut up. Then they walked into the very center of the camp, side by side the whole way.

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raendown · 7 years ago

Link

@kitsunekage88 This prompt got out of hand and I regret nothing.

Pairing: MadaraTobirama Word count: 5649 Summary: Five times Madara does not see Tobirama pouting - and then one time that he does.

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

Can’t Fool Me With The Truth

“I have seen the face of God and it was both pitiful and adorable.”

Madara looked up in surprise as his brother staggered in to the room with a dazed look on his face. Last he’d heard, Izuna had been over to visit Tobirama and he wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to ask what the hell could have encouraged such a statement. The entire village knew better than to ask what went on inside Tobirama’s laboratories.

With a frown, he decided it was safer to just say nothing and duck his head back in to the book he had been reading. Leisure time was hard to come by and he wasn’t about to let Izuna being weird ruin the first hour he’d gotten to himself all week.

Unfortunately Izuna didn’t seem to pick up on his unwelcoming vibes as the younger man wandered over and flopped down on the floor in front of him, nuzzling his head in to Madara’s lap. Rolling his eyes, yet unable to resist, Madara stroked his fingers gently over long dark hair. He still kept his eyes on his book though. Maybe if he just stayed quiet then he wouldn’t be disturbed further with strange exclamations about the face of God.

“It was cute,” Izuna moaned suddenly. “What do I do with that? I have no defense against that. I had no idea.” Madara sighed and let his book flop down on the crown of the younger man’s head.

“Am I going to regret asking? If this is about Touka again then I want to hear nothing more about it.”

“Shamed as I am to admit it, this exceeds even Touka’s level of adorableness.”

Madara sat up a little straighter and moved his novel aside. “Are you feeling alright!?” he demanded. Izuna pushed himself upright in to a kneeling position, hands on his elder brother’s knees and eyes wide as they look up at him in supplication.

“It was Tobirama! Sage help me but he pouted and I...brother I...have no words. You’d have to see it to believe it.”

“Please tell me you’re joking,” Madara growled. “This is what has you so flustered? What nonsense!” He made as though to shove his sibling aside but Izuna caught both of his hands and stared, something wild in his expression and every muscle in his body coiled like a spring. He looked almost fanatic.

“No, you don’t understand! It’s the truth!”

“Ugh.”

With a disgusted expression on his face Madara stood and wrenched himself out of Izuna’s hold. He’d just known that he would regret allowing himself to be dragged in to such nonsense, wasting his precious downtime on idiotic blather about Tobirama doing something as ridiculous as pouting. Senju Tobirama, the stuck up prick that he was, had too much dignity to lower himself to pouting. Madara wasn’t sure what Izuna was up to by trying to convince him it was true but he could smell a practical joke coming a mile away. Not a chance was he going to get caught in this one.

No, instead he left his sniveling little sibling alone in the living room and retired to the back porch instead. A light breeze ruffled his hair as he sat down on the padded bench just outside the door, making him close his eyes and breathe deeply. Much better. This was just the kind of relaxing environment he needed today. Hopefully by the time he went back inside to make dinner Izuna would have given up on whatever game he was playing.

ii.

Seeing Hashirama waltz out of his bedroom with a face like he had only just discovered puberty in the last five minutes was a much more common experience than Madara liked to think about when he came round for a visit. His best friend wasn’t exactly subtle about his overactive sex life, much to Madara chagrin.

No, thank you very much, he was not at all jealous.

Seeing Mito float from one room to another in nearly the same state was much more rare. In fact, Madara was hard pressed to think of a single instance he had seen the normally poised woman in such a deconstructed state. Her eyes were wide, her features slack, and both of her hands were clutched to her breast as though to hold her heart in place.

“Mito?” he called tentatively. “Are you alright? Where is Hashirama?” Rather than reply to his questions, she spoke as though to the empty air in front of her.

“I didn’t know...I hardly expected...I could never have imagined. Hashi was right, there really is nothing like it. Goodness me...”

“Uh...alright then.”

Stretching his senses, Madara determined that Hashirama was a few streets away, accompanied by his sibling. The two of them were heading away despite the fact that obviously they were needed here instead. Whatever could put Mito, of all people, in a state like this must have been momentous indeed. It looked like it was up to him to comfort her or whatever it was that she needed.

“Mito, can you hear me?” he asked. Her eyes snapped over to his and she reached out across the space between them.

“Have you ever seen it?” she demanded.

“Seen what?”

“The pout! Tobirama’s pout! I had no idea! Hashirama told me but no words could do it justice! I just wasn’t prepared. It was only for a moment but I...I think I just had a religious experience.”

“Are...you serious?”

On shaky legs Mito made her way to the closest chair, sinking down in to it with none of her usual grace. Madara watched her with all the worry rapidly draining from his body. It had been a month since Izuna had come home rambling about something to do with Tobirama and pouting and their reactions were both eerily similar. Was it possible that somehow Izuna had convinced Mito to join him in playing this practical joke?

Well he still wasn’t going to be fooled by it! He refused to believe Tobirama was even capable of jutting that stiff lip of his out in any manner which might even come close to resembling cute. Sure he was attractive, Madara could admit that in a distant, unbiased way. And sure Hashirama had been waxing poetic for years now about how adorable his baby brother was to any poor sod he could trap in to listening. But that was just the opinion of an empty-headed buffoon who still needed his wife to tie his obi sometimes. His opinion didn’t count for much in Madara’s books, best friend or not.

“You absolutely must see it,” Mito told him in a dreamy voice. Madara sighed and rolled his eyes.

“For a moment I thought something was actually wrong. Here I was about to fetch back your husband and then you start spouting this drivel. Well I won’t have it. You can both go rot, you and Izuna, and see if I care!”

His hair flared out with a rather nice dramatic touch as he spun around and stomped towards the door. Rather than be impressed by his display, Mito only sighed dreamily and slid further down in to her chair, her words only just reaching his ears as he marched out the door.

“So adorable...”

Madara wrinkled his nose and slammed the front door behind himself. He had much more important things to do with his time than be taken in for a fool.

iii.

If there was anyone in the village he could count on to be sensible and down to earth about the things that mattered, it was Senju Touka. They weren’t particularly fond of each other but they did work well together whenever they had been forced to work on the same project or run the same mission together. When a conflict popped up in the scheduling for the village patrols, Madara’s first thought was to go to Touka and ask her to stand in until he could replace the man who had been injured.

Sensible was not the word he would have used to describe the woman he found sitting on her front porch watching her youngest cousin storm away from her in a huff. Madara took a moment to observe the tenseness in Tobirama’s back – determinedly not looking at any other parts of him – and concluded that they must have fought. Or perhaps, considering Touka’s lack of angry screeching, she had insulted him in some manner.

Whatever the case, he didn’t particularly care about their petty family dramas. He routinely got enough of that at home with Izuna so he most certainly didn’t need to be dragged in to any more.

“Your skills are needed,” he announced without preamble, being sure not to word his sentence as though asking her a favor. She didn’t appear to hear him.

“I know I upset him,” she mumbled, “but he didn’t have to do that.”

“Who did what?”

“You kind of forget, you know? Every time. It’s always like ‘oh it couldn’t possibly be as cute as I remember’ and then he does it and bam!”

Narrowing his eyes, Madara gave Touka a wary look. Several weeks had gone by since he’d experienced a similar episode with Mito and he was honestly beginning to believe that it was a conspiracy between them all, an attempt to make him look foolish somehow. He wasn’t sure how they intended to do so when he was obviously too smart to fall for their idiocy but it appeared that whoever all were in on this bad joke were not giving up.

Fuming in silence did nothing to help him seem unaffected, however, and so he set his hands on his hips and attempted to settle his features in to a blank, even slightly bored expression. No need to let them know their little prank was actually getting to him in any way.

“Let me guess, Tobirama?” he drawled.

“You’ve seen it then?” Touka’s shoulders lifted and dropped in a heavy sigh, a dreamy look taking over. “I just wasn’t ready. Of course, no one is ever ready. And I don’t think he even know what kind of effect he has; how unfair is that? He just gets upset and pouts and then the whole world melts at his feet and this isn’t fair damn it! I’m over thirty years old, I shouldn’t still be this weak to him!”

“Do you know how ridiculous this all is?”

“Right!? Extremely ridiculous! I mean come on, it’s me! I don’t find anything cute so why the hell can’t I resist him when he all he’s doing is making his eyes wider and…and the lip…so cute…”

As Touka slipped even father in to what he assumed to be fabricated daydreams, Madara harrumphed and spun on his heel. Listening to this wasn’t worth the trouble at all. There were plenty of other shinobi he could ask to fill in for the injured guard, it didn’t have to be her even though he would have preferred it to be. Say what you like about Touka – and he usually did – she was an intimidating woman, excellent guard material.

Madara left her behind on her porch to sigh at the empty air and he hoped that she felt as silly as she looked because this entire game that they were all playing was just plain stupid. He stomped his way through the village towards home, all the while trying to hold back the scowl he could feel trying to take over his face. The farther he walked the harder it was until, by the time he walked through his front door, all the muscles around his mouth were twitching and his lips were peeling back in a grimace of determination.

Seeing Izuna at the kitchen table with all of his weapons spread out for cleaning broke his resolve.

“You conniving, twisted, annoying little shit!” he exploded, swatting his brother on the back of the head as he strode passed. Izuna snorted a tiny bit in surprise before looking up at him in consternation.

“What did I do?” he said.

“You know exactly what you did!”

Before Izuna could say anything else Madara had stormed down the hallway and slammed the door of his bedroom, locking himself inside his own private sanctuary. No one could bother him here. In here there were no weird plots to pull strange pranks on him that he didn’t understand. Here was peace and quiet and a nice soft bed for him to flop down on to and close his eyes, letting his mind wander wherever it would.

Evidently his mind didn’t feel like wandering far from the subject he’d been trying to escape. So many people seemed to be trying to trick him in to thinking Tobirama had pouted at them and that it could possibly be so cute that they were forever changed by the image. Now he couldn’t help but try and picture it for himself as he lay on his belly with his cheek resting on the soft pillow, body slowly releasing the tension which had built over the course of a much-too-long day.

And why shouldn’t he think about Tobirama, he thought to himself. It was his mind, he could imagine whatever he liked. Feeling almost defiant, as though Izuna were going to burst in to the room at any moment and laugh at him for falling in to their trap, Madara brought up an image of Tobirama in his mind’s eye. He tried to picture what it would look like if he pushed his lower lip out and scrunched his eyebrows up like a child making a sad puppy face. Honestly it seemed as though Tobirama would look ridiculous and that only confirmed for him that everyone else must be pulling his leg. It seemed the best thing to do would be to put the issue aside and just try not to let it bother him.

Just as he began to weigh the merits of a nap, however, Madara rolled over and flew upright with a curse. In his irritation he had entirely forgotten he was supposed to be replacing those guard shifts!

iv.

Several months went by without further mention of the weird madness his brother had started, for which Madara was incredibly glad. He found himself more and more distracted by the strangest things about Tobirama and he really didn’t need anyone else adding to his confusion. What purpose did it serve for him to notice the way the younger man held his shoulders or the exact tone of his voice as delivered the final quip in yet another of their verbal spars? So many tiny details that he’d never paid much attention to now stuck out as though they meant something. He could hardly fathom what that something might be.

Madara had only just resolved to force himself to stop thinking of that Senju bastard when, of course, everyone’s favorite prank finally resurfaced.

Delivering reports to Hashirama was never done with a quick getaway but he hardly expected to be bowled sideways in an overenthusiastic hug the very moment he stepped through the door to his friend’s office. It took several moments of shouting and quite a bit of ungraceful squirming for him to work his way loose. Hashirama refused to repent, beaming down at him with that vapid smile which usually meant he’d gotten excellent news.

“I don’t suppose you’ve heard from the Aburame clan?” he guessed. Hashirama shook his head before floating over to the window, gazing outside with a bright expression.

“Not yet,” he replied dreamily. Madara frowned.

“Well what is it then?” He’d always hated being left out of the loop and it was always the worst when it was Hashirama who knew something he didn’t. Getting information out of this log was such torture sometimes.

Swanning over to his desk and dropping in to his seat, Hashirama sighed. “I just love my baby brother so much. Don’t you love him?”

“I have my own little brother to love,” Madara grumbled, crossing his arms defensively. “Yours is – yours is gross!”

“He’s not gross! He’s adorable! Oh Madara you should have seen! It’s been so many years but I knew I would see it again someday. Nothing in this world compares to my little Tobi pouting!”

“Ugh! Not this again!”

“Whaaaat? You never let me talk about my brother Madara; you’re so mean!” Hashirama stuck his nose in the air but his grin only faded for a moment before returning in full force. “I think he’s adorable and that’s that. Just because you’re a grump and refuse to open your eyes and see what’s right in front of you doesn’t mean I have to be blind and grumpy too.”

Madara sneered at his friend and marched forward to drop off the file he had brought with him. “I have no idea what the lot of you are trying to accomplish with this charade, especially since I am not falling for it!”

Hashirama blinked at him in confusion but he didn’t stop to hear any false exclamations of innocence. Instead he stormed back out in to the hallway, unable to even enjoy the fact that this was the fastest he had ever escaped any trip in to the Hokage’s office. In his poor temper he failed to pay attention to his surroundings or even listen to what his senses were trying to tell him. If he had then he wouldn’t have nearly crashed in to the very man who seemed to be the focus of a village wide joke which made no sense.

Tobirama tilted his head with a gentle smirk, needing no words to make it known that he found Madara’s lack of coordination amusing. In return, Madara snarled and threw both of his hands up in the air.

“Well you’re not that adorable to me!” he cried. Tobirama made a sound of confusion that was eerily similar to his brothers but Madara didn’t stop to listen to it. He had no time for explanations. It was starting to look like he had signed off on his sanity the day he formally agreed to build this village. Knowing that he had dug his own grave was no comfort.

And it helped nothing that he spent the rest of the day remembering the exact angle at which Tobirama had tilted his head to express his confusion for Madara’s outburst. His opinions on the Senju’s attractiveness were getting less and less objective as this strange business tricked him in to thinking about Tobirama more and more. Nothing good could come of this, he was certain.

Barely a few days went by before Madara encountered the same old nonsense yet again and they were not restful days at all. He found his thoughts turning to a certain someone much more frequently than he was comfortable with. Daydreaming had never really been something which took up a lot of his time and yet suddenly he found himself drifting away from reality at least once a day, only to come crashing back down to earth when he realized he was yet again contemplating certain angles of sunlight on white hair, the perfect tilt of thin pink lips, deep laughter coming out in a surprised rush whenever Hashirama startled them all with a joke that was actually funny.

He didn’t need these thoughts in his head, damn it! Spending time thinking about this stuff made it feel as though he were developing something ridiculous like feelings or whatever. Madara knew that couldn’t be the case but it was still a worrisome development. What if someone else made that assumption?

Irritated, distracted, and confused as to what his brain thought it was doing, Madara spent half a week stomping around the village and his home before deciding that the best thing to do would be to work out his aggression with a good spar. Training alone just wasn’t the same as battling against someone else, not even against his own clones. With a perfect copy of himself, it was easy to predict how his opponent would react to something and he always felt as though he’d gotten less training out of the session.

Finding a sparring partner, however, turned out to be a bit more trouble than he expected. Hashirama was bogged down by paperwork and an unusually cranky Mito politely demanding that he spend more time at home. Izuna was out of the village on a two week undercover mission somewhere in Stone territory, not due home for another week at the least. The last time he had clashed with Touka on the training fields he had won but it came at the cost of three senbon in his left shoulder, his favorite training pants singed at the hem, and both ears flushed red from listening to the crass taunts meant to throw him off his game.

Under no circumstances would he be asking Tobirama to spar with him at the moment.

With no other options, Madara combed through the Uchiha district until he had located his last surviving cousin and the only other person he could think of who might be able to deal with his current skittish temper. He found Hikaku in the market strip, wandering aimlessly down the street with a blush on his cheeks and a look in his eyes as though he were having an out of body experience. Rather than pretending he was at all in the mood to be curious, Madara stomped up in front of the younger man with both hands on his hips.

“Fight me.”

“Oh…Madara-sama…”

“I need a sparring partner. Fight me. Now. Get a weapon and meet me at training ground six.”

Hikaku nodded slowly but it was obvious that not a single word had actually made it through his ears. From up close Madara could see now that he was wearing the faintest of smiles, dreamily staring off in to nothing as he let slip a happy little sigh that sounded much too familiar.

“I think I’m in love,” he murmured, sounding very much as though he had slid straight back in to adolescence, and Madara felt a wave of relief go through him.

“Thank god. For a moment I thought you’d gotten involved in the same madness as everyone else.” An evil grin took over his face and he took his hands off his hips to rub them together in anticipation, gearing up for a good bout of teasing. It’d been ages since he’d had anything good to rib his cousin about. “So? Who is it?”

Still entirely spaced out, Hikaku sighed again. “Tobirama.”

Madara felt his entire face twitch. Something nasty rose up inside his chest and he only just barely managed to bite off an angry demand that the other back off. Instead he emitted a wordless noise of rage, fingers clenching against each other.

“What.”

“I just…he’s always been pretty, you know? But then I saw it. I never thought a grown man could be so adorable when they pouted but then he did it and everything I ever knew has changed. I’m in love. I have to marry him.”

“You will do no such thing!” Madara heaved for breath through his nose. “Ugh. I thought I escaped this. Don’t be an idiot Hikaku; you’re much too sensible to take part in this flim-flammery.”

“But you don’t understand! You didn’t see it. Or have you seen it? No, if you had then you would know because I don’t think I’ll ever forget. It was incredible…I’m in love…”

“Yes, I do believe you’ve mentioned that,” Madara sneered.

Rolling his eyes and throwing his hands up, he turned away without another word. It looked like he was going to have to resort to sparring with his clones again after all because he certainly wasn’t going to waste his time playing along with the world’s stupidest ongoing prank. Not him. Madara wasn’t sure what it was that convinced them all to think him so gullible as to fall for the same trick if they only played it on him enough times. He was hardly that easy to play.

As he stormed off and left Hikaku to continue wandering the market strip alone, Madara wondered if Tobirama was even aware he was being used as the subject of a practical joke that wasn’t even funny – wasn’t even cruel. It was all just stupid. Would Tobirama be upset, he wondered, to have his name used in such a way?

Perhaps Madara should speak to him and let him sort this entire mess out. Then maybe he would finally have some peace and quiet.

Sent out to quell a disturbance in one of the nearby villages only the very next day, speaking with Tobirama entirely slipped his mind once he got back, covered head to toe with soot and honey and refusing to answer any questions as to how such a thing came to pass. He spent three days getting the awful sticky mess out of his hair and by the time he was fit to be seen in public once more, the only thing on his mind was seeking revenge against Hashirama for sending him on the mission and causing him to go through that.

A couple of weeks passed and Madara woke up one morning to find two figures on his doorstep, neither of whom he wished to deal with before the sun had even risen entirely. Kagami was much too bouncy to deal with at the best of times and Tobirama he would have preferred to avoid altogether for reasons he would rather not discuss with the man himself.

He couldn’t very well slam the door in their faces, however. At least, not if he wished to avoid yet another lecture from Hashirama about how to properly interact with other human beings. So when he invited the both of them in for morning tea it seemed to fit his wary mood when the two shared a devious smile. Obviously they were up to something – and just as obviously he was going to regret his attempts at being polite.

“Kagami-kun tells me that the Uchiha have rather strict regulations on who can leave the village at any given time. Something about precautions to protect the bloodlines.” Tobirama looked pretty snug where he had settled himself on a stool at Madara’s breakfast nook, swirling a spoon through his tea to stir the remains after he’d nearly drained the cup in one go.

“Yes, well, it was a better solution than those barbaric Hyuga came up with,” Madara said. He half expected Tobirama to snort as he always did when reminded of the rivalry between the two ocular-focused clans. Instead he was surprised by a slight head tilt as Tobirama conceded his point.

“Fair enough,” was all he said on the matter. “Then it is indeed you that I need permission from to take him out of the village? I was hoping to take our team on a little excursion.”

“Survival training, Madara-sama! How cool is that!?”

Kagami was nearly vibrating in his seat; likely he would have been bouncing freely about the room if not for the pressure of Tobirama’s hand patting him on the top of his head. Evidently the man knew his student well enough to sit next to him for restraining purposes, which Madara appreciated. He wasn’t awake enough for child-wrangling.

“Other than the move from our ancestral lands to the village, Kagami has never been outside the walls of protection. He’s a rambunctious child and, while I’m aware you have a great deal of experience dealing with children, the very idea of having only one adult around him in such a new environment…concerns me.”

“I’m not that bad!” Kagami made as though to rise up with indignation but withered immediately when Madara fixed him with a raised eyebrow.

“You fell in to three separate rivers on the move here and there was an entire clan of adults about to supervise you.”

Before either of them could work themselves up for an argument, as was wont to happen when more than one Uchiha gathered in the same room, Tobirama gently shook his head and threw him arm over Kagami’s shoulders, drawing the boy close. He bent himself down low until his chin rested amongst soft black curls and widened his eyes with false innocence.

“Come now, you know very well that I am perfectly capable of watching him. What if we asked very, very nicely?”

They had obviously planned their next move and Madara was entirely unprepared for it. In sync the two of them pushed out their lower lips and fluttered their eyes in an exaggerated pleading manner. Just the sight of them together was like a punch to the gut. Kagami on his own was a master of making puppy eyes but Tobirama…Madara fought not to clutch at his chest. He pleaded silently for the mother of chakra to preserve him as his heart began to pound and his pulse jumped.

But he could stay strong! He was a battle worn warrior and he absolutely could stand firm even in the face of something as overwhelmingly cute as the image before him. He was far from beaten by such an underhanded tactic.

“I’m not convinced that it’s a good idea. Kagami needs to learn a little more control and discipline.”

“But I am disciplined!” Kagami protested. “Come watch us train, Madara-sama, you’ll see!”

“No. I’m afraid my answer is no.”

Madara crossed his arms, feeling a little as though his proverbial feathers had been rustled. He was the head of the clan, damn it. No child should be questioning his decisions. What he said was the law, just as it always had been, and Kagami was only further proving the point for him by questioning his authority. Poor boy was digging his own grave by letting his face fall in to a dissatisfied scowl. Madara opened his mouth to deliver a lecture on why exactly he was refusing – even though he knew he owed no explanation for his choices – when he was stopped dead.

With one simple look the entire world as he knew it ceased to exist.

Tobirama was pouting for real this time.

Rather than sticking his lip out so far it was nearly comical, his true pout only barely pressed it out to show off just how plump his thin lips could actually be. His nose, which Madara had never given much thought to before now, scrunched up in distress until it looked like a cute little button that his fingers itched to press. With his eyes half lidded and looking off to the side petulantly, head tilted as just the right angle, and his brows bunched together and raised as though he were inconsolably sad, the image he made was simply too much for Madara’s sanity.

None of the others had been lying, apparently. Senju Tobirama was indeed capable of pouting when he didn’t get his way and it was so heart-wrenchingly adorable that Madara’s brain ceased functioning at a single glance. He could feel his own eyes widening and his breath hitching in his chest while the rest of the world slipped away from his reality.

“Oh,” he whispered softly. “Wow.” He didn’t see Kagami huffing, not having noticed that he was busy trying to ascend on to an astral plane.

“Come on Madara-sama! That’s not fair! Please?”

“Yeah…okay…”

“Wait, really?”

Both Kagami and Tobirama sat up but Madara continued staring at Tobirama, hardly even aware of what it meant that those beautiful red eyes were looking back at him. He understood all the reactions he had seen now, could entirely sympathize with them. Nothing in the world could have prepared him for such an adorable sight as that tiny pouty lip and the picture of disappointed sadness it made, the sheer innocence of that cuteness.

He remained immobile, unable to locate his limbs or even consider moving as his two guests stood up from their seats. Kagami threw both hands up in the air and bounded out of the room with a cry of triumph, thundering towards the front door. Normally Madara would have scolded him for running in the house but the words simply didn’t occur to him in that moment. The only thing his mind could focus on was the memory of the most perfect pout he had ever seen. He had been forever changed by that one image.

Tobirama made his way across the room with measured steps and demurely lowered eyes, a subtle smile hanging about his mouth. As he passed by Madara he paused, leaning over to speak quietly in his ear.

“You have my appreciation for being so…amenable,” he said. Then he turned his head to lay a chaste kiss against Madara’s cheek before suddenly he was gone, down the hallways and out of the home, leaving Madara behind to make a very serious attempt at melting in to his own kitchen floor.

Maybe – maybe – he might have developed a small crush on Tobirama

One thing was for certain, however. It was a damn good thing Tobirama’s pout was rare enough to be passed off as a mere legend or practical joke. Heaven only knew what kind of chaos he could cause if he started whipping that out at every turn. It was already proven that none of the strongest shinobi in the village could resist him when he began to pout; such adorableness would be devastating if he ever decided to weaponize it. Certainly Madara would be among the first to fall if that ever happened. Senju Tobirama was simply too cute for his own good.

And the bastard probably knew it too.

#rae writes #madatobi #madara #tobirama #izuna #mito #touka #hashirama #hikaku #kagami #fanfiction #naruto shippuden

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sun-summoning · 8 years ago

Text

part i | part ii | part iii | part iv | part v

part vi: in which we let sasuke live

The phone sat between them as the seconds ticked by. Like a good friend, Naruto came over the moment Sasuke told him there was an emergency.

“Fuck,” Sasuke cursed for the nth time, glaring at his phone. He touched the screen when it dimmed, bringing it back to its full brightness and displaying Tinder Girl’s selfie of herself in a green bikini as she hugged the neck of her unicorn floatie like the basic bitch she probably was. “Fuck.”

“Okay.” This was the first word said in the past ten minutes aside from ‘fuck.’ “Okay, I have a plan.”

“What is it?”

“You have to like more photos.”

“Right, so you’re a fucking idiot.”

Naruto rolled his eyes and grabbed Sasuke’s phone. “Trust me!”

“Why would I do that?”

“Um, because I’m your best friend?” Naruto just waved a hand. He proceeded to scroll through a few more of Sakura Haruno’s photos and like them.

Sasuke felt his stomach twisting each time the red heart appeared over her pictures.

“What the hell are you doing?!”

“Saving your ass.”

“HOW IS THAT SAVING ME?”

“Look, all you can do at this point is own the fact that you’re a fucking creep.”

“WHY?!”

Sasuke took a deep breath with the intention of calming down but felt none of that. When he was vaguely positive he wouldn’t reach over the table and throttle Naruto, Sasuke took his phone back and simply deleted his Instagram account.

Seeing what he did, Naruto blinked. “Oh.”

“Uh huh.”

“That was...anticlimactic.”

Sasuke rolled his eyes. “This doesn’t need to be difficult.”

Naruto pouted. “Now I won’t be able to send you funny images.”

“I don’t even look at them.”

“What the hell.”

“Now then, Naruto...”

Sasuke looked across the table at his best friend, this blond buffoon that was almost always smiling. He was such a nice person that it sometimes baffled Sasuke that they were friends. It wasn’t like Sasuke considered himself unworthy of such a kind person. Rather, he wondered how someone like Naruto didn’t just look at him, check off the box for “Complete Asshole,” and then move on.

Yeah, getting Naruto to help him was going to be so easy.

“I need your help,” Sasuke said slowly, “for finding Tinder Girl.”

“Huh?”

“I need you to...” Sasuke had to pause because the words were hard to say, “uh, go on a date. With Ino. And more thereafter.”

“Wait, what?”

“She knows Tinder Girl and if you guys are dating, she’ll want to go on a double date together and she’ll bring Tinder Girl and...”

It was in that moment that Sasuke recalled the friend Ino had been talking about the other day -- the one she wanted to set up with Shikamaru and then with Naruto and then, briefly enough, with Sasuke. Was she talking about Tinder Girl? Fuck. She was definitely talk about Tinder Girl.

“But I don’t want to date Ino,” Naruto protested.

“Can’t you just take one for the team?”

Naruto openly gawked at him. “Are you...using me?”

“Why do you have say it like that?”

“Sasuke!”

“What?”

“So like I’m the honey pot? I’m the bait? The bait for Ino’s lust or whatever?”

“No, idiot. Or well, I mean, I guess.”

“I can’t believe you’re trying to whore me out!”

“Naruto, I would sell you to Satan for one corn chip.”

“What the fuck.”

“Oh, stop acting so upset. It’s not like hooking up with Ino wasn’t already in your calendar.”

Naruto pulled out his phone to check. Finding no such commitment he glared at Sasuke. “First of all, bitch, I’m classier than that.”

“What, you treat her to a steak dinner first?”

“What?” Naruto laughed. “Screw that! Nah, we get ramen and split the bill. What kind of person do you think I am.”

“The kind who’s going to take Ino out in the next couple of dates and fool her into thinking he’s passable at best?”

“Fuck you!”

Because he was such a good friend, a few days later, Naruto took Ino on a date. Sasuke had hoped Naruto would maybe make more of an effort, but, naturally, the idiot opted for something lazy and ended up taking her to the bar most students went to at night or on the weekends or, if they were Naruto and Sasuke, at noon on Thursdays because why the fuck not. He was out of hearing range, sitting at a booth with Suigetsu and Karin. The other two were drinking while Sasuke was struggling to make out what Naruto and Ino were saying.

“Wow, Naruto, please tell me more about all the different flavours of ramen you like to eat,” Suigetsu said, his voice high as he pretended to be Ino.

Karin laughed, glancing at her cousin and then laughing again. “Well, Ino, there’s pork, which is my go to.”

“Pork, hm? I sure like me some meat in my mouth.”

“Well speaking of meat--”

“Really?” Sasuke glared at the two who paid him no heed, Karin’s head on Suigetsu’s shoulder as they watched Naruto and Ino, making up their conversation with their ridiculous, mocking voices. “What is wrong with you?”

“What’s wrong with you?” Suigetsu asked, still using his Ino voice.

“Yeah, bastard,” Karin added, using her Naruto voice.

"Ugh.” Sasuke drank some of his beer to refrain from cussing them out. “Why are you guys even here?”

“Naruto told me to come,” Karin said with a shrug. “He said I should keep you company, but you have no personality so I didn’t want to hang out with just you--”

“Thanks.”

“--so I brought Suigetsu.”

Suigetsu nodded. “I’m here to watch the chaos. Also because I heard you’re stalking some girl. You know that’s fucked up, right?”

“I’m not stalking her!” Sasuke turned to Karin with a scathing stare. “Stop talking shit.”

“Well it’s true.”

“I’m not stalking her I just...” Sasuke looked down, rubbing the back of his neck anxiously. “Okay, I get why you might think that--”

“Ha!”

“--but it’s not. Okay. Fine. It kind of is.”

“It’s okay,” Suigetsu said, reaching across the table to pat Sasuke’s hand. “We’ll still accept you after she gets a restraining order.”

A pitcher of something and about twenty minutes later, Sasuke watched as Shikamaru entered the bar and soon sat down beside him. A waitress dropped off a glass and Karin poured Shikamaru some of the sangria she refused to share with Suigetsu and Sasuke.

“So why am I here?” Shikamaru asked.

Sasuke frowned. “Because...you came here.” He didn’t invite him.

“Naruto invited him.”

“Well what the fuck.”

Karin shrugged. “He said Shikamaru might be able to help. Apparently he’s smart--”

“Thanks.”

“--and he’s good at coming up with plans. So--” Karin looked in the direction of Naruto and Ino and Sasuke turned his head as well. She smiled like she got something right when Ino promptly gave Naruto the finger, grabbed her purse, and stalked off. “--what’s your plan now, Shikamaru?”

Shikamaru just sighed. “I have literally no idea what any of you are talking about.”

“Yeah, what are you guys talking about?”

Naturally, Naruto was quick to join their table, pulling up a chair to their booth and looking not even remotely upset that his date with Ino didn’t go well.

“Aren’t you sad?” Suigetsu asked.

But Naruto waved a hand in the way one does when they’re on the fence about something. “Ehhhh.”

“Guys,” Shikamaru called, “context?”

And so Sasuke’s sad story of love lost was summarized by the people who had mostly sabotaged but sort of helped him on his quest. They told Shikamaru about his Tinder fail (“What a fucking idiot, right?”), the no questions about pink hair rule (“You should have seen Hinata’s face!”), the near encounter at Karin’s (“He was so fucking close, oh my god.”), and the fact that thus far Sasuke had gathered her tumblr, her email address, and her Instagram account (“That’s...that’s kinda creepy.”).

When the Uzumaki fuckers were finished telling their tale with the occasional quip from Suigetsu, Sasuke wanted to get blackout drunk while Shikamaru just stared at them all disbelievingly.

“That’s...what the fuck, Sasuke.”

“Shut up!”

They chatted about dumb things as Shikamaru sat back and tried to come up with something.

“Okay, well, here’s a suggestion,” Shikamaru drawled. “Why don’t you just delete Tinder and download it again. Sure, you couldn’t find her on Facebook, but maybe that’s just her security settings. She could still have it. After you’ve downloaded Tinder again, just change the settings to fit everything you already know. Reduce the distance to a few kilometres at time when logically you’d both be on campus, fix the age setting since that’s already been confirmed for you, and then swipe away.” He paused before smiling sardonically. “Although maybe this time think before you swipe left.”

“Yeah, I already tried that,” Sasuke snidely replied. “The new update keeps all your previous information.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Oh.” Shikamaru continued down his route of inebriation and Sasuke managed to contain his judgement. Also why was he around so many drunk and/or high people all the time? He felt like he was in Alice in Wonderland or something jeez. “Okay, then I apologize for my earlier snark.”

“Accepted.”

“Why don’t you just keep swiping?” Suigetsu suggested. He took Sasuke’s phone and opened Tinder and began swiping through pictures. “Won’t she just, like, come back up? Does it not just refresh after it runs out of people?”

Sasuke frowned. “I don’t think that’s how Tinder works.”

”You sure?”

Karin smacked Suigetsu’s arm and then grabbed the phone to look at all the profiles. “No means no.”

“Hmmmm.” Naruto rubbed his chin. “What to do next...”

“What about a party?” Karin said.

Sasuke rolled his eyes. “Listen, I realize you have a problem and that that problem is called alcoholism, but you need to chill.”

Karin threw a piece of fruit from her sangria at Sasuke. “I’m trying to help, you ass.”

“No, that might actually work,” Shikamaru said. “We can get Ino to throw it. And then since they’re best friends, I’m sure Sakura will be there too.”

“Exactly!”

Sasuke still didn’t understand their logic. Yes, he got the concept of a party, but why the hell would Ino just do that. He shook his head, confused. “But why would Ino just have a party?”

“Because yolo.”

“No.” Sasuke shook his head in frustration. “No, that’s not a thing.”

“It’s absolutely a thing,” Suigetsu said, actually sounding a little bit offended.

“Yeah,” Naruto agreed, “it means you only live once.”

Sasuke groaned and wondered why all these idiots in his life thought that was an excuse to be irresponsible. “I hate all of you. Okay. Okay, whatever. So you get Ino to throw a party. Fine. What if Tinder Girl doesn’t come?”

Karin pursed her lips, unimpressed, and took a sip of her sangria. “You should really stop calling her that.”

Shikamaru snorted. “Yeah, Sasuke. She has an actual name you know.”

Grinding his teeth in an effort to hold back a string of loud, vicious curses, Sasuke opted to glare at them all and then finish his beer. “Fine. Ino throws a party. Then Sakura comes--okay, no, wait. Again. Someone explain how you’re just going to get Ino to have a party.”

“Because yolo.”

To prevent Sasuke’s pending aneurysm, Shikamaru told him, “Because it’s Ino.”

“Somehow that is infinitely less helpful than ‘yolo.’”

Shikamaru kicked Sasuke under the table but because sometimes Shikamaru gave Sasuke his lecture notes, Sasuke didn’t kick him back. “That girl will accept any reason to drink and dance and scream woo.”

“Still though,” Sasuke said, unconvinced.

“You’re being very difficult,” Karin snidely pointed out, “for someone who has contributed nothing to this search aside from his fairly creepy crush.”

“Can I live?”

“Can you stop being so negative?”

Sensing a bickering match that would probably earn them the ire of the bartenders they visited so frequently, Naruto raised his hands and tried to calm them down. “Now, now, everybody calm their tits.”

“Fuck you!” Karin yelled. “Don’t tell my tits what to do!”

At the same time, Sasuke hissed his own “Fuck you,” followed by a clarification that they were not tits, they were well-defined pectoral muscles.

When the tension was soothed by another two pitchers reaching the table, Shikamaru held up his phone and grinned triumphantly.

“Alright. I did it. Operation Party is a go,” he said, showing them his message from Ino confirming a party next Friday.

“But...but that’s so dumb.”

Shikamaru frowned at Naruto. “Seriously? Didn’t we just go over the value of the party plan?”

“No, no. I meant the operation name. We need something better.”

“Operation Get Sasuke Laid?” Suigetsu suggested.

Karin smirked. “Operation Pop Sasuke’s Cherry.”

“How ‘bout Operation Can We Just Get This Fucking Over With?”

Sasuke perked up at that. “Actually, I like that one.”

“No,” Naruto vetoed, dropping his hand onto the table with a bang. “Operation Tinder Girl.”

The first two hours of Ino’s party went like this:

Sasuke arrived with Naruto and Shikamaru. Sasuke was promptly overlooked by Ino because she was, naturally, mildly inebriated, which meant she about to start flirting with his best friend. Sasuke played (and lost) a game of beer pong with his usual Team Testes to ensure Suigetsu and Naruto wouldn’t pull him away later on. Sasuke got a little tipsy on tainted beer because he was so nervous. Sasuke looked around and found no head of pink. Sasuke eagerly accepted the shot of tequila Karin offered him and because he was still nervous, he grabbed the shot she meant to take for herself and downed that too.

Sasuke drank and Sasuke wandered around and then Sasuke drank some more. Sasuke drank so much that eventually he couldn’t wander around anymore and he was really fucking hot but he lacked the physical capability to remove his sweater at this point so he went outside. Sasuke sat on Ino’s balcony among the various flowers and herbs and found a trio of succulents that he decided would be his new best friends.

His favourite succulent was the one that was more of blue-green kind of colour with tinges of purple at its pointed tips.

“It’s okay,” he whispered, cradling the succulent close. “I have you,”

He wondered how someone like Ino, loud and obnoxious and ugh just so fucking irritating, could have ever produced such a peaceful makeshift garden.

“I’ll save you,” he promised the succulent.

He needed to smuggle it out of here. He needed to find Tinder Girl and save the succulent and then they could all live happily ever after. Sasuke removed his shoe with much difficulty and gently dropped the little potted plant inside. Sasuke made to stand but found he no longer had legs. He looked down though, realized he did have legs, and then figured he just couldn’t use his legs anymore.

“Well shit.”

He was going to die here.

“Nooooo.”

Removing the succulent from his shoe, Sasuke proceeded to poke the tips of its leaves and apologize for not being able to save it. Eventually the blue and the green and the purple began to blur together so Sasuke decided to just close his eyes because they were starting to just stop working, much like his legs. He leaned his head against the wall and whispered goodbye to the succulent and--

“Hey, are you okay?”

Sasuke turned his head a fraction to follow the voice. He tried opening his eyes but only caught all the light from inside Ino’s apartment. Of course Ino’s apartment would be trying to kill him.

“I’m fine,” Sasuke mumbled. His hand fell to his where he knew his succulent friends were stationed, aiming to protect them from this stranger.

The stranger -- a girl, judging by her voice -- came closer and knelt down beside him. He prepared to strike lest she attack the succulents, but suddenly the back of her hand was pressed against his face and she was humming.

“You don’t look very well.”

“You don’t look very well,” he muttered despite the fact that his eyes were closed.

“Also you look kind of familiar. Do I know you?”

He said nothing and now both of her hands were on his cheeks and while they felt kind of nice being cool and soft while he was on fire, she was still, you know, touching him. And he didn’t like people touching him.

“Stop,” he whined, trying to bat her hands away but barely even moving them from where they were sprawled across his belly. “I don’t like when people touch me. It’s... it’s gross.”

“Oh?” She laughed and pulled her hands away.

“Nothing disgusts me quite like the feeling of another person’s bare skin against mine.”

“Sorry, sweetie, but you’re a fucking wreck right now.”

“Ugh. Can I live?”

“I’m trying to help you do that,” she teased. She moved one of the other potted plants that were beside him (not the succulents), making space on his right. She then sat down against the wall, leaving a couple of inches between them for his comfort. “Okay. I promise I will touch you as little as possible, but you’re gonna have to cope. Looks like you drank too much.”

“That’s not a thing.”

She lifted a cup to his lips and, on instinct, he began whining about stranger danger. He imagined she was rolling her eyes as she explained, “It’s water, silly. Drink some of it. I have a feeling there’s a hole burning in your stomach right now.”

“You don’t know me,” Sasuke said. “You don’t know my stomach.” Still, he welcomed the non-alcoholic beverage.

He sipped it slowly and she began patting his head. He made a noise of discomfort because dammit she was touching him, but then she started playing with his hair and it actually kind of felt nice. He grunted when her phone made a noise, the sound hurting his head. Great. Now his ears were failing him as well.

Seeing his wince, she apologized. “Sorry! Just an Instagram alert.”

“Nghh.”

“I’m the worst,” she babbled, still kind of petting him. “Whenever I get a text or an alert or whatever, I just like...swipe it away. I tell myself I’ll read it later, but then I forget and suddenly it’s a month later and I’m awkwardly, belatedly replying to a question on some brunch picture about where I went.”

“Ngghhhh.”

“I think I only ever check my email, although, like, not even my personal one. My work one--”

She continued talking about things he gave no fucks about, but, strangely, her voice was kind of soothing. It was, for all intents and purposes, the opposite of Naruto’s or Ino’s.

He must’ve slumped over because suddenly he was leaning against her. She sighed. “You’re not in good shape.”

“You’re not in good shape.”

“Hey, I’ll have you know I’m strong like bull and can probably bench press your scrawny ass.”

“M’not scrawny.”

“Uh huh.”

“Shut up. I’ll fight you...”

That was the last thing he remembered saying before falling asleep against her shoulder.

tbc

thank you @okashiras for doodling that last scene to inspire me

#fic #tinder au #sasusaku #it took me two days not two years im wonderful

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