#i thought of this yesterday oddly enough not sooner

[crunchchute]

Let's play fizzball!

[necnnights]

In which Hwajung hears something familiar.

FEATURING: Go Hwajung, Choi Eunbyul, Yoon Mingeun

SETTING: October 2023

WORD COUNT: 2.1k

MINGEUN, 7:18 AM: you might like this [link]

It’s turned into something of a joke between them, to send each other music the other person may or may not like. Hwajung listens to bits and pieces of Mingeun’s suggestions, which tend to be all the newest kpop releases. This one is no different. She looks at the album cover: a close-up of a bright green guitar with the album’s title, ROCKST★R, faux-scratched into its side, and rolls her eyes.

MINGEUN, 7:19 AM: have you met jaesun yet?

She hasn’t. She’s only heard the name tossed around and seen a rather pathetic-looking guy who carries himself like he’s the only person in the world around the company.

HWAJUNG, 7:19 AM: i haven’t

She wonders what he has to do with anything, and then she opens the Melon link to see ROCKST★R: The Second Mini Album by Hwang Jaesun, released yesterday. Leave it to Mingeun to be so attuned to current events. She should do the same, because they’re labelmates, but Hwajung has only listened to two Fable albums ever. 

MINGEUN, 7:19 AM: i’ll get jaeseop to introduce you one day MINGEUN, 7:20 AM: you should listen to the album. it reminds me of you. i think you’d really like it ❤️

Against her better judgment, Hwajung presses play. She has very low expectations. It has to be a mass-produced take on rock, something boring and uninspired. She doesn’t bother with her headphones, just rolls over in bed and increases the volume on her phone. It’s more or less what she expects. There’s a bit of guitar. The tinkling of hi-hats. The general structure of a kpop song: verse to pre-chorus to chorus, all of that over again, a completely unnecessary rap section that passes for a bridge. Somehow, she makes it through all three minutes and twenty-eight seconds of the song. She glances at the total runtime. Five songs, fifteen minutes and forty-nine seconds. Fine, by all counts and measures. Hwajung’s only uncertainty is that she doesn’t want to spend fifteen minutes of her time with this album.

By then, she’s almost a minute into the second song. This one is better than the first, something she can see herself listening to again. The thought is surprising.

HWAJUNG, 7:24 AM: i’ll let you know MINGEUN, 7:24 AM: [sticker]

She sorts through the rest of her messages as the song continues. She assures Aerin that they’re working on the new music for their next Korean EP. Hwajung wants it to be a full length album, but they’re running out of time. She ignores Taein’s message that reads something similar. She thumb-ups Yumi’s message in the group chat about throwing out their month-old vegetables, and wonders why they didn’t do that sooner.

Then the third song starts, and Hwajung is struck by the strangest sense of deja vu. The song sounds so familiar, that if she was a betting woman, she’d put money on having heard it before. The only problem is that it doesn't make any sense. The song was released yesterday. Hwajung has never met Jaesun, much less listened to his music before public release. She frowns, reaching for the headphones on her nightstand. She rewinds back and forth through the song, the sound fuller through her headphones than her phone speakers. The drum fills remind her, oddly enough, of herself. It does have its original points: the lyrics, the second verse replaced by another rap verse. Yet something about the melody sounds increasingly familiar to her.

Hwajung pauses the song to look through its credits: composed by someone named SEOUL’D OUT. She checks through the other tracks. Everything is the same. Lyrics by SEOUL’D OUT and occasionally Hwang Jaesun, music by SEOUL’D OUT. She taps the hyperlink in the producer’s name. Their only credits are on songs by Jaesun, who has two EPs, a fact previously unknown to Hwajung. She’s currently listening to his second.

She continues her research, though there isn’t much to research. She discovers two Naver forum threads asking who he is, from people she assumes are Jaesun’s fans. They come to nothing conclusive, just a sentiment that the producer must be very private and secretive. She briefly considers that it could be Jaesun himself. That doesn’t make much sense when he’s credited as a lyricist under his own name. She skims through a few of Jaesun’s interviews and eventually comes across a video where he briefly mentions it.

The Jaesun on her phone screen sits across from the interviewer and says, “SEOUL’D OUT? He’s a friend of mine. I wouldn’t be here without him. Thanks, hyung!” He makes a heart over his head and Hwajung has to pause the video before she throws up.

That’s it. She presses play on the music again, then texts Mingeun.

HWAJUNG, 7:40 AM: do you know who jaesun’s producer is?

He doesn’t respond immediately. The fourth song starts, and this too, reeks of familiarity. The only other conclusion Hwajung comes to is plagiarism. But there are no Neon Nights songs that sound exactly like this, nothing other than their oldest material and some never released songs Sungjae wrote. Sungjae. Hwajung sits upright and combs through her hair with her hands. SEOUL’D OUT. A sellout. Going from an indie rock band to pop music writer would do that to Sungjae. He’s from Seoul. She wonders why it took her four songs to connect the dots.

MINGEUN, 7:42 AM: some friend of his. why? you wanna steal him for neon nights? HWAJUNG, 7:42 AM: can you come over? you might think i’m crazy for this. MINGEUN, 7:42 AM: [sticker] MINGEUN, 7:43 AM: fifteen minutes

She skips to the fifth song, and is almost certain she���s right. If she listened to the album all over again, with the thought in her head, she’d hear him on every track. Hwajung is sure of it. The more she thinks about it, the more she finds Sungjae’s fingerprints all over it. She can’t believe she didn’t see this from the beginning.

Hwajung hurries to brush her teeth and put on a nicer shirt and wipe the sleep from her eyes. She sticks her head out of the bathroom to catalog the shoes near the door. Only Eunbyul’s Converse are there, thankfully.

She knocks on Eunbyul’s bedroom door, because she knows Sungjae almost as well as Hwajung does. Eunbyul opens the door, looking like she just woke up.

“I need you to listen to this and tell me what you think,” Hwajung says around the toothbrush in her mouth. She thrusts her phone screen in Eunbyul’s direction.

Eunbyul squints at it. “ROCKST★R? Jaesun’s new album?”

Hwajung takes the toothbrush out of her mouth. “You know him?”

“Not well.” She shrugs. “What’s so urgent?”

“Just listen to it,” Hwajung says. “Mingeun’s going to be here soon.”

MINGEUN, 8:00 AM: here

The three of them sit in the kitchen while Jaesun’s album plays off Eunbyul’s phone. 

Eunbyul speaks first. “It’s not a bad album. Was I supposed to hear something specific?”

Hwajung can’t keep it in anymore, so she says, “It sounds like something Sungjae would write.”

Her words are met with silence, until Mingeun says, “Your piece of shit brother? How would Jaesun know him?”

Hwajung throws her hands up in the air. “I don’t know. It sounds like him to me and the producer of Jaesun’s album doesn’t write for anyone else. His name is SEOUL’D OUT.” She turns to Eunbyul. “Sungjae would consider himself a sellout.”

“That doesn’t mean this person is him,” Eunbyul argues. “Seoul is a big city. There are lots of other failed rock or rap or hip-hop musicians who might consider themselves sellouts if they wrote pop music.”

“It feels like him,” Hwajung insists, knowing she sounds irrational. She also knows that Sungjae still thinks he was unfairly forced out of the band and spends much of his time hypercritical and in disagreement with her musical direction. She wouldn’t put it past him to try and worm himself back into Taein’s good graces and maybe the band.

Mingeun slides off his seat and begins to pace around the kitchen. “Let’s say this is him. What would he gain from being Jaesun’s dedicated producer? And how do they know each other?”

“Sungjae never wanted to leave the band,” Eunbyul says. “He’s probably still upset. I don’t see him ever getting over it. He tried to write music for your group a few years ago. I think Taein-nim turned him down every time he tried.”

“He did?” Mingeun asks in surprise.

Hwajung stares at him until he adds, “I’m glad Taein-nim kept telling him no. I wonder what’s different with Jaesun.”

“That doesn’t matter,” Hwajung cuts in. “What do I do about this?”

“Nothing,” Eunbyul says. Hwajung stares at her too. “What do you think you’re going to do about this? Demand the two of them stop working together? They could really be friends.”

That line of reasoning doesn’t make sense to her. How could Sungjae, who rarely goes out and rarely went out, except for school and to hang out with his little clique of pretentious composers, just happen to be friends with the newest artist at her company? She’s sure there’s something else going on. Maybe they’re both part of it, some conspiracy to bring her down. 

“It’s not that simple. It can’t be,” Hwajung says, teetering on the edge of conspiracy theorism.

Eunbyul glances at Mingeun, and asks, “Has Hwajung ever told you how we signed with Taein-nim?”

She has not. Mingeun pauses his pacing to think for a second, and shakes his head.

Hwajung sighs, because she really doesn’t think it’s necessary. “He found us at the Pentaport Rock Festival in 2017. This was before Eden and Qiuyun, when Sungjae and our old keyboardist, Myunghoon, were still in the band. When he approached us, we thought it meant all of us. Doesn’t that make sense? We were under a small label, and he promised us more. 

“Then we learned he wanted to make an idol band, and he only wanted to sign half of us so that we’d be a single-gender group, because that sells better. Sungjae was our frontman and primary songwriter. He did a lot of the negotiation up until that point. Taein-nim probably assumed it would be him and Myunghoon, and left it up to us to find him. He was shocked when the three of us showed up instead.”

Hwajung smiles at the memory. She’s never done anything that had Taein so surprised and upset and disappointed at the same time again. “He almost broke his promise. I don’t know why he had to go and add Eden and Qiuyun. We would have done well without them.”

She shakes herself out of the reverie. “That’s how Sungjae left. He hasn’t done anything else related to the band in years. This has to be him. He wants something from me. From us.”

Mingeun stops pacing and folds his arms over his chest. “Are you feeling okay? Sleeping okay?”

Hwajung spins in her seat so she can face him head-on. “You think I’m losing it. Seeing—hearing—something that doesn’t exist.”

“You admitted it in your text,” he says, raising his voice to match hers. “What am I supposed to think, when you say shit like that?”

“You started it,” Hwajung says pettily. “I wouldn’t have listened to it if you didn’t recommend it. Maybe it reminds you of me because it’s my fucking brother writing the fucking songs.”

“Ask him about it,” Eunbyul interrupts.

To be honest, the thought never occurred to her. She thinks about it for a moment, and then says, “What if he lies? This is clearly an alias. He wouldn’t admit it to me. You ask him, unnie.”

Eunbyul frowns. “He’s your brother. I haven’t spoken to him in years.”

“I haven’t spoken to him in three months,” Hwajung says.

“He’s your brother,” Mingeun repeats, pacing again. 

They both have decent relationships with their siblings. They don’t understand the rivalry and competition that has always existed between Hwajung and Sungjae, spurred on by their parents, that has always prevented them from getting along like siblings should or the so-called twin telepathy.

Hwajung scowls. “Fine.”

She thinks about it for a moment, composing the perfect message in her head. It’s too plain and simple to accuse Sungjae of… something. She doesn’t know what he’s trying to do, and she’s tired of guessing. At long last, Hwajung picks up her phone again and sends her brother a text.

HWAJUNG, 8:32 AM: you’re not a sellout

[circusgoth-dotcom]

Goodbye, Brother of Mine

Ship: Prince Charming & Althrú (Familial relationship; Adopted Brothers)

Word Count: 1095

Summary: Never thought I'd write a fic set in the Shrek universe but here we are. Althrú's application to a school for assassins has been accepted, meaning its about to leave the safety of the Kingdom of Far Far Away's walls for the first time in years. After a fight with its brother, Prince Charming, Althrú wants nothing more than to escape the people it once found comfort in and get on with its life. Charming appears to have other plans. CWs for arguing and familial strain.

Tag List: @canongf @rexscanonwife

Althrú sighed as it did a final check of its luggage. It was still stewing from what its brother had said the day before, though it really shouldn’t have surprised it. Charming had always been an airheaded egomaniac, though one had to wonder if that had anything to do with his mother. If Charming really wanted it out of the house, then so be it. That had been the goal for a while now, in fact, ever since the Grimm Academy of Assassins had accepted it. It planned to leave with just enough time to arrive at the station as the train came in, that way it’d be out of sight and out of mind before it could cross paths with Charming or his mother. Althrú respected and was quite appreciative of Fairy Godmother, after all, she had taken it in when no other would’ve, but some days were certainly better than others.

As Althrú closed its last suitcase, a knock came at his bedroom door. Cripes.

“What?” It asked as it opened it, using just enough infliction to show its annoyance. Charming stood before it, looking oddly sheepish.

“Morning, Althrú-”

It closed the door before he could get in another word. It turned and double-checked that it had closed its final trunk, only to be interrupted by another knock. It paused momentarily, considering that it could simply ignore it, but it also knew Charming could be terribly persistent. It opened the door again.

“Look, can we talk?” Charming placed his hand on the doorframe in an attempt to keep his brother from shutting him out again.

“Charming, I’ve been accepted into an academy meant to train assassins, mercenaries, and other types of hired guns- do you really think I would refrain from crushing your over-manicured fingers with my bedroom door?”

He quickly drew his hand away. “Duly noted… please?”

Althrú cringed at its brother’s attempt at puppy-dog eyes. “Fine, but only if you never make that face again.” It checked his clock. “You get five minutes, that’s it.”

“Great!”

The two began walking through the castle belonging to King Harold and Queen Lillian. After all, Fairy Godmother was a trusted advisor of theirs, so of course she and her offspring were allowed to reside within their castle.

“Well, I’m waiting,” Althrú prompted as they descended a glittering staircase. “Make your case, whatever it is. I’m surprised you can even look me in the face after what you said yesterday.”

A panicked expression overcame Charming’s features. “Right!” His voice squeaked and he cleared his throat, hot embarrassment dwelling in his cheeks. “I… I didn’t mean it.”

Althrú scoffed. “That’s a laugh. Everyone knows siblings are supposed to be jealous of each other, a blowout was bound to happen sooner or later.”

“Jealous?? Of what?” They paused at the bottom of the staircase.

“Oh, I don’t know. Your mother’s affection for me, my ‘infiltration of the nest,’” it looked at its brother, its head morphing into that of a wolf’s as it growled in a darkly amused tone, “the fact I’m a freak and you’re not?”

The prince appeared uncomfortable but did not flinch away. “I didn’t say what I said because I was jealous,” he said hotly as his brother went back to looking like its usual self.

“Then why act like you don’t want me around? Do you really just… hate me all that much?” It tried its best not to show any emotion as it spoke its thoughts aloud, quickly making a beeline to the nearest exit with Charming not far behind.

“Althrú!”

“Your lips are moving but I haven’t heard a single comforting thing out of them all morning.”

“Alright! Alright, I’ll tell you why I said what I said,” Charming quickly cornered his brother beside a fountain as they walked out into the gardens, though there was still plenty of room for an out if Althrú really wanted it. He waited for it to respond in some way, but Althrú didn’t budge. Taking a breath, Charming spoke again, quiet; “I don’t want you to leave. I can’t stand it. How could you think I hate you when we’ve almost always been so close? Once I got used to having a sibling… I can’t imagine galavanting in these walls alone, Altie! I’ll…” He drifted and sat on the edge of the fountain. “I’ll be lonely, Althrú. I’ll miss you.”

Althrú didn’t look at its brother for a moment, conflicting feelings rising in its chest. It settled down next to him. “That’s why you yelled at me?”

“I yelled because I was scared and I couldn’t take the fact that you’d be gone today. I thought a fight might make you leave sooner. I didn’t realize my mistake until I had woken up.”

Althrú’s lips trembled. “You shouldn’t have yelled at me.”

“I know, Altie. I’m really, truly sorry. I just want you to be my brother forever, you know? A-and now you’re going off to a university where they train people to be ruffians-- what if you get hurt?!” Tears welled in Charming’s blue eyes as he looked wildly at his brother.

“It’s a risk of the job, Charm. I know what I’m getting into. Why would I have applied if I didn’t? Charming, you know I’m not built for a lavish life. If I’m not on the run, I’ll go stir-crazy.” Finally, Althrú met its brother’s eyes. It then put a hand on his arm. “You’re so dramatic, Charm. You’ll be fine without me.”

Charming sobbed loudly, flopping into Althrú’s arms.

“There, there, y’big lug.” Althrú hummed, rubbing his back. “I’ll write you if that’s what you want.”

He continued blubbering for a moment before sniffing loudly, slightly turning his head to look at it. “You’re not mad at me?”

“Well, I certainly was but… I can’t stay that way… I know you meant well, now. You’ll always be my brother, alright, Charming?”

Charming nodded, slowly resuming a sitting position and rubbing his eyes and nose on the back of his sleeve. “As you will always be mine. I think… I’m ready to see you off, now. But you must write me as soon as you’re settled on campus.”

Althrú laughed a little. “Yes, I will.” It stood, squeezing its brother’s hand. “I need to pack up a carriage now, before ma wakes up. I don’t need her all teary-eyed before I’m off to the station as well.” It then hugged its brother tightly. “Take care, Charming. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“I love you, Altie.”

“I love you, too.”

[thetruearchmagos]

Hello~

Since its Saturday and you're a storyteller I wanted to ask what projects you're working on, catch up, sort of. So, what things are you working on? What do you have brewing, what are you thinking about, what are you trying your hardest to not think about and failing? Consider it a space to talk about whatever you want to really.

Aww, it's been a while since I've even seen one of these, thank you so very much!

Can't say I've got much firmly set when it comes to current writing. I've wound up on my usual touch-and-go with every sub-WIP and project in my head, rather than properly directing my energy on just one thing. Of course, most of that's Worldbuilding stuff anyhow, aside from a Fanfic I've been trying not to neglect.

Even then, oddly enough, a lot of my focus is on stuff that doesn't have much to do with the 12 Worlds. Arch's Armed Advice is currently in hibernation and relegated to the world of daydreams and odd thoughts. And of course, I'm still trying to work through my advice for you, with Mortal Sparks and the Worldbuilding and conflicts there. The thoughts and work involved there have taught me, through a trial of errors, how hard it is to convert what passes for my own skills into advice, which at least gears me up for AAA.

When it comes to stuff with the 12 Worlds, it's a real mess. Put out a short article yesterday, which was the first half of something meant to be much longer, but as much as I like the concept in it I realise how much further it stretches the narrative of SSAW. Even without mentally juggling all the moving parts of what I still consider my first planned-to-be-written-and-published Story, there's a ton of other details and facets of the 12 Worlds that have been rotting away slowly in my drafts.

In summary, blergh. The school year's starting in less than a week, and I don't think I'm handling the sensation of a looming deadline too healthily. I foresee my presence on Tumblr taking a bit of a hit sooner or later, and I can't say I'm happy with that. I've always had big plans, but at this precise moment it all feels like it's running away from me.

[bijouxcarys]

𝐏𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐧' 𝐆𝐮𝐲 - 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄

Masterlist

“𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐀𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐧 𝐊𝐥𝐞𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐥 𝐓𝐨𝐦 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐬 an example of healthy competition. If you don’t find yourself in a situation where you’re having to compete over a certain clientele, you’re doing something terribly wrong,” proclaimed Professor Ross, his words met with a ripple of chuckles from the engaged class. He delved into the intricate details of the topic that had consumed our studies for the past two weeks.

Emma, her glasses perched precariously on her nose, hurriedly jotted down the significant milestones in Allen Klein’s career as a shrewd businessman. Her enthusiasm was palpable, especially given his association with The Beatles.

As for me, I couldn’t muster must admiration for Mr. Klein’s methods; he was too conniving for my taste. I couldn’t fathom becoming a manager like him, resorting to coercive tactics and relying on substances to navigate his relationships with clients. However, I couldn’t deny the extraordinary competition he engaged in with Tom Parker, the mastermind behind Elvis’ empire. It was a testament to the power of relentless pursuit, letting nothing stand in your way when you yearned for something.

But I was getting ahead of myself. Truth be told, I wasn’t paying much attention to Professor Ross’ explication of their feud. Instead, I was engrossed in my exploration of John Reid, meticulously mapping his career through mind-maps, flow-charts, and copious pages of notes. Undeniably, he had enjoyed a remarkable rise to notoriety.

“With that said, I’ll give you the next fifteen minutes to exchange your discoveries with your fellow students,” Professor Ross announced, his voice brimming with encouragement. “Let inspiration flow, my little protégés.”

As the class buzzed with discussion, I turned to Emma, who was wrapping up her extensive notes.

“He’s oddly enthusiastic today,” I remarked, leaning back in my chair. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen him in such a lively mood. He’s usually a dull old git.”

Emma giggled, placing her glasses on the table. “So, you met the guys yesterday?” I knew the topic would come up sooner or later.

“Yeah, it was evident when I casually strolled out the door and said, ‘Emma, I’m off to Brian’s place to meet the boys, see you later,’” I replied, resting my elbow on the table and tapping my pencil against my lips. My sarcasm flowed effortlessly.

“Alright, Sarcy. Were they nice to you?”

Nice? Mate, they were more than nice. They were downright welcoming.

“Yeah, they were alright,” I nodded. “They’re a decent bunch.”

“I bet,” Emma chimed in nonchalantly, wiggling her eyebrows mischievously, causing me to roll my eyes.

“For Christ’s sake, Emma, can’t you go a minute without making everything dirty? Trust me, I wouldn’t jump into bed with someone I’ve only known for two days.”

“Would you settle for three?” Emma quirked an eyebrow, earning a playful shove from me.

“I think you’re projecting your own desires onto me, mate,” I laughed, shaking my head. “Speaking of which, Roger was there.” I couldn’t help but grin.

“Oh!” Emma squealed, drawing a few glances from our fellow students. This was precisely why we chose the back corner seats, far away from the prying eyes of everyone else. “Tell me, are any of them single?”

“By ‘any of them’, do you mean Roger? Because as far as I know, Roger isn’t exactly the settling-down type.” Most girls, including myself, would have found this response disheartening. But for Emma, it only widened her hopeful grin.

“Really?” Emma’s voice reached a high pitch, and she was clearly overexcited.

“Well, I didn’t see any girls around, and none of them were wearing wedding rings, so I’ll go out on a limb and assume they’re single. You’ll find out soon enough, I’m sure.”

“And Brian was there, right?” Emma inquired eagerly.

“Yes, Emma, they were all there,” I replied with a smile. I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about hugging Brian the previous night. It shouldn’t have been a big deal, and I shouldn’t have made it one. But, fun fact, no attractive male had ever given me a hug before. How was I supposed to react?

“Wow, you’ve got a thing for that man,” Emma teased, noticing a lasting grin on my face from the mere mention of Brian.

“No, I do not! I barely know the bloke. I mean, sure, he’s good-looking. And he’s really nice. And his voice is soothing. But that’s it!”

“That’s it? Maria, you just listed, like, ninety-nine percent of what makes him,” Emma bluntly stated.

“Why do you always push this on me? You know I don’t want a relationship, and you know damn well I’m terrified of that kind of stud. Besides, after this work experience is over, I probably won’t ever see him again. So, there’s no point in forcing this shit, Emma, so stop it,” I snapped, turning back to face the front and resting my head on my hand.

“Do they all—”

“Enough,” I interrupted sharply, turning around more forcefully than intended and accidentally knocking some papers onto the floor. “If you’re so curious about them, I’m meeting them later. We’re heading back to Brian’s place to handle some business stuff. Do you want to come along?”

I swear I had never seen Emma’s eyes light up more than they did in that moment. “Are you messing with me, Maria? Because if you are, I’ll cry.”

“Why would I joke about that? You’ll finally stop bombarding me with questions,” I retorted, evading her attempt to grab my arm. “So, are you coming with me or not?”

“Yes, I’m coming with you, you idiot! Are you sure they won’t mind?”

“I don’t think they’ll mind. They seem to enjoy having more company,” I tilted my head to the side, once again plagued by thoughts of Brian. Why is he always on my mind? He was just so gentle and comforting. Sometimes when I meet someone attractive and kind, I can’t help but develop a crush on them. But with Brian, I was determined to keep it strictly business. Our connection would be temporary, just like our association.

After our lecture, Emma and I decided to take a shortcut to our scheduled study hour. The lifts were still out of order, causing agony for all the students. The main corridor was congested with students, blocking a significant portion of the pathway.

The stairwell of the business and economics department at Imperial was completely impassable, with people coming and going, some getting trampled, and a few adventurous souls resorting to sliding down the banister.

“Um… I can’t be arsed with that,” Emma huffed, grabbing my hand and pulling me toward the staircase leading to the science department.

“Emma, darling, we’re going down, not up,” I raised an eyebrow, my gaze wandering over the posters adorning the walls—scientific jargon that had always eluded me during my school days and would likely continue to do so.

“Yeah, we can just use this staircase instead. It saves us from manoeuvring through the crowded corridors,” Emma explained.

I didn’t question her logic. After all, I didn’t have any pressing matters to attend to at that very moment.

Brian

I extended my hands and accepted the stack of books from Dr. Porter, feeling the weight of them in my grasp.

“Can you take them to the office? Just put them on the desk,” his distinctive Scottish accent resonated, catching my attention.

Complying with his request, I pushed the door open with my shoulder, steadying myself as I embarked on the short journey to the science office. As I walked, I noticed my grip on the bottom book loosening slightly, prompting me to pick up the pace. Why is it that there’s never a suitable surface to set down books when you need one?

The palms of my hands grew sweaty, causing the glossy cover of one book to slip from my grasp. Regrettably, the books tumbled to the ground. However, to my surprise, the mishap wasn’t solely due to my weak hold. Lost in my efforts to prevent the books from falling, I collided with someone as I swiftly turned a corner. Without delay, I dropped to my knees to retrieve the fallen books.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry!”

I recognised the voice immediately. Looking up from my position, a smile instantly illuminated my face. “Maria!” I greeted, appreciating her guilt-ridden expression as she joined me in collecting the scattered books.

“I’m sorry, Brian. I should have watched where I was going,” Maria apologised.

“No, don’t be silly. I was probably carrying too many books anyway,” I replied through a slight grimace, shaking my head.

She avoided making eye contact with me as we stacked the remaining books. As we worked, I glanced up and noticed another girl standing nearby, holding a folder, and sporting a ponytail. Offering her a friendly smile, I resumed helping Maria.

Once the books were back in my hands, I managed to secure a firmer grip on the pile. I looked back up at Maria and smiled, captivated by her inviting presence—her dark hair that perfectly complimented her deep-toned brown eyes. It was difficult to tear my gaze away from her.

Realising I had been staring, I cleared my throat and shook my head. “So, uh… You’re still coming later?” I attempted to alleviate the tension, though Maria’s friend shifted uncomfortably at my question.

Maria nodded, flashing her pearly white teeth as she smiled. “Yep. Where should I meet you?”

“In the car park, I imagine,” I shrugged, finding myself distracted by Maria’s voice and the subtle accent that coloured her words.

“Do you drive?” she inquired, tilting her head curiously.

“No, I don’t. But Roger does,” I confirmed, noticing Maria’s friend straighten her posture before intentionally coughing.

“Oh! Brian, this is Emma. She’s my flatmate,” Maria introduced, gesturing toward her friend.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Emma. I would shake your hand, but…” I chuckled, gesturing to the books still in my grasp.

“It’s okay, no need to have you and Maria on your knees again,” Emma replied, eliciting a sidelong glance from Maria, while I struggled to suppress a laugh.

“We should get going, shouldn’t we, Emma?” Maria held onto her friend’s arm, her smile directed at Emma.

“Oh yes, we have a study session,” Emma affirmed, starting to walk away. “Nice meeting you, Brian.”

Maria and I exchanged smiles before she too began to depart. However, I hadn’t gotten very far when I heard her voice again, prompting an immediate response from me.

“Oh, Brian?”

I turned around. “Yes?”

“Is it okay if Emma comes with me tonight? She wants to meet you all.”

“It should be okay. It’ll be a bit of… uh, a bit of a squeeze in the car, though,” I hummed.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine. Thanks, Brian!” Emma’s voice echoed from the other end of the corridor, earning an eyeroll from Maria, who I continued to gaze at.

As we began to part ways once more, I hesitated. I needed one last glimpse of her face before we reconvened later. Hoping she hadn’t vanished, I turned around again.

“Maria!”

She pivoted, her hair swaying with the movement, the rolled-up sleeves of her denim jacket adding a touch of casual style.

“I, uh… Can I have your number or something?” I stammered, immediately regretting my question. We already have her number…

“Don’t you already have it?” she asked, raising an eyebrow and wearing a perplexed expression.

“Oh… Oh yeah. Forgot. My apologies,” I timidly responded, nervously licking my dry lips.

“It’s okay. I’ll see you later, yeah?” Maria giggled, dismissing it as a harmless oversight.

“Yeah, see you later…” I trailed off as she turned around and joined her friend at the end of the corridor. I watched, spellbound, as she disappeared around the corner.

Wow, you’re such an idiot, Bri…

Impatiently, we lingered at the car park, well past the designated meeting time. What is it with everything running late this week? I wondered, stealing a glance at Emma, who was meticulously applying lipstick.

“Hey, you don’t usually wear lipstick. What’s up?” I inquired, leaning against the wall.

She paused for a moment, clearly searching for an excuse. Both of us knew exactly why she was dolling up—Roger.

“Well, maybe I feel like changing things up a bit, you know,” she defensively replied, her face betraying a hint of anxiety as her gaze fixated on something in the distance. I followed her line of sight. The boys had arrived.

The three of them strolled together, reminiscent of a modern-day boy band. Freddie donned a vibrant red velvet jacket paired with black bell-bottoms, perfectly complemented by his platform shoes. He truly was a fashionista. Roger sported blue bell-bottoms, a striped button-up shirt, and his trademark hat—quirky and stylish. It suited him, I had to admit. With a few buttons undone, he revealed a glimpse of his chest. Emma couldn’t seem to tear her eyes away from him as they approached us.

Brian, on the other hand, opted for a more understated yet gentle attire, mirroring his personality. Black dominated his outfit, with the exception of his unbuttoned shirt that revealed his lower chest. I’m not saying he didn’t pull off the more conventional look—on the contrary, he looked strikingly handsome, as he had on the three previous occasions I had seen him.

Nevertheless, Emma was completely enamoured with Roger, her gaze unwavering as they closed the distance between us. She needed to snap out of it. So, I cleared my throat and subtly nudged her side, prompting her to shake her head and straighten up.

“Maria, darling, so good to see you again,” Freddie beamed, pulling me into a warm hug, which I graciously accepted. Brian flashed me a smile as I peeked over Freddie’s shoulder, and I couldn’t help but smile back, quickly redirecting my gaze. It was all too easy to get lost in his captivating presence.

“And who might this be?” Roger directed his question at me, but his eyes were fixed on Emma, who still leaned against the wall.

“This is my friend, Emma. She’s my flatmate. And…” My voice trailed off, mortified by the intense gazes exchanged between Emma and Roger. It was as if they were eye-fucking each other right in front of us. “Brian said she can come with me. She wanted to meet you all,” I finished, feeling a tinge of discomfort.

“Don’t be so shocked, darling. You should see the girls who hang out around our concerts,” Freddie chimed in, shaking his head and playfully smacking Roger’s arm. “You driving, blondie?”

“Oh, indeed I am,” Roger replied, his response carrying an undertone of innuendo as his eyes remaining fixed on Emma. At this rate, she didn’t need to worry about making a good first impression.

“It’s going to be a bit of a squeeze, I’m afraid,” Brian warned Emma and me as we approached Roger’s car.

“Emma and I in the front, yeah?” Roger grinned, opening the passenger side, and allowing Emma to slide in before taking the driver’s seat himself.

“Didn’t really have much of a choice,” I muttered to Brian, who hummed in agreement, opening the back door for me to climb in. Freddie had already settled in on the other side. Fantastic. A Queen sandwich.

I squeezed myself into the back seat, feeling somewhat suffocated between the solid builds of Freddie and Brian on either side. I wasn’t particularly slim, but it wasn’t uncomfortably cramped either. However, a slightly discomfort gnawed at me as I observed Emma in the passenger seat, her eyes never leaving Roger.

I couldn’t deny that Roger was undeniably attractive. But to me, he was just another pretty boy—nothing out of the ordinary. However, for Emma, he seemed godlike. I had witnessed Emma develop infatuations for boys in the past, and they always ended in disappointment. I couldn’t forget the time when one of Emma’s friends and started dating her ex just a couple of weeks after their breakup. I harboured a lasting resentment toward anyone who hurt my best friend. The mere thought of Roger being involved with Emma unsettled me.

Anyway, I shuffled around, attempting to find a more comfortable position. After all, it was only a fifteen-minute drive to the boys’ place. Just as we hit the road, we were immediately halted by a red light—a classic London experience. This pause allowed Freddie to tease Roger, much to my confusion.

“You and this car, darling. You really should get a new one. It’s falling to pieces,” Freddie complained, struggling to roll down the window due to the limited space in the back.

“Hey, I am never getting rid of this car. I don’t know what it is, but I’m attached to it. We’re like the same person!” Roger exclaimed with contagious enthusiasm as he ran his fingertips lovingly over the steering wheel.

I rolled my eyes at their typical boyish banter, hoping to capture Emma’s attention. Yet, she remained transfixed by Roger and his deep affection for his vehicle.

Brian cleared his throat, adjusting his legs to find a more comfortable position. Being so tall, he had to navigate the cramped space carefully. “Honestly, Rog, getting a new car wouldn’t be such a bad idea.”

“No! I’m keeping this fucking car! If you don’t like it, go buy yourselves one!” Roger’s defensive outburst reverberated through the car, causing a tense silence to envelop us.

“I think your car’s lovely, Roger,” Emma chimed in, flashing him a smile that nearly made him miss the green light.

“Oh, uh… Thanks, uhm… Emma,” he stuttered, seemingly forgetting our presence in the backseat. “What a pretty name for a pretty girl.” Roger’s flirting was so transparent it was almost comical.

Brian sighed and shook his head, prompting me to look up at his reaction. I couldn’t help but chuckle. It was clear that Roger’s flirtatious behaviour was a regular occurrence. Surely Emma wouldn’t fall for such a cliché…

“Thank you so much!” Emma interrupted. Spoke too soon. “I love the name Roger. In fact…” She leaned in closer to the driver’s seat, causing the three of us in the back to notice Roger’s grip on the wheel stiffening. Panic set in as I imagined the worst. We were going to die.

“Emma!” I yelled from the backseat, causing her to jerk back to her original position. “He’s driving. Save it for when you’re alone, yeah?”

My intervention earned a laugh from Brian. It was the first time I had heard him laugh so genuinely. He leaned his head towards me and whispered, “Nobody has ever interrupted Roger with a girl before, especially when they’re flirting like crazy. Thank you.” I was taken aback by his words, and my body tensed when his hand patted my knee. His touch made my stomach flutter, despite its innocence.

The rest of the car journey was mostly silent, punctuated only by sporadic conversations. I grew accustomed to being squeezed between Brian and Freddie, but I found myself leaning closer to Brian. It had nothing to do with Freddie; it was just an inexplicable gravitational pull. Perhaps it was nothing, but when Brian’s arm rested across the backseats, it felt like he was putting his arm around me—a protective gesture that I strangely enjoyed. I quickly dismissed any burgeoning attraction towards Brian, hoping the car journey would end soon.

My prayer was answered as we pulled up outside their house, escaping the confines of the car. “John should already be here with a Yellow Pages book,” Freddie informed me as we walked down the pathway towards their front door.

Ten minutes later, Roger and Emma finally joined us inside the house, leaving us wondering what they were up to in that car. John and I sat side by side on the sofa, flipping through the Yellow Pages to find venues for the boys. Across the room, Brian occupied the armchair while Freddie loomed over my shoulder, perched on the armrest of the sofa.

Roger trudged over to the only other available spot in their front room, the second armchair next to Brian.

“Oh dear, there’s no other place to sit, Emma,” Roger grinned at her, causing her to blush immediately. The rest of us couldn’t help but be captivated by their interaction. “You better sit here; it’s the most comfortable seat in the house.” He leaned back and gestured towards his lap. How could Emma refuse such an offer?

Brian, poor guy, looked utterly flustered as the armchairs were dangerously close to each other. I shot him a look that screamed ‘what the fuck,’ and he returned it, barely containing a chuckle as the two lovebirds settled in next to him.

With Emma now perched on Roger’s lap, and his arms wrapped around her waist, John cleared his throat and continued searching under ‘B’ in the Yellow Pages book.

“What about The Britannia?” I pointed to its listing on the page, glancing up at Freddie for his input.

“How patriotic! Quite fitting, wouldn’t you say?” Freddie giggled, leaning over me to search for a contact number, only to find the space blank. “They couldn’t even leave a number. We’ll have to pay them a visit ourselves and have a little chat.”

“They’re a four-star pub, Fred,” Brian chimed in, his eyebrows furrowing slightly. Was he genuinely concerned about this?

“So is The Kings Head, darling,” Freddie corrected him.

“We only got in there because you know the owner’s son,” Roger remarked, shooting Freddie a knowing look.

“There’s no denying that, dear,” Freddie said with a sense of pride, looking down at me. “Remember, Maria, it’s not about who you know, but who you sleep with.”

“Might have to take you up on that advice, Fred,” Roger grunted playfully into Emma’s ear, eliciting a giggle from her.

This sickening display was becoming increasingly hard to watch.

“They close at nine,” John interjected, redirecting the attention from the lovebirds in the corner. “We have plenty of time to go and see them tonight. The sooner, the better, anyway.”

Brian let out a huff and rose from his sear, towering at six feet one in front of us, causing us all to strain our necks to meet his gaze. “We have a problem,” he said quietly.

“What’s the problem?” I raised an eyebrow, curious.

“We’ll have to use his car,” Brian gestured subtly towards Roger with his head. He was right. We wouldn’t get very far if Roger was so fixated on Emma in that moment, and he definitely didn’t seem like the type to easily lend his car to someone else.

“They’re closed on Thursdays, so we can’t go tomorrow,” John shook his head, clearly eager to get this done as soon as possible.

Brian sighed, his gaze drawn to something in the hallway as he paused to think. “We can still go tonight,” he said, surprising Freddie and me.

“Darling, you just said—” Freddie began, clearly puzzled.

“Rog, we’re going to talk to the owner,” Brian turned around, seeking an answer from the blonde. However, Roger remained silent, his eyes shifting between us and Emma. Finally, he exhaled heavily with a groan.

“Uh, yeah, you guys go. I think me and Emma will stay back. Get to know each other a little more, huh?” He glanced at Emma, who quickly nodded in agreement, playing along with his charade.

Brian seemed unphased by Roger’s response. When the two went back to flirting, Brian pressed his finger to his lips, silently signalling for us to follow him into the hallway. Confused, we complied.

“What are you doing?” I whispered to him, a smile spreading across my face when he held up Roger’s keys, which were carelessly left on the banister.

Freddie and John caught on as well, and the three of them made their way outside. I paused at the doorway of the front room, looking at Roger and Emma.

“Emma, are you going to be okay?” I spoke loud enough for her to hear. She didn’t break her gaze with Roger, but she did answer me gratefully.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine.” Short, but at least it was something. Just like her.

“Don’t worry Maria, I’ll take good care of her when you’re gone,” Roger said, that infuriating smile plastered on his face. I knew exactly what they would be up to while we were away.

Let the girl get pounded into a mattress. She deserves it, I thought bitterly.

“Um, alright. Bye,” I mumbled, not expecting a response. I headed for the door, shutting it behind me.

Approaching Roger’s car, I saw Brian in the driver’s seat, with Freddie and John in the back. I sipped into the passenger seat, giving Brian a quizzical look.

“I thought you said you didn’t drive,” I challenged, smirking playfully.

He inserted the key into the ignition, struggling a bit before finally starting the car. This man clearly couldn’t drive, could he?

“I have my permit,” he replied, pushing down on the gas pedal, and we were soon on the road.

“You have a permit? So, you don’t have a license?” I asked, feeling a hint of concern. I heard John chuckle from the backseat.

“Don’t worry, Maria. He’s driven us places many times when Roger was too drunk to drive himself. He’s… he’s alright.”

With that, I sat back, praying for two things: that Brian won’t kill us, and that Emma uses protection.

That drummer will not hurt my friend, whether my life depends on it.

[nikoruistyping]

i was thinking about this yesterday.

tony stark x fem!reader

reader is natasha's younger sister and they had a fight like yelena and natasha in black widow movie. and natasha manages to convince her to become an avenger like them, aaaaaand reader and Tony when they “meet” have flashbacks of a night they were together… they pretends that nothings happen but OH everyone notices something did between them. 🔥

An Old Flame || Tony Stark

Tony Stark x Romanoff!Fem!reader​

Summary: Being Natasha’s badass little sister it was obvious that sooner or later she would try to convince you to join the Avengers and reluctantly you agreed. While she takes you to the Avengers Compound to meet the rest of the team the only person that shows up is none other than Tony Stark and once you take a look at him that's when you start to remember he was actually your one night stand years ago...

TW: Semi-Smut, Semi -Angsty, Sprinkle of Fluff, Adult Language/Cursing, Suggestive Dirty Talk, Playful Banter, Allusion to Sex, Kissing/ Intense Make Out, Mention of Fighting (Choking is mentioned once but as a joke), Mildly Awkward Encounter/Introductions

Word Count: 2,050

A/N: I had lots of fun writing this one just because I liked being able to just brain vomit something kinda smutty without it being 100% smut since my brain has 0 capacity for a full smexy scene at the moment. ALSO FYI I didn’t watch the Black Widow movie yet so I tried my best to research what happened and the whole thing about Yelena so sorry if that part of it isnt as accurate since I didn’t watch the movie! Regardless I hope you enjoy it Anon and thank you for the request!

You couldn't believe it, somehow your sister, Natasha, had stupidly convinced you to make the long journey to America to become an Avenger. At first, you were reluctant, very reluctant, but somehow you wanted to think after all these years of not seeing Nat you wanted a way to reconnect with her, and what better way than to join this so-called "team of earth's mightiest heroes". You told yourself to just act cool, act normal, and definitely don't curse anyone out in Russian, unless they were asking for it obviously. You weren't exactly the type to work in a team so this might be weird at first and even a bit stupid even since you often liked to work alone, chasing after your own missions and saving well whoever needed saving.

You followed your sister's lead and kept walking down the extremely long hallways of the compound but to you, it seemed more like a labyrinth if anything, it was probably the biggest building you had ever been inside. Your eyes tried absorbing in all your surroundings, staying alert, and focusing on any little thing that might have been off. You couldn't help it, was the inner badass assassin in you to be untrusting of almost anything and everything all at once. Nat looked over her shoulder to make sure you were ok and gave you a little smile as you walked behind her and you furrowed your brow at her.

"What are you looking at sis?!" You said in a tone that was defensive and clearly annoyed.

"Oh nothing, I'm just looking at the biggest idiot I know." A hearty laugh came from her and you just huffed and puffed annoyed while your eyes rolled at her.

"You're so annoying you know that?"

"But you still love me right?" She shot right back at you.

"Yeah...I guess." You mumbled under your breath hoping she didn't hear what you said. You hated to admit it but despite not being blood-related she was your sister and she always would be. Nat got on your nerves sometimes enough to maybe want to choke her, in this case, you weren't that annoyed but if she kept it up there might be a repeat of last time.

As the two of you turned the corner and walked into the commons room you weren't expecting to see just one Avenger, you thought that there would be at least four more people joining you. You squinted your eyes not being able to tell who it was from behind, something oddly familiar about his stance, the way he carried himself and he seemed to command the room. You heard a sigh come from Nat and you gave her a confused look, the two of you approaching the man. You were cautious as always, your hands already forming a clenched fist, just in case, you never know.

"What the heck Tony?! Where are Banner, Rodgers, Thor, and Clint?" Natasha raised her voice and you could tell she was now very annoyed, you were still picking your brain to remember who the man was. Tony? The name sounded all too familiar.

"Clearly not here, I'm just as dumbfounded as you Nat. How have ya been sweetheart, long time no see! How was the flight? No turbulence I hope." Tony rambled on with a little chuckle spinning around and he almost stopped in his tracks when he laid eyes on you. He barely was even paying attention to what Nat was replying back to him in return, her voice became background noise at that point.

"Holy shit...Y/N..." He quickly said under his breath trying to avoid making eye contact with you but it was already too late for that and he took long strides over to the minibar and with shaky hands poured himself a glass of whiskey, downing it in less than two seconds.

"Tony are you ok? Are you having like a heart attack or something-" Natasha commented with a worried face.

"I might soon..." He mumbled once again under his breath and this time he flicked off his sunglasses in one swift movement, his eyes blinking and making direct eye contact with you.

You felt his brown eyes burn into yours and that's when things clicked. The more you focused on his face that's when you had a feeling you knew him from somewhere and the more you started to remember a blush started to grow across your face. How could you forget, it was probably the best fuck you ever had and it was none other than with Tony Stark.

Years ago you were following a lead, a very important one to see where the next black widow would be so that you could save her from the horrible brainwashing all of them had been through. It still clenched at your heartstrings knowing that they all were headed towards the same horrible fate and you wanted to save them, make them free once again.

You remember walking into the hotel bar with a little red dress, a slit on the side showing off all your assets and clearly, that caught the eye of Tony Stark. You weren't aware or barely even knew anything about him. At the time you had spent most of your time in Russia and your work kept you too occupied to be following otherworldly news unless the universe was in danger or something. You remember the way you sat on the barstool and immediately without needing to ask you were served a cocktail and Tony was already leaning against the bar next to the empty space beside you and the rest seems to come back in small flashes.

You remember laughing at his pick-up lines, leaning in closer to seduce him, biting your lip and knowing it drove him crazy, grabbing a hold of his tie and pulling him by it. You remember being completely distracted and losing sight of your lead entirely being as that night you were extra occupied with Tony's lips on yours, the pushing and pulling of your bodies together moving in sync. The way he hiked up your red dress, his fingertips grazing against your skin, the way he squeezed your ass under your dress, and how he whispered dirty little nothings into your ear all night long. Your hands roughly pushing him onto the bed, your fingers frantically unbuttoning his shirt until you basically ripped it off his body, your hips grinding against his, and heavy breaths and moans filling the room between hot kisses. Clothes went flying every which way and his hands gripped your hips, squeezing, his lips littering your neck in hickies and your fingers tugging and pulling his hair with all the pleasure he was giving you.

The rest all seemed like a big blur but you remembered that he was one of the very few men you had been with that actually stayed and wanted to care for you afterward. Making sure you were comfortable, kissing you more softly and delicate while he worshiped every part of your body. You were on cloud nine that night and yet you couldn't believe the same man was now standing right in front of you and he was none other than Ironman of the Avengers.

You shook your head trying to snap out of it and you looked away trying to focus on something else as you heard Natasha introduce you.

"You're being weird Stark but whatever," Natasha shook her head in disappointment, dismissing his weird behavior for probably being a bit drunk or tipsy even though it was quite early for day drinking.

"The whole reason why I wanted everyone to be here was that...this is our newest member of the Avengers, my sister Y/N. She is just like me, more annoying though but I'm sure we can handle her and she is going to be a great addition to the team." Natasha said proudly, putting an arm around you and hugging you close, her hand squishing your face and you kept a poker face or at least tried to while you smiled nervously.

"Y/N...I've heard a lot about you or more so what I mean is that I've already read your file, security measure." He says with a light shrug, taking a step closer to you and making sure to get a good look at you up close. You were just as beautiful just like he remembered and all the feelings from that night started to all comeback. You could feel your heart beating faster the more you stole glances at him.

"Clearly you have no regard for personal privacy Mr. Stark." You took a deep breath and gave him back a reply and mustering up the courage to play along into his little word games, two could play at that game.

"There is no privacy when you're around me. Let's just say I like to cross boundaries." He already caught on to what you were throwing right back at him, a smirk coming across his face while Natasha looked at Tony and looked at you and she could feel the sexual tension in the air, it was clear you both had some sort of past.

"Wait a damn minute, have you two met before?!" Natasha looks at you and you playfully push her away and you could see Tony putting back on his sunglasses as if to hide what he was really feeling at that moment.

"Of course not! What makes you think that?" Your voice almost cracked from the nervousness you were feeling yet somewhere deep inside you were actually kinda happy to see Tony again, maybe you could pick up where things left off.

"Because you both are acting pretty weird and I don't think it takes a rocket scientist to be able to feel the tension in this room right now." She motions between the space in between you and Tony.

"Nat please, that's just ridiculous! I'm just joking around, the usual me ya know." He chuckles nervously trying to evade even more questioning from her.

"Yeah...sure," Her voice paused as she drew out her sentence and squinted at you both.

"Anyways, Tony can you keep my sister company while I go look for the other knuckleheads? I'm sure they are around here somewhere." She trails off turning around and walking out of the commons room leaving just you and Tony now alone and left to your own devices.

"So...fancy meeting you here." That was all you were able to say as you turned towards him and your fingers were tapping against your leg.

"Yeah, quite the coincidence Ms. Y/LN. You look gorgeous by the way-" He was cut off mid-sentence when you had charged forward and grabbed his shirt almost by the collar and pulled him in to smash your lips against his, you were breathless and tired of waiting for him to make the first move.

It had been too many years too long being away from him and now that you remembered who he was you couldn't help yourself. All the feelings you had felt that night just poured over you and by the way his lips moved against yours he had no intention of stopping the kiss. The minute you felt his hands wrap around your waist you just kept leaning in closer the two of you taking steps back until your bodies hit the nearest wall. You let a moan slip from your lips while heavy panted breaths came from Tony, pulling away to gasp for air.

"How much time do you think we got?" You asked with swollen lips, looking up into his eyes.

"I'll gladly make as much time as you want sweetheart. Shouldn't I be buying you a drink first?" He replied back in his usual smart-ass way.

"Tony, just shut up and kiss me!" You declared just nodding your head and looking at him knowing that by the way you two were acting it was obvious you wanted to see where this went. Even if it meant having to work together as a team or badly trying to hide the fact that Tony was an old flame of yours that you wanted something more with. Regardless of how things would pan out you just hoped that being a part of the team meant you could be a part of an actual family and that you would possibly have Tony by your side along the way.

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[plsimsuchasimp]

gone (cheating ft. kenma)

an anon asked me to write another version of this post, so here it is. i’m sorry about this, it’s definitely not my best work.

request: “Can you do another cheating fic but with kenma since he is my favorite character”

genre: angst

ft: kenma kozume x gn reader, a little bit of kuroo tetsuro

wc: 1.8k

warnings: fainting, angst, implied cheating

Flopping down on your bed, you picked up your phone and shot off a quick text message to your boyfriend, Kenma.

“hey babe, can we call? it’s been a really long week and I haven’t seen you in forever,” you wrote, pressing the send button with only a moment’s hesitation. 

Sighing, you scrolled upwards a bit, reading through the message history. Recently, his texts had been getting shorter and more abrupt, often making excuses when you asked to see him or talk to him.

1 new message. Distracted, you scrolled down to see Kenma’s text. 

“sorry can’t i was just about to sleep”

Frowning, you glanced at the top of the screen. 10:53 pm. He never went to bed this early, let alone slept. Your throat constricted, but you tried to brush it off, the thoughts whispering at the back of your head like malicious pixies, insecurities and harsh words. You stared at the simple string of words, wondering what to say. Are you okay? you’ve seemed off recently. No, you were probably just overthinking it.

“okay, have a good night! ily” Read 10:57 pm. No response.

Putting the phone down, you tried to push it to the back of your thoughts, but it nagged at you. Turning on your PC, you logged onto discord and noticed Kenma’s status. He was playing a multiplayer game, in a VC with one other person. Right-clicking, you ignored the feeling of distrust and clicked on the other player’s profile. 

You knew her- she was a friend of Kenma’s from school. Kenma had promised you they were just friends, that you had nothing to worry about, but the insecurities crept in again as you realized he’d been spending a lot more time with her instead of you. Biting your lip, you looked back at your phone, the accusing text glaring at you. It seemed innocuous, seemed like you were overreacting. Kenma didn’t really get why you were insecure- he always told you he only had eyes for you, but lately, it didn’t really feel like it.

The last time you two had hung out, he’d laughed at something on his phone, then turned away when you asked to see what it was, muttering something vague about a funny tiktok. You didn’t think much of it at the time, but with thoughts crowding your head, you wondered if it really had been just a video. Kozume had always been distant- you understood that when you started dating him, but was it too much to ask for a scrap of his attention? 

You were torn. On one hand, you wanted to trust Kenma, believe that everything he told you was true and he still loved you like he used to. On the other, your gut was telling you there was something off. Praying that he wasn’t hiding anything, you entered a different browser and logged into his Discord account. You’d given each other the passwords to your socials a while ago, your way of showing that you had nothing to hide.

Incorrect login information. The words appeared in red on the screen, the password field outlined in red. You tried again, ensuring that there were no typos, and it still registered as wrong. Your stomach sank, staring at the message on the screen. He changed his password and didn’t tell you. At this point, you knew something was wrong, but you didn’t want to ask him in fear of seeming insecure or clingy, both traits Kenma disliked. Before you could lose yourself further in the swirling tornado of your thoughts, your phone dinged with a new message. It was from Kuroo.

“hey y/n, are you up? we need to talk.”

Brow furrowing, you responded with “yeah, is everything okay?” He read the text, and then the call icon rang at the top of the screen, red and green buttons buzzing gently. You accepted the call, answering with “Hi Kuroo.”

“Hey y/n,” he said, his voice quieter than normal. 

“Are you okay?” He sounded off, sad somehow.

“Y-yeah, I’m fine. There’s something I need to tell you, though.” You paused for a second, hoping it wasn’t what you thought it was, before he continued. “Kenma- Kenma cheated on you.”

“W-what?” Time seemed to stop. you couldn’t, didn’t want to believe your ears. Your breath caught in your throat, shock freezing your body in place.

“Shit, y/n, I’m so sorry. I just found out.” Kuroo was still talking, but you weren’t hearing him. It seemed impossible, even though you’d seen it coming. “Y/n? Are you okay?” 

Startled, you choked out, “Yeah, I’m okay, just a little shocked.” a little was an understatement. “H-how did you find out?”

“Well,” he sighed, “I saw him kiss her behind the cafe yesterday. I wanted to tell you sooner, but I was still figuring out what to do.” Guilt laced his words, and you got the feeling there was still something he hadn’t said.

“What else?” From his slight intake of breath, you could tell you’d caught him off guard. He was silent for a moment.

“He’s been texting her on Discord for the past month or so. I think you know her, (f/n)?” You felt your heart crash into your stomach, and your worst fears were confirmed. Switching back onto your computer, you saw that Kenma was still playing the game with the girl, and your stomach clenched. 

“Yeah, I know her.” He noticed that your voice was quiet, subdued, and he swallowed.

“Y/n, I’m- I’m sorry. I don’t know what to say.” He was silent then, waiting for you to speak.

“No, no, it’s fine,” You said, your voice oddly calm. “Thank you for telling me.”

“Of course. Hey, are you going to be okay?” He asked, unsure what was really happening inside your head.

“Yeah. I’ll be fine.” Before he had a chance to say anything else, you hung up, mind spinning.

Oddly enough, you didn’t feel anything. You knew in the back of your head that this was your way of coping, that the hurt and anger and sadness would come later, but for now you didn’t care. Methodically, you went to all of your socials and blocked Kenma, hesitating only slightly to block his number in your phone.

You shut off your computer and turned your phone to silent, sitting in silence on your bed. Slowly, your eyes filled with tears that spilled down your cheeks, expressionless besides the gleaming tear streaks staining your face. Your shoulders shook, and everything seemed to crash down at once. 

Your body couldn’t keep up, the sobs overtaking you until you were lightheaded. The room was spinning and the shining moonlight was glinting through the blinds at odd angles, seeming to distort your vision. You couldn’t breathe, and then everything faded to black.

You woke up a few seconds later with your head on the pillow, dazed and hearing the blood pound through your head. You groaned and lay there for a couple of minutes, letting your breathing slow. 

You got up and brushed your teeth, staring at your puffy eyes in the mirror. It hurt, to know the man you loved didn’t feel the same anymore. What did you do wrong? Were you too clingy, not good enough, not there for him enough? Why would he cheat on you? 

Guilt vibrated around you, and it brought back the memories of every other time. It must have been your fault- it always was. 

Sleep took you uneasily that night, creeping in around your obsessive, painful thoughts and lulling you to distraction.

The next morning at school, you wiped the pain from your face and moved through the day in a haze. You saw Kenma in the hallway, leaning against the lockers on his phone, and avoided eye contact. When you saw her, (f/n), anger and hurt swelled up in your stomach, and you tried to swallow it and avoid lashing out. 

Later, Kenma stared at his phone as an error message popped up when he tried to text you. We’re sorry, the number you’re trying to reach is unavailable. A pit formed in his stomach, and he went to his other socials, reaching the same conclusions in other places. 

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath, amber eyes scanning the hallway. You were already gone, though, and he moved through the swarm of people, eyes focused on the exit. Where would you have gone? 

When he showed up at your house that afternoon, you were surprised. He doesn’t waste time, showing you his phone and bluntly asking “Why did you block me?” Your eyes widened to see him slouching there, clearly uncomfortable with going out of his way to do this. “Are you angry at me?”

“Kozume, I don’t really want to talk to you right now.” His face twisted at your use of his last name.

“Why not?” 

At this point, you sighed, tired of everything. “You cheated on me. That’s why.” Your voice cracks in the last sentence, and the world stops.

His stomach drops as you turn away, the weight of the world on your shoulders. “N-no. Y/n. Please don’t go!” 

Kenma’s not good with words, and you understand that. Sometimes, though, it feels like he’s not trying. As he shook his head frantically, chin-length hair swaying around his beautiful face, you could tell he wanted to say something, but he can’t.

“What is there to say, Kozume?” Your eyes were brimming with tears, your heart squeezing at the sight of him.

“I didn’t- I didn’t mean to.” Even he knows how weak this sounds, how pathetic of him, and when he looks back up at you, his eyes are shiny. “I love you.”

His words ring hollow, and you scoff. “Where was that love when you kissed her behind the cafe? Where was it when you were constantly texting her on discord? Where was it when I needed you and you weren’t there?” You shake your head, heartbreak written all over your features. It’s then that he remembers the declined calls, the unanswered texts, the neglect he subjected you to as he pushed you away.

“I hope you’re happy with her, because we’re done.”

He didn’t even have a good reason this time. All he knew was that he wanted you to stay, but he knew he didn’t deserve a second chance. Against his will, a tear slid down his cheek and dropped to the floor, making him sniffle. 

There was nothing you wanted more than to pull him into your arms, cry into his shoulder, but you couldn’t. It hurt too much. You stepped back and slammed the door on him for the final time.

Leaning your head against the door, all of your emotions spilled out. You were silently crying, the ache in your chest almost too much to bear. You thought you heard your name outside the door, whispered just loud enough for you to hear, but you just sank down to the floor and let the tears fall.

On the other side of the door, Kenma’s phone buzzed. It was a text from her, and the disgust and anger that filled his stomach at the sight was enough for him to know he’d never forgive himself for hurting you like this.

“I love you.”

a/n: srry for the anticlimatic ending i was just feeling super bad and not in the mood to write but i wanted to get this out here, hope you like it.

[lucycola]

The Lone Survivor: Part 5

TOS!Spock x Fem!Reader

Spock saves the reader from an icy starship crash, only to accidentally form a bond with them in the process. They are called to investigate a happening in the morgue, seemingly to face the unseen enemy that caused the crash in the first place.

PART(S) ONE TWO THREE FOUR

WARNINGS: Blood, violence, death, corpses, language, and sexual implications. The body eating gets vivid so if you can’t ride, please don’t. 

I’m so so so so sorry this took so long to come out. I’m not good at actions scenes so I did my best! Part 6 will be out soon. If I missed you on the tagged list I’m so sorry! 

Part 5: Isn’t is lovely? All alone. My heart made of glass, my mind of stone.

Captain Kirk and Doctor McCoy tried to shield you from the carnage, but you broke through their human shield to see Commander Craft surveying the morgue with a grim expression.

Only a portion of the crew were brought aboard-the rest were still being recovered by multiple teams below. Along with Craft came other starships to help with the recovery. The tundra below was harsh and made recovery an even more difficult process. Bodies that were still intact were brought aboard the Enterprise to be identified. The others well were left in makeshift morgues below waiting to be put together with their other pieces.

What you hadn’t known before yesterday was that some of your crew had been devoured.

More had been devoured now. Bodies were littered about the morgue, torn from their bags. Some were only half eaten at the limbs and thighs. Heads and torsos were still left in contact where it was less meat and more viscera and soupy organs. The poor morgue workers were left alone.

“Blunt force trauma,” McCoy noted into his recorder. “Why didn’t it eat them?”

“It appears...it only ate the Calvary crew. The ones that had been on ice,” Kirk murmured, fist pressing into his teeth.

“It likes its food served cold,” you said, absent mindedly.

“Fascinating,” Spock said.

You glanced over the logs last input by the crewman, “He listed finding my father. Right here! Doctor L/N. My father’s dead. It must have kept his form.”

“Which must be why the creature could not be detected on our scanners. It perfectly mimicked the dead,” Spock said, bouncing ideas off of you, “It may be possible to feign the absence of a pulse or temperature-or perhaps it can alter its physical state enough to where it appears to be a lack of both.”

“Why did it take so long to recognize Doctor L/N, then? The man’s been dead for years.”

“The bodies were beamed up in droves, Jim,” Bones answered, “Then picked through. After were found the Calvary’s lone survivor we stopped bringing up one by one.”

“How...” Commander Craft said slowly, through ground teeth, “Could you be the only one?”

“I don’t know,” you answered.

“Four hundred men dead and you...still alive having wrecked in an escape pod,” the commander snarled, seemingly refusing to even look at you. He still surveyed the frozen dead.

“What?” you asked in disbelief, “I was in an escape pod?”

“Don’t play cute with me,” he jerked to look at you finally, eyes blazing, “You launched the pod right before the ship went down. My crew scouted out the area you were recovered from. Only a single pod launched with only you in it. Or did your husband not tell you that’s where he found you?”

“Spock, is this true?” Kirk asked.

“It seems I may have accidentally omitted such a finding...as I was not aware of it.”

“You’re a Vulcan-you don’t miss things,” Craft spat.

“One forgets my human half-although I have never found myself so personal with you, Commander, to share such a fact.”

Craft looked to you and back to Spock and then back to you again.

“You were both with one another the whole evening?” Commander Craft asked.

“I had two guards posted out side their quarters,” Kirk said, his temper flaring, “I doubt she’s in cahoots with the damn thing. Spock looked into her mind and it seems she’s nothing but a scapegoat for a monster to get its next meal! Now you can stop targeting my officers and start cooperating.”

You reached for Kirk’s arm desperately, “Captain, I didn’t put myself in that pod. Captain, I didn’t do this-you’ve got to believe me still.”

“It doesn’t matter what I believe. What see is your crew in bits and pieces down here and that thing is going to do the same to my men,” Kirk said, patience wheedling thin. “Bridge, this is the captain. Issue a red alert. Lockdown all decks.”

“But captain,” a woman’s voice replied, “You just issued a command stating that the ship take a landing and to disregard any other orders.”

“Lieutenant, where was I when I gave such orders?”

“On deck three.”

x

The red alert beacon seemed like it would never fade into the background but it was eventually drowned out by the sound of blood rushing in your ears. Kirk had ordered you all to stay together after a trip to the armory and that you were all going to the third deck, whether the commander liked it or not.

The assent to the third deck was painful as the commander and Kirk had it out with one another. The lift felt extremely cramped, but the tension in the air made it worse.

Splitting up the party had perhaps been briefly suggested by your husband to cover more ground, to which the commander argued, “Don’t let Spock take her anywhere. I don’t trust those two!”

“No ones going anywhere unless it’s with me,” Kirk retorted, “Set your phasers to stun. We don’t know who the real crewmen will be apart from this thing. We don’t want to kill anyone else.”

“Then how to do we know you’re not the imposter then? How do we know the real you isn’t already on the third deck or even the bridge by now?” the commander asked, nearly spitting.

“I wouldn’t have asked to land. I’m getting really tired of you,” Kirk said.

The doors to the lift finally opened, showing and eerily empty third deck washed in the red light.

“Daddy?”

A small voice, a woman’s voice in fact so far away you could barely hear it.

The doctor stepped passed you eyes bugging out of his skull, “Didja hear that?” He whirled back around to you, “Did ya’ll hear that?”

“Indeed, doctor,” Spock replied, “It seemed to be coming from that corridor.”

“Daddy!” came the woman’s voice again, now sobbing and strangled.

“Joanna?” the doctor asked, immediately breaking away with full stride.

You seized him around the waist, trying to prevent him from going, “Wait-doctor-!”

“Simon!” came a wavering moan from the adjacent hall.

Commander Craft was less vocal than Bones and bolted immediately with a tailing Kirk who was then seized up by Spock, “Captain, don’t-”

“Daddy!” Joanna’s wail was blood curdling and McCoy broke free from your hold like a frenzied horse. You bolted after him immediately.

“T’hy’la!” Spock began to which in the confusion Kirk said, “Go after them-I’ll get Craft!”

x

Could it possible the creature could multiply? You hadn’t seen it for yourself, but fear blazoned in your body and drove your legs to pump themselves as far as they could go. You were younger than Bones, but your weak leg gave out. Spock was faster than you anticipated and with thundering footfalls you felt him upon you.

He swept you up quickly, “That was foolish.”

“It’ll kill him, Spock!”

“I do not think it can be many places at once or it would have acted upon the crew sooner.”

“It’s just throwing its voice?”

“Possibly.”

He was moving at a light sprint, cradling you up like a baby.

“If it likes its food cold it will go for the bridge. It’ll wreck the ship to the snow below,” you breathed, clutching onto Spock’s uniform.

“I suspect the same thing-” his running faltered a bit, “-it will pursue the captain in attempt to control the ship.”

“Fuck.”

x

“Jim!”

“Sam?”

Long ago had Kirk lost sight of Craft, now lurking beyond every corner. It seemed the third deck was empty and he found out quickly why it was so quiet, save the bells. He came upon the mangled bodies of his crew, not eaten, but twisted like rag dolls in their heaps.

Now it was mimicking his brother. The bastard of a thing-whatever it was.

“Jim, help!”

“I’m coming, Sam!” Kirk called, moving carefully down the hall, phaser in hand. It was leading to him to his own cabin. He knew his brother was dead, but it was almost like he couldn’t stop himself. It was a painful desperation and it burned like fire in his chest.

He opened the door and stepped inside. His room was the same as it had always been. Bed in one area, dress and mirror in the other. His antique weapon collection of old era muskets, sabers, and spears freckled his walls but were hard to be seen as the lights were oddly set dim.

“Captain!” a distressed voice cried from the corner. A female voice.

“Y/N?” Kirk asked, moving closer, “Kitty, is that you?”

The person moved from the corner and into the light and indeed to the captain it appeared to be you. But how? Kirk questioned.

Your face was beaten and your body was bloodied. Your dress which once was white was almost completely dyed scarlet and it was ripped all the way down, revealing your right shoulder and breasts.

Kirk snatched the blanket off the bed and brought it to cover you. “How did you get here so fast? Did it do this to you?”

“It ran as soon as it heard you. It was a man. He looked just like you. I thought it was you,” you cried.

He skimmed the tears off your face with his thumb, “There, there. I’m here now.”

“You’ve got to help me. Spock tricked me, Jim,” you said, moving closer. “I need you.”

x

The third deck was so confusing you (the real you) thought you and Spock would get lost but you honed in on the doctor’s desperate cries of “Joanna!” like breadcrumbs.

You both came to a dead end to see the doctor there, bumbling at the wall, clearly confused.

“Doctor!” you cried in relief.

“I heard Jo one second and the next-I’m at a loss!” he attempted to explain, scratching the back of his head.

The doctor stared at the bare wall as if his daughter was apart of its making. She was there in his ears and the next she wasn’t.

“She was never there,” you sighed, still cradled in Spock’s clutch.

“It was a trick, Doctor,” Spock concurred.

“Lemme down,” you reached for Bones almost desperately.

You felt like you had to touch him to truly know he was alright. His face looked alright as well as the rest of his body, but his eyes were still large with bewilderment and grief. Joanna had not been there, but she had sounded so real and seemed to be in so much pain as the ghost of your own father had been.

“Doctor, are you well enough to care for my wife? It seems she has reinjured her leg to some extent,” Spock inquired, allowing you to bear weight on your good limb.

Bones reached for you immediately and then asked Spock, “Where the hell are you going?”

“I must relocate the captain and Commander Craft for their safety,” Spock explained, already having turned promptly to leave.

He broke out into another sprint, which looked faster than it had while you were being carried. Vulcans were faster, stronger than humans naturally, it seemed.

Bones fussed over you and you shushed him, “It’s just a limp-I’m fine-no, we are not going to sickbay!”

“Where do you suggest we go then? We might as well be sitting ducks.”

“We’re going to catch up with, Spock,” you said in a definite tone.

“In your condition and mine? it’ll take this old man two weeks to get you there,” he said, shaking his head.

“Hey,” you grinned, “It’s not the first time you’ve walked a pretty girl down the aisle.”

Bones face heated up with a large grin.

x

The door shifted open and Spock was greeted with the sight of his nude wife fondling his captain. Except you were had been left in Bones’ care behind him. Something white hot and broiling ignited in his very being.

You could feel it from down the hall.

He’s mad-why is he so mad? you questioned internally, limping as fast as you could.

Kirk fired his phaser immediately into the creature’s belly, after letting it draw itself close. The mirror version of you somehow enclosed its hand around the firing phaser, crushing it completely.

Kirk shook his hand free, screaming. The creature seized Kirk by the shoulders and flung him effortlessly into the wall. He hit part of his antique weapon collection, spears and swords clattering to the ground with him.

“Captain-!”

“I’m alright.”

The imposter whirled around and grinned like a Cheshire, “Well the infamous Mister Spock! I can read the crew’s thoughts y’know. Plenty of gals seem to like you. But you only like this one, don’t you?”

The imposter ran her hand down her naked form, taunting him.

“Too bad your captain got the upper hand on your wife first. Didn’t even stop himself when given the opportunity.”

“That’s a lie, Spock,” Kirk choked.

Spock shot at the creature, phaser still set the stun. The creature was knocked back only a little, seemingly unfazed. Spock shot multiple times only with the same result.

“I like it rough,” the creature laughed, “Keep on.”

“Why did you place Lieutenant Y/L/N in the escape pod when you could have devoured her?” Spock inquired.

“I seek the weakest link of all that visit my land. I seek their fears, their sorrows and hers was most adequate for my use,” it said, “The other ships that follow after every crash always tend to stay longer when there’s someone to blame. Everyone likes someone to blame.”

“How many other starships have you sabotaged?” Kirk asked, moving slowly about the weapons on the floor.

“Enough to feed me my due.”

Kirk launched one of the old spears at the imposter and it grazed its belly, spurting purple blood.

“Run, Captain!” Spock ordered.

The creature seized the spear and thrust it a Kirk as he ran to the door. Spock was faster and quickly moved in front of Kirk, catching the spear deafly with one hand. The blade was merely inches from his nose. The phaser clattered to the ground.

“Fascinating,” the creature said mockingly and changed it form from you to Spock himself.

x

Eventually you and Bones were able follow the trail of downed crewman to the captain’s cabin. Upon opening the door you were gifted with the sight of two of your husbands wrestling with one other over some ancient spear.

Where the hell did that thing come from?

Long forgone on the floor was Spock’s phaser and you knelt to grab it.

“Jim!” Bones exclaimed.

Kirk was once again a heap on the floor, already having been assaulted twice by the imposter and saved by Spock. He was bleeding from his right flank.

Bones quickly moved to him, dragging you long with him.

“We’ve got--got to kill it--” Kirk stuttered, staggering upward. You caught him under the arm, supporting him. “The phaser doesn’t seem to work on stun. You have to set it to kill.”

Bones caught the other, “But how can we? Which one is it?”

You shakenly pointed the phaser even though it seemed it had no effect.

“Alright you two!” Kirk yelled, ‘Stop or we’ll be forced to shoot the both of you!”

The wrestling came to a still and the spear was tossed aside, rolling to your feet.

They were identical, completely. Fuck.

“T’hy’la, it is I,” said the one on the left.

“No, that is incorrect,” said the one on the left.

Down to the nose, the hair, the faint hue of green in their cheeks and lips. The familiar warmth pulled you at the back of your mind.

“Kitty, what are you doing?” Kirk began.

You moved forward, with two fingers extended, “Husband, attend.”

The one of the left immediately came forward and you felt the warmth surge closer at is it, enveloping your mind as your fingers touched.

“Fools!”

The one of the right’s entire mouth opened up as if it was a venous fly trap, launching itself at you and Spock. You fired the phaser, blasting a hole on its left side but it still came.

Kirk was faster on the draw, and launched the spear into the creature’s mouth, splattering purple liquid everywhere. Its lifeless body hit the ground with a wet thud.

The spear had ripped through its body and pierced itself into the wall behind it.

“Good shot, captain,” Spock said. “And you as well, wife.”

“Second time’s the charm,” Kirk said, holding his injured side.

You let out a dry sob, mixed in with a laugh. Bones patted your shoulder, letting out a large sigh.

PART SIX

tagged: @groovyfluxie @dontgivedeath @lumar014 @pringtella @moonchildlonan @superninjapervert420 @love-wanderlust15 @ischysiaclark@imyourspacegirlfriend @hiddlestonme @fandoms4ever97 @mywellspringoflife @rebelchild93 @nilalunis16

[angloie]

Charms.

(1/?)

> Percy likes to deceive. Lie, manipulate, more lies; it was a part of his job, after all. Annabeth has been deceived. Lied to. Manipulated. She's an woman of many secrets- secrets she'd rather not let anyone know.

> Assassin! Percy x CEO! Annabeth.

> Warnings: Mostly angst + fluff, character death and some violence. Nothing too explicit. Mentions of blood/mild injuries as well as alcohol. (characters are aged up!)

pt. 2 || pt. 3 || pt. 4 || pt. 5

Percy's thumb rule was never do anything he didn't want.

To live a happy and healthy life, that was completely normal; especially for such a laid back guy like him.

Choosing this... rather wild career was something he wanted to do, willingly. Life was short, so why not make the most of it? It was getting awfully bleak with the normal civilian life. After all, no one would believe the nice young man who helped the old man carry the groceries to his car would be someone who killed for a living. A smile so bright that it could give the sun a run for its money and warm sea green eyes could hide so much more than just innocence.

The ceiling to floor windows of his penthouse showed a breathtaking view of the New York skyline, sun moving behind the tall buildings and moon replacing the orange hue. Being an assassin had its perks- despite endangering his life on multiple occasions. The pay was just out of this world. All that cash just to kill off some sleazy politician, or that one corrupt buisness man? Sign him up. Zero hesitation.

Percy frowned at the dried blood on his once pure white gloves. He was quick to peel them off. He shuddered at the unsightly view of a small stain of blood on his onyx-colored suit.

He would just buy a new one later. Small things like that didn't matter. Sure, that might've been a gift from one of his clients, but it wasn't anything he couldn't replace.

Hanging his coat on the rack beside the wide entrance, he sighed with clear tiredness. One night of forced politeness and smiles took a toll on him- Also due to the fact that he had just done his job as an assassin. It wasn't what you could call easy.

His muscles were aching and sore in all the worst places, every move throbbing with full pain. The shallow slash on his lower abdomen had soaked his shirt in a dark crimson red, most likely going to leave a bad stain. He would have to clean that later.

The penthouse was big and rather spacious. White Walls and abstract paintings lined them, reflecting off the almost pristine marble floors. It took a while for Percy to get settled in, it being a huge place and all that. But he soon made it feel like home with the help of old picture frames that held memories and the Nemo stuffed animals resting on the leather couch.

“WOOF!”

And Mrs. O'leary.

Mrs.O’leary- a huge, slobbering dog with thick black fur- bounded towards him in a frenzied greeting. She hopped up on her hind legs to lick his face, tail wagging at a unmatched speed. She barked again, this time more quieter.

“Yeah, yeah. It's nice to see you too.” Percy laughed as he tried to pull away. Once he went to the kitchen to grab a bone-shaped treat. “Who’s a good girl?” He cooed, tossing the snack in the air. Mrs.O’leary jumped up to snatch it before barking and padding away. Her tail still wagged with elation.

When Percy first moved here, it was quite nerve-racking. He'd heard that this place was an especially good spot for people like him- meaning people who did some illegal activity. Well, that was what he assumed. Percy was 99% sure that his neighbor just in the penthouse below him, (Leo was it?) had to be involved in some sketchy stuff. That creepy smile of his with a mysterious staining his shirt never meant any good. Or maybe when his other neighbor, had a odd looking duffel bag slung across his shoulder. Oddly human shaped, maybe. With a horrible smell of something rotting. Percy recalled introducing himself a Nico DiAngelo. A pretty reserved and quiet guy, usually having a frown of his face. Well, other than that time when he had his boyfriend over, a sunshiney guy with sun-kissed hair. He never got the chance to catch his name.

Wrapping a white cloth around his wound, Percy's met with a sense of familiarity. Fixing his own injuries by himself. It would bee nice to have some help once in a while, but that would mean exposing him. He's definitely not ready to risk that.

Other than his boss and a couple of really close friends, no one knows about this. Percy nearly slipped up once- when a old companion from high school came over to visit, and his small arsenal of weapons were revealed. The little compartment hidden behind a painting. Not another word wasmsaid about it. Percy made up some half-assed excuse about auditioning for a movie so they were fakes.

It didn't take much of a expert, but the were far from fakes.

His phone rang from beside Percy, making him jolt in surprise. The contact name made him smile just the tiniest bit.

"Hey, mom," Percy began. "Why'd you call?"

"Can't your mom check up on you once in a while? How are you?" Sally beamed, cheerful voice on speaker mode.

He walked over to the bathroom where he stood in the full length mirror. A hint of blood seeped through the white bandage; now full wrapped. "Good. How's Paul and Estelle doing?" He asked.

"They're doing great! Me and your step dad went out with Estelle yesterday to see the movies." Sally smiled. "Estelle is growing into such a energetic ball of energy." She joked. "Just like you."

"Is that so?" Percy laughed, splashing his face with water. It felt cool on his skin, causing tiny pricks of coldness to pop up all over.

For a while, him and Sally conversed. She told him about her day (mostly gushing about Paul and Estelle) while Percy smiled and listened. He did his best to hide the fact that he'd been fixing up his wounds in silence. He cursed silently in pain when he touched an sensitive spot on the slash.

"Percy? Are you alright?" Sally asked in concern.

"Yeah! I just... hit my elbow. Its nothing. " He hastily replied.

"Okay," Sally exclaimed in relief. "By the way, when are you going to visit your old woman? Estelle misses you, you know."

"Yeah, well tell her I miss her too." A sense of gloom over took the conversation. "Look, I'm busy now but..." Percy looked over to the mirror again. "I'll call you later. Maybe I can visit you guys over there soon." He exhaled.

"We're looking forward to it! Isn't that right,             Estelle?" Sally gave the phone to the little girl who was jumping with excitement.

"Come over soon Perce!" She garbled. It sounded like she was eating something halfway.

"I will. Talk to you later, 'Kay?"

"'Kay!"

A wave of guilt overwashed Percy as soon as he ended the call. It was killing him inside, to not be honest with them about his real job. They just thought he was a simple marine biologist who got one hell of a promotion. Yeah, he wished. That seemed easier than killing for a living. He was going to tell them sooner or later. He just had to. Not today- not anytime soon, that is.

Jolting himself out of his thoughts, Percy's phone rang. He was quick to answer it. Was it Sally calling again? Percy put down the metal spoon he was holding, letting it rest in the pot of soup bubbling on the flat stove. 

“Hey, Percy!” The horribly familiar voice rang from the other side of the line. Percy grimaced.

“What is it?” He groaned.

“Is that any way to talk to your boss?” He tsked. “But I have news for you!”

“Do tell,” Percy muttered and went back to his soup. 

“I have a mission.” Apollo grinned widely. “You up for it?”

“Again? Didn't I just do one yesterday?” Percy rolled his eyes. He was tired; completely tired. Usually the missions weren't this close together- sometimes they could be even months apart.

“Yeah, but this one won't happen for a week or so. And it ain't just the typical mission.”

“Yeah? And what's that?”

“Its a info operation. Meaning-”

“I know what that means!” Percy interjected. “Just tell me the details already. I’m hungry.”

“Jeez, okay mr. grump. Annabeth Chase. You know her?” Apollo said, scoffing at Percy's tone.

“You mean the owner of that one architecture company? What about her?” He asked.

“She’s connected with Thalia Grace and Luke Castellan.” Appolo explained. “Apparently people have been talking about their new heist that they're planning. By what I've heard, it's going to be huge.” 

Those three names- Thalia Grace, Luke Castellan, Annabeth Chase. Annabeth especially, was the most well known in the regular world. Her being the stoic founder of Athchase as well as being a crazy rich and famous person, that's a no brainer. Luke and Thalia, on the other hand, their heists were well known anywhere. Annabeth didn't have a criminal record of any sorts. That's a big reason she can keep up her reputation. It's not like the woman did anything wrong, its just that... the fact that she is connected with the two is enough to ensure suspicion. Growing rumors of her planning some of their crimes were spreading fast. Percy's heard of things like that, her being the mastermind of killing and stealing.

“Alright," He nodded. "Im interested. Go on."

“New York. That's where the three plan to meet up. Get information, maybe use your charms into getting her to trust you."

"N-new york..!?" Percy was left shocked at that.

"I've booked a flight there. 5 in the morning sharp tomorrow. I reccomend you arrive on time." Apollo chuckled.

"Yeah, whatever."

"And Percy?" He called out.

"Hm?"

"You have my full permission to kill Annabeth when you're done." Apollo darkly said, hanging up without another word. Percy rolled his eyes for the tenth time on the call.

Well, all right.

Next destination: New York.

"So, New York, huh." Annabeth swirled some of her cocktail in the glass, circling her wrist in a rotation. The blue liquid swirled together in a repetitive motion. Sapphire Martini tasted rather bitter on her tounge, but decent nonetheless. She enjoyed the slight orange twist.

"Why here of all places?" She asked.

"Its a golden opportunity, dear Annie. The Olympians only gather once in a blue moon, so we're going to make the most out of this!" Thalia sipped from her own glass, some regular red wine. She'd never had such a taste for 'Those fancy rich drinks'. Whatever that meant.

The Olympians, as Thalia said before, were a group of 12 of some of the wealthiest and prestigious people from across the world. Only a few select people could be a part- it was exclusive as to anybody who was just normal as a couple million rich. New York would be holding a auction quite soon on a famous opera house; and surprise, they would be there.

"Don't call me that." Annabeth winced at the name. "And who exactly is we?"

"Don't go all acting like you didn't agree, alright? Plus, you can gain a thing or two from all this." She grinned.

"I have a company to run, Thals, You know very well that I dropped that type of business years ago." Annabeth shook her head. "This is seriously risky."

"But you love that. Don't you?" Thalia pressed, standing up.

She truly did. The thrill, the rush of energy you couldn't get anywhere else. Thats what had driven her to join Thalia and Luke in the first place. That feeling alone made her eyes sparkle with desire.

"Yeah." Annabeth places her drinkdown back on the glass table. "I do."

Okay I'm back with some more hot garbage!!! here's my latest thing-- a assassin au. I need to do a ship other than percabeth tho 😔😔

[winifrcd]

Goodness, MISS WINIFRED DOWLING has arrived in London. SHE is 22, of the CORNWALL DOWLINGS. Though they are NEW to the Season, we can only describe them as SPIRITED and KIND, dear reader. Accompanied by HER SISTER AND BROTHER-IN-LAW, they have settled in and are accepting social calls. But be warned: they are known for their SHARP TONGUE.

Full Name: Winifred Dowling

Nicknames: Fred, Freddie, Winnie, Dove

Skeleton: The Tenderheart

Titles: Miss Winifred Dowling

Cast Position: Royalty | Nobility | Gentry

Birthdate: August 7th,1778

Birthplace: Cadgwith, Cornwall

If one would refer to her in a letter, they’d surely use the words ‘spirited young woman’ to describe Winifred. She’s truly got a mind of her own, doesn’t feel the need to mince words, makes sure her opinions are heard loud and clearly. However, she’s quite aware when to speak up and when to keep her mouth shut, for her rambling has often gotten her into trouble.

Winifred doesn’t care much for music and needlework - partly because she’s horrendous at both - but she loves to read, would very happily swear off the very thought of marriage if it meant she could attend university. Still, she’s astonishingly well educated, mostly self-taught, though only in the matters that interest her. In any case, she’s never a boring fellow to talk to.

Growing up in the Cornish countryside, right by the sea, Winifred loves the outdoors and spends a great deal of time at Cadgwith Grove. Staring at the sea, the ships coming in and out, docking at the port where her father’s fishing business is located. She’s grown to love the loud noise of the waves crashing on the shore, drowning out the chatter and ever-present noise of a six person household. It gives her space to think, be alone. Though she enjoys nature of every kind, she’s aware that promenading is surely entirely different from a long, refreshing walk on the beach.

Winifred is quite social, well, you’re bound to be somewhat of an extrovert as the youngest of four siblings, if you do not wish to drown in their shadows. And ever since all her sisters have moved out of the family home, she’s got plenty to talk about - all conversations meant for four. So be wary of her rambling!

She’s compensating for the new-found feeling of utter loneliness that has engulfed her, now that the sister closest to her in age has left the nest, too. It’s rare to catch her in a vulnerable state - but if you do, you can consider yourself lucky that she’s permitted you to see that part of her.

Dearest Elsie,

I have told you time and time again how over-joyed I am at your happy match - but now that you have moved out, now that I find myself all alone, I wonder, dearest, did you have to get married quite this soon? Could you not have delayed it by, say, some months, a year? A long engagement surely would have been just as joyful.

I do not mean to spoil your happiness, my dear sister. I woke up this morning feeling so utterly alone, oh, it is a ghastly feeling. I awaken to silence. The house is empty now, save for mama - I do not wake early enough to catch papa before he goes to work - and even our mother has fallen so oddly silent. I’m the only one left now. I knew this day would come, of course, but I still remember it as if it was yesterday when all of us played and danced and laughed in the garden. Then, one by one, you all left me - Frederica first, Camilla second, then Penelope and now you, dear Elsie, and I cannot find it within me today to feel happy for any of you for I feel so, so terribly sad.

I know it is not as if I am a burden to our parents, we have nobility in our family now, I could very well become a spinster if I so felt like it and we could still live comfortably. But I feel so terribly out of place in our home - I suppose it is your childhood home, now - and I feel I’d better leave sooner than later. I daresay it already feels like mama is getting more posessive and protective of me by the day, if I do not leave soon she might as well never permit me to leave. She has told papa she would rather have me wait another season before my debut but he insisted it be the following one. If you had married later I could’ve very well been introduced this season that is now coming to an end! You’ve made it your mission to make my life miserable, haven’t you?

In any case, papa seems....eager for me to leave but I think he simply wants to see me taken care of. I think he has picked up on how hard all your departures were on me - and I presume he knows that mama is not the best replacement for a companion, too. Especially when I’ve had three for all my life until now. I’m afraid mama will be quite controlling of me when I leave for the season, I do hope she might change her mind and stay behind, leave me with Frederica - the other day I’ve overheard her talking to her maid about how she plans to drag me to the modiste every other day, so that I have a chance to be ‘the diamond of the season’. Can you believe? I want to be in London to go to balls and attend parties, not to get my measurements taken!

You must come visit, soon! I know you plan to go on quite a lengthy honeymoon - Frederica has told me she’s sponsored your trip to the continent, lucky you! - but surely you must agree that three months abroad are an unreasonable amount of time, especially when all you do is daddle and kiss and stare into one another’s eyes or whatever it is you do on a honeymoon.

I’ve spent much time at Cadgwith Grove the past few days. Even our secret spot feels empty, now. It was made for four. I stare at the ships coming in and out every day and I think of you on your ship to the continent, about to embark on the first chapter of your undoubtedly terribly interesting life and soon you’ll have forgotten all about me. It’s all so terribly tragic.

Camilla has invited me to spend some of the off-season with her at Wolesley House in Torpoint, I think she, too, fears that I’ll either go insane or be locked up in a cabinet somewhere if I spend too much time with mama. Truthfully, I doubt we’ll host any event this off-season with the state that she’s in, so I think I’ll consider her offer. Really, I ought to take her offer or she’ll be terribly mad at me, I’ve already promised Frederica to stay at her London home the next season. Too many sisters!

I’m rambling, I know. I’m telling you all these minute details, none of this is of any interest for you, I am sure. But I have noone else to tell them to. I sometimes wonder if it is wrong to seek out a match purely to have some constant company again? I cannot stand hearing myself think. I loved being alone when you were all still here, I’d go out to the Grove, take a walk along the sea, return home to the loud, bustling noise of our home.

It is deafeningly silent now.

Still, my dearest Elsie, I wish you all the best. I think of you constantly and am truly so happy for you. Do have babies quickly, so I will have some company again.

Yours truly,

Fred.

Dark Past

In the midst of the whirlwind of Elsie’s engagement and the arduous wedding planning, nobody noticed the prolonged stares, the heated glances exchanged between Winifred and a young man she’d met and danced with - twice! - at one of Frederica’s balls. He’d introduced himself as a wealthy factory owner, a friend of Frederica’s husband apparently, and he stayed close after the ball, for ‘a bit of fresh air in the countryside’. And to court Winifred, of course, in secret. Away from prying eyes, theirs was a passionate and short-lived romance, for, on the eve before Elsie’s wedding, when they had all gathered at Frederica’s country home, they were discovered by Camilla - and Winifred scolded her greatly for interrupting for what had seemed to be a proposal! But Camilla had recognized the young man instantly, had forbidden either of them to ever speak to one another again, for he was no mere factory owner but a member of the Belgian royal family, a friend of Frederica’s husband indeed, they had attended boarding school together. To top it off, Camilla had informed Winifred that he was, in fact, betrothed to another, a Dutch princess, they had been promised to one another since birth. Winifred, utterly heartbroken, had cut all contact with him, hasn’t seen him since - though she’s also not aware of the dozens of letters he’d written her, all burned by Camilla upon arrival.

Relationships

1. Though four seperate people entirely, growing up the Dowling sisters have considered themselves one entity. Despite none of them being related by blood, all adopted by Mrs. and Mr. Dowling who couldn’t have children of their own, they are exceptionally close, were very rarely spotted without one another during their childhood. Even so that they insisted on sharing adjoining rooms well into their teenage years. They’ve stayed in contact, of couse, a sisterly bond could never be broken - but all save for Winifred have now embarked on their own journeys, ther own new adventures.

2. The worst person Winifred has ever had the displeasure to get to know is one that, unfortunately, is related to her. Her mother’s sister’s boy, an unruly young boy, perhaps the most dreadful conversationalist in the land. He truly vexes her just by existing, he cares for scarce more than himself, his fortune, his land and his title. Oh, the impertinence that men like him are granted a title, a unversity education! It makes her angry just thinking about it. She tries to avoid him at any cost.

3.Winifred carries a fondness for the written word, so it is no surprise that she’s found a kindred spirit in the poet and novelist that resides in Cadgwith, just a stone’s throw away from her home. Though her mother turns up her nose at this, Winifred makes sure to pay them a visit every other day, where they’ll discuss their latest poem, a novel or some radical idea Winifred has read about in a poem.

[the-quiet-winds]

The Gravity of Tempered Grace (part eight)

[This is the end of this story, hope everyone enjoyed!]

[part one] - [part two] - [part three] - [part four] - [part five] - [part six] - [part seven]

[Part 8: Till All My Sleeves are Stained Red]

The Life and Times of Jane the Queen, Chapter 13 - The One Who Kept Her Head

“Jane’s relationship with Henry was not nearly as tumultuous as the ones that preceded her. It was filled with ups and downs, as relationships tend to do, but those highs and lows were not nearly as intense as when Henry was married to Catherine of Aragon or Anne Boleyn.

Regardless, Jane was passionate about what she believed in, and that passion would sometimes spill into arguments with Henry. Even though she was often quiet and reserved, she was no stranger to giving her husband a piece of her mind, and even breaking decorum by calling him “Henry” in front of courtiers, much to his ire.”

It’s the blinding lights that catches their eyes. 

Red and blue, flashing harshly against the darkness of the townhomes, careening down the street. 

Police aren’t an uncommon sight by any means in New York, but lights blazing down their road at almost four in the morning?

Something isn’t right.

“Jane’s in trouble,” Cathy says immediately. “It- it has to be.”

No one even stops to question her, and as soon as they’ve somehow all found shoes they’re rushing out onto the sidewalk and following the lights.

Oddly enough, the mass of police cars come to a stop only a few blocks down, and they are nearly blinding as the girls approach.

Cathy has to admit, it’s definitely not the scene she was expecting. 

Jane, completely unscathed, is leaning against the rail of one of the house stairs, talking to an officer.

Henry is in handcuffs, raging and storming and yelling all sorts of nonsense as he’s forced into a car.

Jane looks past the officer she’s speaking to and sees the other queens, all in their pajamas and whatever shoes they could find in a hurry, and she excuses herself.

She doesn’t get any words out before throwing her arms around as many of the girls as she can fit, who all reciprocate the hug in turn.

“But I thought…,” Anne starts, faltering as her gaze falls on Henry, who is glaring daggers at all of them through the back windshield of the cruiser.

“I know, I know, I’m sorry,” Jane says. For the first time since they’ve returned, there’s emotion and sincerity in her words and in her eyes. “I had to make him think I was on his side.”

“What… how did you get the cops here?” Kat asks.

“When I didn’t have my heart, I did a lot of reading,” Jane says. “It made sense, I guess, when nothing else did. When I left earlier, I wandered into our favorite bodega.”

That was just earlier this same night, they all find themselves remembering, and yet it seems like forever ago.

“There was a newspaper on the stand from yesterday,” Jane continues. “I flipped through it and found an article about a man who was wanted by Interpol for destruction of property. Specifically, destruction of property at Chapel Royal at Hampton Court. And the suspect looked ‘suspiciously like Henry the Eighth’.” 

“You knew you could get him arrested,” Catherine says.

“At the time I didn’t, because I wasn’t sure that I knew anything,” Jane quips, chuckling softly. “But when he showed up and he had my heart… I just knew it was the best thing to do.”

Cathy gasps quietly. “That’s what you meant!”

“Is this really what you want? Do you really want to go with him, despite everything?”

Jane meets Cathy’s eyes. “This is the best thing I can do.”

Jane nods. “I wanted to tell you guys. I really, really did, but I couldn’t risk giving you any clues or anything that Henry might’ve figured out. I had to get him to give me my heart back and convince him to leave with me right then. He did, so I went upstairs, called the police, and then we left.”

“Are you okay?” Anna asks, reaching out to take Jane’s hand with a soft squeeze.

The squeeze is reciprocated and Jane smiles. Really, truly smiles. “I feel better than I’ve ever felt before.”

She’s yanked, once again, into a group hug, and it isn’t until she pulls away that she sobers slightly.

“I’m really sorry,” she says.

“You don’t have to apologize,” Anna says.

“I know, I know. But I need to say this.”

No one objects further, and Jane takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you all about any of this heart business sooner. I mean… at first I didn’t know, of course, but once he was talking to me… he manipulated me, I know that now. And he made me say and do a lot of things I really regret. So I’m sorry, I guess.”

Out of everyone, it’s Anne who steps forward to speak. “I think we all owe you an apology too.”

Catherine elbows her, and Anne clears her throat sheepishly. “Okay, okay. I owe you an apology. I was really quick to dismiss anyone’s thoughts that something was off with you, which was a real dick move. I’m sorry.”

Jane gives a chuckle. “Well, I can’t blame you entirely. It’s not every day that someone suggests your housemate-slash-costar doesn’t have a heart in her chest. And I know we didn’t have the best relationship last time around.” Her eyes turn shy, just slightly. “I hope that this time it’s different.”

“I do too,” Anne says.

“This is a touching moment and all,” Kat says, “but it’s like… four in the morning. Can we go back to bed now?”

They all make their way back to the house, leaving the blinding police lights behind, and Jane feels like she can finally breathe again.

She’s too wired to sleep, though, so as everyone slinks back to their rooms for some much-needed rest, Jane finds herself seeking solace in the only other person who’s usually up this late.

“Can’t sleep either?” Cathy asks, spinning halfway around in her desk chair.

Jane shrugs and makes herself comfortable on the end of Cathy’s bed. “Just… still adjusting, I guess.”

Cathy moves to her side. “I can’t even imagine-”

“Stop, please, I don’t want your pity or anything.”

“It isn’t pity,” Cathy says honestly. “You went through something traumatic, Jane. I…,” she sighs. “You’ve gone through something that not a single other person has ever gone through. I can’t imagine how lonely that must feel.”

Jane draws her knees to her chest. “I guess I hadn’t thought about that.”

“I know that we don’t understand what you’ve been through, but we’re here for you, alright? Always.”

“I know you are. And I appreciate it, more than you think.”

Cathy smiles and bumps Jane’s shoulder with her own. “I know that Catherine is glad to have you back, but I’m just excited to get to meet you.”

“As am I. I… I’m excited to get to experience all of this for real. To have fun with you all and not wonder if something was missing.”

“We’ll make the best company we can for you and all your experiences.”

Jane grins, then yawns.

“Maybe you should get some sleep,” Cathy suggests. “You’ve had quite a night, if I do say so myself.”

Suddenly, Jane turns bashful. “Do you mind if I stay here?” She asks softly. “I really don’t want to be alone-”

“Of course you can stay here,” Cathy says. “You just make yourself comfortable.” She takes Jane’s hand. “He can’t hurt you anymore, I promise.”

Jane pulls her into a hug, and when they pull apart, Cathy helps Jane get comfortable in the bed.

It doesn’t take long at all for Jane to pass out, the exhaustion of the night all catching up with her at once, and Cathy returns to her desk.

She clicks through a few things on her laptop before stumbling upon her email, where she has an unread message from “Boleyn.��

It’s actually from herself - she had emailed a link to Jane’s biography to her personal computer in case she needed to do some further reading, but it seems now that Jane is back to the way she should be.

Still, though, even as Cathy clicks the link and skims the first few paragraphs of the book, something doesn’t feel right.

This isn’t Jane’s story. Not the way it should be told, at least.

Cathy closes the tab, pulls up a new document, and begins to type.

The Life and Times of Jane the Queen, Chapter 1 - The Return of a Monarch.

[ruewrites]

Thrones are Built on Lies Chapter 4:  Little White Lies

AO3

Ship: ???, Diavolo/Lucifer

Word Count: 3083

Warnings: None

A/N: Hey guys! I hopy you’re continuing to enjoy the story so far! I love hearing your feedback especially when it comes to theories you might have about the story.

Previous

Next

The magic of Arcadia runs deep in her roots. Legends tell of deep underground caverns filled with guardians and traps which prove perilous to anyone who dare venture into the deep. It is also said the royal family has their own connections as well. The gods had entrusted the first Kings and Queens to the magic in order to both protect it and the land which it sleeps beneath. Magic then became a part of the family bloodline. It is unknown whether or not it skips generations and no one is exactly sure as to how  it shows itself within different family members. Some believe that this (magic) is also the reason that the Arcadian kingdom became an empire, as it allowed Kings and Queens to emerge victorious from battle time and time again. 

Regardless of whether these tales are fact or fiction, it is undeniable that Arcadia holds power in one form or another. Many sources point to magic, yet none have substantial proof due to the fact that if it does indeed exist the royal family would certainly be rather protective of it. This may also be why they are peculiar about who they let into the family.

Furthermore-

That had been the last of Solomon's summary before he had collapsed onto his parchment. The wax from his candle slowly dripped downwards towards the tin holder below. He functioned incredibly well as a king, but not so much as a human person.

Low knocks on his door roused him, grumbling from his slumber. He stood from his chair, allowing his vertebrae to crack as he did so, and trudged over to the door. 

"Good Morning," Simeon's all too cheerful voice rang out, "You have ink smudged on your face."

"Aren't you a little cheery this morning Simeon?" Solomon asked, attempting to wipe the ink off of his face.

"You've never been a morning person have you? Perhaps it's a good thing the princess ran into me so she wouldn't have to see you like this," Simeon lifted a tray stacked with eggs, pancakes, and a variety of meats and cheeses, "She wanted to bring you breakfast since you weren't at the table. Apparently there's something she wants to speak with you about."

"Something?" Solomon repeated, ignoring the jabs aimed at him and eyeing the food in front of him.

"She wouldn't elaborate, but she did seem nervous. Incredibly so."

"Really now?"

"The entire tray was shaking in her hands."

So her mood hadn't improved from last night. If anything, it seemed to be worse now. Taking the tray from Simeon, Solomon moved to sit on his bed. Yet another problem added to his list. 

No. He shouldn't think of her as a problem.

That wasn't the way to approach this, grumpy or not.

"I should probably seek her out then," he sighed, starting to work on his breakfast, "If she really is that anxious it'll be easy for her to lose her nerve. The sooner we speak, the less time she has to dwell on it."

Simeon stared at him for a moment. Solomon tried to ignore the look on his face. It was one he'd  become familiar with. He only ever saw it when Simeon felt the need to be brutally honest with him.

"Are you sure you should go through with this marriage?"

There it was.

He set down his fork and sighed.

"This family seems, what's the word, unfit for someone like you. They're disjointed and rather chaotic. I'm sure the death of their father doesn't help things, but," Simeon sighed, "I just don't want you stuck in something like this."

Solomon mulled over Simeon's words in his head. Dinner with the family certainly had been quite the event. If Simeon was saying something then he must have also witnessed something. Surely, marrying into the royal family would prove to be more of a commitment than he originally thought. But he couldn't give up on his ambition. Not when he was here. 

"Simeon, we're in Arcadia. Opportunities like this don't just hand themselves out! To give this up would be ludicrous!" Solomon said. Though he still saw the doubt swimming in Simeon's eyes, so he continued, "Besides, if her family is always like this, marrying me will bring her a sense of normalcy."

"Solomon-"

"Am I wrong Simeon?" 

Simeon didn't say a word.

Solomon ate the rest of his breakfast in silence, said silence stretched into the time it took him to walk to his clothes, "Where is Luke?"

"With Lord Diavolo's butler. Barbatos made quite the impression on him yesterday."

"Really?"

"Really."

And Luke had been so set on not trusting any Arcadian. Though, to his credit, Barbatos wasn't Arcadian so to speak. So the child had found a loophole. Sweets and cakes were the way to a child's trust it seemed. 

"Who knows Simeon, you may lose your apprentice to a butler."

"Oh I highly doubt that."

Solomon decided on something a bit more relaxed today. Perhaps if he wasn't wearing his kingly attire Lilith would be more incline to open up around him. He needed her to feel comfortable around him. How were they to make this work otherwise? Solomon refused to live a miserable life. 

He stepped out from behind the curtain in a loose shirt that left part of his chest exposed and black slacks. "Well?" he asked, turning in a circle around himself, "What do you think? Is it enough to make a princess swoon?"

"I do believe so. Maybe even enough for you to start your own little family tonight."

Solomon flinched, "I wouldn't go that far."

"And why not?"

Oh why not? For starters he wouldn't be able to devote time to his research. Solomon was a busy man, he had things he needed to do before he was too old to meet his goals. A child he wasn't prepared for yet would put more than a damper in his plans. Not to mention, stress he wasn't prepared for. Then there had also been Lilith's reaction to the very mention of fertility. 

No.

A child right now wouldn't be the right thing.

Not for him.

"You are aware her brother already seems to despise me right? He already doesn't want me in her room, I don't think I'd live to see another day if I added to his family tonight," he said. It was a partial truth. Not his main concern, but a partial truth nonetheless. 

Simeon only chuckled in response. 

After his trusted friend left to find his apprentice, Solomon went after his fiance. 

He had to wonder if she was hiding from him. He figured he wouldn't run into her right away, but he at least figured that it wouldn't take very long to find her. 

Surely he expected to see someone, anyone, to ask where she might be but every hall was oddly empty.

Just like the streets of Arcadia.

The first person he ran into was none other than Azazel. Well, it was better than running into the crown prince himself. At least Solomon could assume that Azazel didn't despise him.

He appeared to be inspecting each of the thrones, moving them ever so slightly in one direction or another. His fingers caressed the throne in the center, following its every curve and bend. Focus consumed his eyes. Perhaps he was inspecting them for the upcoming coronation? Under his free arm, there was a book. It was thick, leather bound, and from what he could see it also looked worn. 

 Solomon had to wonder if Azazel looked up by chance or if he sensed his presence.

"Solomon, good morning! I was hoping to run into you. You slept well I hope?"

"I did. I'm enjoying a bed to myself while I still can. Thank you Azazel."

He'd have to share one for the rest of his life in a short time. Cool sheets would turn warm and Solomon would lose the comforting familiarity of solitude. He could always have his own room he supposed, but he wasn't sure how his fiance would feel. 

"I do understand what you mean. Speaking of my niece, I do want to apologize for last night."

Solomon tensed. This was already a conversation he didn't want to have.

"I assure you that she's usually polite. We had to work hard to break some of her more stubborn habits, but it appears there was a slip up last night," he frowned and clutched the book tighter, "I had a talk with her this morning, and I can assure you that it will not be happening again. "

"I didn't think she did anything wrong," Solomon's words came out quick and sharp, "In fact, I quite enjoy how she reacted. I would have liked to see her take it farther. After all, she was dragged into the whole thing. It wasn't like she orchestrated it herself." 

Azazel seemed stunned, but he didn't say any more. Instead, he studied Solomon. His fingers drummed against the book in his possession and a low hum left him. 

Solomon had said what he said.

He wasn't going to regret it.

"I see. That certainly isn't something I would have expected you to say," he said, "I would have expected a man with your reputation to be a bit more strict in nature."

Certainly he wasn't implying what Solomon thought he was implying. Strict with Lilith? She was an adult, not a child. 

"She can make her own decisions," Solomon's voice became lower, darker, "I'm not her guardian."

"Whatever she does reflects your reputation as well," Azazel countered in a similar tone, "Keep that in mind when making your decisions."

Solomon hated the way something within him twinged. 

He did want to control how he was remembered.

He wanted to be praised across the ages. 

Azazel's smile returned to his face. "But of course that's something you can do to help curate your own legacy. And speaking of legacies," he held the book out to Solomon, "I've been informed that you took a trip to my nephew's library. I think you and I have similar interests from what I've heard, and I thought you would take interest in this book."

Solomon didn't make a move to take it. 

"It's focused on magic, specifically Arcadian magic, and more in depth than anything else you'll find here. I'm sure such a talented scholar as yourself would thoroughly enjoy it."

It was tempting.

How could he resist? 

Any lead he could get when it came to Arcadia's secrets was one he needed. 

"I was hoping we could chat together at some point over tea? It would be a shame for you to be left out of family secrets when you're about to become family" Azazel slipped his arm to Solomon's back and gazed down at the book in his hands, "I'm sure we'll have plenty to discuss."

When had been the last time Solomon spoke with another scholar? Someone who was on his level of intellect? When had he found the time to do such a thing?

Never.

The truth was that Solomon couldn't remember the last time he'd  had a back and forth conversation. Usually people would listen to him as he rambled on about his studies and interests, but they couldn't contribute to the conversation. It was frustrating and often left Solomon feeling as if he was lacking something. Yes he had knowledge, but he wanted to share it and build on it.

Solomon gripped the cover in his hands.

"I've been meaning to speak with Lilith, but I certainly can start on this book. I'll be able to read enough to discuss with you soon." 

His fingers were itching to start digging into the pages. 

Would it be as enticing as Azazel was promising him?

"Good! Good. Let me know whenever you wish to speak and I shall be waiting for you," Azazel patted his back, and started to leave, "Now I must leave you. I have to speak to Lucifer about the matters of the day. He always has tea with his husband at this hour."

"Wait, do you know where Lilith is?"

"What for? I already said I spoke to her about last night."

"That's not- I was under the impression she wished to speak with me."

Azazel paused for a moment, "Well, I do believe she is busy at the moment."

"With wh-"

"With tasks she must attend to. She also needs to review a few of her lessons, as is evident from last night." 

Solomon thought he'd already made it clear how he felt about last night.

"Now how is that-"

"Listen to me," Azazel snipped, turning his head to look at Solomon, "That innocent looking doe-eyed fiance of yours will bleed you dry and ruin your reputation if you don't watch yourself. Take it from a man who witnessed other reputations ruined. These descendants of my brother will ruin you. They are nowhere near fit to rule alongside the crown prince." 

He turned away from him, "I am their uncle. I think I would know when discipline is the correct form of action."

He had some point Solomon supposed. He had just met the Morningstar family. He knew nothing of them. Yet he couldn't help but want to prove Azazel wrong.

Yes he was a fellow scholar and Solomon would appreciate his company when fit, but that didn't mean he had to agree with him in all of his methods. And Lilith seemed to be one of those things that they'd have to disagree on.

Lilith couldn't be that bad. How could she be that bad?

No one seemed to be able to tell him when her lessons would be done or when he could speak with her.  Not a soul. He thought that he might be able to catch her that day, but he was wrong.

Not that day.

Nor the day after that. 

He kept missing her.

It was driving him insane. 

Maybe he should have gone to breakfast the day she'd said something to Simeon.

He tried to pour himself into his studies, tried to finish his other books so he could get to the one Azazel had entrusted to him. Yet even when he did finish his other books, he couldn't bring himself to open it, not yet.

This one would require all of his focus, and he couldn't focus when he knew that Lilith had some sort of thing to ask of him. 

Something that seemed to have her incredibly nervous.

It was evening, Solomon sat at his desk, pouring over his notes next to dripping candle wax when a knock came from. His door.

Simeon stood slightly behind Lilith who was twiddling her fingers and desperately trying to avoid his gaze.

"They don't know I'm here," her voice was soft, as if she was afraid of speaking any louder lest she summon one of her brothers (or all of them), "I asked your friend if he could take me here… I hope you don't mind."

Solomon shook his head. He wasn't exactly dressed for the occasion, but he opened his door a  bit more, "Not at all, I've been looking for you actually. Would you like to come in?"

No sooner had he motioned for her to come in than her eyes widened in horror and her hands quickly shot up. Nervous laughter spilling from her lips, "Oh no. I was um, actually hoping we could go outside the palace. Somewhere a bit more private…"

Solomon looked at Simeon who shrugged his shoulders.  With a snap of his fingers Solomon extinguished the candle and stepped outside of his room.

"Lead the way." 

Leaving Simeon behind, the two made their way outside and away from the town that surrounded the entrance. Solomon supposed he should have been a bit more wary when they left the gates and the wall that surrounded them, but he wasn't. 

He couldn't help but notice how Lilith kept him at an arm's length away. Could she be worried about his intentions? Maybe he had done something to offend her during her bath, or maybe he shouldn't have followed her in at all. In hindsight that was rude of him. Perhaps there was some way he could reassure her and have her feel safe around him. 

Finally, she came to a stop at a small clearing and sat down, still avoiding his gaze.

It was a warm night, and fireflies danced around the two of them bursting into light every now and again.

Solomon sat a little ways down from her, and looked up at the sky.

"I don't know how to start," she said after a moment. 

"Take your time, there's no need to rush," he said, "Besides, I'm not  usually on the best of sleep schedules anyways."

"Stop that."

Solomon furrowed his brow. What? What had he done? He hadn't moved from his position. He hadn't reached out for her.

What had he done to upset her?

"If you don't mind me asking, what is it that I did?"

Lilith made a small noise of frustration while wiggling and gripping at her sleeves, "Being so nice to me. And charming and funny and attractive- You're making this harder."

Solomon was stunned, "I? I'm? Excuse me?"

Was she planning on calling off their union? No. No no no. Not when he'd come so far. Not when what he desperately wanted was right in his grasp. He couldn't let her go. He had to find some way to fix it.

Standing up, Lilith started to walk towards the other end of the clearing. She was tense and her body was shaking. Honestly, Solomon thought she looked like a scared rabbit.

A scared rabbit who'd been caught nonetheless.

"You're making this so hard for me."

He almost missed her words.

The snuffles came before the hyperventilating, and that's when Solomon came to her. Had he really been that horrible to petrify her in such a way? 

He could figure that out as he went. For now, he needed to calm her down and figure out how to keep their union together. She was his ticket to Arcadia, to new knowledge. He wasn't going to lose her.

"Lilith, I-" he reached out to put a hand on her shoulder. 

She smacked it away and quickly turned on her heels to look him dead in the eye. A new sense of fire in her eyes.

“I’m not Lilith.”

[magical-girl-coral]

 Birthday Surprises

Nanao Ise has found a new low for herself. It was eight in the morning, the sun was barely rising, and she was already on her fourth cup of Sake. And from how she was feeling, she wasn’t going to stop any time soon.

It all started when she and her friends decided to do something nice for Rangiku. For the last few months, she had been oddly active, taking fewer naps at the office, doing her paperwork, drinking less in the afternoon, and actually showing up to lieutenants' meetings on time. So as a small reward, all her female coworkers thought of giving her a small birthday surprise, showing up at her door with booze and persimmon sweets for a good morning gift. Since almost everyone takes a day off on their birthday, they wouldn't have to worry about her being somewhere else. Nanao took the lead since it was her idea and opened the bedroom to wake Rangiku up.

And there were no words that could describe her shock when she saw her best friend with a bedmate. Nanao was just thankful her instincts shut the door before anyone else could peek in.

Now she, along with the rest of the Shinigami Women's Association, drank in one of their many secret hiding spots (thanks to president Yachiru) as they took in the new information. 

Rukia looked at Nanao worriedly. "Ise-san, don't you think you should slow down a bit?"

Kiyone grimaced. "I don't think she's drinking enough. I would have drunk myself under the table by now if I were in her place. Just thinking about finding Isane like that gives me chills."

"I still can't get over how she had a secret boyfriend and didn't tell us," Momo said before Nanao could correct Kiyone's assumption for her "sisterly" feelings towards Rangiku, “She almost never keeps secrets like this. Sometimes she tells us too much!”

Soi Fon poured Nanao and herself another cup. "And are you sure you didn't see his face?"

Nanao dropped her face on the table. "No," she mumbled out, "I could only see the back of his head." Although the silver hair, the scar across the chest, and the fucking missing right arm were enough to tell who he was.

Oh, gods, she was starting to curse now mentally. She should stop before the words begin to come out.

Isane smiled awkwardly at the scene. "Well, at least now we know why she's been in such a good mood lately. Remember when she turned down lunch break drinking with captain Kyoraku, and we all thought she was dying?"

Retsu smiled at that. "I remember that. You tied her up and sent her to me directly to get an emergency check. Even I was too scared of the possibilities to turn down the request. Rangiku was fairly upset with all of us."

"....I've just realized something," Nemu said suddenly, "it's impossible for her mystery bedfellow to be one of the seated officers, lieutenants, or captains."

Nanao raised her head from the table. "What do you mean?"

"Rangiku has a lieutenant-level spiritual power that has only grown stronger since she has taken her Shikai training more seriously," Nemu explained, "only people around her levels can be detected while standing in her presence. Since Rangiku's spiritual mass would cloak anyone weaker, none of us could sense his presence, which means whoever she is with has to be weaker than her."

Nanao's eyebrows went up to her hairline. His restrictions. They must have hidden his spiritual powers. Nanao thanked the gods and swallowed the irony of Nemu's last sentence.

"Now that is a big relief," Soin Fon said, "Can you imagine how awkward it would be if she dated someone we all knew?"

"Oh, yeah, I haven't thought about that," Momo said to herself, "With how intermingled everyone already is, adding a romantic relationship to the mix would be more than messy, especially since most of us are still getting used to how everything's changed."

Nanao's heart fell to her stomach as everyone agreed.

"I feel a bit proud now, even more so than I have before," Retsu said as she put a hand over her heart, and it was at that moment that Nanao had forsaken the cup and went straight to the bottle.

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

Three hours and two bottles later, Nanao found herself in front of Rangiku's apartment. While she did declare she was ready to go home to take a last-minute day off, she found herself in front of Rangiku's door instead. This is why one shouldn't drink and Shunpo.

After knocking on her door on a lost rhyme, Rangiku opened her door with a surprised expression. "Nanao-chan, What are you doing here? And why do you smell like your captain?"

Nanao swayed as she answered with her own question. "Can he extend his penis like his sword?"

Rangiku openly gaped at her. "What?"

"You know, he says shoot to kill, and it gets longer." Nanao wished she could shut her mouth, but the words kept flowing out. "Or do his restrictions stop that from happening? No, wait, does his hollowfication do something during sex? Like, can it transform his di-"

Rangiku slapped her palm over Nanao's mouth, to which Nanao was grateful. "Okay, since you're obviously hammered and won't listen to common sense, how about I'll pour you a glass of water, some tea, and we'll continue this conversation inside where my neighbors can't hear you."

Nanao nodded her head in agreement, and Rangiku released her mouth. She quickly pulled them both inside and sat Nanao down before going to the kitchen to prepare the aforementioned tea.

Rangiku sat a teacup in front of Nanao and took a deep breath. "So, why have you been drinking with Nemu at eleven in the morning?"

Nanao shrunk in her seat. It didn’t feel great to be on the other side of the table. “Because I found you and captain Ichimaru in bed together. We wanted to surprise you because it’s your birthday and I panicked, but no one else has seen his face!” She added the last part quickly after noticing her ever-paling face. "Wait, how did you know I drank with Nemu?"

"I learned the hard way not to get her too drunk, or I start asking the same things from her influence." Rangiku chuckled softly to herself. "Your next question?"

"How long have you two been together?"

Rangiku put her finger on her chin in thought. "We got togther around the last winter festival, so about nine months."

Now it was Nanao's turn to gape. "Nine months?! You've been in a secret relationship for nine months, and you didn't tell me?! I thought you trusted me in these kinds of things! What changed?"

"No, no, I still do, I swear!" Rangiku assured as she rose her hands in defense. "I wanted to tell you, I really did. It was just... well..." Rangiku sighed deeply and sat back in her chair. "Do you remember when Gin first came back, people broke into the third's barracks and graffitied their offices?"

"Yes, I remember. It was painful watching Kira go through that-" Nanao's eyes widened in realization. "Oh."

"Yeah," Rangiku said as she rubbed her neck, "It took forever for things to settle down. Just yesterday, Gin mentioned how relieved he was that no one harassed his men in six months. So when we first got together, he wanted to keep it a secret so-"

"So that none of those poor excuses of breathing beings would start troubling you," Nanao finished the sentence for her.

Rangiku let out a small laugh. "You know, Gin called them something similar, except a lot more vulgar."

"Trust me, the only reason I haven't said anything worse is because your tea is magic, and it's sobering me up quickly." Nanao took another sip and rubbed her forehead. A hangover is coming already; she could feel it.

Rangiku's eyes shone brightly. "I know, right? It took me forever to come up with this special blend. It cures me right away! And don't forget to drink your water; the tea itself isn't enough. You also need some actual hydration."

Nanao drank the water, and her headache went away. She honestly wanted to get this straight to the Twelve Division to be analyzed, but her phone buzzed before she could joke about that. "It looks like president Kusajishi wants us to have an emergency meeting at Kuchiki manor."

"Awww," Rangiku complained loudly, "but it's my day off."

"We might as well get there just to get it over with." Nanao stood up and went to pull on Rangiku's arm. "It's probably about her spending all of our fundings on another failed pool."

Rangiku let out one last grumble as she was pulled to her feet. Unfortunately, they had to walk there, with Nanao still slightly drunk and Rangiku being sleepy from her constant napping. By the time they got there, it was one in the afternoon. Though, they would have arrived sooner if it wasn’t for an unplanned coffee stop.

Nanao and Rangiku both sensed more people than there should be. Thinking it was a trap or a cruel prank, they drew out their swords just in case. What they didn't expect was confetti, most of the high-ranked Shinigami, and a large banner in the middle of the room that said "Happy Birthday, Rangiku!".

All the attendants in the room wished Rangiku happy birthday in one giant shout as captain Ichimaru blew a party horn. Nanao turned her head towards Rangiku with an open mouth. "I did not know this was planned."

"Trust me, I believe you," Rangiku said before letting out a big laugh and walking up to hug her friends. "How were you able to pull this off at the last minute? And with Byakuya's approval to use one of his party rooms?"

"I used the "you tried to kill me for an entire week" card, and he gave it to us without issues," Rukia explained with a shrug, but Nanao knew what this meant. She only used this card during very dire situations, and coming up with a last-minute birthday surprise fit that criteria. And Rangiku seemed to notice this too with how she was trying to suffocate Rukia in a boob bear hug.

Gin stood next to the Rangiku. "Is this surprise party a hit?"

Rangiku nodded her head tearfully.

"Cool, I'm gonna go lurk in the shadows now. See ya."

Gin gave one last peace before disappearing into thin air. Rangiku released Rukia with an angry "don't you dare" and ran after him, only to come back empty-handed with a huff. However, her frown soon changed to a giddy smile when people started to hand her alcohol.

Nanao felt herself relax when the music began to play. People were talking, some were laughing, others were eating, and there was a large stack of gifts in one of the corners of the room. Maybe this day can end on a sober high note after all-.

Her phone buzzed. 

Unknown number : If you wanted to know how long I was, you could've just ask ;)

Nanao threw her phone at the wall and went straight to the punch bowl.

[slasherfilth]

You Are What You Eat – Chapter Three (Thomas Hewitt x Reader)

Luda Mae was a simple woman. She wanted simple things. Food on her table. A nice cup of tea with (y/n) every now and again. And for her baby boy to be happy. And she had quickly come to the desertion that two of those simple needs were far more entwined than she had first anticipated.  The day she had sent Thomas to the bakery had been a blessing in ways she hadn't fathomed before. Tommy had come home with the basket of goodies and a difference in his demeanour. He was never an angry man, but he did have an air of annoyance around him every time he was sent out to the shops. She didn't blame him of course and made sure to only send him when she had no other choice. She knew how people treated her boy. She would get weird looks, but with her own quick wit, people were quick to shut their mouths around her, she made sure of it. But Thomas was different. Thomas genuinely didn't want to hurt people physically, it would only cause more issues. And the second issue is that he couldn't verbally do it, like Luda Mae. So, he had to deal with very verbal threats and ridicule against himself. Despite being a very large man, people had learnt that he wouldn't retaliate and their awful behaviours grew bolder and bolder.

That being said, whenever he did return from town, he would generally be in quite a foul mood. One he would rid himself of in the basement alone, working. Because Holt never did appreciate a moody Thomas. However, today was different. She had been expecting him to be short, give her the basket with a huff and make a beeline for his work. But he didn't. Instead, he walked into the house at a leisurely pace. Holding a cookie in his hand while he gazed ahead, lost in his own thoughts. It wasn't an odd thing for Thomas to do, with nothing to say one would imagine you would spend quite some time in your own head. But Luda couldn't fathom what had brought on such a difference to his usual arrive-from-town demeanour. Maybe someone had said something that really affected him? But he wasn't angry or even frustrated. He was his usual calm self, perhaps even gentler than usual as he rested the basket on the counter, nodding in her direction absentmindedly.

"Thank you Darlin', did you meet (y/n)? Lovely girl, ain't she?" Luda watched on curiously as Thomas nodded, more enthusiastic than she was anticipating. Usually, she would receive a shrug as he never really cared too much for other people outside the family, they would usually make a comment about him or something, and Thomas had just learnt to ignore everyone. So this was more than a little surprising, but she couldn't help the grin that stretched from ear to ear.

"Yeah, she's a real sweet thing, that one. No family left though; the poor girl is probably lonely over in that big house by herself." Luda's keen eyes taking in every furrow and huff that Thomas made, his interest clearly displayed as he stayed and listened to her, his head tilting at her words. She felt like dancing inside.

"Maybe you could go over and keep her company. She keeps saying that big house feels lonely all the time. She also mentioned needing a few things fixed around the place. I'll tell her you can help." Luda shooed him away with her hands, appearing lost in thought as she began to unpack the basket. Thomas left immediately, but she could see he was still partly in a daze. Oh, her little boy was growing up! She hadn't seen Thomas react to anyone in a blatantly positive way since he was a child. Oh, how she would milk this. Maybe she would finally be able to cross off another dying wish of hers. Grandchildren!

-X-X-

You had been so busy with the bakery lately you barely felt like you had time for yourself or your thoughts. But ever time you did seem to get lost in your own mind, it would always travel back to Luda's son. God, you had been stupid to think that he was a teenager or something. You tried to convince yourself it was because you were unprepared for the very masculine man that walked into your shop. That was the reason you couldn't get him out of your head. Yes. You were just shocked. Sighing, you continued to make the new pie recipe with chicken meat. All the alternative meats you tried were okay, but they just weren't exactly what you were hoping for.

You just wanted a well-cut, well-fed red piece of meat for your pies. You didn't need very much with all the extra gravies and sauces, but it annoyed you that you couldn't find any, anywhere in town. The only place that stocked some red meat was the little store at the end of the road, and it was ridiculously overpriced for the pathetic amount you received, and it was god awful. Full of fat and grainy in texture. You wondered where he even managed to get something so terrible. You sighed and wondered if it would be worth perusing Luda Mae. Thomas was a butcher, wasn't he? Indeed, he would be working with red meat? And as if hearing her name filter through your head, you listened to a jingle of the shop bells. You looked up to see one of your favourite visitors standing in the doorway with a fresh basket of goodies.

"Darling! It's been far too long. I'm sorry I wasn't able to come out sooner, busy with the farm and all. Charlie can be a real slave driver when he's not busy boozing." You giggled as the lady rolled her eyes and took a seat in her usual spot. You absentmindedly began making her regular order and grabbing today's cake special.

"That’s okay! I understand I’ve been quite busy myself. I’ve been trying to find a nice meat pie with alternative meats, but it just isn’t what I want it to be sadly. A bakery without meat pies. I’m a fraud.” You sighed dramatically as you began to walk towards Luda with your drinks and plates. Setting them down, you took a seat with her, admiring her new basket. Oddly enough, you noticed a few drops of blood on the handtowel that covered the ingredients. You shrugged it off. It happens sometimes. Especially on farms, you would know.

“Ah, don’t beat yourself up. Everyone has the same issue here. I’m sure you will find something. Besides, you have a wonderful collection of desserts the town dies for. I’ve seen all those empty cabinets when I walk in.” Luda winked at you, and you flush mumbling to yourself.

“I’m just glad people like them at all.” You laugh half joking and half serious as you move for the food in front of you. Luda stops sipping her drink for a moment and nods, pushing the gift towards you more.

“Oh, yes, yes. Go ahead, dear. It’s not much, but I made a few things I knew you would like and also left a few recipes in the bottom for you.” You smiled wide; you really did love her recipes. They were so homely it reminded you of your mother on rougher nights when everything felt too much and too big for you. It was comforting. Although you assumed everything about Luda was motherly and comforting. Grabbing the basket, you pulled up the towel and smiled as you first saw the bouquet of flowers, you quickly grabbed them and got up to put them in a vase, to place front and centre in your bakery.

“I assume the gardening had been going well then, Luda? These are beautiful! And smell absolutely lovely. I don’t know how you do it in this heat. All mine would wither up and die.” You finished arranging the flowers to your liking as you heard the older woman chuckled.

Time and patients, my dear. And lots of water. Thomas goes and fetches me water form the lake almost every mornin’ for my flowers.” You flushed as you were once again reminded about the man that barely left your mind lately. And oh god, you had forgotten about all the little deeds he did for his mothers to make her happy. You were doomed. However, you kept walking back to your seat, unaware if Luda had noticed your sudden silence.

“That reminds me, Thomas came back in a mighty fine mood yesterday, which is different than he usually does when returning from town. Given his looks and all. Would you happen to know anything?” You froze for a moment, thinking back to yesterday—your surprise and anger at how people treated him and his mother so openly. God, you were still confused. Thomas looked like he could break your neck with one hand and yet people were so casually rude to him. You would be terrified to do that to someone so intimidating.

“A-Ah, yes. He -um- had a bit of a run-in with the locals…” You looked down, saddened that you were unaware of what would happen when he arrived. You wish you had stepped in sooner. “Some people in the bakery were saying some mighty rude things to him, but I shut them up with a warning. Ain’t no one gonna be rude to you guys in here, or they can find their asses on the curb.” You frowned and narrowed your eyes slightly.

“If anyone ever tries to tell me you aren’t a little angel, I’ll slap them upside the head, I tell ya.” You looked back to Luda, who was wearing her own little smile. You were confused. Wasn’t it wrong that people said things to Thomas? Luda laughed at your confusion.

“Thomas is quite used to the comments, but he’s not a violent man. He’ll just let it slide and come back in a huff of annoyance. But he was in a good mood yesterday. Not many people stand up for him. In fact, Charlie and I are probably the only ones who do. So, thank you (y/n). You’ve been nothing but an angel to our little family since you arrived.” You once again blushed a bright red. You began to wonder if you had any blood anywhere else in your body by this time. You mumbled out a thank you and continued to look through the basket. Not used to praise and certainly not accustomed to responding to it. Your finger grazed against something cold. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion as you wrapped your fingers around cold plastic. Usually, Luda would make you dry things so they wouldn’t go out of date quickly.

Looking down as you pulled out the packet, your eyebrows sudden disappeared into your hairline as you looked at the slightly bloody package of red meat. The packet was only so big, but it was more than enough meat to make at least a dozen small meat pies. You looked up at Luda questioningly. Wondering if maybe she had accidentally placed it in the wrong basket at home.

“Oh. Would you look at that? Thomas must have had some leftovers.” The way she said it was almost nonchalant, but you could see the surprise in her eyes too before it dissolved into happiness with a bright smile to match.

“Maybe, it’s a small thank you as well.” You hummed and turned back to the meat, deciding you would make a small batch of meat pies and give the Hewitts some to try as a thank you as well.

“Thank you so much, Ma’am. And be sure to tell Thomas thank you as well. Oh, you have no idea how happy this makes me. I’ll give you some pies to take home next time you come around! I’d love for you to try them and tell me what you think!” You excitedly stood up and made your way to the back, placing the meat straight into the cooler so it wouldn’t spoil. You moved back to Luda and gave her a big hug from behind, muttering your thanks a few more times.

“Oh, it’s nothing, dear. Like I said, you’ve been nothing but an angel to us. You deserve it. That being said, I did mention for Thomas to go visit your house at some point, you mentioned you wanted some help fixing the furniture and pipes, well Thomas is a bit of a handyman as well. And he seemed happy to come to help ya out.” You bit your lip and flushed a bright red before nodding. Oh god. Would you be able to handle the sight of him fixing things in your house? Using your tools? Maybe even shirtless since that’s how most men seem to fix things when it was this hot out. You tried to stop your cheeks for burning too brightly at the thoughts before shaking your head. No, bad (y/n). You only just met him, behave.

“T-That would be fantastic. He’s more than welcome to come at any time passed six.” Your breath out, hoping you don’t sound as stiff as you felt. You watched as Luda stood up and nodded.

“Alright, then I’ll send him over at six sharp tomorrow.” You could have sworn you seen a mischievous smirk curl on the older ladies’ lips. But you shook your head and gave her a hug before she left. Surely you just imagined it. She was just trying to be helpful is all. Yes. Helpful.

-X-X-

Hello! Sorry, this has taken a bit longer to be published. This chapter is a bit shorter as the next will be a bit more on the longer side and lots of you and Thomas getting close and friendly. And I can’t wait!

[whitesparrows97]

Heartstring Melodies – Part 3

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Reader (feat. Jeon Jungkook x Reader)

Genre: Soulmate AU, College AU, fuckboy!Yoongi

Summary: Min Yoongi, the fuckboy of the whole college and the guy all girls fall for, should be your soulmate? You don’t believe that, you don’t want to believe that. Therefore, you and your best friend make a pact: She pretends to be you and gets together with Yoongi. Nothing can go wrong with that, right?

Warnings: Tiny little bit of smut and a little bit of angst

Word Count: 3.3K

Author’s note: Hello! This chapter is a bit shorter than the others, but I hope you like it anyway! I would be very happy about any kind of feedback and I hope you all are and stay healthy! See you soon! (Also is anyone even reading this? I feel like most people just scroll over this part)

Previous / Next

Chapter three: «Hearts are made to be broken.» – o.w.

“Okay,”… “Uh-huh,”… “I’m glad,”… “Oh, how nice” – out of these short sentences your part of the conversation consisted in the next two hours. You had gone straight home, just like Jin had told you. You hadn’t even managed to take off your shoes when your phone had rung from Liv’s call. Since then you had to listen to her talk about how great Yoongi was.

The first five minutes you had been feeling sick in the pit of your stomach. To be shown it so obviously that Yoongi wasn’t as bad as you thought, affected you more than you wanted to admit. The look with which he had looked at Liv had come back to your memory and it had taken everything of your willpower to banish this image from your thoughts.

Afterwards you had tried to block out Liv’s voice completely. You wanted to be happy that the plan had worked so well – maybe a little too well. But every time you felt the sting in your heart, you tried to remember that it had been your own idea. So you couldn’t complain. Not when Liv sounded so happy…

“I deserve a ‘thank you’ from you, by the way,” Liv pulled you out of your thoughts.

Confused, you frowned and rolled over to your other side on your bed. “How come?”

“Jungkook?”, she asked, as if it was obvious what she was alluding to.

“What about him?”

Liv snorted on the other side of the line. “Didn’t he text you? He said he was going to do it straight away.” 

“Oh, yes, he did,” you quickly clarified. You thought back to the short message he had sent you, which you had ignored so far. You were grateful that he had intervened when Taehyung had pressured you. But you did not know exactly what he wanted from you now. If he expected a thank you or even something in return, he could wait a long time. 

“Well? What did he say? And more importantly, what did you reply?” You could practically see Liv waiting for you to give her all the juicy details. 

“All he said was that you gave him my phone number, but I haven’t replied yet.”

Liv sighed annoyed. “Why not? Y/N, have you seen Jungkook?”

You shrugged your shoulders, even though Liv couldn’t see that. “Yeah, so?”

“So? He’s so handsome!”

“I wonder what Yoongi would say if he knew you fancied his best friend.”

“Since when did Min Yoongi become just Yoongi?” Liv asked without responding to your comment. Your heart skipped a beat when you realized that you had just called him by his first name. And Liv also seemed to notice the change. “Is there a problem?”

A cold shiver ran down your spine when you heard Liv’s voice. Normally you’d think Liv was just checking to see if everything was okay. But something about her voice and the way she phrased it made you think differently. “No, everything’s fine. I’ve just had a long day and everything went wrong in the lab as well,” you tried to make an excuse. 

“Then don’t keep Jungkook waiting any longer. I’m sure he can cheer you up,” Liv said and was back to her old self. If you were sitting across from each other, you’d probably see her wiggling her eyebrows suggestively.

You were about to respond when a sound told you that you got another call. You briefly took the phone off your ear to see who the caller was, but it was a number you didn’t know. Immediately you could guess who it was. 

“Hey, Liv, I think Jungkook is calling me right now,” you apologized and Liv squealed at your statement. 

“Then I won’t try to stop you. And don’t forget, you are Liv!” she yelled into the phone and hung up. Before Jungkook could hang up as well, you answered the phone, albeit a bit hesitantly.

“Hello?”

“Hey Liv?” 

It sounded strange, not right (which it wasn’t) to hear the name of your best friend addressed to you. But you’d better get used to it from now on. The sooner, the better. 

“Yes, that’s me,” you said.

“Hey, this is Jungkook,” he said, even though you recognized his voice immediately anyway. “I don’t want to bother you but I wanted to apologize for Taehyung’s behavior earlier.”

“Wow, they must be good friends if you have to apologize for them,” you returned dryly. You straightened up in your bed; you felt that the conversation could not be conducted comfortably lying down. 

You heard Jungkook laugh softly. “Actually they are quite okay. But sometimes Taehyung doesn’t know when the fun is over.”

“Hm,” you just said. After a short silence you added, “Well, you didn’t do anything wrong. On the contrary.”

“Yes, about that…” Jungkook was suddenly calm and you were about to ask what he wanted to say when he continued, “this may come a bit unexpected, but I thought you were really cute earlier and wanted to ask if you would like to do something together the next few days.” 

Surprised, you clasped your cell phone, which almost slipped out of your fingers. You hadn’t expected that. Did Jeon Jungkook ask you out? Or was that one of his tricks to make fun of you later in his small group of friends?

Actually, Jungkook hadn’t made you feel like he would be the type of person to take advantage of girls in any way. But maybe that was exactly his strategy. You wouldn’t drop your protective barrier yet. “What would you like to do?” you asked tentatively. You knew that tomorrow night was a huge party organized by none other than Kim Taehyung and Park Jimin. If Jungkook wanted to drag you there, you knew where you stood with him. 

Jungkook cleared his throat before he spoke and you didn’t know if you were imagining the nervousness in his voice. “I had perhaps thought about – well, I asked Y/N what you were studying and I thought whether you might like to go to the Oceanographic Museum. I saw on their website that they even have turtles.”

You couldn’t help yourself. With Jungkook’s enthusiasm and innocence, a smile spread across your face. You also felt relief spilling out of you. You might even have been a little impressed that he seemed to care so much. Liv’s rhapsodies of Yoongi went through your head again and unconsciously you brushed over the black lines under your breast with your free hand. 

“Okay,” you agreed without really thinking about what exactly your agreement meant, “Why not? When will you be free?” 

Perhaps some distraction would help you fill the void in your heart. The deep hole known as unfulfilled desire that ripped open your chest. 

❀ ❀ ❀ ❀

When you stood in front of the building where your apartment was the next afternoon, you were oddly calm. Normally you were always more than excited before dates, but today there was a pleasant peace within you. The summery dress you were wearing was gently caressing your thighs when a light breeze made you shiver. Maybe you should take a jacket after all?

You heard someone clearing their throat behind you and you turned around. In front of you stood Jungkook and you had to pull yourself together so that your jaw wouldn’t drop at the sight of him. He was wearing a black denim jacket, black skinny jeans and a matching baseball cap. You hadn’t paid much attention to him yesterday, so it was only now that you realized how right Liv had been.

Why couldn’t Jungkook’s name be above your heart?

Wow. Not even ten seconds on a date and your mind already wandered to another man. You put a smile on your face and looked at Jungkook. You were surprised when he gave you a quick hug. His scent overwhelmed you and enveloped you like a second warm embrace. Too quickly he released you again.

“How are you? How was your day?” he asked as you both slowly walked towards the bus stop that took you to the museum. 

“Fine,” you replied surprised. You hadn’t heard that question from anyone in a long time. That someone was interested enough in you to want to know how your day was, was new to you. But not unpleasant. “I’m glad I got through the lectures, though. Professor Leblanc has the ability to make an hour and a half of lectures feel like at least five hours.”

Jungkook laughed softly and you watched him kick a small pebble from the path into the short shorn grass by the wayside. “Is it that old guy with the crazy moustache who always looks like he’s about to keel over because of the way he bends forward?”

“Yup, that’s the one,” you confirmed and laughed. You had arrived at the bus stop and were relieved to find that you were the only ones waiting for the bus. It was Friday afternoon and you were afraid you’d be leaving right at rush hour. But apparently you were lucky. 

You and Jungkook were making small talk when the bus went around the corner a few minutes later. The bus was also pleasantly empty and Jungkook indicated with his hand that you should go ahead. “Thank you,” you said quietly and sat down at the window. When Jungkook dropped beside you, his leg bumped against yours. You felt the warmth radiating from his body, which was pressed directly against you.

“What are you studying? I know practically nothing about you,” you tried to distract yourself from his muscle-packed thigh, which was more than clearly visible through his tight jeans.

“Oh, I’m studying media production, so everything that has to do with film and photography,” he explained to you, “that’s why I was able to help Yoongi with his project. Have you seen the video? It turned out pretty amazing, if I say so myself,” he added with a little smile.

You tried to supress the brief shock that hit you when you heard the name from Jungkook’s mouth. You just shook your head, your throat was too tight to speak. 

“Wait, I’ll show you,” said Jungkook and pulled his phone out of his pocket. He typed in a few things and a moment later he held the phone out to you so that you had a good view of the screen. 

Jungkook turned down the volume, even though there were hardly any people sitting around you anyway. Nevertheless you could hear the piano and the lovely melody more than clearly, which came through the speakers. The phone faded before your eyes as your whole body seemed to focus on just one thing: the music, the sounds that were carried to your ears.

The name under your breast burned and nervously you wiped your sweaty palms on the fabric of your dress. Your heart beat in the same rhythm as the melody, which was almost repressed by the loud rush of your blood in your ears. 

“What do you think?” Jungkook asked after a few seconds and his voice pulled you back into the here and now. The loud roar of the bus engine, the landscape that passed you quickly, and Jungkook looking at you with anticipation. 

“Wow, this is really good,” you said, even though you didn’t mean the video. But Jungkook seemed satisfied with it. He pressed pause and put his phone back in his pocket. It was as if the string of a violin snapped in two and only the unpleasant silence remained. 

“Thank you,” he said and threw a smile at you. “Maybe you would like to stand in front of the camera sometime? I have a semester project and I’m still looking for a model.”

“Model?” you asked in disbelief, almost choking on your own spit. “I don’t think I’m cut out for this.”

“Oh, bullshit,” he contradicted you, “I think you’d be perfect.” He looked deep into your eyes, his brown eyes almost piercing yours. The gaze was so intense, so full of emotion that you had to avert your gaze after a few seconds. 

You were happy that the next station was the station where you had to get off. You couldn’t stand it any longer to sit next to him and watch his gaze glide towards you every few seconds.

When you arrived at the museum, you breathed a sigh of relief. Jungkook seemed to be more than excited about the museum’s various exhibitions. You actually came to the museum often. The peace and quiet brought you down when things got busy at university. The different aquariums, in which the most diverse colorful fish swam or the impressive coral reefs, which offered habitat to thousands of organisms, greeted you like an old friend as you strolled through the almost empty corridors.

“Wow,” Jungkook was amazed when you stopped in front of a huge aquarium. The glass took up the entire wall and offered an incredible view of all kinds of fish. “Look,” he suddenly said, pointing to a stingray that swam past you. “Oh, I wish I’d brought my camera.” He sighed as you watched him looking with big brown eyes at the fish. 

“I’m sure there are no cameras allowed here,” you said and nodded towards the sign with a camera symbol crossed out with a thick red line.

“Too bad, would have been a great location to film.” He gave you a quick glance that you couldn’t place. You didn’t have time to worry about it though, because Jungkook suddenly grabbed your hand and pulled you further to the next aquarium. You looked surprised at your intertwined fingers and had to smile. His thumb stroked reassuringly over the back of your hand and a pleasant warmth flowed through your body. 

“Oh, look, there’s Nemo,” he said and you too looked at the orange, white striped fish, which was hiding in an anemone, so that only its head was sticking out. 

The tentacles of the sea anemone moved gently through the light current of the water, so that you could occasionally catch a glimpse of the little clownfish. “Actually, this is not the same species as Nemo,” you explained, pointing to the fish’s pattern. “See the black lines around the white markings?” Jungkook nodded as he listened to you. “Nemo is an Amphiprion Ocellaris, while our little friend here is an Amphiprion Percula.”

Jungkook gave you a side glance and you just saw him stifle that grin before he turned his back on you and walked to the next aquarium.

“What?” you asked, hearing a slight laugh even in your voice.

“Nothing, nothing,” he quickly reassured you.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to sound like a smart ass,” you apologized slightly flustered. Immediately Jungkook turned to you at your tone of voice.

“No, that’s not how you sounded at all. On the contrary,” he said and the corners of his mouth twitched upwards, “that’s actually really hot that you know so much.”

You felt the heat rise up your cheeks when he said that and had to avert your gaze. 

“Is there an outside area?” asked Jungkook and you were happy when he changed the subject. 

You nodded at his question. “Actually, yes, but it’s under reconstruction. But I saw the ice cream stand was still open.” You left the unspoken question hanging in the air and Jungkook already pulled you towards the doors.

The last warm rays of sunshine broke through the treetops and lit the path from campus back to your apartment. The other students who rushed past you gave you nothing more than a quick glance to the side. You walked past the building where the laboratories were located and immediately thought of Seokjin who had been there for you yesterday. The next time you saw him, you would definitely thank him again thoroughly. You gave him special credit for not digging any further when he had seen how stressed you were. 

You and Jungkook came to a halt in front of the automatic glass doors at the entrance of your building. His fingers were still intertwined with yours, but he had stopped running his thumb across the back of your hand. You missed the feeling. It had been something to focus on and distract you from the impending goodbye. 

“I had a very nice day…” he began and turned his gaze to the ground for a moment before he looked up again. “I would be happy if we could do this again soon.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” you returned thoughtfully and stared amusedly at the slight disappointment in his eyes. “I think this might be a bit monotonous for you when we go back to the museum. Exhibitions don’t change that often,” you added, grinning at him.

Jungkook pulled his hand out of yours and looked at you playfully affected. “You are… I have no words.” He continued to look at you in amazement and shook his head. 

“Sorry,” you apologised and your grin diminished to an apologetic smile, “but I would be very happy if we could do something again in the next few days.”

Jungkook returned your smile at your confession. “Cool,” he just returned and now it was your turn to laugh.

“Cool?” you repeated amused by his choice of words.

“Maybe even very cool,” he remarked before his gaze fluttered down to your lips. Your breath faltered as Jungkook put one hand on your cheek and stroked it gently. His gaze searched for yours as if asking for permission. Unconsciously, you nodded slightly and saw the corner of Jungkook’s mouth twitching upwards before closing your eyes. 

One blink of an eye later, you felt his soft lips on yours. 

You felt his firm yet tender grip around your waist as he pulled you closer and combed his fingers through your hair. 

And what you felt most of all was the glaring heat emanating from the thin, black lines engraved on your skin. 

You opened your mouth and allowed Jungkook’s tongue to enter and didn’t want to think of the dark-haired man whose name matched that very tattoo. 

You pressed yourself harder against Jungkook and let your hands slide under his denim jacket to run them over his trained back muscles. He sighed into the kiss and swallowed your tongue with his. You didn’t want to think about his face when Liv had told him she was his soulmate. 

You kissed Jungkook more demandingly, bit his lip slightly, which made him moan a little and you repressed all thoughts of Min Yoongi and that you wished he was the one kissing you right now. 

“Fuck,” Jungkook moaned and broke away from you. He leaned his forehead against yours while the two of you struggled for breath. His hot breath hit your face at irregular intervals while he searched for the right words. “You… you are incredible,” he added and gave you a short kiss on the tip of your nose before he completely detached himself from you. 

He smiled at you as you said goodbye to him. He promised you that you would see each other again soon and you knew that everyone in your situation would jump for joy. You turned around again when you walked through the glass doors and saw Jungkook still standing in the same place. When your eyes met, he grinned and waved to you once more. 

You still ignored the burning in your chest as you smiled back at him and turned around as inconspicuously fast as possible. And what you didn’t want to think about either was that you hadn’t felt anything when Jungkook kissed you. 

————————

Tag list:

@loveyoongles @missseoulite @mymainaccountlol @stillcopingxx @boywithtofucheekies @betysotelo18 @wrecklesseuphoria @welcometothecity    @teresaisla @kaheryn 

[do-androids-dream-ao3acc]

A lovely person prompted me with not much more than the word “cooking”. You know how it is, it can get spicy in the kitchen... (2897 words, rating somewhere between M and E, I guess, see for yourself...)

Read “Take hold of the flame” (yes, BG lyrics, again) under the cut or on AO3.

The bed was significantly smaller than what he was used to. So it was hardly surprising that when Emhyr awoke, he found himself lying half on top of Geralt. A whole bundle of white hair tickled his nose. Oddly enough, it smelled faintly of hay. Horse stable, he thought, amused. Apart from that, it just smelled like Geralt, an indefinable, somehow spicy (irresistible) scent. Not quite tangible, not quite real. Like the whole man, actually, which was exactly why he loved him.

Emhyr noticed that his right leg was resting rather uncomfortably on Geralt's hip, somehow entangled with him. Still, although he had pinned him somewhat down with his body in sleep and he was buried in his pillows, Geralt just slept on peacefully. Amazing, how this man could sleep in the most inconvenient positions. As if it was precisely Emhyrs weight that he needed to be comfortable. That wasn't true; he knew that – Geralt was just used to taking advantage of any sleep he could get, even if he had to do so sitting up. Still, Emhyr liked the thought that his husband would sleep better beside him. He did, that was for sure.

That wasn't why he found himself in this ridiculously narrow bed (which Geralt claimed was a perfectly standard size for two people). At least it wasn't the only reason. The fact that they were now married did not mean that they were free of their obligations, and they both seemed to cling to them with unusual stubbornness. So it happened that they didn't see much of each other, especially when Geralt was away on a contract for almost two weeks, as he had been recently, and eventually stopped off at Corvo Bianco to check up on things. But for this case, they had an agreement, as silly as it was touching at the same time. They called it a kind of hiatus, and there was only one person in the palace who was in on it – the court sorceress, and she was necessary to make it work at all.

In this way, Emhyr occasionally spent a night in Touissaint (without his troublesome cousin knowing). Although they usually didn't stray far from the house (the bed), starry nights under Touissaint's sky were always the closest thing to a honeymoon. Now it was morning, and in a few hours, he would be picked up again just as discreetly as he had come here. Carefully, Emhyr tried to untie their entwined legs. Getting out of the tangled hair was much harder; he liked the smell and how savage Geralt looked when the unkempt mane fell over his shoulders. With that hair and all the scars on his body, he was a unique, wonderful sight that Emhyr could never get enough of. Even when he realized, as he did now, that the only reason he saw so much of it was that he had snatched the entire blanket during the night. However, he had warmed Geralt for it with his body, which was probably somehow a compensation.

The golden eyes opened just as Emhyr lifted his head.

"Fuck," was the first thing Geralt said, his voice still hinting sleep.

If there was a way to show amusement only by lifting the eyebrows, Emhyr had mastered it.

"If that is really the first thing you want to do?"

"Not funny," returned his witcher, growling. "You filled me up with your wine last night. I'm having a hangover. Who brings wine to Touissaint anyway?"

"One fine day, maybe this dead vineyard of yours will bear fruit, and then you can retaliate. Besides, you can't actually get a hangover."

"I can get a headache."

"That's gone in a couple of minutes."

"You're heartless," Geralt muttered from somewhere under his tangle of hair. "What time is it? Are you leaving already?"

"No, we still have some time."

Emhyr bent down, wiped some stubborn hair from Geralt's face, and kissed him gently. He still tasted of wine, and they both had to rinse their mouths, but he couldn't help touching those lips with his first thing in the morning. He always earned a smile, as if the sun rose twice. Geralt just lay there, looking at him, regarding him with that mixture of wonder and admiration that hadn't left him in a long time. The wedding hadn't changed that; perhaps it had only intensified the amazement in particular.

"We could still have breakfast together," he suggested. "Although... I told Marlene not to drop by until around noon."

"I suppose you had a slightly different breakfast in mind?"

Geralt grinned, but his traitorous stomach decided to use that very moment to growl.

"That can wait if you want to satisfy another hunger first," he said at Emhyr's skeptical look, grabbing his neck to get another kiss.

But to his surprise, Emhyr replied, "You know, we could actually have breakfast together. We're usually never alone when we do that. I could cook something. It would be peaceful."

Geralt gave him an incredulous look.

"You want to do what?"

Emhyr's lips curled into one of those little cocky smiles.

"You don't believe it? Well, my dear, until my childhood dissolved so rudely into a curse, I did indeed enjoy an excellent upbringing. Strict, but effective. I can in fact do a few small dishes."

Geralt narrowed his eyes, unsure if this was another of Emhyr's strange jokes.

"You want to cook me something," he repeated, without it sounding like a question – more like a not-quite-serious statement.

He should have known better than to challenge Emhyr, of all people.

There was a flash in the latter's eyes. Not only did he love being right, but he also loved each and every one of his little victories over his spouse – each war of words, each stare that he held out longer. So he got up with grace, dressed in no time, and was already halfway out the door when Geralt untangled his hair with his fingers and said in confusion, "You're serious."

Emhyr turned around, the doorknob already in his hand, and replied without any irony, "I'm basically serious about everything. You should know that by now."

Sometime later, Geralt stood in the doorway to the kitchen, wrapped only in the bedspread, still tousled. It was a rare sight: he was completely relaxed, and not just because he was in his own home. Moreover, it was also quite a stimulating sight, but Emhyr was not easily distracted. He had quickly gained an overview of the kitchen, and now he was slicing apples with extreme precision while heating a pan over the fire.

Geralt watched him skeptically as if he still couldn't believe what he was seeing. In fact, he had never seen him like this before: barefoot in a kitchen, modestly dressed in the same black pants and black shirt he had appeared in yesterday. Yes, the shirt was elaborately embroidered with not very modest gold threads, but by Emhyr's standards, he made a very casual impression. He also hadn't combed his hair yet, which was why some of his little black curls were still visible. Emhyr indeed appeared utterly relaxed as well. And that was even rarer than with Geralt, who stood in the door frame and gave him a look that now trulyindicated a completely different hunger.

However, neither the look nor the sight could distract Emhyr. There was a small bowl in front of him, and he cracked some eggs in it. Then he added flour, grabbed a jug, poured milk into the bowl, and stirred the dough carefully. Checking, he opened a couple of jars on a shelf by the wall, smelled them, stuck his finger in one, and licked it. He gave Geralt a quick glance. He was still standing there, his arms crossed over his chest, and his smile had something moonstruck about it. Finally, Emhyr found what he was looking for and added a pinch of salt to the bowl.

"It looks like you know what you're doing," Geralt said, his voice slightly hoarse.

Emhyr shook his head.

"If I had known how stimulating you would find this, I would have done it sooner," he replied, slightly amused, as he added some lard to the pan.

A slight sizzling sounded, and a pleasant smell filled the room. Something was satisfying about this: an immediate, visible result. An actual change for someone who often had to plan his strategies months in advance. Now he added some apple slices to the pan and sprinkled sugar on top. The smell became sweeter, more intense. Emhyr rummaged in some drawers and sniffed at several small jars until he triumphantly held up one of them.

"Cinnamon," he said, sprinkling a tiny amount into the pan before adding some batter.

Geralt didn't care what he poured into it; he simply liked the sight of his husband, who seemed to be wholly absorbed in his current activity. Who would have ever expected the Emperor of Nilfgaard to be able to make pancakes? There was something satisfyingly meditative about how he baked out one after another and lifted them onto a plate.

"You'll have to eat these quickly; there's no oven here," Emhyr remarked.

Geralt didn't answer; he continued to look at him. The warmth of the fire had reddened Emhyr's cheeks. Eventually, the bowl was empty, the plate filled, and Emhyr said, "Make yourself useful and set the table."

Geralt, who seemed to have been waiting only for this announcement, stepped forward, grabbed Emhyr's hand, and replied roughly, "Oh, I'll set the table," and pulled him along, pushing him against the small sideboard. Almost unexpectedly – for himself – Emhyr did not resist; he allowed himself to be pulled, uttering only a feeble, "I thought you wanted to eat."

"I'll eat, don't worry."

"Obscene."

"Maybe, but you'll still like it."

Emhyr did not doubt that, even more so when Geralt began to capture his mouth with a tempestuous kiss that betrayed his passion almost as clearly as his sight – for now, he dropped the blanket he still had wrapped around him, presenting his hard-on.

Emhyr raised a brow in one of his meaningful, typical gestures.

"This is what you get for watching me cook?"

"You have no idea. But don't worry, no one goes hungry in this kitchen."

"No more kitchen jokes," Emhyr groaned while Geralt was already in the process of relieving him of his clothes.

The room was neatly heated up, and the old house with its few windows was rarely cool anyway. However, the fire's proximity was not the only reason why beads of sweat stood on Emhyr's forehead after a short time.

By now, the whole place was a mess - there lay his shirt and trousers, the blanket, and some stuff Geralt had unintentionally thrown off the sideboard, as he had pushed his husband against it. Emhyr couldn't care less, for now, Geralt had gone to his knees, and he did his utmost to make Emhyr raise his arousal to the same level. This was not difficult – as usual, the sight of the witcher was nearly enough. The golden eyes, half-hidden under all the tangled hair, which he could hardly stop himself from reaching into, sparkled when they looked up at him. And his lips were shiny too, moistened by his tongue, which was now already so close. It was part of the game to hold back a little longer, and he put his hands on Emhyr's hips, also to savor the feeling for another moment. But everything about this made it hard to resist – the warmth of the kitchen, Emhyr's very own smell, now mixed with apparent arousal, that surprisingly soft down of pubic hair for such a large and imposing man, now right before Geralt's eyes. He didn't try any longer.

The heat grew stronger, but now it came from within, rising directly from Emhyr's abdomen, moving upward, spiraling up in lustful waves. The feeling enclosed him, like Geralt's mouth, and his fingers clawed into the wood of the furniture behind him, knuckles almost as white as the hair below. The tongue was a pure provocation, just like the looks. A challenge, the attempt to break through Emhyr's composure prematurely, always in vain. After all, he'd been playing this game much longer than Geralt, at least in this way.

It was time to turn the tables. He leaned forward and placed his hand on the back of Geralt's neck, neither gentle nor firm, his fingers performing a sole impression of possessiveness. It was a power that had nothing at all to do with his status, and it was the only one Geralt had followed – ever since he had first decided that there were situations in which he would deliberately kneel before him. He did not do it for the Emperor; he did it solely for the man Emhyr was besides.

With gentle pressure from his fingertips only, this man now ordered him to stand up. He wrapped his arms around that amazingly slender waist, pulling him closer, while at the same time, his eyes were locked on Geralt's, just as it was the other way around. Both locked onto, both lost in each other. Could it get any warmer in the kitchen? Slowly, very slowly, he bent over, seeking the wet lips, but his own taste on them was nearly too much for him.

Almost roughly, he whirled around, his arms still around Geralt, and with amazing strength (and perhaps some encouragement), he lifted him very briefly until Geralt was sitting on the sideboard. More things fell, kitchen utensils, garlic bulbs, a strangely deformed golden spoon.

"We need some...," Geralt began, a little out of breath from both the kiss and the arousal.

"It's a kitchen," Emhyr interrupted him as his hands roamed over Geralt's body.

He gave his fingers just as much time as his lips, for that was his part of their game, and as expected, his spouse responded with impatient little sounds. But Emhyr had already found what he was looking for. A narrow little clay jug contained oil that smelled very slightly of the olives grown in Touissaint. It was not an unusual tool for what he had in mind, though considerably simpler than anything they usually used.

"Someone's gonna need to clean this place up," Geralt commented as Emhyr yanked a bundle of herbs off a hook on the wall while trying to reach for the jar.

"If you want to make sure your housekeeper doesn't find out what happened in her kitchen, you better do that," he countered.

But then, the time for banter was over. A glance without words, a silent agreement they gave each other over and over again, despite all the passion. They smiled at each other in their inimitable way: a broad expression on one side, a mere sparkle in the eyes on the other. The time had come to stop holding back, and all passion channeled into a powerful first thrust, so hard that the back of Geralt's head hit a wall shelf. His suppressed scream might have expressed pain or pleasure at the same time; it didn't matter.

The kitchen was a furnace now, but most of the heat emanated from their bodies, less from the fire behind them. Emhyr's hands, still slippery from the oil, clawed at Geralt's ass, holding him steady while he kept a ruthless pace. All playfulness had fallen from them, and they pursued their lust with a kind of sacred seriousness.

The sweet whiff of the pancakes had long since been covered by a tangy scent of sweat and passion. Unfamiliar sounds filled the place, usually accustomed only to the hissing of frying food or the clinking of dishes. Now, there was the slapping of skin against skin. Lips, that met each other in the middle of a moan. A word, an invitation, a demand for more. Desire, increasing the more it was indulged, became sounds, became touch, until they indeed became one.

The release was like a fire that never loses its spark. And when it came, it came with a sigh and a groan, with laughter silenced by a kiss. After that, they just held each other until their hearts calmed down. When he had regained his speech - even if his voice still sounded a little flat - Emhyr said, "Your food is cold."

Geralt looked at him, a sheepish expression crossing his features.

"I hate apple pancakes," he blurted out.

A raised eyebrow was the maximum amount of astonishment Emhyr allowed himself.

"You eat them all the time. We have them for breakfast several times a week."

"I eat them because you eat them. You seem to like them; you're the one who keeps ordering them. And you seem to like it when I eat them. That's the only reason I keep doing it."

Emhyr hid a small smile that wanted to steal onto his mouth in Geralt's tangled hair and whispered close to his ear, "That' s idiotic."

"I know," Geralt returned.

"I like it," Emhyr said, and only a very, very careful observer would have noticed that his shoulders moved slightly. As if in a tiny laugh, perhaps.

"I know," Geralt repeated.

He did not hide his smile, and the sun rose for the second time that morning. It was going to be a beautiful day.