#its just me. my mother who cannot fucking shut up about her husband (not that she could shut up about him while he was still alive either)

[widevibratobitch]

typical catholic holidays at home ossia my GOD how fucking miserable i hate being here more than anything

[angeltiique]

OH MY GOD.

i just realised.

this is my blog.

i can do whatever i want.

so heres a giant fucking ramble with as many thoughts on Shenggou Ye as i can manage (who if you dont know is an oc belonging to my wonderful best friend reese aka rai aka rai.diate and her story universe Liar Liar Chaos Fire 😁 she doesnt know im doing this, this is for me):

if you dont know how did you NOT know shenggou ye accidentally became a biiiiiiit of a hyperfixation for me (exaggerating). reese and i can't exactly pinpoint when it started but we think its around the time we started a zombie apocolypse roleplay with us two and another friend <3

i love him so much i daydream and fantasise about him every moment i get. i see the colour red, or a wild dog or hyena, something to do with kung fu, or any obscure thing that i manage to tie him to and i go absolutely FERAL. hyenas are now my favourite animal because of him. i see a ricecooker and laugh at how he loves rice because his asian ass is so goofy (just like me fr). i love the colours red and teal which are his main colours. my favourite songs are loose cannon by set it off and mama by mcr which are his songs. he is TAKING OVER MY LIFE /POS

i feel bad that i dont get like this with other characters, especially my other friends and even my OWN, but thats just what ended up happening and i cannot seem to control myself lol

i even made up a list of why i kin him do you want to see it well too bad youre seeing it anyway i told you this is a megapost megalist mega fuckfest okay not a fuckfest but you get the idea:

SHENGGOU KIN MOMENTS:

- large hearts, both literally and metaphorically

- imposter syndrome (self-doubt, feeling like a fraud/liar)

- scared of being disowned/losing loved ones

- making jokes during serious moments (struggling to cope so makes light of the situation = ends up brushing it off/ignoring it)

- loving our best friend from high school fr fr /gen /pl and being so excited when we see them <3

- saying fucky ass and baybee (im the reason he says it LMAOOO)

- gayass motherfuckers (both bi)

- WE BOTH HAVE PUSSIES LMAOOOO and we aren't really dysphoric about it hell yeah (im trans and sheng is intersex 💪)

- lying lying chaos crying (i know a lot of them lie but shhhhhh)

- not being good at voice regulation/shutting the fuck up LMAO (apparently its a sign of autism... shenggou ye autism real!!? /j)

- having silly laughs <3 idk my mama makes fun of my laughs and he has a silly laugh it counts sshhhh

- he probably sits on surfaces weirdly or on places you wouldn't normally sit on, and i sit weirdly so YEAH

- sex jokes? yes please (they are funny !!!)

- dramatic as hell but its because we are silly goofy

- annoying as fuck but its slash pos

and thats all i had but theres probably more in fact im doing things because he does them, like saying "L" LMAOO BUT i mean it in an endearing way 🫶

ive also been calling my mother mama a LOT more like thats WHAT ive been calling her exclusively and i know for a fact its because shenggou calls HIS MOTHER mama and the song mama by mcr again. tsk tsk this hyperfixation is legit taking over. but i love it so much.

hes all i want to daydream about. we (friends and i) have a running joke that he is my husband, i love calling him my dearest darling husband shenggou ye. its great. but i like thinking about him with me during the day, maybe doing something stupid or dangerous and laughing at him, him helping me calm tf down when im stressed. its a weird coping mechanism but strangely effective!! i prefer keeping to myself but thinking about him with me makes me feel more seen and heard and loved. and reese is a bit like him, so its also like having my best friend with me even if shes not really. i like to think i can tell shenggou anything because thats how i feel about her. again, its all really stupid and cringe but its really nice and fun

im only now realising this is probably just turning a friends oc into a para. or like. something like a para. i mean the daydreams do get vivid.. Huh!

anyway thats about all i feel like sharing, i dont expect anyone to see this like all my other posts, i just enjoy screaming into the void and seeing if anyone screams back. let it be known, having weird coping mechanisms is cool and youre so.valid. /gen biggest hugest thank you to my bestie reese for creating this goober i am obsessed with. without her art that captures his handsomeness and her writing that demonstrates his personality i would never have fallen so deeply in love with him to the point of delusion.

Now if you'll Excuse me. i am going to dream the Best dreams (shenggou will be in it). thank you and Goodnight ^_^

[forever-rogue]

In Name Only - Part 1

A/N: Ughhh, hi! I’m a whore for Oberyn Martell and cannot be stopped. This is gonna be a little series, only a few parts (at least for now), and I hope you enjoy. This was one of my many shower ideas that I couldn’t let go!  As always, feedback and comments are welcome, and if you’d like to be tagged, let me know! xx

Pairing: Oberyn Martell x Reader

Word Count: 6.5k

Warnings: slight language

IN NAME ONLY SERIES MASTERLIST

MASTERLIST

»»————-　♡　————-««

“I will not marry a man that does not love me,” you cursed the gods for making you a woman. You cursed your mother for being the way she was though it was not her fault that you were her only daughter among six sons. You cursed the laws of men that determined your position in life, “I will not be tied down to man who does not care about me, to a castle that will never be a home, and bear children I do not want.”

“You are an insolent, silly girl,” she hissed at you, and for a moment you feared that she might reached and strike you across the face. She had been prone to doing so when you were younger, but in her older years she had calmed down, softening with the birth of each child after you, each son, each brother you loathed for how easy their lives were, “you should have been married many moons ago.”

“I will not marry a man almost twice my age that openly keeps a lover and already has plenty of children,” a fiery rage set through your bones, one that would probably be perfectly suited in the warm, desert homeland of the husband she insisted you take. In the Reach, your attitude was abhorred, and you were considered the lone deviant of your family, “I will not give up my freedoms because you deem it fit for me to do so.”

“You will marry him and bear him an heir,” she grabbed your hair and roughly yanked it and leaned in so only you could hear, “you are lucky any man will have you. You’re much too old to be unwed and your demeanor makes you almost unbearable.”

“I will not do it,” you gritted your teeth and tried to pull out of grasp, “I will not subject myself to a life of servitude-”

“When I was your age I’d already been long married to your father and had you and two of your brothers,” she reminded, pushing you away with a heavy sigh, “do you think I wanted to get married? I was no more than a child, and you at least are a woman grown. I could have married you off years ago, as I should have. You would have been out of my sight and perhaps tamed.”

“I refuse. I will not bend and break to your whim,” turning away you started to storm off, hoping that some fresh air would calm you down. Perhaps you could ride your horse through the open pastures and fields surrounding the castle.

“And just what do you plan on doing then? Will you wander through the kingdoms on your own, travelling without anything or anyone like a heathen?”

“Perhaps I will,” you shrugged, “it would be better than doing what you ask of me. If you loved me-”

“If you do not marry him, you will be cut off from this family,” her words were enough to cause you turn around and listen to her, “you will lose your name, your worldly possessions, and you will be penniless. Is that really what you desire?”

“All of this because I do not want to take a husband?”

“It is your duty. As it has been the duty of every woman before you.”

“Fuck duty!” your voiced reverberated around the castle’s stone walls as she stared you down, “I will not marry someone I do not love. Father would never make me do so.”

“And your father is dead,” she reminded you with venom lacing her tone, “and what do you even know about love? It is a fiction created to keep little girls happy.”

“I loved him,” your heart felt like it was being ripped out of your chest as you thought of him. Your mother scoffed and dramatically rolled her eyes at you, “I loved him and you sent him away to certain death because you are a monster.”

“That horrid boy? He was a bastard,” she reminded you of the cruel little thing that kept you apart. How you rued the term of bastard; it did not mean anything, it did not determine a person’s character or heart, “he was never good enough for you. And you defiled yourself for him.”

“Because I loved him!” you insisted, “and he loved me! We would have been happy together, we could have built a life together...”

“He was a peasant, he tended stables-”

“That does not matter to me,” you reminded her, “he was kind and gentle and warm. I would have loved to have a life of tending stables if meant I was with him. Because I loved him!”

“You were lost in your girlhood fantasies of what you think love is,” she was cruel, each of her words twisting like a knife in your gut, “he was the first boy to show you attention and you fell for his little trap, and it has left you ruined for other men. You are lucky that Oberyn Martell does not know and he will not care, the one benefit of having a Dornish heathen for a husband.”

“I did love him, mother,” you tried hard to fight off the flood of tears that were pricked the back of your eyes, “and just because you can’t handle that you sent him to the Wall where he will live out his days and die. I never even got to say goodbye.”

“He was a bastard, it did not matter.”

“He was a good man,” your voice broke slightly as you tried to square your shoulders and stare her down, “his only fault in life was loving me. It’s gotten him the most cruel of fates.”

“I have had enough of you,” she steeled herself and strode past you, regal and noble in appearance as ever, “in two weeks time you will travel to Dorne and you will marry Oberyn Martell. You will either oblige and do it, as is your duty or you be expelled from this castle and can live out your days among the bastards that you love so much. It is your choice, whether you bring shame to this family or you disappear into the background as a woman should and become a dutiful wife.”

“Those are both horrible, vile options.”

“That is duty of being born a woman.”

“I wish I was born a man then,” you turned on your heel to walk away, wishing you were stronger, wishing you weren’t on the verge of tears, “maybe then I would not subjected to such a cruel fate, and I wouldn’t let any woman in my care suffer the same.”

“Aren’t you just the martyr,” she mocked you with such a ferocity that you wanted to give her a good whack across her own smug face, “you think you know so much, you know nothing.”

“I know what it means to be a good person, or at least to try,” it was days like that you longed for your father. He had been a kindhearted, generous man, one who did not believe in the stereotypes that divided men and women. He was the reason you had remained unwed for many years, far past the age of anyone of noble blood. He encouraged your wildness, your open heart and free spirit. Your mother had always been the exact opposite. You always wondered how they seemingly got along so well, but you’d come to understand that it was no more than an illusion. The only love they shared was that of their children, and sometimes you wondered how deep that truly ran.

“Enough,” her tone held the cruel finality, the singular word was as sharp as a dagger as she stood in the doorway, the soft light filtering in behind her. She was a handsome woman, and if you hadn’t known better, she appeared almost angelic. But you knew better, much better; she was no more a saint than you were a sinner. You remained steadfast in your spot, trying to channel the ferocity that your father always embodied, “in two weeks time you will travel to Sunspear and you will marry the prince.”

“I would rather die.”

“If you choose your own grave so be it,” she slammed the door to her quarters shut, letting the sound ring through the hall. You had flinched at the noise, but now it only served to anger you. Your whole life, the little joys it still afforded you would be taken away soon, all because of a name. All because you were a woman. 

They often called occasions such as these little deaths, but you had a feeling that it would be a lot more than a little pain to make yourself subservient to a husband you did not want.

»»————-　♡　————-««

The journey from the lush green lands of Honeyholt and surrounding lands into the dry, red deserts of Dorne had been...miserable. While you would have relished traveling and seeing the new lands under any other circumstance, you experienced no moments of tranquility or peace. The landscapes meshed into one and the only thing signaling that you were entered the land of the Dornish was the stifling heat. The Reach was temperate, never an extreme in either direction, but Sunspear provided its first test through the scorching heat of the golden sun. 

It would take some getting used to but you could understand why the symbol of the house you would soon be joining was a blazing sun. It never seemed to fade, casting its golden light across every inch of the land. The people that you spied in villages and smaller cities as you approached Sunspear looked as if they didn’t mind; perhaps only a lifetime of heat would allow you to get used to it. 

Their curious glances were always trained on you, and your small retinue that would depart as soon as you arrived safely. You were an outsider from a strange land that the Dornish were reluctant to trust; it wasn’t common fro one of Northern breeding to step this far south. Not that you had much of a choice in the matter; you hadn’t thrown a fit, or cried, or screamed, not wanting to give anyone the satisfaction of seeing you so upset. Instead you had remained silent, speaking only a few words here and there as necessary, your true self hidden behind a thick veneer of steel. Maybe your true self would be hidden forever, dying a little bit day by day as you waited patiently for your death. 

There would be no ceremony, no pomp, and most definitely no circumstance when you arrived to your new home and to meet the man who would shortly become your husband. You would be all but abandoned in the palace where you knew no one, trying to fend for yourself. It had been at your mother’s request and you knew exactly why she would treat you in such a manner; each of your brothers, all but the two youngest had been married off already, in a show of great festivities and celebration. You were all but kicked under the carpet, a smudge on the family name that she wished to forget. 

Your mother harbored no love for the Dornish, whom she considered savages and uncultured; she must have been desperate to finally see you off if she agreed to a marriage proposal from the Martells. You wondered why they had even asked for you; there were plenty of other families in Dorne that could have produced a worthy daughter, or other Northern families that might have agreed. Perhaps they too realized that it would difficult to marry off a prince nearing middle age that housed a paramour and bragged about his bastard daughters. It did not phase you, or bother you in the slightest; you were pleased rather that they seemed to enjoy life to such a degree. But perhaps even the Martells were smart enough to know that they would need heirs, legitimate ones, to recognized by the Northern countries and carry on their name. 

When you arrived at the palace in Sunspear, your jaw dropped slightly in surprise - it was a stunning beauty, a feat of architecture that you were loathe to find anywhere else in the seven kingdoms. It presented a sharp contrast to the home you had known your entire life; there was no bleak grays or beiges that met your eyes, instead colorful, brilliant shades of warm crimsons, oranges, tans, and bronzes met your eyes. it was warm and welcoming, despite the reason for your arrival. If this was to be your home for the remainder of your days, at least it was beautiful. 

Your carriage came to a harsh stop and you almost slid off your seat at the sudden force. You groaned lightly as you straightened yourself, looking down at the green dress you were sporting and already wishing you had something cooler to wear. If you had been granted your way, you’d be dressed the same as the men that could spy all around the palace, sporting a pair of trousers and a loose tunic. Your father had never cared what you wore, but the day your mother found out that you had been running around like a boy, she had made you wear only the finest dresses. You’d still sneak off in trousers whenever presented with the opportunity, a small thrill running through your veins, knowing that you were directly defying your mother.

The small door was opened and you stepped out, letting your feet hit the warm the sand. You wiggled your feet about, trying to get a feel for it, bending over and picking up a handful of the small grains. It was a dark bronze color, different than the seasides of the Reach, and softer. You liked it, you immediately decided, it was much more comforting than stone and hard soil. 

“Knock it off and put it back,” internally rolling your eyes at the septa you swore you were much too old to still have you, you let the sand trickle out of your hand and back onto the ground, “you’re acting like a child. You must behave and act like a proper woman.”

Sighing lightly, you remained wordless, not wanting to start an argument in the middle of your new home before you’d even made a proper entrance. The few items you’d brought from Honeyholt with you were quickly unloaded and brought into the palace. You hadn’t desired to bring much; you wanted a fresh start, a new one that you could call all your own, even if you weren’t here by choice. It felt like you could hang on to a little bit of autonomy that way. 

Your most prized possession hung around your neck: a delicate golden chain that contained a small rose colored gem. It had been given to you by your father on your fourteenth nameday; he’d presented it to you with such joy and excitement, having it made just for you. He had claimed that the rose gem symbolized love and that you would always know how much he loved and adored you whenever you wore it. You hadn’t taken it off since his untimely demise; a small consolation for not having him around anymore. 

You’d been so lost in your own thoughts, of your father, of your new life, that you hadn’t seen realized you’d stepped foot inside, until a pair of arms wrapped around you. Your body tensed in defense as you came back to reality and saw a young, dark haired girl grinning at you. She was beautiful, clearly of Dorne with her sunkissed skin and dark features, and animated smile. She was dressed in silks of gold and orange, much like the house she served. Appearing to be only a few years younger than yourself, she had a warm aura about her; it was the most kindness you’d experienced in some time. 

“I’m Asha,” she had taken a step back when noticed your hesitation and held her hand out instead. You gave her the best smile you could as you gingerly shook her hand, still wanting to tread lightly as you gave her your name, “I’m your handmaiden. I’ll be helping you with whatever you need.”

“Handmaiden?” surely this must be a joke. Back in Honeyholt you’d had maids and servants, surely, but never one that served you in such a personal manner. Perhaps this was one of the perks of marrying a prince, even if he was one by name only, “I’m quite sure that I can handle myself...I’m sorry, forgive me, I do not mean to be rude. I’ve just never had someone...”

“It’s quite alright,” she insisted, taking your hand and pulling you further into the palace. You tried to get a good look at everything, but there was so much going on all at once that it was hard to keep track of everything, “I’ll be here for whatever you need and should you decide you do not need me at all, then I will remain as your friend, if it pleases you.”

“Friend?” that was the last thing you expected. It something you both had and hadn’t thought much about in the past few weeks. You’d had friends in Honeyholt, less and less the older you became, when they turned into mere acquaintances, tending to the families they were growing, but you’d resigned yourself to a life of solitude in Dorne. You weren’t sure what to expect here; you didn’t think the people would be so welcoming for the stranger that came to marry their favorite prince. 

“Yes,” she gave you a dazzling grin, “like I said, if it pleases you. The prince wants to make sure you feel at home and that you’re comfortable.”

“He does?” you’d been there for such a short time, but already you’d experienced more twists and turns than you had expected.

“Of course,” she pulled you up a flight of marbled stairs and down a long hallway, stopping before a grand set of doors. They were beautiful, made of aged wood and intricately carved. You couldn’t stop yourself as you reached up and touched the carvings, letting your fingers glide over them, “ he’s traveled all over the seven kingdoms, the Summer Isles, Essos...so many different places. He understands better than anyone what it is like to be in a new, and often unwelcoming land. He wants you to know that this is your home too. The prince is very happy to have you here and finally meet you.”

“Huh,” you turned to her, searching her eyes for any signs of deception, but you found none. Her dark eyes were wide with excitement as she opened the door and revealed the beautiful interior of your personal quarters. It was a beautiful sight to behold, colorful furniture was strewn about, a large, soft bed with golden cloth over it, and open doors leading to a balcony that housed many plants. A soft breeze ruffled the curtains and rustled the leaves. This space, in the few moments you’d stared at it, felt more like a home than anything you had experienced.

“His quarters are on the opposite end of the hallway,” she explained and nudged her in the direction. Separate quarters, you thought to yourself, how strange, “he wanted to make sure you liked everything. If you’re unhappy with it or require anything else, just say the word and you will have it.”

“It’s beautiful,” you admitted, stepping into the space and taking a closer at everything, “Dorne is beautiful...I had not expected this much beauty in the desert lands. The way the Northern lords make it sound...it should be horrid and ugly. But it’s lovely.”

“There is so much in Dorne that they will never tell you about because they will not allow themselves to see the beauty in front of them. We know they see us as savages and heathens, we know what they say, but we are not as they claim. We are different, surely, but does not make us bad people simply because we do not share the same views and beliefs?” she asked as she started to drag in some of the small trunks containing your items. You shook your head with a small smile; no, surely it did not make them any less human. They were already a warmer people than any of the northerners you’d encountered.

Standing up and helping her, she looked at with you with a curious glance. You just carried on, not wanting to let her do all of the work; why should you?

“I can handle it, my lady,” she insisted, but you refused to back down. You repeated your name and insisted that she call you that, “even if you are to be the princess?”

“I take no joy or pride in hollow titles or unnecessary formalities,” you promised her, “you and I are not different are we? We’re both women, subject to the harsh reality of what that entails and the laws of the gods and men. I insist, please, that you call me by my given name. And I am more than capable of helping to unpack my own items. You musn’t do it all alone.

Asha gave you a big grin as she nodded, surprised by your genial approach. Those she had met from the lands north of Dorne would never dare to renounce a title so freely, or speak so candidly with her. But you did; Oberyn would like you, she thought to herself, “as you wish...I think you will like Dorne, it will suit you well. We do not believe that men hold any superior power over women, nor do we believe that women should be reduced to standing behind a man. Everyone is equal here, just as the gods willed it.”

“And yet here I am, to be married to a man I do not know and that does know me and give him an heir,” there was a slight tone of bitterness to your voice that you hadn’t quite intended. You sighed and shook your head in apology, knowing she had nothing to do with your fortune, “I’m sorry...I should not have lashed out at you.”

“It’s quite alright,” she insisted, “I know how it seems is harsh, but I assure you that not everything is as it seems. It must be shocking to come to a new home and be surrounded by only strangers, but I think you will be just fine; if nothing else you will provide a good wit to match Prince Doran.”

“Prince Doran?” you asked as she nodded, “and he is...”

“I dare they must have kept you quite in the dark about all of this,” you nodded as you allowed yourself to sit on the soft bed, testing it out and finding it just as soft as you liked, “Prince Doran is the ruler of Dorne, his oldest daughter Princess Arianne is his heir and Oberyn is his brother.” 

“Oh,” you felt silly, and a bit dumb not being privy to any of this information before. It didn’t surprise you though; your mother did not care for the Martells and it was unlikely that she knew much of this information herself, “I apologize for not being as well versed in your land and people as I should be.”

“There is no need,” she laid out some of your dresses, placing them in the closet that stood against the wall, “one thing you will need to learn is that in Dorne we do not apologize. There is no reason to ever apologize for one’s true self, right? You were not to know this information, so how should you have known? You will learn in time. It is your home now and we are your people.”

“How is that I already feel so much warmer and lighter here than I have in years in my own home, the place I was birthed?” you let out a small laugh in spite of yourself and stood back up, spying some fine silks draped over the chair that was placed in front of the small writing desk, “what are these?”

“Silks,” Asha watched your face turn into a small smile as you touched the delicate fabrics and studied the colors, “they’re a gift from -”

“The prince,” you finished for her and she just nodded with a smile.

“He had a feeling that you wouldn’t be well prepared for the heat and wanted to provide you with something more suitable,” you lifted a few pieces up, holding them against your body. They were lovely, designed and crafted with care and expert stitching, “he asked about your coloring to make sure they’d suit you. And of course, some of the Martell gold and orange had to be included.”

“They are wonderful...absolutely beautiful,” a small sense of satisfaction worked its way into your bones as you realized that your mother would absolutely abhor the clothing, declaring crude and too revealing. But you loved the pieces, knowing they’d be perfect for the hot afternoons and warm evenings you’d come to expect, “this prince...he’s very kind.”

“He can...rough around the edges, but underneath the exterior he presents, he is a most kind and gentle man. His people love him and he loves them as well,” she answered, and you could easily sense the admiration she had for him. Maybe...just maybe, if this prince proved to be as fair and just as Asha made him out to be, things wouldn’t be a complete nightmare, “he wanted to be here to greet you, but unfortunately his duties have kept him away a bit longer than he intended. He will be back in time for your wedding.”

Wedding. Of course. You had somehow forgotten that little detail; this was just some sort of vacation or leisure trip. This was a whole new life you were walking into.

“Oh,” you tried to hide the nervous lilt of voice, but Asha picked up on it anyway. For someone so young, she was very attuned to your emotions. She stood next to you and slowly, as if testing the waters, put an arm around your shoulders. This time, you let her. You let her pull you into  a hug and hold onto you tightly as you let your body relax into the comfort of her own. You were almost like clay, melting into her arms; it had been so long since you had experienced the touch of another. She smelled of fresh citrus and spices, a scent you already found comforting, “thank you, Asha. You have been more kind than I could have ever anticipated. It is not lost on me...I should be proud to consider you a friend.”

“And I you,” she insisted, you were quickly interrupted by a loud throat clear from the entrance to your new space. Your oldest brother, now the Lord of Honeyholt in your father’s absence, was standing there, an impatient look on his face. Asha pulled back and bowed her head in reverence, “my lord.”

“Come and make sure your goodbyes, sister,” he completely ignored Asha and turned his cold gaze to yours. Never having been close with any of your brothers, besides the youngest, you harbored no strong feelings for him. He was a fine man, a decent lord, but nothing compared to your father. The halls of Honeyholt were never the same since he sat at the head of the table, “we must leave soon to make it back before our visitors from the Crownlands come.”

“You just mean to leave me here,” it was not a question, but a cold statement of fact, “you do not intend to stay and watch me marry? It is only a short time away.”

“We do not have time,” he insisted already starting to walk away, “besides, what is there to celebrate? You’re married off far too late to...a Martell. Hardly calls for celebration.”

“Goodbye brother,” you called after him, not even bothering to follow and bid anyone else a farewell and a safe journey back, “if that is the way you feel, to leave your only sister thus, then so be it. I wish you, nor our brothers, nor mother any ill will, but I cannot say I will be amiss of any of you.”

“Watch your tongue,” he growled at you from the foot of the stairs, “you are lucky to be my sister or I would have you thrown out long ago. You taint our name and have no respect for decency. You’re just like father; weak and a fool. Always thinking without your brain.”

“So with my heart?” you spat at him, “how dare you take father’s name in vain! He’s more of a man, father, and lord than you will be ever be.”

“And look where that got him,” he reminded you of the harsh reality that your favorite person, the one that you had idolized growing up, was gone, “an early grave.”

“He was ill-”

“It does matter. I am lord now and you will obey me,” he shook his head, “you know, mother was smart to finally marry you off. At least you will be able to take the name of Martell and will stop bringing shame to ours. You are no sister of mine, you can join these...barbarians, become one of them,”

“If I see you again, it will be on your deathbed,” you insisted, feeling a tears of sheer anger roll down your cheeks, as your body trembled with frustration, “I guarantee it. You are no brother of mine.”

He glowered at you before turning around and storming off, his robes trailing behind him. You’d never shared a great appreciation or love for him, but this was a harsh blow nonetheless. Your family, the only one you’d ever know was so content to just cart you off. You wondered how long he had waited for this day - but it didn’t matter. Just like that you had no more home in Honeyholt. Sunspear, and Dorne, was your home now. Even if it was a life you did not desire, at least it would be your own. 

“I’m sorry,” Asha appeared at your side, a concerned expression on her face at the heated exchanged. You choked back the few sobs that threatened to bubble up in your throat. You’d essentially just lost the little bit of family you had, “I did not expect such a response. Family means much to Dornishmen, sweet dove. You will never have to feel alone or unloved here.”

“Thank you,” you gave her a small smile, “I hope my family does not dishonor Prince Doran. I have not even meet the man who is to be my brother and already I bring chaos.”

“Prince Doran would never hold the actions of them against you,” she promised, “he shall be glad to meet you and welcome you into his family. As will we all. I can show you around the palace, if you so desire, and the water gardens. They’re most beautiful, especially during the peak of heat, such as this.”

“Will I meet Prince Doran today?” you were curious about meeting your new family, albeit the tiniest bit hopeful. It could be no worse than what you had just experienced. 

“I’m afraid both princes will not return until tomorrow,” she explained, “however, they are preparing a feast in your honor for this evening. The Princess is here, and I am sure she will be delighted to meet you. She’s a brilliant combination of her father and uncle, and will surely revel in your company, she grows bored of monotony.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

Dinner had been an...interesting affair. You’d gotten to meet the princess, her mother, and many other members of the household and those who worked for and were dear to the Martells - to your family. It was a shocking contrast to the normally reserved and quiet meals that were had in the dreary dining hall of your former home. 

The large tables in the garden were laden with delicious foods from all of Dorne, including the famed Dornish wine and everyone sat together, it did not matter their rank, station, or title. They were happy, kind, and jovial, welcoming you with open arms to Sunspear and their family. It was a warmth you had not known before, but not unwelcome. It was a sight to see everyone so happy, joking and laughing, teasing each other until late into the night; they had no reservations, no fears, no inhibitions. And you loved that about them immediately. 

Your heart had almost stopped when the princess had presented you with a beautiful golden bracelet, containing the Martell sun entwined with the little dove of your own house. She had gently clasped it around your wrist, before kissing your cheeks gently. You would think of her, her generosity and warmth whenever you wore it. 

But even the excitement and relief that the evening had provided was not enough to stave off the tears that found you late in the evening as you sat on the balcony connected to your quarters. You’d been studying the starry night sky, admiring how it glittered over the red dunes of the desert, when you were hit with a wave of sadness that you couldn’t ward of. A few hot, warm, salty tears dripped down your cheeks as you slowly repeated the names of the constellations you could see, stopping only when a small knock came at your door. 

You dabbed at your eyes and turned around to see who the visitor was, but Arianne slowly let herself in. You gave her a small smile and she joined you on the balcony, without a word, but a gentle hand on your shoulder.

“I am sorry that you must see me in such a state,” you apologized but she shook her head. She was about to open her mouth, but you stopped her with a small smile, already knowing what she was going to say, “do not apologize for being your true self.”

“Yes,” she agreed with a small laugh, rich and musical, “see you’re learning already - you’ll fit in perfectly.”

You remained silent for a moment and let out a long sigh.

“What plagues you so?” she asked gently, “besides the loss of your family?”

“Today has proven it is no real loss,” you admitted, “I am...I do not know if I can do this.”

“Marry my uncle?”

“Yes,” you said quietly, “I vowed to myself that I would never marry someone I did not love, and I know this sounds silly, but my father, before his death, always promised me that he would never send me off to do so unless I desired it. And now...”

“It is not easy.”

“No,” you sighed, a fresh wave of tears rolled down your cheeks, “I cannot bring myself to love someone just because I am required to, nor have a desire to be treated as a sow to be used for heirs. I do not know if I can do this, to myself or your uncle.”

“I realize this is very little consolation, but I do think I might know how you to help, if only a small bit,” she had your attention and you gave her a curious glance, “think of it as a marriage only in name.”

“Only in name?”

“Precisely,” she explained, “you will marry Oberyn, and that will the end of it. You do not owe him an heir and he would never expect one from you. He has eight daughters already, some nearing your age, and he loves them dearly. They keep him busy and if you do not desire children he would never force one on you. You do not have to love him, he knows you likely never will, but just respect him; for outside purposes you will be husband and wife, but behind closed doors, and to those here in Dorne, who not care about such things, it will not matter.”

“Oh?”

“Give it some time and you will find a lover, a man or a woman, or many lovers,” she explained, “love should not be contained so willfully, unless two people desire it. you are free to explore and take as lovers as you want. You give and take love.”

“Oberyn...has a lover,” why you suddenly felt shy, you did not know. Certainly it could not be jealousy? You did not know him nor care for him, and clearly did not love him, but something inside you panged slightly. How strange it would be to be married to a man with a different lover.

“He had a lover, a paramour by the name of Ellaria Sand,” she explained and you found yourself intrigued, “she’s a most kind, generous and lovely woman, and mother to four of his daughters. She is beautiful as she is kind and still comes around often, but she has left his bed sometime ago and has returned to her childhood home in Helholt.”

“Oh?” you wondered if it had anything to do with you, but you had your doubts. What power would you, a mere child compared to his longtime lover hold? 

“It was amicable, I believe. They remain friends, and both love their daughters deeply. I think a strong bond and love remains between them, but nothing romantic,” she expanded, but it did not ease your nerves, “I’m sure you will meet her at some point, she comes around not infrequently, but you have nothing to worry about. She will love you, as we already do as well. She will understand what your position as Oberyn’s wife means.”

“Does he take other lovers still?” 

“As far as I know,” she shrugged, not deeply concerned with her uncle’s affairs, “anything further than that you will have to discuss among yourselves.”

“I see,” you let out a long sigh and let your shoulders slump, finding little solace in her words. She was trying her best, but it did not chase away all your fears, “still I...”

“Remember,” she said softly, “name only. You will not have be with him, in his presence, any more than you desire. He will grant you many liberties and freedoms. The ways things work between a husband and wife are very different here in Dorne than in the North. You will not be confined to the palace or your husband, you will have your own voice here.”

“Such a strange concept,” you mused as she shrugged, “all my life I’ve been told that my only goal in life is to behave, marry a nobleman, and bear him children. Nothing more and nothing less.”

“Welcome to Dorne, sweet dove,” Arianne pressed a light kiss to the side of your head, before moving to leave your chambers, leaving you alone with your thoughts, “and welcome to House Martell.”

You watched her go without another word, envying her easy going personality and liveliness. She’s known this her whole life, and yet she was so happy; maybe there was something to this Dornish way of life. Maybe you could find some purchase here and make a happy little life for yourself. With or without your husband at your side. 

You straightened up and stretched, raising your arms above your head as you looked at the moon, shining among the stars. Maybe...this did not have to be as bad as you had originally thought; maybe Dorne could be your own sanctuary. Your head was swimming with so many thoughts, and you were overwhelmed with a tiredness you had not known in ages. You walked back into your bedchamber, leaving the doors open to let in the warm evening breeze. It was quiet now, a quiet that you’d never really experience. Peaceful.

Oberyn watched you moved back inside from his spot in the courtyard of the palace. He and Doran had returned early, at his behest, but not early enough for a proper introduction. He been curious to meet his bride, the wild girl from the North that refused to be tamed. He had overheard you and Arianne, listening intently to your every word, clinging on to them to try and figure out how to best serve you. He wanted you to be happy, he hoped you would be, and if you wanted nothing to do with him, then he would respect that as well. 

Whatever you desired, Oberyn Martell was going to make sure you had it. 

»»————-　♡　————-««

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[timextoxhajima]

Love Me A Little Less: Chapter 7 - Golden Chains

LOVE ME A LITTLE LESS CHAPTER MASTERLIST

Member: (3rd person pov) arranged marriage au with Lee Juyeon

Genre: angsty wangsty

Taglist: @hyunjaethereal @sunwoowuvbot​ @suzy-rainbow​​

"Everyone wants everything she has.”

Juyeon raises his fist, Porsche parked nicely in the only empty lot of three by the fountain before the mini mansion. The sky is cloudy and Juyeon can already smell the musty scent of rain as the gentle cool winds blow through his still-waxed hair. 

His knuckles press into the wooden door before he actually knocks, and he almost feels sorry for himself for being such a nuisance at the worst timings ever.

Finally mustering the courage to knock, he does just that, and he can see the lights in the entrance hall flicker on through the door panels by the sides after some time. Multiple locks click open, and the door opens just enough for the resident to see him.

“Juyeon,” Sunwoo blinks, already in his silk pajamas and his hair combed down nicely. He looks tired - probably from the day’s work of being Juyeon’s moodmaker at his own wedding. “What are you doing here? Oh my God, you got kicked out of the Lee’s House?”

“What? No!” The elder seethes quietly, his pride hurt. “I left.”

Sunwoo’s brows are covered by his fringe, but Juyeon doesn’t need to see them to know they are far up his forehead with amusement. 

“You left the Lee House?” 

“Yeah,” Juyeon sucks in a deep breath and avoids eye contact. “My mother told me she wanted me to have a child with Jang Won just so we can inherit HERA & ARTEMIS.”

“Oh, man,” Sunwoo’s face falls with pity and confusion. “That... that’s gotta suck.”

“I know. That’s why I’m here.”

Sunwoo pulls the door open for Juyeon to enter, head poking out the door to see the Porsche parked in his driveway. “You can stay if you like but I’m afraid people are gonna find out you’re here and not back at your place or Hera’s Manor.”

Juyeon pulls off his shoes and slips on a pair of home slippers meant for guests. The entrance hall is a lot less spacious and elaborate compared to the Lee House’s or Hera’s Manor, but it’s because of its smaller scale that comforts Juyeon. Feels more like a home than an exhibition.

The door shuts and Sunwoo pulls the locks back into place. 

“I know, but I just didn’t know where else to be. I can’t stand being in that house.”

“Okay, so you hate your parents. We know this, but do you really have nowhere else to be at now?”

Juyeon turns and shoots Sunwoo a look of displeasure. The younger pouts slightly as he passes him and heads for the main hall. The fireplace crackles to life when he turns it on.

Dropping himself into the couch and staring at the fire, Juyeon pulls off his blazer and covers his face with it. The cushion next to him sinks when Sunwoo sits, quiet and unsure.

“It’s not that I don’t want you here. I just don’t want to risk you getting into trouble with the press. Everybody knows the Porsche’s carplate number. And aren’t all your cars bugged?”

“I removed the bug.”

“What? How? How did you even find it?”

“The one in the Porsche was under the compartment on the passenger’s side.”

“Did you like, throw it on the ground and drive over it or something?”

“I threw it at my bodyguard.”

Sunwoo snorts. “Were your parents around to see that?”

“Yeah, my dad was this close,” Juyeon lifts a hand and gestures with his thumb and index finger. “To punching a hole through the driver’s window, so I threw it out the passenger’s window instead.”

The hearty laugh that runs out of Sunwoo’s throat tickles Juyeon as well. “I’m not gonna lie, this is something you definitely wouldn’t have done prior.”

“Prior to?”

Juyeon pulls the blazer off his face and side-eyes Sunwoo. The answer was already in his eyes.

“Ah,” Juyeon scoffs. “Maybe it just bugs me that my mother was in the same position as Jang Won is now - an arranged marriage - and yet she’s telling me to do all these things to her... a child, taking HERA & ARTEMIS.”

“Don’t you think you’re developing too much of a soft spot for her already?”

“Why does everyone think that way?” Frowning, Juyeon finally sits up in the couch. “Poor girl lost her mother to cancer and then her father who only comes back from the dead, only to take what she built - does that make sense at all?”

“It doesn’t, but you seem to forget that she’s got the entire world at her feet. Even if your families harmoniously merged, I’m very sure she still wouldn’t give away her blood and sweat so easily.”

Juyeon sighs and drags his hands down his face, feeling the weight from the day sink into him. “I just... I can’t imagine. She’s... got questionable motifs, no doubt, but... when I spoke to Younghoon today, I... He made me promise to protect her and be patient with her, and now I see exactly why.”

He pauses and looks at the cracking fire. 

“Everyone wants everything she has, and she knows that herself.”

Jang Won yawns and crawls into bed, stretching her neck from left to right as she tightens silk night gown around her waist. She fiddles with the ring on her left hand, diamond sparkling under the amber lights of her room. 

Memory sends her back to earlier that day - to when Juyeon pulled her out of that sickening interaction with misogynist Mr Teuk, only to call her a hypocrite in her own office. 

She harshly exhales, pulling out the ring and placing it by the nightstand. Her feet shuffles under the sheets, cool and heavy and all she wants to do is to slip into forever. If only.

But a gentle knock ensues on her door, and she groans in frustration, shutting her eyes to regulate her lack of sleep.

“What is it?”

“Miss Kim, there’s a call for you, and I’m afraid you’ll have to entertain it.”

She rams her face into her pillow when she recognises Mr Ro’s calmness. She’ll never yell at him for anything in the world. 

“Can’t it wait till morning?”

“Uh, well... I’m afraid not, Miss Kim. It’s your husband.”

“Oh- my God!” She screams into her pillow, refusing to leave her bed even more now. “What is it that’s so fucking urgent?!”

The door finally clicks open and Mr Ro kindly pokes his head in, eyes furrowing at the lady of the house huddled into the thick sheets of her bed. She turns subtly, enough for one of her eyes to see Mr Ro’s head through the gap of the door.

“He, um, ran away from home. He’d like to stay for the night... or rather, until you leave for your honeymoon next week.”

Jang Won frowns, neurons in her head struggling to fit themselves together. She sits up. “What? Juyeon... ran away from home?”

He nods enough for her to see, and a strange sense of protection wells her stomach. 

“Give me the phone,” She stretches out her palm and beckons Mr Ro over to her bed. The butler was already dressed in his own pajamas, so she can’t help but smile softly at how cute he looked. 

And yet, she displays the magic of a 180 degree change as she presses the phone to her ear, “What the FUCK is wrong with you?! Do you have any FUCKING idea how late it is?!”

“Oh!” Mr Ro anxiously waves his hands at her. “It’s Mr Kim Sunwoo on the line, Jang Won!”

Her eyes widen, and she winces into the phone, taking a pillow to gently whack Mr Ro. 

“Yeah, hear that, Juyeon? Do you have any idea what time it is now? Anyway, hi. It’s Kim Sunwoo, in case your butler hasn’t told you.”

“Right, right, sorry about that.”

“Don’t be sorry about that, just come and take your husband back to Hera’s Manor. He’s homeless and I can’t risk him being seen here. He drove his car here.”

“What? Isn’t his car bugged with a tracking device?”

“He ripped it out, but the whole press knows his car plate number so if he’s spotted here, I’m sure you wouldn’t want to answer why there’s a man involved in your marriage.”

Jang Won huffs with irritation. “Fine. I’ll send someone over to drive him back to Hera’s Manor. Why’s he homeless now anyway?”

Sunwoo laughs dryly over the phone. “His parents. What else?”

Jang Won twists the receiver away from her mouth and turns to Mr Ro. “Is the second master or the other guest room made up?”

“The second master is being used to house your clothes and items for your honeymoon, and the other guestroom is currently being used by your father.”

“What? My father? What the fuck’s he doing in the-”

“Uh, would you like a word with him? Maybe you could snap him out of his nonsensical act right now that’s putting him and you in various difficult situations.”

“Ugh, get someone to watch my father in the second guest room! We’ll clear him out tomorrow, and send someone down to Kim Sunwoo’s residence now! I want Lee Juyeon in Hera’s Manor in 30!” She twists the phone back so the receiver is at her mouth. “Get him on the phone. I’ll scream his ear off.”

“He says he’ll explain when he gets there- hey, give that back- wha-” 

BEEP

Jang Won removes the phone from her ear just as Mr Ro shuts the door behind him. Rubbing her temples to cure the headache that’s forming in her skull, she reminds herself that her newly wed husband cannot be brutally murdered the night of her wedding. 

“My God,” She huffs exasperatedly, side-eyeing Mr Ro. “Men.”

“Shall I call someone down to drive you there or-”

“No, just send a guard to tail my car but you just stay home and clear the second guest room.”

“Your father won’t be able to clear it out by the time Mr Lee is here, Jang Won.”

She halts in the midst of throwing on full-length coat. “Are you telling me that I might need to share this bed-”

“Possibly, yes.”

The groan that escapes her throat is loud, annoying and absolutely a bomb of a ruin to the rest of her night. “Fine. But get me a bolster. I don’t want him anywhere near 30 centimeters of me.”

Jang Won can’t exactly remember the last time she’s got her fingers around the steering wheel, but she sure as Hell felt the freedom when she didn’t have to worry about telling the chauffeur where she was headed off to. 

The Mercedes tailing her car was driven by one of Hera’s Manor’s bodyguards, and so she makes sure to stay a good distance away from it since the press is also aware of her car plate number.

She parks her Audi right next to the Porsche, and the Manor’s Mercedes almost at the entrance where it leads up to the fountain and the roundabout. There’s no hesitation in slamming the door and almost running her entire fist through the door (if she could) to make her presence known.

“ROOM FUCKING SERVICE FOR MR LEE JUYEON. GET YOUR ASS OUT HERE!”

Almost immediately, she can hear someone shuffling for the door, and it swings open to reveal Kim Sunwoo, a distant member of The Board. Peering over Sunwoo’s shoulder, she can see the reluctance dripping off her husband as he peels himself off the sofa, still in his clothes he had left in. 

“You went home and didn’t bother to take a shower?” She sneers, but Juyeon cannot give two damns about her attitude right now. He finally reaches the party at the front door, noticing the Manor’s bodyguard driving the Mercedes up to meet the other cars. 

“I went home and got blasted with the suggestion of having a child with you, how’s that for a reason not to shower?” He frowns, trudging past her for the Porsche. 

Jang Won watches his back head down the steps, getting into his own car and prepare himself at the wheel with a look of contempt in his eyes. She turns to thank Sunwoo with a mere nod, before heading down the steps herself and getting into the Porsche. The plan was to have the Manor’s Mercedes left at Kim’s Residence while her bodyguard drove her Audi, and she would be in the Porsche with Juyeon - all this to prevent any sort of complications if they were to be spotted by the press. 

The urge to scream at him for possibly ruining the perfect plan she had in store to debunk all the shit’s that gone down with her father has, surprisingly, diminished. Jang Won cannot decide what she’s more taken aback by - the fact that Juyeon left home because she had been unreasonably brought into discussion, or that he got scared by the thought of spending the rest of his life caring for a child with her. 

Of course, being the skeptical person she is, she chooses to believe the second option more than the first.

“Is the idea of having a child with me so horrible that you had to leave home?”

“A child should not be brought into the picture when we don’t even care about each other,” The weight in his voice kind of hurts her pride. He checks the side mirror as he turns around the corner. “Neither of us had a choice to be where we are today so... let’s not implicate any other prospective beings that might suffer from our decisions. I don’t want to be my parents and I’m sure as Hell you don’t want to be like your father.”

Juyeon checks the rear mirror, making sure that her bodyguard was tailing them in the Audi. It’s strange, to have some peace and quiet in the car as the whir of the air-conditioning hums through the vehicle. She’s looking out the passenger’s window and seeing everything outside as they drive past.

“Haven’t been to this neighbourhood before, have you?” 

She shakes her head, not bothering to turn to him. “No. I’ve only been hanging around the Manor and the Meridian Streets where you stay.”

A pause.

“Sunwoo’s grandfather was the first of his family to secure membership in The Board, that’s why the disparity.”

Jang Won’s eyes dart to Juyeon and tries to side-eye him, but he remains out of her view and she returns to the world outside. “He’s a new-blood?”

“Three-generations new,” Juyeon nods. “Haven’t met one, have you?”

“No. I grew up with people whose great-great-grandparents lived in the Joseon dynasty.”

“That would’ve been a fun time to be alive.”

“Only if you wanted to be executed for being a politician.”

Juyeon exhales through his nose.

Jang Won lets the atmosphere settle, feeling the gentle night seep into her after a long day. She wonders about Juyeon’s perception of her as a person, after everything’s been happening. 

“How did you meet Kim Sunwoo?”

“We went to the same high-school. I was two years his senior and we were in the same club, and by then, my parents had already begun to teach me the likings of The Board and even gave me a booklet with all the families who were involved with it. I remembered Sunwoo’s family being indicated near the back of the book because they were new-bloods, and from then, I remembered his face.”

“Wouldn’t you have been worried he’d use you to shift up the food chain?”

“Not everybody is as venomous as the ones we know. Sunwoo had no idea I was from the Lee family. Once, we were shooting hoops till late and his father had come to get him... and then Sunwoo had to watch his father bow to another student... and I could tell he hated it, and then he was almost as shocked as I was, but for completely different reasons.”

Jang Won doesn’t even notice she’s staring at Juyeon until he turns to her, looking straight at her in her eyes. The car stops at a red light, now just a few streets away from Hera’s Manor. He turns away first.

“And I had to watch him bow to me too, just because his father told him to... and it felt like shit,” Juyeon’s eyes are glimmering the shade of red from the traffic light as he looks ahead. His face reflected the amber hues of the street lamps and other stray vehicles still on the road. “I wanted a friend, but his father was treating me like something they shouldn’t even be talking to.”

“It has always been like that. The way The Board works... it’s a hierarchy within another and when you’re a new-blood...”

“Yeah. I know,” Juyeon sighs as he lifts the brakes. “Part of me wishes we weren’t born into this shitshow.”

A mirror. That’s what he is. Stand right opposite Younghoon and he’s nothing but someone who wishes the same - to be free from all the golden chains. 

[spicysoftsweet]

Why Not Her? (Illumi x Reader)

A/N: Buckle up, this is long as fuck and dramatic as HELL. Please read @hisokapegger‘s fic for the first part, and consider this the other perspective. If one of us is feeling up to it, we’re gonna write some more perspectives.

To the tune of Jolene by Dolly Parton here ~

Part one by @hisokapegger here

TW: pregnancy

---

To love is to trust.

You had done the unthinkable by choosing to love and to trust what to others was despicable. You had made the leap and been rewarded for it with the love of Illumi Zoldyck. 

Your relationship would be strong and lasting; you were sure of it. Prior to coming to the sprawling mansion he had grown up in, he had already paved a way for you after all. With enough convincing (or rather, over a year of quiet arguments and louder fights that you thankfully weren’t privy to), his parents had begrudgingly accepted the idea of you. 

And today was the day you would finally be presented as his fiancee.

He had chosen you yourself. There was nothing to fear, as long as he was with you. You reminded yourself of this as you held his hand while he led you into the manor.

You kept your smile on as you navigated through, following just a few steps behind but still linked. What you needed to do was look charming, even if you were afraid - first impressions were paramount to people as elitist as Illumi’s family. You had to channel grace, even if the butterflies in your stomach would barely settle the further you went.

And you did so well, exuding charm and inner peace to everyone you met - that is, until you met eyes with her. 

Illumi introduced the beautiful, sylphlike creature as one of his most trusted butlers. She smiled at the praise, and the moment you took in the soft features painted on pale skin with a hint of olive, something inside of you trembled for just a moment. 

“This is Kali. She’s been with me ever since I was a child,” he explained, with fondness. 

You nodded, trying to ease the thump in your heart, keeping your smile genuine. 

“It’s nice to meet you, Kali.”

You were being truthful. You sensed intrinsically she was sweet and kind, and you knew you would end up liking her the longer you spent time together. She would be your personal butler from then on, anyway. You decided to ignore the nagging sense of impending doom that knocked at your subconscious, shoving it into the deepest recesses of your mind.

As Illumi took you away to move on, you turned back to sneak a look at Kali once more.

And then you saw it; you wished you hadn’t seen it: her eyes shining with sadness for just for a split second before she noticed you and looked away.

----

As you had anticipated, you and Kali became fast friends. You knew Illumi loved you and that his feelings hadn’t changed by the way he spoke excitedly about your upcoming future together, took the time to fill up your quarters with the things you liked, and indulged you in soft kisses and touches when you were alone together.

But the thought that you were assuming a space that didn’t belong to you, and not in a way as innocuous as sitting in someone else’s seat, continued to linger in the back of your mind.

It festered every time Illumi came by to see you while you were exchanging stories with Kali when you failed to see a difference in the way he looked at you both. It reared its ugly head whenever she teased him in your presence, or whenever she gave you a tidbit about his favorite things. There was a twinkle to her eye whenever she spoke about him, and while you loved her, you started to hate it.

But jealousy was such an unbecoming emotion, wasn’t it?

Illumi loved you, it didn’t matter. It couldn’t matter.

---

“I want Kali to make one of the wedding cakes.” Illumi stated, voice as light and inconsequential as usual, as you sat side by side in one of the many gazebos on the field. 

“Oh?” You asked, looking up from the catalog of flower arrangements you were perusing, despite the fact that you knew his mother would override any decisions you made anyway (you had decided you would let her win the battle over flowers so that you could win the war, after all).

“There’s a recipe only she knows,” he continued. “It’s been my favorite since I was a kid. She’s aware and has agreed.”

“That sounds lovely, Illumi.”

It truly did, and that was the worst part.

---

Your wedding came and went, and it was every bit as beautiful as you imagined. You remained in Illumi’s arms after consummating your union, and somehow, shockingly, he fell asleep first. Or maybe he was just closing his eyes - yes, that was the more rational explanation. You snuggled closer into his neck, and wrapped your arms even tighter around him.

Still flushed, you whispered a breathy, “I love you.”

And to your terror, the little green monster that had spared you for the past few days came back in full force. 

But so does Kali! It screamed from the parts you thought you had locked away, and your heart started to race.

Illumi didn’t open his eyes, but he pressed his lips to your forehead in a small, quiet motion before pressing you even closer to him, likely sensing your unrest. 

What you needed to hear him say was those three words back.

But alas, those three words never came, and the little green monster grew just a little bit stronger that night.

---

You could have your choice of men, but I can never love again

He’s the only one for me, [Kali]

---

It didn’t take very long for you to become heavy with child, and for whatever reason, pregnancy was particularly hard on you. The fatigue, back pain and constant nausea would have been manageable if it weren’t the fact that your ankles swelling was nothing compared to the swelling in your face, and you were unsure if the stretch marks that coursed over your belly would ever fade. Just looking at yourself in the mirror some days would ruin your morning.

Kali remained lithe and beautiful as always, graciously by your side to help you with the most menial tasks. Taking your hand to help you get to the bathroom or to take a daily walk around the manor to prevent blood clots from sitting around, keeping you company while Illumi was away; you were in need of constant assistance, and she was always there for you.

She was an angel, and your best friend.

One evening as you ate dinner, just the two of you, you let out a sigh.

Kali smiled in response, attempting to reassure you. “Pregnancy seems difficult, but you wear it well,” she mused, pouring chamomile tea for the two of you to enjoy.

You gave out a dramatic snort as you took a sip. “I’ll never look the same again, and I’m pretty sure this whole story about a “pregnancy glow” is fake,” you huffed as you set the teacup down.

“But Illumi’s so happy, he talks about it all the time!” Kali exclaimed cheerfully, setting down her own cup. “Just yesterday, he was talking about baby names you had discussed, and settling on a few. It was quite funny to watch actually.”

A knot formed in your stomach. The last time you spoken to or seen Illumi was multiple days ago... 

“Was he home yesterday?” You blurted out, then were embarrassed to even have to ask your friend about your own husband’s whereabouts. 

She furrowed her brow as she looked at you in confusion. “Yeah, of course, he was just here for a couple of hours, but...”

He didn’t come see you? What she left unsaid was enough to set you on edge, but you couldn’t be mad at her, only at yourself. 

Who could love you anyway, the way you were now?

It took you a moment to get up on your own, but you had to stand and make your way from the table. Turning away from her so that she couldn’t see the bitter tears that were ready to fall from your face.

“__, are you alright?”

“Mmhmm,” You choked out and nodded, your voice regrettably higher than usual. You bit your lip.

“I think I’m going to bed early tonight.”

You could hear the chair shift back as she rose.

“Okay,” she said, in a soft, compassionate voice. You heard her light footsteps make their way to the door, pause for a moment, and finally the door closed shut behind you.

And at the sound of the closed door, as if on cue, your tears began to fall. 

---

Your smile is like a breath of spring

Your voice is soft like summer rain

And I cannot compete with you

[Kali]

---

You spent the rest of your pregnancy on bedrest, before producing a beautiful, dark-haired little girl. Skin to skin contact was brief before Illumi took the baby in his arms, inspected it, and with the smallest smile of pleasure, handed it to Kali.

You watched as Kali cooed at your new child, standing next to your still pleased-appearing husband, the picture of a perfect family. Even their features complemented each other; it was like a knife twisting in your chest. 

Kikyo gave you a quick look over before running over to them to pick up her new grandchild. For a split second, you wondered if you had imagined a look between pity and understanding, hidden beneath her visor. 

The nightmare of being overlooked.

---

And I can easily understand

How you could easily take my man

But you don't know what he means to me

[Kali]

---

It took you not too long after that to grow bitter. Maybe it was postpartum depression, maybe it was a year of feeling inadequate, maybe it was the fact that you knew your friend was more deserving than you. 

But either way, you withdrew. From Illumi, from Kali, from everyone. It wasn’t hard to do so. You did what you were there for. You’d produced a child to appease your husband and your grandparents. 

How you yearned for freedom...

The freedom that Kali had to love without the responsibility. If only you could switch places.

“___, please eat-”

“I’m not hungry,” you replied, before she could even finish. Kali pulled the plate of food back to her.

“Illumi is upset with me that you’re not eating.”

“Are you worried about Illumi or me?” You quipped, then covered your own mouth, shocked at what had come out.

“...”

Kali was speechless, but the look on her face betrayed a layer of guilt that you couldn’t tolerate. You were right. It was less about you than about Illumi.

You knew she cared about you too, and yet…

“I know you love him,” you choked out. Kali said nothing, her beautiful eyes still on you, as you began to cry. 

“I know you wish he had chosen you instead of me, and honestly, I wish he had.”

----

I had to have this talk with you

My happiness depends on you

And whatever you decide to do

[Kali]

---

The next morning, you decided you would seek some professional help. You didn’t know how much of this was depression vs. postpartum baby blues, but something had to be done. Kali did not deserve your anger at all.

You didn’t see Kali that morning. 

When you finally spoke up your concern of your whereabouts to Illumi, hoping not to avoid any trouble, his face was impassive as usual. 

“She asked if she could leave.”

The butlers didn’t just have the option to leave… Or did they?

“I didn’t know they could quit,” you questioned, suspiciously. 

“They usually can’t. But in this case, there was an exception.” He said. With that, he turned fully to face you, and pressed a soft kiss on your lips. It had been a long time since you’d kissed, since you’d withdrawn from him in your depression, and you missed it. But it felt wrong.

You withdrew again from his touch.

“What did she say? What was the exception?” You demanded to know.

“She told me she loved me, and that you knew the entire time,” he said, simply. Your stomach did a backflip.

“Normally the punishment is immediate death, but I know how much you care about her. And she was good to you.” He continued, taking your hands in his. You pulled away slowly, staring straight through him. He didn’t insist on it.

“Where is she now?”

“Off the manor, most likely.”

You started to walk towards the gate, and he held on to your arm.

“Where are you going?”

A panic started to rise in you.

“Bring her back! I was wrong, I was wrong, I was wrong!” Tears started to stream down your cheeks again, as the realization set in that such a petty feeling such as jealousy had managed to turn you into a villain. 

“She wanted to leave.”

“She loves you!” You protested.

“So?”

So? It was such an aggressively simple sentence. You looked up at him in shock, enough that it gave you pause.

“What do you mean so? Why me? Why not her when she’s perfect?”

“She’s not you.”

Your hand almost flew to his face from the sheer level of rage, the urge to defend her feelings coursing through you, but your palm stopped right at the side of his face. Instead, you sank to the floor, and sobbed for Kali, and for yourself. 

---

[Kali, Kali, Kali, Kali~]

I'm begging of you please don't take my man

[murdocking]

𝐁𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐭

c𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝟣; 𝗍𝗌𝗎𝗄𝗂𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗆𝖺 𝗄𝖾𝗂/𝖿𝖾𝗆! 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝖺𝗎𝗍𝗒 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝖺𝗌𝗍 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗋𝗒. 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝖻𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗇 𝗆𝗎𝗅𝗍𝗂𝗉𝗅𝖾 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍𝗌.

𝗐𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌: 𝗇𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝖻𝖾𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾𝗌 𝖽𝖾𝗌𝖼𝗋𝗂𝗉��𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗇𝗌𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗆𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌. 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝖻𝖾 𝖺 𝖿𝖾𝗐 𝖼𝗎𝗋𝗌𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝖽𝗌 𝗈𝗇𝗅𝗒 𝖻𝖾𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝗂 𝖽𝗈𝗇𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗄 𝗂 𝖼𝖺𝗇 𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗍𝖾 𝗉𝗎𝗋𝖾 𝗈𝗅𝖽 𝖾𝗇𝗀𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗁. 𝖺𝗅𝗌𝗈 𝗌𝗈 𝗌𝗈𝗋𝗋𝗒 𝗍𝗈 𝗈𝗂𝗄𝖺𝗐𝖺 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗇𝗌...𝗆𝗒 𝗆𝖺𝗇 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝖻𝖾 𝗀𝖺𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗇...𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗉𝗎𝗋𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝗋𝗌𝗁...𝗌𝗈𝗋𝗋𝗒 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗌𝗈𝗋𝗋𝗒 𝖫𝖬𝖠𝖮𝖮𝖮 𝗂 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝖻𝗎𝗍... 𝗐𝖾 𝗇𝖾𝖾𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝖺 𝗀𝖺𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗇

Lights adorned every crevice of the wonderous palace, the land decorated with vibrant flowers covering the twisting vines on the archway to the prince’s home. Carriages and stallions littered the entrance of the stone castle, beautiful people with smiles on their faces made their way to the open doors where music played by the talented Takeda swarmed the main room. As couples whispered small compliments to each other and gossiping mothers chose appetizers for their husbands and children- the prince was being dolled up by his irritatingly clingy friends.

“please tsukki- it’s just a little more left-“ “I cannot even breathe through this disgusting paste on my face- god can these imbeciles leave this is pointless.” The prince sighed in heavy annoyance, his blonde hair being tied back (he swore he was going to grab one of Miss Yachi’s knives and cut it himself) and glasses thrown on the vanity’s hardwood. “oh be quiet- its only for a few hours not to mention you enjoy ridiculing your people Tsukishima.” Sugawara grumbled, tired of his complaints as he mixed more water in his brush to loosen its bristles; to which Tsukishima jerked his head, standing up to look down on his older companion. “don’t you forget your place.” Yamaguchi simply stares at the articulate tile below his foot, wanting nothing more than to be immersed into the joy the people displayed outside of the stuffy room he was currently in.

Ukai stands behind his companion, Takeda, while his delicate fingers hit every key on his piano perfectly- simply whispering to him about future songs the two would be playing later during the prince’s ball; Takeda would answer with a distracted tone to all the questions Ukai posed, frustrated the blonde to no end.

“you’re lucky you have an excuse not to be paying attention right now, Takeda.” “of course, that’s perfect monsieur Ukai.” “god dam- “

The moon seemed to be even brighter that night, and to Tsukishima Kei- it was as though the gods had decided to mock his name as he spent another year alone for his birthday, hands of his ‘servants’ fixing his appearance while Sugawara spoke with faux pride in the main room to introduce his prince. The room filled with harsh silence as Tsukishima’s tall stature stepped quietly down the carpeted steps with an uninterested gaze over the crowd of people he didn’t know, and didn’t wish to know. “my prince, it is my honor to begin your-“

The dark doors that had been shut close suddenly opened, the creak of its hinges holding more volume than Sugawara or Takeda could have ever wished to achieve. A battered down woman limped in, her hair was thin against her fragile face- her wrinkles holding dirt and mud, evidence of tough travel conditions. Tsukishima could barely contain his chuckle at her appearance.

“m-my prince…! Please, if you would be so kind a-as to help me, I seem to ha-“ “and you have the pure audacity to enter my home, disgustingly ruining the beauty of this ball…and not even bring me a gift…? You are a bold woman…” Tsukishima scoffed under his breath, Yamaguchi frowned at just how hurtful his best friend had become. “b-but my prince, I do bring you a gift…” she turned to her worn down and sopping satchel, pulling a beautiful rose that even Sugawara could smell from his place in the middle of the room. Its petals shimmered in the candlelight of the party- and its green stem was of such a pigment that all attending were sure not even the finest of painters could achieve such a hue.

Tsukishima breathes hard, walking closer to the elderly woman before gently taking the rose. He stares at it a moment, his hands moving on their own as he throws it behind his back with a small “oops”. the woman stared at his highness in pure disbelief, his arrogance had upset her to the highest degree.

“very well.” she stands up, and its as though she was growing in front of Tsukishima as he stared at the elderly woman morph into a beautiful woman who seemed to only be in her 20s. ‘well fuck?’ she held a strong glare at him as her ripped hood lifted off of her short brown hair, twisting into dark silver crown that never met her strands of hair. “Tsukishima Kei.” He gulped slightly, his hands grabbing onto the end of his shirt as he tried to focus on the (slightly blurry) scene before him, the lady easily moving behind him to grab the flower he had earlier discarded. “although appearances may be deceiving, all should know who you really are at heart” her delicate hand pushed harshly against his chest, her eyes never moving from his “I damn you to become what you really are” her finger snapped in front of his face and stole his coming breath instantly. “a detestable beast.”

When he opens his mouth to retort, a scream erupts instead as his bones and joints of his hands felt like they were being stretched by a torture machine, his spine felt contorted against his caving and heaving stomach. the enchantress watches in amusement, her stare towards his party held no remorse as the flick of her wrist opened the doors once more. “I will count down from 30. You have that long until you join your dearest prince.” it was something out of a manic state that made families depart without a care for each other- a child being separated from their father, and a man being lost without his love. the cooks in the far back of the palace broke the windows with a poor attempt of leaving the horror of the castle as Tsukishima’s screams of pure agony and pain changed into animalistic growls. the enchantress twirls the rose in her hand, her voice of honey contrasting the words that fell out of her mouth “if by the last petal falls, and you have truly loved someone and they have loved you back- you and everyone here will be free from my curse. However,” she cranes her neck and motions her hand downwards- closing the gates to the castle and boarding up all the glass pane windows, “if not, you will forever be a beast. And everyone here will be part of your castle- for eternity.” And with a final roar of protest and pain, Tsukishima had truly become a beast.

 -----

“I don’t think I understand that- how could you be selling a whole loaf of bread for 3 coins yesterday and today it is 7 coins for half of a stale loaf? What sick game are you playing here, Bokuto?” You speak with annoyance, tapping your foot on the stone floor while your friend gives you a short smirk “im not playing anything besides business. That, my friend, was merely a discount. You have to pay my full price.” He retorts, giving a smile to a child as the boy hands the older one a bag of coins- setting two loaves of fresh bread onto the kid’s small hands “now I know you’re lying straight to my face, Bokuto.” You say, stuffing your hand into your dirty dress pocket, counting the silver coins in your head as you pull out 2 more before pressing them onto the wooden table. “there’s no way I’d be receiving your ‘discount’ for nearly 19 years. Just give me the bread and I’ll be on my way.” he ponders for a moment, his eyes getting lost in the crowd when he sees the black tuff of hair wandering through the middle of it. “fine, just this onc-“ “thank you Bokuto pleasure doing business with you!” You quickly snatch the fresh bread beside him instead of the one you two had previously agreed on, to which you heard his protests fade out as you stuffed the bread into your woven basket. you greet the widow by the bookstore with a wave and a quarter of poorly cut bread.

“you know, you never have to give me this my dear.” “it is alright though! Kou always lets me off the hook, so I don’t mind sharing Ms.” You say, giving a curt nod before departing- heading inside to catch the eye of Akaashi, his eyes quickly scanning your outfit and bag, seeing the bread inside. “he was looking for you again” “should I feel honored?” you scoff, and he lightly rolls his eyes as he hands you the newest supply of books. “im sorry to disappoint, Y/n- but all we have are the same old stories. Even I’m getting tired of them all” the male beside you sighs, rubbing his eyes as you coyly take the one on the top of the stack. “oh that’s just fine Akaashi, I don’t mind it. It isn’t like I have much to do anyways” “you could be making friends but I mean, that’s just my input…” “now you-“ “hey akaashi!” Bokutos face suddenly comes in, startling you as Akaashi perks up- giving his friend a wave as his shirt and pants is coated in scattered flour. “bokuto what did I say about cleaning off before coming inside…” “but…” “well! I need to be going! Thank you again Akaashi for the supply. I’ll be back later with the ones I took last week” “you know you don’t have to y/-“ he speaks as you stand up, not wanting to be in the middle of the tense atmosphere. “I don’t mind it, I’ll see you both around okay?”

And as every day, you walk through the bustling town- ignoring the stares and whispers directed at you while you flipped the page of the book you were currently reading, the characters felt more real to you than the literal people bumping into you. you kept walking, following the same dusty stones as the day before to lead up a small hill to your part of town- small chicks running beside your foot as their mother hens stood behind them. “father, I’m home.” silence, he wasn’t home yet.

“you know, in a few years- instead of you saying that it could be our child.” You jump, being caught off-guard by the taunting voice of the most annoying piece of shit you had ever met. “oikawa… I don’t know if you know this, but- you’re quite delusional monsieur!” you speak with a fake pep- his smile never faltering as he gives your free hand a kiss. “oh but imagine the sight y/n. wouldn’t you agree it would be quite exquisite?” “no.” “oh” he stops speaking for a moment before a ‘tsk’ leaves from between his lips. “you know y/n, im honestly doing you a favor by asking you to be my wife. Everyone adores me and…I suppose you- you would be comfortable with me. I mean not to mention,” he leans down a little to meet your eyes, “when your father passes, there will be no suitors for you. of course, you are stunning- but being a wife ah… you’re probably…last on the list there. You wouldn’t want to end up the new village widow, would you? living off the kindness of the townsfolk?” his harsh words slipped from his pretty lips, and you stared in disbelief- you were genuinely hurt. “well,” you cleared your throat, blinking a bit to stop any form of an emotional outburst from rising to the surface. “I would rather be a street rat stealing from whoever than being someone’s medal from his war to show off and be of use for pleasantries.” You say, begging internally you wouldn’t crack under his strong gaze. “wow, I wouldn’t peg you for the type to bite. That only makes you more hm…” he gasps. “irritating.” “you should leave oikawa.” “you know where to find me, Y/n.”

-----

𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘱 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘓𝘔𝘈𝘖𝘖 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘪 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘶𝘱 𝘢 𝘧𝘦𝘸 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 + 𝘢 𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘬

[ladylouoflothlorien]

The Queen’s Gem

Thranduil x Fem!Reader Word count: 1149 Based on this request by @elia-the-bibliophile​ Disclaimer: It’s a little angsty but nothing the ending doesn’t resolve. Also I just want to say the whole thing about,,, second marriages being taboo,,, does not reflect my real opinions,,, it’s just, , , elves man ,   ,       , 

The door to the King’s personal chambers flew open, and over their threshold stalked the King in a righteous fury with his royal robes billowing out behind him. Following close behind was you, caught in a fiery blaze of your own anger that easily rivalled Thranduil’s. 

“You cannot simply walk away from this, or from me for that matter, your royal stubbornness!” 

There was heat in your voice and in your eyes as Thranduil suddenly stopped and turned to face you, his demeanour now icy cold. Had anyone else dared to speak to him in that way they would have been banished before they could even finish their sentence… but not you, never you. Growing up alongside the King as his dearest friend naturally came with such advantages, and what use are such advantages if they are not exploited in full?

“And naturally, I assume, you know exactly what it is I should do?”

His words were harsh, biting, and you knew him more than well enough to understand that the question was a warning rather than an actual invitation to share your opinion. It was the same tone he’d used when you’d asked him if he was really going to go through with the marriage his father had arranged for him. Still, despite the thinly veiled command to shut up, you were in no headspace to back down from the fight first. 

“Actually, I do.”

Thranduil’s eyes flashed dangerously, which you caught, but still you plowed onwards.

“Speak to him as a father, not as a King. You treat him like one of your subjects Thranduil, you cannot be surprised when he does not act like a son.”

Exasperation was thick in your voice as you spoke. It just seemed so simple to you - you didn’t understand how Thranduil himself could not see it. He did - actually - see it, but admitting that to you would mean swallowing his pride. That was something the King had never been good at, even before his coronation. Thranduil fixed you with a frosty glare before speaking again. 

“What would you know of this matter? An Elleth the same age as I with no children of your own. Hardly an expert on parenthood.”

It was a low blow and he knew it, and you couldn’t speak for the sudden lump in your throat. Children required a marriage. Elves only married for love, except in rare circumstances such as Thranduil had found himself in. It was also widely known that Elves did not give love easily. There was only one elf you could have happily married, but those feelings had been pushed aside to preserve the friendship as soon as his engagement had been publicly announced; an engagement that hadn’t involved you. Thranduil’s current status as a widower was immaterial. A second marriage was taboo even for a common elf, but for a King… Thranduil could have - should have - stopped there, but he continued despite the murmur of his conscience telling him not to from beneath his anger. 

“You are not my wife, nor are you Legolas’ mother. It is not your place to talk to me about this.”

You found your voice, insulted beyond belief and extremely hurt.

“I am your friend Thranduil, or I thought I was.”

When he didn’t immediately reply, choosing instead to sneer down at you from his great height, you suddenly saw him as many outside Mirkwood had come to see him. Not as your greatest friend, but as the spiteful and bitter King of a broken, dying Kingdom. The sight tore you apart. You instantly turned to leave. 

You turned so suddenly that you didn’t take your surroundings into account. Directly behind you was the display stand upon which the crown of the Queen of Mirkwood was displayed, for though there was currently no Queen the crown itself was beautiful. Your hip collided with the plinth, which toppled, and the Crown began to fall. Later you would question why such a delicate object was placed on such an unsteady plinth, but in that moment you had only one single thought: fuck.

Not a moment later you found yourself sprawled on the floor with the crown in your hands. Your shaken mind helpfully supplied that you’d thrown yourself at the floor in an adrenaline-fuelled stunt to try and prevent the crown from getting damaged. Clearly it had worked. You blinked and looked up, and when you did Thranduil was staring at you. Oh, of course. He would not want you touching the crown of the Queen. 

“My King… I am so, so sorry. It was an accident, I swear.”

Only on very rare occasions did you call Thranduil your King in a way that wasn’t sarcastic or teasing, and normally when you did Thranduil would flinch - almost imperceptibly, but you always saw it. This time, however, nothing happened at all. It was like he hadn’t even heard you.

“T-Thranduil?”

Still nothing, no reaction. You felt your heart in your throat, but then after a second you realised that he wasn’t actually staring at you - he was, rather, staring at the crown you were clutching in your lap. You couldn’t think of a reason why he would want to stare at it so intently. He saw it every day after all, and you knew it hadn't been damaged because you’d caught it. Suddenly annoyed, you looked down… Everything changed. 

--

Second marriages were a taboo at the best of times, but when the Queen’s Gem was shown to glow in your touch as you held the crown, even the most traditional of Thranduil’s advisors dared not oppose him when he announced his engagement to you. They could not challenge your right to be Queen. That was, after all, what the shining Gem declared. It proclaimed you as a worthy ruler to all who saw its light, and not even the old Queen - fair and just though she had been - had gotten its light to shine in all her many years on the throne beside her husband. So they tolerated the match and the breaking of tradition, though they certainly did not intend to make a habit of it. Legolas however, did not merely tolerate the match, he wholeheartedly supported it. You had always been kind to him, and he wanted his father to have another chance at true happiness. 

Finally being allowed to love Thranduil openly was like coming home. That wasn’t to say that your relationship was perfect - there were still arguments sometimes - but you wouldn’t have traded it for anything in all of Arda. Another benefit of actually being in a relationship with Thranduil was that the process of making up after a fight was now much more enjoyable. The world was not perfect either, the darkness still grew, but standing united together you both knew you’d be strong enough to withstand it until the light returned once more. Forever Tags: @sweeticedtea​ @cd1242​ @strongandfreedc​ @pixierox101​​​​ @jotink78​​​​ @luna-xial​ @underthemoon-n​

[stayarmytinyzenmoa-l]

Locked and Reloaded [Ch. 5]

Marvel AU

TW: Language, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Blood, Gun Violence, Implied Abusive Household

Genre: Action, Light Comedy, Angst

Pairing: NCT Dream x Reader

YN Pronouns: Female (She/Her)

(5/?) [First] | [Previous] | [Next]

[Main Masterlist] | [Locked and Reloaded Masterlist]

Word Count: 6.5K

Notes: It’s about time these members entered the story. I’m dropping this now instead of a Saturday upload because I’m getting my second dose of vaccine in about nine hours, and from how both of my parents reacted something tells me that I’m going to be incapacitated for the next two days, so I decided to finish this bad boy up now! Currently next on my list to work on is Infatuation, so I’ll see you in that update!

Disclaimer: Please remember that this is an AU and a work of fiction, obviously the idols mentioned/written about in this story would never partake in or condone these actions. I would never wish any of these actions to occur to the Idol(s) mentioned in the writings of these stories, nor do I wish any harm on them.

“That’s stupid,” you told your older brother. Baekhyun just laughed. You had just finished ranting to him how a majority of the premise of chemistry was ridiculous, being founded on one key theory that could be amended at any moment, something now set in stone or put to law. It was a theoretical science that clashed with the lawfulness of physics and the puzzle of biology. “Chemistry is literally the weakest link.”

“I don’t quite think so, songbird,” the nickname was sweet in his voice, it was one you had had for as long as you could remember. He leans against your desk and he points at the picture. “It’s just atomic theory.”

“Yeah, and it’s stupid. Imagine, all of this work, all seven hundred of these pages and countless other books could get proved incorrect if someone disproves it.”

“You read this entire textbook and that’s all you have to say about it?” Baekhyun raised his eyebrow and crossed his arms. “Wah, you’re so amazing and you don’t even know it,” he hugged your head to his stomach and you pushed him away.

“Ew, you’re so gross,” you wiped the sweat from your face. “At least shower before coming into my room! You’re disgusting when you use the gym.”

“And miss my darling sister? No way, that and I came to congratulate you!” He points at the certificate on your desk just under your coffee mug. “Not every day you win the science fair… again.”

“Yeah, yeah, thanks,” you put a textbook over it. He was right, but it was hardly an achievement for you at this point, it was an expectation.

“What did you do this year?” None of them even showed up, the only person there to help you with your project was Jeno, but he was always there whether you liked it or not.

“You don’t know?”

“I was at the conference, remember?”

“Oh, right,” you sighed. “It was just an observation on bees.”

“Whoa! Bees are great! They’re so helpful for pollination, for honey, and so much more!” Baekhyun smiles. “Hey, your birthday’s coming up, right? Fourteen? Oh god, oh no, my songbird? A teen? I don’t think I can handle this.”

“You’re overreacting! It’s not like I’m going to be any different. Plus, I’m already a teen.”

“Oh, (Y/N), you have no idea. Thirteen is the one year free trial before you start having to pay to be a teen. Once you turn fourteen, ugh, I don’t even know how to say this,” Baekhyun fake cries and wipes away the invisible tears. “It’ll be like you’re a whole different person.”

“Stop that! Why are you acting so weird?” You laughed and turned to him. Baekhyun crossed his arms over his chest and your smile dropped. You knew that look on his face better than anyone. “You’re leaving again, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, I leave tonight,” he says.

“How long?”

“Maybe a week this time, dad wants to show me the properties over in Zone 8.”

“Seriously? What for?” The factories that far out from the city were nearly ghost factories, they just handled building the smaller removable parts of the weapons your father developed. You couldn’t think of a possible reason why Baekhyun would have to go out that far.

“I have no clue, maybe he just wants me to see the Byun system at a smaller scale,” Baekhyun sighs. “Will you be okay here?”

“Will I be okay here? Don’t make me laugh,” you slammed your textbook shut and stared at him. “She hates me.”

“Don’t say that.”

“She does! You’ve seen the way she talks to me when you’re not around, Baek, I genuinely think that woman wants to get rid of me.”

“She’s your mother.”

“No, she’s your mother.” You didn’t mean for it to come out as accusing as it did. But you could genuinely say that you never felt anything from her aside from the obvious disdain she must have held for you. But what could you do? You’d hate you too. If one day your husband showed up at your doorstep with a kid you didn’t recognize telling you to treat her as if she was your own, you’d despise that child’s existence. All you were was proof of infidelity, and your stepmother made that very clear. You were her daughter on paper alone, but in reality, you were nothing more than a freeloader. “I’m just the bastard kid from dad’s mistress.”

“Do not,” Baekhyun held a finger up and stared at you with an intensity you’ve never seen on his face before. Seriousness wasn’t something that Baekhyun often used, especially around you. “Do not ever reduce yourself to that. Do you understand? You are so much more than that and you can’t let anyone who says that to you bring you down, you cannot let that weigh on you. Who even told you that?”

“She did. Who else?”

“God…” Baekhyun looked away and huffed. He held his hand to his forehead and sighed. “Keep in touch with me, okay? Just one more year and I can take it to court.”

“Forget it, Baek,” you waved your hand. “It would never work. We have no proof.”

“Well,” Baekhyun pressed his lips together and placed a tape in front of you.

“A tape? Seriously?”

“Don’t hate on old tech, they’re still around for a reason. I have a walkman in my room, second drawer on my desk. Listen to it later, okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” you placed the tape in your own drawer, out of sight and out of mind.

“Just wait for me, alright?”

“Yeah.”

“(Y/N), I’m serious.”

“I know.”

“I’ll be back, okay?”

“Okay, just go, dad’s probably waiting for you,” you opened your textbook again and stared at the passages on it. You had a really bad feeling about tonight, but you couldn’t quite place your finger on it.

“Love you, songbird.”

“I know.”

~

“Sungchan! Four o’clock!” You shouted towards the agent. Sungchan, moving a second too late was met with the spine of a book to his face, promptly knocking him out. “Aw, geez,” you shoved your bag under a table, hoping that it would be somewhat okay after the fight, and threw a metal tray, the circular object blocking one of the flying weapons from hitting Shotaro on his way to Sungchan.

“Thank you!” He shouts. He leans next to his best friend and tries to wake him up while the fight continued.

“I’ll try to keep you guys covered, but you might need to fill in for me eventually, Reaper’s not doing too good over there,” you stumbled over to the two and handed Shotaro one of the pillows from the couch. “Is he okay?”

“Yeah, just knocked out, but I have to watch him just in case… you know.”

“I do, just make sure he’s fine.”

With Jeno’s sudden appearance the Sanctum became a new battleground. Ancient artifacts were being used left and right for battle, whether they were used correctly or not, and with incoherent shouts filling the previously calm room. Strange was doing his best to prevent anything potentially world-threatening from happening, the Sorcerer Supreme understanding the laws of the universe, as well as any of you did, while the Maverick worked to bring down Vulture. The surprise attack rendered them at an unfortunate disadvantage. Strange was more concerned with keeping the battle within the Sanctum than he was helping any of you out, which was entirely understandable.

“I got it!” Peter shoved back the bookcase that was about to fall on you.

“Thanks, Peter.”

“Just so you know I am so sorry I did not mean for any of this to happen I didn’t know.”

“Oh goodness, no hard feelings, Peter, it happens to the best of us,” you said to him. “There’s no way you could’ve known.”

“Thanks, (Y/N), that means a— Watch out!” He pushed you out of the way just as a shield lodged itself between you, you turned towards the source and saw Vulture, and you had to stop yourself from getting any more frustrated than you already are.

“Fucking hell,” you clapped your hands together and jogged in place. “Stretching before fights is good for you, Peter, don’t forget that,” you said to him. Then you saw Cap waving his hand. You pulled the shield from its spot and threw it back to him.

“Nice arm!”

“Don’t lose your shit!” You moved your head to the side just as a bullet whizzed past you. “And watch where you’re aiming!” You dodged another bullet as it ricocheted off of one of the metal artifacts of the Sanctum.

“I am,” Jaemin’s voice was steady despite the chaos. “Reaper!” Jaemin tossed one o the artifacts towards the other, particularly a sharp one, and Jeno drove it into the wall next to Vulture, just barely grazing the Follower. Vulture grabbed onto the back of Jeno’s neck, the razor claws on his hands emerging and sinking into the half-demon before Vulture slammed Jeno’s head through the wall.

“Urgh, I felt that,” you rubbed the back of your neck as the phantom pain shot through it. You quickly stepped back just as an eldritch whip snapped in front of you.

“Mr. Wong?!” Peter gasps.

“That one isn’t in our database,” Jaemin grabbed onto the whip as it went towards you again, ‘Wong’ staring at him with a slight confusion, to which Jaemin just tugged it away from the other’s hands, watching the concentrated energy dissipate.

“Well then add him later, dammit,” you charged towards Vulture but soon felt something wrap around your ankle. You looked at the portal next to your foot and the hand around it. “Ew! Oh my god!” You yanked it out of ‘Wong’s’ grasp and shot towards him, the bullets disappearing before they could get anywhere close. No wonder it was so fucking convenient, you hoped whoever the real Wong was and where he was currently wasn’t too horrible.

“We should name this guy,” Jaemin dodged the eldritch disk that nearly sliced his throat. “I’m thinking Frisbee.”

“Oh come on, let’s stay true to tradition and wait for Hyuck,” you pulled a sword from the suit of armor next to you and blocked the whip again. You turned the hilt in your hand and smiled. “Ooh, I like this. You know my ex used to be an expert fencer.”

“I almost forgot about that one,” Jaemin hums. “What’s with sleeping beauty over there?”

“Got hit in a face with a book.”

“Oh that’s good, one less bomb we have to worry about.”

“That’s rude,” you scolded him.

“Can someone help me over here?!” Jeno’s pissed off voice came from the office. He pushed himself up from the rubble and cracked his neck before his knuckles. “I’m going to kill this guy, fuck the Agreement.”

“Does the Agreement even apply this far out?” You asked. Jaemin pulled out his phone briefly. The Agreement was offered by the D98 Avengers, basically promising not to do any dimension altering things, but it was just a promise, nothing was set in stone and thus was lacking in any legality. It was a gentleman’s promise, so to say.

“Technically it doesn’t, D62 is far out of D98 bounds. And since none of the Avengers are here…” Jaemin let Jeno fill in the blanks himself.

“Good,” Jeno tapped his wrists together, a blood-red magic circle appearing between them.

“Wait, do you guys hear that?” You looked around while skillfully parrying evil Wong’s attacks.

“Hear what?” Shotaro was nursing the passed out Sungchan while blocking any projectiles that made their way towards him.

“It kind of sounds like screaming,” Jaemin furrowed his eyebrows.

“No, it sounds like… no, of all the members to send,” you groaned. Then the sound of doors crashing open accompanied the chaos that was the Sanctum while a familiar face ran in head first, literally, screaming his head off, and rams into Dr. Strange.

“I got this one, V! Don’t worry!” Chenle shouts.

“You idiot he’s on our side!” Jeno grabs a polearm from a nearby suit of armor and whacks it over Vulture’s head, the polearm breaking in half right after and really just pissing off the Follower more.

“Oh is he? Sorry!” Chenle detached himself from the sorcerer.

“Looks like we’ll be having a change in plans,” Strange murmured and disappeared from the room.

“Did the wizard just dip?!” You yelled.

“I think so!” Chenle yelled back, despite being right next to you.

“Why are you even here?!”

“We were talking to Fury when Jeno just fell into a sudden pool of blood! I followed your tracker here because I figured you’re in trouble. Be grateful!”

“I never said I wasn’t?!” You heard a pang next to you and turned to your side, a circular shield blocking your vision for only a brief moment before connecting with Other Wong’s abdomen.

“Thanks,” you nodded towards Steve.

“No problem,” he says. “But where’d that bullet come from?” Cap looks around the room. Jaemin rushes next to you and grabs something, pointing it upwards. Within a few moments, someone materializes next to him. A classic cloaking spell, of course, right when you needed it most.

“Monsieur,” her voice was hoarse.

“Lynx,” you saw him grimace while the woman drove a knife into Jaemin’s side and twisted it harshly. A loud groan left the man’s throat while you darted next to him and tackled the woman to the ground.

“I like your D62 version better!” You pressed your gun to her head and she threw you off before you could pull the trigger.

“Nat!?” Steve blocked another gunshot from her with his shield.

“Not Nat,” Bucky answers.

“Where have you been?”

“This thing’s still glowing,” Bucky held up the crystal.

“Give that to me!” Chenle appears next to them and grabs it. “You meaty idiots don’t know what to do with this.”

“Was that an insult?”

“Apperio!” Chenle ignored the Captain and chanted the charm, a magic circle appeared around the crystal. Following the ripple of two blue circles that expanded throughout the room, two more people appeared.

“There’s more of them?!” You shot Vulture in the leg. Before you were two other notorious members of the Elite. Arachnid, who you fought before, and Dead Shot, someone you were hoping not to run into in this dimension. “Someone get Parker out of here as soon as he touches Arachnid it’s over!” You shout.

“Oh please, I wouldn’t even try that. What good is this mission if any of us blow up the dimension while we’re at it,” Arachnid catches the flying dagger and flings it back towards Jaemin, who easily dodged it.

“We have orders to keep you alive, Vendetta, comply and the others will live,” Dead Shot spoke in his trademarked mechanical voice.

“Fuck that,” you pointed your gun at Arachnid and click. Click, click. “Well, this is awkward,” you chucked the magnum at Arachnid, the handle of the gun hitting the area between the mutant’s eyes and stunning him briefly, while Dead Shot released a flurry of bullets. You ran along the wall to dodge them, looking for something to shield yourself with now that Cap and Bucky were busy with Lynx, Jeno had Vulture busy, and Jaemin moved over to Arachnid so that Peter could handle Evil-Wong instead.

“Surrender or be forced to, Vendetta.”

“Well, shit,” you held a book in front of you while Dead Shot went through consecutive rounds.

“How could you not know a Follower was here?!” Jeno was pushed back next to you while deflecting Vulture’s attacks.

“How the hell was I supposed to know?! I didn’t even know that those three were here until a couple of minutes ago!”

“Are you kidding me?!”

“No, I’m not kidding you because if I was we wouldn’t be in this mess!”

“It has been thirty minutes! I let you and Jaemin go for thirty minutes and this happens!”

“In our defense,” Jaemin gets pushed back to the other side of you and clears his throat. “Peter brought us here.”

“I said I’m sorry!” Peter brushes off the embers on his suit. “Aw man, how am I going to explain this to Mr. Stark?”

“Explain? Have you been reporting us to him?!” You asked.

“Uh… no,” Peter’s phone goes off and he answers it. “Hi, Mr. Stark, there’s kind of a situation going on right now—”

“Tell them not to come here! If any of the other Followers show up it could tear the fabric of reality apart!” Chenle shouts. A magic circle appears under Peter’s phone and it short circuits. Chenle adjusts the watch around his wrist, a much larger magic circle appearing from it.

“Vocavi te ab umbris,” at the utterance of the words the shadows in the room gathered together to a much larger amalgamate. “Go, Vendetta, I’ll keep them handled.”

“Fuck,” you spotted your backpack, which was pushed up against the wall on the other side of the room.

“What now?” Jeno asks.

“Backpack.”

“What about it?”

“There’s something really important in there,” Jaemin sounded disappointed. “We could hole-in-one it, V.”

“We could,” you said. “But that risks shaking it up too much.

“Hot potato then?” Jeno offers.

“Who would start it?”

“The closest person is Shotaro, if he throws it far enough I could probably catch it,” Jeno says. “Pass it over to Jaemin.”

“Then I’ll pass it to you. But by then you need to be in that hallway,” Jaemin says.

“Got it, I can do that.”

“And if anything goes wrong?”

“Wing it.”

“We’re going to die in this dimension, aren’t we?” Jeno frowns.

“On the count of three, break,” Jaemin says, ignoring his best friend’s words. You hand Jeno the old sword, which he took without question. “One.”

“What do I need this for?”

“Well, I certainly don’t need it.”

“Two.”

“Wait, are we even on the same page?”

“I don’t know, are we?”

“Three!” Jaemin shoved you forward and you took off, dodging literally everything on your way to get out and probably get some more help.

“Shotaro! Pass me that backpack!” Jeno shouts over the gunshots. Shotaro perked up and grabbed the black bag, chucking it towards Jeno, who caught it easily. “Monsieur— Fuck, too far, Apollo! Pass this over to him!” Jeno tossed the backpack towards Chenle, the heavy bag slamming into the magician mid-spell.

“What the hell?!”

“Pass it here!” Jaemin knocked over Lynx and used her head the propel himself up and grab the backpack after Chenle threw it. He ran over towards you and threw it. Right as your hand grabbed the strap, it was yanked away from you.

“Fuck!” You looked back at who had it now, seeing your backpack in the hands of the last person who should have it. You were about the run over to him, but the bullet that landed too close for comfort reminded you that you had to leave now. “Arachnid has it!” You’d just have to put your trust into the three that were already here.

“Got it,” Jeno bashed his knee into Vulture’s head, finally incapacitating the Follower and switched targets. You turned around and ran into the hallway. You just had to call one of the other members to run over here with some extra materials. You hit the side of your phone, which only frizzed at the motion. Chenle must have jammed the signals to prevent more reinforcements from coming, great. You couldn’t run around forever, Dead Shot always hit his targets in the end, you continued down the hallway, not bothering to look back, but when you found yourself cornered against a hallway, you forced to figure out a solution. With the smell of smoke and the sounds of bullets hitting the ground— Wait a second. You looked down the hallway, bullets hitting metal and ricocheting towards you but never hitting any intended destination, there wasn’t even a bullet hole in sight, instead there were just empty shells on the ground. But in your analysis you failed to notice the stray bullet that was right in front of you. Then you saw someone’s closed fist in front of you.

“Did I get all of them?” He panted. He opened his hand and twelve bullets fell out of it.

“Oh my god, Mark, you’re just in time, I don’t remember you being this fast either,” you caught your breath and hugged the speedster, separating quickly. Mark pat down the smoke on his boots.

“I don’t think I’ve ever run that fast…” He stretches his back and kicks the bullet shells aside.

“How’d you even get here?”

“The sorcerer guy called Baekhyun and asked us to come right away. I had a feeling it wasn’t anything good so I came first, told them I’d scout the area. It’s a good thing I came, otherwise you’d look like Sponge-Bob…” He laughs awkwardly. “You’re at your quota, aren’t you?” He looks down at your feet. You followed his gaze and saw the rusted knife sticking out from it, then you noticed the bloody trail you left behind. You sighed and pulled the old thing out.

“Remind me to get a Tetanus shot.”

“You are at your quota,” he gasped.

“Can’t afford to possibly die right now,” you shook your head. “I thought since the dimension was far enough it’d get me some leeway, but I guess not,” you grimaced.

“Shit, it really is a good thing that I came just in time,” Mark looks over his shoulder. “Dead Shot should be on his way, you didn’t make it hard to find you.”

“Don’t smart-mouth me right now, Mark.”

“Right, yeah, sorry about that,” the speedster ruffled his blue hair and unzipped his jacket, pulling out a book from it. It was heavy, no doubt, leather-bound with metal embellishments around it. The book had lived through as many eons as it did dimensions. You had asked Mark to try to get it for you if he could, but nothing more than that. Better to leave him in blissful ignorance. “Look, I don’t have a lot of time to say this,” he says while he hands it to you.

“Just spit it out.”

“I was looking into that thing you asked me about and here, this is all I got,” he says. “Whatever you need it for it’d better be important, I almost got turned into a frog for it. The guy I got it from warned me not to read it though.”

“Why?”

“I dunno, something about corrupting the person who reads it.”

“Oh shit, I should have Jeno read it then.”

“True, you can’t corrupt a demon.”

“But then again he is only half.”

“Look, (Y/N), I only got you the book because you were so insistent on it. Just reassure me and tell me that you won’t do anything stupid with it.”

“I won’t, I won’t, I may be stupid but I’m not that stupid, Mark. When are the others coming?”

“I just gave them the signal to enter, they’ll be taking care of the Follower problem here in a bit. But you’re going to have to explain why you’re here to them, and I’m afraid that it might involve you revealing your identities this time.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Why else would you be in D62 being housed and paid by this dimension’s Avengers?”

“Fair enough—” you were cut off by the bullet grazing your ear and landing in the wall behind you. Another one rang out and Mark grimaced, holding his hand to his shoulder

“Argh! Come on!” He grunts. He puts a hand on your back and one behind your neck.

“Why?”

“Whiplash,” you blinked and suddenly found yourself back in the Avenger’s Compound.

“Mark, don’t you dare!”

“Sorry! Jeno’s orders! I’d rather a pissed off you than Jeno!”

“Mark, I swear if you zoom out of here—” but the speedster was already gone by the time you turned around. “Dammit!” You kicked the wall and winced immediately, you completely forgot that it was the same foot that had a knife driven through it earlier.

He was right, you’d reached your quota. There was a certain amount of times you were allowed to “die” until it would be too much, and you knew you’d be at this quota when your body would stop healing itself, it was getting ready for its original host to return. You just didn't think you’d reach it soon, and who knows until the number resets? It was always a varying number, and until it did you had to lay low. It was such a hassle that you always tried to avoid it, but coming to this dimension seemed to have expedited the whole thing. You heard a bag of chips drop behind you.

“(Y/N)? When did you get here?” Jisung stared at you while he picked up the bag.

“Mark.”

“Mark’s here? Where?” Jisung looks around.

“There was a complication at Dr. Strange’s place,” you limped towards him, he rushed over to you and reached for your hand to help you, but you tugged it away. “I’m fine.”

“Oh, okay,” Jisung gave you a little more space, but still walked next to you, sporting that easy-to-read concern. “Do they need help?”

“No. The Avengers are coming.”

“Oh… oh no,” Jisung caught onto why you were being short now. “Oh no, oh no, we won’t have a choice then.”

“No, we won’t,” you heaved the large book under your arm. Jisung looked at it but chose not to question you. “I’ll be in my room, I have a lot of thinking to do before we explain ourselves to the lapdogs so, if you need me, I’ll be in there,” Jisung says.

“Oi, (Y/N)!” Haechan held his hand up and Jisung furiously shook his head. Hyuck pressed on regardless. “Think you need this,” he waved the small box in his hand and you did a doubletake.

“Where did you get that?!” You rushed forward and snatched it out of his hands. “Be a bit more gentle with it!”

“Whoa! What’s got you pissed? Jeno drowned and dropped this. Changmin said to give it to you so I figured it’s important, damn.”

“The Avengers are coming.”

“Like… these Avengers?” He points around the room. “Or our Avengers.”

“The second one,” Jisung nods. “Right, (Y/N)?” You didn’t answer, you were already halfway to your room. You tossed the book on your bed and you opened the small box, pulling the vial of iridescent liquid from it. You twisted it open and downed its limited contents in one gulp. You felt all of your muscles relax at once and you sat on the bed. The wound on your foot closed quickly.

“Postponed, at least for now,” you stretched your arms. “But not permanently,” you placed the vial back in the box and you grabbed the book. As you held the two sides in your hands, ready to open it, you recalled Mark’s warning. Then you remembered the words of the Demon King himself.

“If you know what’s good for you, and what’s good for the world you reside in. Do not seek more than you already know about yourself.”

The times you spoke to Jeno’s father were limited, and your best friend liked it that way, preferred it actually, but the times you did talk they were always pleasant. Save for that warning. He knew something you didn’t, the both of them. You acquired this book without any of their knowledge. For years you just went with it, there’s a quota for death, there’s a reason why you can’t die, there’s a reason why you should avoid stepping near the Seraph, but now in this new universe, you had to know. There was something calling out to you in this dimension, it was very faint, and you didn’t truly notice it until you walked into the Sanctum.

You put the book away, sliding it under the bed.

Trust is mutual, if two very powerful beings are telling you to stay in your lane you probably should. You knew the bare minimum of your condition, so to say, you knew what you had to. Die too many times too close together and something else will come and reclaim its host, and all you knew about that entity was that it was some eldritch creature that took a millennia to finally contain, and for some reason, it had some affinity for you. That is where your knowledge stopped and your curiosity began. What could be so powerful that even the all-powerful Demon King wanted to keep it contained, and what did it have to do with you? Your answers were under your bed. But you risked too much by simply opening the book on its own. You hit your head lightly on the wall behind you. The liquid in the vial would extend your quota by at most three, you had to use them carefully. If you were going to attract a horrific monster, it would probably be best to not do it in a world that you didn’t belong to.

There was a knock at your door.

“What do you want, Renjun?”

The door opened slowly, and someone else stood at it.

“Is now a bad time?” Stark asks. You shook your head.

“It’s your building, come in,” you sighed. He walked in at your invitation, sitting at the table to the side.

“So this is what S.H.I.E.L.D. meant by living accommodations,” he laughs.

“What did you need, Mr. Stark?”

“Tony’s fine, thanks,” he says. “Sorry, it was eating away at me, I had to ask.”

“You wanna know about what you’re like in my dimension, right?”

“I’d appreciate it, but, something tells me I should come back later.”

“Oh, no, no, it’s fine.”

“Where are your friends?”

“Probably getting their asses kicked, but I’m here instead,” you shrugged. “Honestly, you’re not that different. Maybe a little less depressed, but that’s about it. For what it counts, to our knowledge, you aren’t a Follower. You work closely with the Seraph, if they found out then you would’ve been executed on spot, at the very least.”

“Oh yeah? Crazy leader or rational one?”

“Bit of both,” you leaned forward on your bed, kicking the book further under your bed. “Want to know anything else?”

“I was wondering if you could walk me through your Traveler of yours, is it anything like Time Travel?”

“Let’s call it two sides of the same coin.”

“How so? What do you use? Cosmic strings? Möbius strip?”

“Have you heard of the infinite cylinder theory?”

“Also known as Tipler?

“Yes!”

“Then yes, I’m aware.”

“How about Schrödinger’s Equation?”

“We’re talking hamiltonian operators?”

“Bingo. If you can manipulate those two concepts, you can get time travel, but it’s not perfect. So manipulate them differently, add a few more concepts because you have to take relativity into account, and bam. Dimensional Travel.”

“That easy?”

“Yeah, well, no, but in theory sure.”

“And you never went to high school?”

“What’s that got to do with it? If you need a degree to prove you’re right then you’re probably not the sharpest tool in the shed,” you shrug. Tony opened his mouth to retaliate, but couldn’t think of a good comeback to that. “Something tells me you want to ask me something more specific though, Peter let slip that he’s been sending you updates, so I’m sure you’re here for a different reason.”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why help us?”

“Don’t really know how to answer that one, Tony,” you placed your ankle on your opposite knee and rolled out your ankle. “Usually we just take whichever job pays the most, but Changmin asked us personally to take this one, so how could we say no? The guy rarely ever asks us favors, and it was the least we could do.”

“That simple?”

“What? Did you want me to say that we wanted to meet you guys? I mean, it’s certainly a plus. Most of your team happen to be carbon copies of the same one who wants to kill us, so there’s that, we’re observing the ways you act, maybe it’ll help us in the future, maybe not. It’s like a two-way deal, you get your Traveler, and we get data.”

“Data,” Tony scoffs. “I can see why you’d come to that conclusion.”

“What can I say? It’s helpful. But, I can definitely say that we might be relieved of our duties soon, we’re technically here illegally, I’ll have you know,” you said to him. “We’re supposed to get official approval from the Secretary of Travel before jumping dimensions, but we’re not exactly law followers so we never did. But now that an official government team is on their way, hoo boy, my greatest rival is yet to come. Paperwork,” you made light of what would otherwise be a very very bad situation.

“I heard, so we get to meet the other Avengers.”

“Yup. And, let me tell you right now, they’re not the nicest people.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, just you wait until I tell you about them.”

~

The shadow amalgamate shattered into what it once was, scurrying back to their original positions, once Chenle had the wind knocked out of him by Lynx. He landed harshly on Jaemin, who then lost his balance and sent the two tumbling down to the first floor of the Sanctum.

“Sorry,” Chenle rolled off the top of Jaemin.

“It’s fine, call it even for the incident with the banshee.”

“Agreed, ugh, my head’s doing cartwheels…”

“Cartwheels? I feel like mine is being churned,” Jaemin holds his head. Chenle and Jaemin lay next to each other for a moment, trying to stop their spinning heads when someone stood over them.

“Are we bothering you, gentlemen?”

“Ugh, these fuckers are here,” Jaemin covered his eyes with his arms. “Tell me when they’re gone, Apollo.”

“That’s kind of mean,” Mark frowns. Jaemin moves his hand.

“Mark’s not a bad person, actually, Tony. I feel bad because I encouraged him to join the Avengers when they asked, but the other guys saw it as a complete betrayal. But he’s loyal, he doesn’t hate us and we don’t hate him, or at least I don’t.”

“Oh look! The traitor!” He lazily points at him. “Do you know how much shit we’ve been through since you left?”

“All the dishes we’ve had to wash?”

“V won’t even let us take your room because she thinks you’re coming back! You dumb traitor, what happened to our friendship bracelets, Mark?! Huh?!”

“You guys, don’t call me that, come on! Look I’m still wearing it!” Mark whines.

“Go away! You left us for your cooler friends who can legally blow things up, go! Go have fun with them!” Chenle points an accusing finger towards the speedster.

“Just leave them there,” Mark whispers.

“We’re looking for Strange,” a deeper voice says.

“Oh my god, is that Wong Yukhei?” Jaemin asks, his blurred vision not helping him at all. “You know, Vendetta has a cardboard cutout of you, I think she talks to it sometimes,” he laughs, his words slightly slurred as a result of the head damage received when he fell on the hard floors in the first place.

“Flattered,” Yukhei responds.

“Wong Yukhei, decorated soldier from the order of war and the first in the super-soldier experiments. Actually not a bad guy, but feels the need to flex his bravado every now and then because of the team he’s on, and honestly, I kind of relate to that.”

“The hatless wizard is somewhere upstairs,” Chenle points up and lets his arm drop to his side. “We’d help, but you guys look like one big ugly walrus right now.” Jaemin starts cracking up and the two high five.

“Do we have to work with them?” Another voice snapped.

“Li Yongqin, Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul, Lee Youngheum, he has too many names to remember so people usually just call him Ten. He was a perfect student in the military academies, which I’m guessing where his nickname comes from. But he’s pretty impatient, rather ill-tempered from my experience."

“We don’t have a choice,” a more suave on this time.

“Ooh, Lee Taemin. He's an interesting one, Tony. We’re actually pretty close, or used to be at least. He’s very good at what he does, he has years of experience under his belt, but it’s pretty scary. He’s probably done his research by now, be careful, he knows you better than you know yourself. Don’t argue.”

“Gentlemen, let’s end this, we have clearance from the Seraph to exterminate the Followers,” a more powerful one.

“Oh, oh, Lee Taeyong! He’s great. I’ve seen him work a couple of times, I think he’s shot me in the head before. Don’t ask. I have a great deal of respect for him, but he’s kind of anti-social, not easy to get along with him, but I think it’s all miscommunication in the end. I think if we really got to know each other we’d hit it off, but otherwise, I think I’m just a person with a bounty on her head in his eyes.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Jaemin pushed himself up, his eyes finally focusing. “Exterminate? Yeah, you guys do that, but let the Maverick leave first, we don’t want to get caught up in your deathmatch again,” Jaemin hits the side of his head a few times.

“Where’s the Vendetta?”

“Not here! She left because Reaper was being a little bitch!” Jaemin laughs again and Chenle joins him.

“We’re wasting our time here with these idiots,” another person says. Chenle squints his eyes to make out the figure.

“Now there’s Kim Jongin, he’s one of the people who started the Avengers project and got them all together. He’s an indispensable member, in my opinion. But when you’re in a team with that many star-studded members who are constantly in the public eye, it’s easy to get lost in the lights. But he knows how to keep things according to itinerary.”

“Who are you again?” He asks. “I thought the Avengers only had six members,” he stifles back a laugh.

“Dude that’s low!” Jaemin cackles. Mark swallows down a laugh when Taemin looks over at him, both of them trying to be respectful to their teammate.

“I know that’s why I said it!” Chenle hits his teammate’s arm and Jaemin winces, but the two continue in their little circus.

“Forget them, let’s just go,” Jongin. The team ascends the steps.

“Enter, the Avengers,” Baekhyun smiles.

“And finally there’s their leader. Byun Baekhyun— yes, he’s my older brother, no we don’t talk, and I don’t think he even knows I’m alive. He’s similar to you in some aspects, he pays for all of their shit. But he’s manipulative. He knows how to get into your head. Be careful with him.”

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[saltedpeppermintmocha]

into the night (bakugou x reader) - Chapter 2/?

Summary:

You were born to die.

It is a fact you’ve known since your quirk first manifested, and one you have been denying for just as long. You refuse your supposed fate and try to live the best life you can while remaining undetected.

But maybe fate has another plan. A chance encounter on a mountainside changes your life forever.

Chapter One

MATURE : MINORS DO NOT INTERACT // 18+

The village has not changed much since you last visited. It almost makes you feel as if you never left. For many, this would be a comfortable thought; however, you left to get away from this sort of monotony. The city is always moving, always changing and updating, for better or for worse. You hadn’t even realized that your favourite dessert place had moved until one week you went and walked into a new bar. While you mourned the desert place, the bar had been a welcome addition to the area.

You noticed early in life that most people didn’t leave the village. Maybe it was the comfort of monotony, maybe it was the money it took to actually leave. Nobody in the village was rich, and it took you saving every yen you could for too many years to be able to leave. Most of the kids you went to school with remain here, working in local shops or restaurants. So when you walk through the village with Dad, everybody wants to come to say hello.

Normally this wouldn’t be a problem, you would spend more time talking to each person, but your nerves about the mountain pull you quickly from person to person until finally the small store comes into view.  An old man sits on a chair outside, seemingly staring into nothing. He looks over at your arrival, startling a bit with a large smile forcing its way onto its face. He calls out your name.

He looks the same as you remember him, but watching him struggle to pull himself from the chair is new. You frown slightly, rushing towards him to help him up. Your help immediately turns into a hug. “Welcome home my dear.”

“Thank you, Tanaka.” You reply happily, hugging him back. “How have you been?”

“Oh, just great dear.” He pulled back from the hug. “And you? Have you found yourself a husband yet?”

You hold back a frustrated sound. This shit again?! Dad coughs behind you, struggling to hide his laughter. “Not yet.” You reply, slightly more patient with Tanaka than your father. “I have to find the right one, you know?”

“Well, you better hurry up now. You are not getting any younger!” He says, as if his words are not a punch to the gut. “When you find him, make sure to come visit. I know your mother would-”

“Tanaka.” Surprisingly, it’s your father that interrupts. “I believe she has something to ask you?” He gestures at you.

“Ah, yes!” You reply quickly, thankful for the quick change in subject. “Do you have a guest at Fuccanchi?”

The old man blinks a few times, seemingly confused about the change in topic. But he gets it after a moment. “Oh, yes I do, dear.” He stops there. You wait a moment, but no more information comes. Alright then.

“Is there any chance it is a guy around my age?”

“I would think so.” His head tilts to the side, considering. Then his eyes open wide. “Oh, I see. I don’t know if he is single, but he didn’t come with a wife. I will ask him next time I see him.” Single? Uh-

“Ack, no, nope!” You immediately shut that down, hands flailing uselessly in front of you. “That is not what I meant. I saw him on the mountain and I was just concerned for his safety.” You pause. “Just to make sure, is this guy a blond? Um...he looked strong? But he was super quiet.”

“Yes, that sounds like him.” Tanaka taps at his face. “Such a strange young man. Maybe it is for the best that you don’t get married. A husband like that is no good.”

“Tanaka!” You groan, running your hand down your face. “I just want to make sure he is okay. Have you seen him around today?"

He takes another too-long pause, but you wait it out. Then he replies. “I saw him this morning while I was putting out food for the cats.” He continues. “Chico has been so naughty recently, I don’t know what to do about her. And Haru got into the brambles, it took me forever to get him clean…”

You let Tanaka's voice fade to the background as he spoke about the cats. Your mind was on more important things. This morning, he saw the guy this morning. You let out a long breath of relief, that nagging feeling in your gut finally releasing. If he was here this morning, he is fine. The mountain didn’t swallow him up. You didn’t have to go to the police. You can forget all about him now.

Finally.

After letting go of the asshole on the mountain, the rest of your day is calm and peaceful. Dad stays to chat with Tanaka, so you filter through the various small shops, buying items you don’t really need just to help out the owners. To stimulate the local economy.

You meet up with a few childhood friends for dinner at a family restaurant. It is a bit awkward at first, as are all conversations where you haven't spoken in years, but it soon gets moving. They ask about the city and your life, often replying ‘ I could never do that' or ‘I could never live there’ to your stories. You don’t answer that you feel the same about their lives.

It is only when you are done eating, and you are partially zoning out while one of them tells an extremely long story about a new television show they are watching, that you hear something from the mountain. You perk up at the odd sound, but nothing looks out of place or weird.

“Is there something happening on the mountain?” You ask, rudely cutting off whoever was speaking at the time. They go quiet, and you listen closely. You hear it again, faint from distance: a booming sound. It sounds like a demolition, maybe. Are they taking down one of the huts on the mountain? But that wouldn’t need a full demolition.

“What are you talking about?” Saneka asks.  

“The noises.” You reply, frowning when you meet three other confused faces. “Do you guys not hear them?” They shake their heads.

“I think I heard something last night.”  Nakamura puts forward. “I was up late reading. It is the best time to read, you know, with the quiet. But there was suddenly this loud banging sound-”

“You sure that wasn’t coming from your mom's room?” Ito smirked.

“Hey! Take that back!” Nakamura frowned, slamming his hands down on the table. The conversation quickly deteriorates into jokes, the topic dropped entirely. You try to push it from your mind, deciding to have an extra look tomorrow when you head out.

The dinner ends relatively quickly after that, the three of them headed in one direction and you in the other. You exchange phone numbers and promise to keep in touch. A promise that none of you are planning on keeping. You head home, casually listening for more sounds in the mountain that don’t come. The lights are on when you make it back.

“I’m home!” You call out, toeing off your shoes.

“Welcome back,” Dad calls out. You find him in the living room, watching some show on the television. He looks up at you with a smile. “How was dinner?”

You shrug. “Fine.” Plopping down beside him on the couch, you change the subject. “What are you watching?” He gives you a look, knows when you are deflecting, but still goes off on an explanation you only partially listen to.

You don’t want to tell him how that dinner just reinforced your decision to leave the village. You don’t want to tell him that every word from your old friend's mouth was so boring and slow that you felt like you were going insane. You cant tell him how your heart screams for the hustle and bustle of your city and your job.

Dad falls asleep early nowadays. You place a blanket over him, turn off the television and lights, and head upstairs. It’s an early night for you too. Or, it is supposed to be. You need to be up early to tackle the mountain.

But your mind keeps returning to your childhood friends. How did you all grow up to be so different? What happened? Saneka, the beauty queen of your class, who swore she would be an American actress, decided to marry Nakamura, the class weirdo who once ate glue. Is Ito, the man who wanted nothing more than to prove his worth by moving to the city, really happy working at a store in this village? They all had such big dreams. Did they give them up to live a quiet, peaceful life? Are they really happy like this?

“Move to Makkari?”

Your father's quiet plea rattles around in your brain. Could you be happy here, like them? Could you give up everything for a quiet, peaceful life? A safe life? What would you even do? Get a job with Tanaka and Ito at the storei? Find love amongst the minimal prospects and live a slow life? Your heart hurts at the thought. You look out your window from your bed. It isn’t a good angle to see the mountain, but the sight still does not disappoint. Stars dot the cloudless sky, constellations you once knew dance above your head. It is beautiful here. Beauty that cannot exist in a city.

You let out a frustrated groan and turn over to bury your face in your pillow. This train of thought will keep you awake for hours, you need to stop. Reaching over to the nightstand, you grab and your phone and find your music app. It takes a moment, but you find some nice background music to hopefully drown out your thoughts and put your earphones in. The sounds are able to relax you and give you something else to focus on rather than your own problems.

Luckily, you fall asleep not too long after.

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

You scream awake, sitting straight up with hands reaching up to cover your ears. Holy fuck that is loud. When your ears hit earphones, you grab them harshly and yank them out. The sound instantly gets quieter, distant now as they rest in your lap.

Well, that's a shocking way to wake up. Your body feels weird after waking up so suddenly, buzzing a bit as if you are in danger. You give yourself a few moments to just breathe until your body calms down, your brain mentally going through everything you need to do before your hike today. You are not planning to make it to the top, but you are hoping to make it at least further than the rocky ledge of yesterday.

Despite the sudden awakening, you feel sluggish as you finally make your way out of bed. It takes you a bit longer than normal to get everything done, but you still make it out the door within your desired time. You stop in at the local cafe, grabbing a large coffee, and heading out to the mountain. The coffee kicks in by the time you make it there, body buzzing with caffeine and excitement for your day. You park your car in its regular spot, an unassuming area with the smallest hint of a trail, and head out.

The sun is getting high in the sky by the time you pass the forest and reach the foot of the mountain. With the days getting shorter, maybe you should have tried to come earlier, but as it is you will have enough time for what you want to do. You make a quick reminder to start even earlier next time and begin the trek up.

It's a nice day, honestly, and you are enjoying yourself immensely as you climb. The trees have lost a lot of their leaves already, but there is a beauty in that as well. You hum quietly to yourself as you walk, eyes continuously scanning the surrounding area for any threats. With the trees as bare as they are, it’s actually pretty easy to keep an idea of your surroundings for most of the trail; however, up ahead it takes a rough corner through a group of rocks. The rocks completely obscure your view, and you are prepared to take that area slower than normal.That's when it happens.

You flinch as a figure rounds the corner ahead, coming into view quickly. A man. Your hand instinctively goes to fiddle at the clip for the spray. It takes you only a moment to recognize him as he turns, also pausing a second as he sees you.

It’s him. The asshole of the mountain.

He looks like he is on his way down, which is a bit odd considering the time of day. Did he stay overnight on the mountain?

You look over his outfit. It's slightly better than before. At least he is wearing a jacket, although it looks too light for the climate. But you still don’t see any protection items. He scoffs, bringing your attention back to his face. He starts to walk down the trail towards you, hands relaxed in his jacket pocket despite the rough terrain.

“You really should wear more protection if you are coming up to the mountain.”  The words are out of your mouth before you can stop them. Maybe from a childhood of warnings and scary stories, of seeing people go up the mountain to never return, or possibly just frustration from your job at people who do not take the measures to protect themselves.

Your words are a bit sudden, sure, but the man doesn’t even acknowledge them. His eyes flicker to you briefly before he continues his descent. You are thrown off, made awkward at the complete lack of acknowledgment. What the? Who just completely ignores someone when they are talking? It’s obvious that you are talking to him, right?

“Hey, uh, sorry if I insulted you or something the other day.” You attempt, forcing a small smile. You reach for the spray at your hip and unclip it, offering it out. “But you really should take the bear spray. One of the villagers saw one the other day and…” You trail off as the man walks by you, completely ignoring your words.

Once again you are left standing holding out bear spray. What the absolute fuck. Your hand clutches the spray harder in anger as you spin to face his back. Well, fuck you too then . You narrow your eyes and raise a middle finger to his back, grinning when it goes unnoticed. Hah, take you fuck-

You hit the ground. The world spins wildly around you. The air is knocked out of you immediately and you gasp in the cold autumn air. Your hands grasp at the ground as if trying to steady you.

What happened?

You push yourself up a bit, glancing down at your body. Your right foot rests awkwardly on top of a tree root. You hadn’t seen it, too preoccupied with trying to one-up the asshole without him knowing. You move your foot a bit, but it doesn’t feel injured. It's a lucky break, honestly, as getting injured up here could spell a lot of trouble for you.

But you don’t feel too lucky as you lock eyes with the only other person on the trail. He has stopped walking, looking over his shoulder at you. You attempt the most prideful glare you can from your back on the ground. His eyes narrow briefly, but he turns to continue his walk down the mountain.

You wait until he is too far to see before letting out a loud groan. Your head rests back on the ground for a moment. Fuck. Of course, he saw that. Of course, the world wouldn’t give you this one win. After another moment of self-deprecation, you pull yourself up and wipe angrily at the dirt on your clothes.

In theory, the rest of the hike goes by peacefully. Nothing else happens, and normally you would be excited looking around at the nature surrounding you. In reality, you spend the entire time grumbling about a certain blonde. You make it to the same rock ridge you had been on the other day and climb up. The rocks are cold under your ass as you sit, a break. Part of you wants to give up for the rest of the day, your mood is already horrible. But you need to push forward if you want to make it to the top by the end of your month here.

After taking a quick look around the area, you reach into your pack and grab your sandwich and water bottle. Extremely basic, but you couldn’t be bothered to put more effort in this morning. You eat slowly, your brain unfortunately, stuck on the blond from earlier. What is his deal anyway? You chew angrily.

Once done, you shove the sandwich container and water bottle back into your pack, careful not to leave anything on the trail. You stretch and slide down the rocky ledge back to the trail.

A sound to your right. Something is there. Your head swings towards it, eyes focusing immediately on a potential threat.

It’s actually not a man this time. It's a bear. Fuck.

You reach down to your hip. Your hand grasps at just air. The spray is gone. Where the fuck did it... oh. You had been holding it when you fell, after offering it to the asshole. It must have rolled away. You didn’t even notice, too preoccupied with your anger.  

“Fuck.” You back away slowly, quietly, hoping it hasn't seen you but unable to properly see its face in the trees. Another sound. Shit. It’s definitely walking towards you. You begin to take quicker steps backward, abandoning quietness for speed and distance from the creature. Reaching backward, you try to get a hand into your pack to grab the spare spray.

It charges, and against all things you know you should do, you panic. You let out a scream and turn, running into the trees.

Your heart pounds in your chest, breath catching harshly as you bolt through the trees. You dart between trees in hopes that the bigger animal can't maneuver as well. You don’t know where you are going, or exactly how far the bear is. But you can hear it. It is there. Getting closer every moment. Fuck. You can’t outrun a bear.

You’re gonna die. Fuck fuck.

There is a loud sound in the distance. A bang.

You can’t afford to think about it. You run,

A boom. You run.

Even closer now.

You run.

A boom behind you, large and wild, is all you hear before a powerful gust of hot wind rams into your back. You trip immediately, falling harshly to the ground and rolling into a tree. A cough rips out of your lungs. Your eyes snap open immediately after, hands pushing yourself up. Experience tells you not to stay down when danger is imminent. But the scene in front of you is not what you expect.

The area directly in front of you is destroyed. Where trees once stood are now scattered remains some smoking. In the middle of the new clearing is the blond. He stands with his back to you, looking into the trees. Your eyes immediately follow the direction he is looking to see a brown figure disappearing into the trees.

“What the fuck…” You whisper, blinking wildly. You lean back against the tree for support, closing your eyes briefly to focus on your breathing to calm down. Going into shock would not do you well right now. For a moment there is silence, the only sound being your deep breaths and the occasional snapping of a tree.

“Oi!” You open your eyes. The blond turns towards you, looking you over for a moment. “What happened to the fucking bear spray, idiot?” That unimpressed look appears on his face again, a scowl that sends shivers down your spine.

Fuck you. That is what your instincts tell you to say to that. But, he did just save your life. You grit your teeth together and force out a quiet ‘thank you’. You are not too sure if he heard you, but he doesn’t say anything. He turns, sliding his hands in his pocket to walk in the direction that you came from.

A second. He stops. “Well?” He looks back, intense gaze focused on you. “Move it, extra.”

Your eyes narrow, anger at being called an extra threatening to boil over. A calming breath and you pull yourself into a standing position.  “Right.” You follow.

The walk down is quiet. You follow the blond a few feet behind, looking around the forest as you go. There is no more movement around you, the forest dead as if nothing had ever happened. But what had happened? You look at the man in front of you, biting your lip. Obviously, this had something to do with the blonds' quirk, right? How did he even get up there so fast?

Wait. Is that the noise you’ve been hearing from the mountain?

Eventually, you reunite with the trail, only a bit before the mountain merges into a flat forest. He stops, taking a step back and gesturing with a grunt for you to begin walking down. You pass him beginning the trek, but he isn't following. You pause, looking back. The blond stands there, hands in his pockets, watching you with those intense eyes.

What the hell is he doing up on the mountain? Why is he here? You narrow your eyes, considering him.

“What?” His gruff voice sounds muffled. “Y’wanna fuckin autograph or somethin’.”

Huh?

“Huh?” You repeat your thoughts. “Um, no, I just…” You trail off. In the end, he doesn’t seem to be doing anything bad up on the mountain. “Listen. Thank you for, uh, saving me.” You speak more confidently. “But you can’t be using your quirk like this without a license.”

His eyes widen, light eyebrows rising in surprise. “Hah?!”

“I mean, you are not the first person to come here thinking they can practice on the mountain without anyone knowing.” You continue. “Not only does it pose a huge risk to the local wildlife and mountain as a whole, but if you got hurt there would be nobody to help you.”

“Help me ?!" That gruff voice got louder, angrier. His shoulders tense. You put your hands up in a placating gesture.

“I won’t say anything, promise. I owe you one after that.” You continue. “But I can hear you from the village, and I’m sure others will too. I’d hate for someone to call the police or the heroes on you.”

A brief silence, where the blond looks a weird mix of shocked and completely pissed off. You take that as your opportunity to leave before he gets really angry, turning on your heel and beginning the rest of your hike. Your hand runs over the extra can of bear spray now solidly clipped to your hip.

You make it through the bottom of the mountain quickly with no further incident. The sight of your car on the side of the road fills you with relief. Honestly, you were not sure if you’d ever see it again. You run your hand over the hood thoughtfully as you walk around to the driver's side.

A booming sound echoes from further up the mountain. You look up, but see nothing. A few more sounds after. Then quiet.

“Fucking idiot.” You muse, turning on the engine.

[lordseochangbin]

Commitment

Request:  can i request jisung arranged marriage + fluff/smut ??

A/N: Side note but I think Ima start that Felix FBI agent AU soon. I’m excited hehe the thought of Felix being an agent sounds :D

You could not believe it. 

A few years later after your mom lost her job, you had found yourself taking double shifts, cleaning shit from your neighbor’s yard, eating tubs of ice cream and mourning the cause all together. Your mother opposed it as well, her child having to take over all this labor. Her only way to help? Tie the knot with some rich, stupid guy and hope you’ll benefit from it somehow. 

“He’s an idiot mom! I cannot be with or be SEEN with Han Jisung!” Those were the only words that left your mouth when your mother said you had to be with him. 

“It’s what your father would’ve wanted honey, just give him a chance” A pat on the shoulder and she leaves the room so it’s just you and your thoughts. 

Next thing you know, you find yourself at a golden door. The palace looks marvelous honestly, and if you had to put your mind to it- you’d ask yourself why such a handsome and rich man would need to be forced into marriage. People would kill to be with him. Unfortunately, the least you would do for him is cut a flower from its soil, drying its roots and unwatering its petals, leaving it to its lonely life just like he had done to you. Simply from existing. 

What takes you by surprise is when a half-naked woman opens the door, your mouth dropping when the open door reveals Jisung slumped over on the couch with more naked women. 

“Daddy, someone opened the door” The girl calls him, making you roll your eyes at the nickname. 

“Are you Han Jisung! What the fuck is this?” Oh dear, the look on his face when he hears someone call him by his real name. Walking towards him, you grab his wrist despite the women around him and explain, “We were supposed to go on a date today, and you’re here living it up with other women, what an amazing husband you are” 

“Aww sweetie” He teasingly replies, facing himself towards you before lying a finger under your chin. His black trousers and shirtless figure explain the simplicity of his actions, how normal it was for him to be caught in a situation like this. Is he even turned on by the number of girls here or was it some gesture to piss you off?

“Don’t ‘aww sweetie’ me!” You say, pushing his hand away. “We’re going to this date, whether you like it or not” You tell him off, asking the ladies to leave. 

“Aww c’mon Y/N, you’re ruining the fun!! Why are you kicking them out?” He pouts, leaning closer to your ear. “Unless you wanted to have fun with… just me”

“Oh fuck off Jisung!” You retort, pushing him away before closing the door as the ladies leave, “I’ll be downstairs.. you better come.. and put a shirt on for fuck’s sake!” 

----

After dinner, you come back to Jisung’s apartment. Over a plate for two, you were surprised at how kind yet shy he was. It was hard at some points to get him to talk or start a conversation, but once you brought up one of his interests- it got him talking on and on. He was actually kind of… cute? With every bite of his cheesecake (which he demanded for dessert), his cheeks would bunch up as he smiled and chewed, taking in each bite as if it were the last. 

“Umm.. usually it’s the guy who walks the girl back to their house but, thanks for taking me here I guess” He said, itching the nape of his neck out of nervousness. 

“No problem” You smiled in response. Maybe he was the right guy after all. Your hopes felt high for Jisung. Maybe he would be the right guy- that was until you remembered the amount of girls inside of his room hours before. The sudden memory made your heartache, he was a straight up player. 

“Oh! I almost forgot” He exclaimed, opening his apartment door and peeking inside. “My mother asked me to give this to you, I didn’t look inside but I’m assuming it’s some big ass jewel or something” 

You walked into his apartment, following the steps to his bedroom as he picked up a box from his dresser. “This is for you,” He smirks, watching as you opened the box. 

He wasn’t wrong. It was a big ass jewel made to impress you. A secret message from a mother just sent ‘I know he’s stupid, but can you marry him please?’ Chuckling at the jewel, you put it back in his drawer. 

“Thanks, but I don’t want it, Jisung. What I want is this-” You gestured at the space between you two “to work. If we’re really going to do this.. I really want your commitment” 

Jisung scoffed at the comment. “Commitment? Please. I would commit to a girl who at least knew how to flirt, even kiss at least” 

You bit your lip at his response, “Are you saying I look like a bad kisser?” 

Jisung internally laughed at the comment, taking a step forward. A quick sniff of his cologne had you swifted, your heart beating at the close proximity. 

“Are you denying it though?” 

You rolled your eyes before taking a deep breath and muttering a quick, “How’s this?” before closing the gap between you two. 

Letting your tongue slip into the kiss, you stepped forward causing Jisung to fall on the bed between him. A small gasp left him as he fell onto the bed, his hands reaching out to grab your waist before he could pull you closer. “Not bad” He smirked before locking his lips with yours. 

You let your knees press against the soft comforter beside his hips, your hands holding onto his shoulders as you hold onto them. Softly pressing against his crotch, you watch as he tilts his head back at the action.  

“What’s wrong Jisung?” You ask him as he takes a deep breath. “J-Just give me a second, fuck” He curses, a confused expression meeting your face at his concern. 

“Jisung, we don’t need a condom. I’ll take the morning after pill, okay?” You smile, kissing his forehead as he sighs in relief. His eyes look glossy, relieved. He couldn’t help but to smile back. No matter how hard he tried to piss you off, you stayed with him. He realized you weren’t in this relationship for the money, you genuinely liked him- and he would prove that he loves you just as much. 

“Babe, sit on the bed… let me make you feel good” He whispers, watching as you slowly lay on your back, pressing your head against the pillow. 

His fingers run under your dress, slowly lifting the piece of fabric before rubbing circles on your heat. 

“J-Jisung, please” You whimper, your hands grabbing the sheets next to you as he pecks the bare skin on your thighs. 

“So wet for me babe, just be patient” With a soft chuckle, he lifts your dress over your head, one hand cupping your breast as the other continues to toy with your heat. 

With every touch you find yourself trying to stay still, whimpering when he lets go and bucking your hips into his fingers when he hits your sweet spot. 

The second you bite your lip, you shut your eyes as the sight of Jisung slowly removing your bra. He takes the time to lick around your breasts before his lips could close on your erected nipple. His fingers quicken its pace and you find that all too familiar pit inside your stomach. “Jisung, I-I’m so close” 

His lips leave our breasts and attach to your neck, softly humming against the skin before meeting your ear. “Cum for me babe” He whispers, making you gasp as his finger brushes against your sweet spot, your back arches as your wet juices coat his digits. 

“Mmm, Fuck” he curses, getting on his knees to unbuckle his jeans. “You’re driving me insane” He mutters as he unzips his jeans, freeing his tight member of its restraints and pumping it with his hand. 

He takes no mercy as he presses his cock between your walls, his nails digging into your hips as he rides his hips against yours. 

His grip on your hips is so strong that you feel your chest constantly slam into his, Jisung taking pride in the way your breasts bounce against your skin. He doesn’t want this now, but he wants it forever. To see you at night like this and in the morning cuddles in his arms. 

“Jisung, god” You whine as he slows his pace, letting his tip meet your soft spot again. It was almost embarrassing how fast he got you to reach your high again, your walls clenching around his member. “You must love how good my cock fits inside your tight cunt, you love it don’t you babe?” 

You let out a small whimper, throwing your head back as you lift your leg, letting him hit your sweet spot from a different angle. “God babe, you’re even asking for more. You’re dangerous” He says, his words filling your mind as your sight starts to become foggy. 

You’re holding on to Jisung for dear life, letting him fuck you like his little ragdoll, his little toy. “Shit, I’m gonna cum” He curses, your walls tightening around him again as you meet your orgasm. 

“Cum inside me Ji” You breathe out, holding him closer to you as his dick twitches inside you, filling you with his warm cum. 

“Fuck, babe” he sighs, grabbing your hips and turning you around so you’re on top of him. Your hips meet again as you hide your face in his neck, slowly peeking up as the two of you reach your high. 

Jisung smiles as his eyes meet yours, his hand reaching out to place a stranded piece of hair behind your ear. 

“I hope you learned a thing or two about kissing after this.” He chuckles, raising his eyebrows. “Or even more” 

Slapping his shoulder in embarrassment, you pant out a small laugh before replying, “and I hope you learned a thing or two about commitment after this”

“Maybe this will teach me a thing or two about commitment” Jisung chuckled before capturing your lips in a kiss, “I’ll only stay with you now”

[hoodedwing]

Loyalty Killed Me

Summary: The Joker could finally do what he wanted to do, traumatize Nightwing

Characters: Nightwing. Harley Quinn. Joker. Mentions of Red Hood

Warnings: Just really sick ways of stitching people up. Blood. Depressive. Major character/s death mentions. Batman. Doctor Leslie Thompkins

Additional Notes: I know Joker cannot traumatize Grayson canon-wise? Please correct me if I’m wrong.

Word Count: 2,242 words

***

Time doesn't stop.

Time knows, in its hands. It plays around with the seconds. These seconds matter, someone dying, someone on the communicator whispering, ____ come get me. come get me, I can't go back.

Time doesn't freeze. Time does not have a cloak drapes around it in a timeless manner. Time does not walk in a regal manner and stroke your gaping wounds to cauterize them. Apply pressure because really, when did Time wait for you to stop the damned arterial spray? Have you seen first hand how much blood can spew, almost like a fountain from that serrated dagger?

Time has caught up with Dick Grayson, the Wonder Boy. The Nightwing Blüdhaven didn't deserve. The loving boyfriend/husband of Barbara Gordon. The first son of Bruce Wayne, Batman.

Batman. He doesn't know who's Batman. Not anymore.

-

3200..6400..12800..

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. Remember, inhale slowly, inflate lungs. Let it circulate through. Let. Let it work.

Richard. That's your name. Your mother was beautiful and your father was handsome. You are a Grayson. You have brothers and sisters.

Pain.

Pain is relative. If you fuck with pain long enough, it won't fuck back with you. Pain spreads through him and he inhales deep, bigger breaths. Trying to drown out the searing ache. He succeeds, deceives his brain.

Dick Grayson is such a liar.

He knows how to lie, how to smile widely at the Blüdhaven precinct when shit goes down or still tell a joke or two when Damian is there.

Dick Grayson is such a liar.

He's a good man. Honest to goodness. He's fooled himself into thinking his left leg didn't feel on fire, he's successfully managed to stop gasping against the rattle of his chest, a rub or two might be the cause. Who knows?

BOY WONDER! SAD YOUR DEAREST BATMAN HASN'T COME TO SAVE YOU YET? WHY LOOK AT THAT.

Mistah J checks his watch and smiles, his crooked smile stares back at Richard.

Dick only looks away as the Joker's cold fingers run his slimy, skinny fingers along his body. He used to shiver under his touch in a bad way, he would gulp and squeeze his eyes shut, hunting for memories to dive into.

When he got Zitka. When his mother named him her Robin. When he went on patrol for the first time with the all mighty Batman. When he first met Jason. Then Tim. Then Damian. Then the nights they spent healing wounds, fighting together or just sleeping or Netflix.

Dick doesn't move, doesn't say a word. He doesn't even let out a humourless laugh or a quip. Dick clings onto a hope.

Batman. Come get me.

BOY WONDER IS STILL LIVING. WHY, THAT'S A JOY. COME OUT THERE LITTLE BLUE BIRD. YOU REALLY THINK YOU CAN STAY IN THAT LITTLE BRAIN OF YOURS? WHEN YOU WAKE UP. THAT LEG WILL HURT. YOUR BLOOD WILL SPILL AGAIN ON THAT DARNED LITTLE CREST.

He doesn't care. The glorious speech does not make him flinch. He looks at the window, one thought crosses his cloudy vision.

Bruce (Dad), come get me.

LET'S HAVE SOME MORE FUN, SHALL WE. EVEN JAYBIRD PLAYED THIS GAME TOO. COME ON, HE HAD FUN. LET'S PLAY BLUE BIRD. BLUE JAY. HMM. I LIKE THAT.

-

Playtime.

Its always target practice. He would lie there and watch Harley swing her mallet here and there, sometimes too close to Dick and she would talk to him, so sweetly.

Aww, you wanna play too? Let's play together, shall we?

His face will clench up, his head will scream and suddenly everything is loud as Harley fires guns at targets and maybe shoot some arrows at Dick.

On lucky days, he's used as her gymnast prop.

I want to fly again. Batman I'm falling, please I'd like to fly again. My wings are clipping and I will rip. -

He falls asleep.

You can't call it sleeping. Dozing in and out of consciousness, he was neither awake or sleeping. A grey haze flittered across his vision. No sign of clarity. He still heard the rattle of his breath, the fire in his leg. The now warm abdomen.

He feels someone at his leg.

Harley Quinn was there, a sly smile as he feels a needle go in and out.

In and out. In and out.

In and out, in and out. You need to breathe Dick. In and out. In and out.

When he hears the door shut and a ricocheting silence, he peeks at his leg.

A sick suturing of his leg stabs with dental floss, a handiwork Harley was sure to boast later on. He doesn't care if it gets infected. What's the big deal? Batman will take care of it.

He turns over on his side to his communicator lay. The Nightwing emblem was shattered beyond measure. No matter, I can get a new one. The communication mattered.

He presses the distress signal again, again. Again. Bruce better get that flashing orange light and he should feel his bipolar touch in no time.

He tries to talk, voice hoarse from decreased usage and a rough sandpaper-like quality stuck to it.

"H..hello? Bruce. Dad. Please get me. I'm.. I'm waiting. Please."

He turns back in his side, curled up like an invited animal.

The rain pours, shadows keep coming in and out but none belong to his dad.

The boy asks the moon if Batman had lost his way. Asked if the moon could shine the light brighter at him so Dad can find him faster. He'll be okay, he'll be okay. Bruce might be lost, after all. There's a lot of streets and time isn't on anyone's side.

-

Two weeks go by.

Dick still finds himself bound by the ties and definitely no sign of the caped crusader.

Batman is surely coming.

That thought fades slowly, over the weeks. He's gotten more used to the Joker and the crowbar.

Is this how Jason felt, when he was in Hell?

Dick cannot remember. Dick only knows how the sound of metal and bones work, how the bullet will hit skin, pierce it through with frightening velocity and dull ache afterwards. The pool of blood will remind him that yes, I was shot.

A sick game of Russian Roulette. Instead of one bullet, there's multiple. A .44 magnum shouldn't hurt anymore. The revolver keeps spinning in his mind where acrobats should be. Where's Bruce. Where's dad. Am I forgotten?

Dick tried to remember how to breathe. Is it that hard? Just pulling in oxygen and letting the respiration mechanism do its work?

Distract thine self.

He tries to remember. Tries. He's trying. Nightwing has to do this. You need to at least remember your name. Your mother, your father. Dick. Dick.

Richard. That's your name. Your mother was beautiful but I don't know what her hair colour is, sometimes it's blonde or chestnut and your father was handsome.  You are a Grayson. You have brothers and sisters. Are they Jason? Tim? Da- I don't remember, I don't remember the tiny one. Is he even real? Your sisters too. Stephanie, Stephanie. I have one more, the sneaky one. She's fast but I don't know her name. I'd like to know her well too. Pity I. I don't know her name. I hope she knows my name. That way I can hear her voice and maybe figure out who is the charming one. I know she does ballet. I know she made brownies once with.. Who? I don't remember his name. The old man with cheery wrinkles and deep eyes. I don't know who he is too. Oh. Oh oh. Dick.

[DANGEROUS TO FALL ASLEEP, RICHARD JOHN 'DICK' GRAYSON. EYES. OPEN. EYES. OPEN. BREATHE. (MY LUNGS DON'T WORK)]

I'm begging someone, please. It doesn't have to be Bruce. Get the ballet girl to help me please, she fast and maybe I can ask her name while she gets me out of here.

-

Bruce never gives up.

You know that too, do you? He's spent 3 weeks finding his son. His beloved child.

Do you ever think how much Bruce's heart breaks over and over everyday?

-

"ALFRED?! CAN YOU GET JASON NOW, NOW, NOW?! I FIGURED HIS COORDINATES."

Bruce flips from the Batcomputer and grabs everything. A blind haste, he's never dressed so fast. His son. Oh my god, his son.

Jason is down there getting the Batmobile to rev up and they speed.

They speed.

Are they fast?

I guess. If you call 290 in 85 fast.

They run, Jason dashing first and his breath catches in his throat. A cold draught erupts inside of him. He snarls, Bruce turns as he digs through the alleyways. He finds what he knows lurks.

"The sick fucker is going to end Dick in the same fucking warehouse he ended me in. That big bitch.

Bruce puts one hand on his shoulder and squeezes. No time to panic, Dick is the one. is the unsaid message as Jason crashes through the window.

And even him, Red Hood. The one who sees and commits murder everyday, stops and hot anger sears through him.

Dick lies, barely 15 feet away, bound up and covered in his own blood, the ripped Nightwing suit from his recon mission. Bruce picks him up while Jason gladly punched (and secretly plugged a bullet) the fuck out of Mistah J and Harley.

They lie on unconscious, Jason evaluates the scenes, trying to suppress his screams at what they've done to Grayson.

Bruce picks up Dick like he's glass, he hurries to the Batmobile with Jason telling to prepare the Medbay.

"The Medbay.. I.. I don't think. Leslie. Leslie can."

Is all Bruce says and Jason revs up, driving the Batmobile way beyond the legal limit. Bruce doesn't give a flying banana about it. He'll pay the fine later.

Bruce looks down at his son, hoping he hasn't fallen asleep yet. Finally, finally Dick is in the arms of the crusader. Half his domino mask is ripped and Bruce tries to not break at the baby blues staring without any light-hearted gaze.

His heart still beats (A reminder he's alive and could've been more alive. Bruce failed him)

"LESLIE. DR THOMPKINS!"

Jason screeches across and marching in, earning angry stares  from the other patients but it turns into gasps and horror when they see Batman carry a limp Nightwing barely clad in spandex anymore. Everyone bows out, knowing they were priority.

-

Something inside Dick broke.

He doesn't know what it is.

He'll live with it.

-

"Bruce, he's fallen into a coma."

Leslie says, solemn. Angry tears form in Jason's eye and he was about to fight Bruce, give him the tirade. Compare him to Nightwing.

The unspoken message rings loudly in Bruce's mind. He doesn't need Jason to say it.

You failed him too.

Jason is seething, anger. Sadness a d everything is violating him from inside.

If you were a minute later, he would've died. We would've been carrying his body to the grave. The Joker would still live. You see the problem? DO YOU NOT SEE THE FUCKING PROBLEM?

Bruce sits beside Dick, his pulse like a fluttering butterfly. He grasps his hand in Duck's fragile one and prays.

Prays that he wakes up.

-

Dick is on a life support machine now.

I guess the ventilator couldn't keep him up. All good boys do die. If not, maybe a part of them broke.

Dick is no exception.

-

Alfred squeezes Bruce's hand. Jason sits so quietly beside him alongside the rest of the family.

Its April 27th. Jason was taken this day.

They don't say a word, neither does Red Hood, he just wants the baby blue eyes to open again.

He cries.

-

Five months have gone by and he stirs slowly.

He's barely moving and Jason shoots up and looks, squeezes Dick's hand again.

Baby blues meet emerald green.

Jason dashes for Leslie. She comes and shoos everyone out.

Jason is fucking glad. Dick is alive.

-

Bruce is disappointed.

He cannot bring himself to meet Dick who's currently in the ward under observation. He's failed Dick. He knows it.

He enters, heavy hearted. Dick is smiling at everyone but Bruce can see it, the hard lines. The sunshine doesn't reach the baby blues. He thinks they've turned into aquamarine, a shade tad too dark. I guess, that's what trauma does to people.

Dick smiles at Bruce, he feels the tension and Dick pats the chair beside him where Jason was sleeping. Bruce softly sits, he has no heart to wake Jason up.

Dick is alive. Dick is alive.

Bruce places one hand on Grayson's one, it feels much more warmer and his pulse is beating normally.

And he breaks.

He cries, tears steaming down his cheeks. An ugly sound escapes his throat. Bruce gasps in air and exhales shakily. Dick watches, silent.

Is this how you felt when I was in Hell?

Dick doesn't touch Bruce, doesn't say its okay and I'm alive. He stares dead into Bruce.

I cannot forgive.

Dick sits quietly, he doesn't have to say it. Loyalty does kill you in the end if you step on all the wrong pieces of glass.

That's when you find yourself falling from the trapeze line, you find yourself swirling again in the memories you wish you could lock.

Loyalty in the end, is your demise.

[visceraah]

Unsinkable

My other fic for the @sanderssidesgiftxchange! An analogical titanic fic for @strugglingispointless. And a huge thankyou to @missfay49 for betaing this!!

Rating- teen again! content warnings are in the notes of each chapter

WC- 10873 (I got... very carried away lmao. hope you enjoy!)

Ships- Romantic analogical, backgroundish moceit, and all the sides are in it and interact at one point or another.

AO3

Logan has been the perfect child all of his life. Perfect manners, perfect poise, perfect brain. All that's left is being the perfect husband- marry someone with good status for the family. And he didn't even have to secure his own match, his parents had found one for him.

By all accounts, this should be easy.

Logan learns very, very quickly how wrong that is.

-

There’s no way in hell I’m posting the whole thing here, but the first chapter is under the cut!

Logan didn’t believe anything was ‘perfect’- there was always space for improvement, no matter how miniscule, and settling for anything less with the claim it was already as good as it could be just seemed, as far as he was concerned, lazy.

He pointed this out every time he heard the word, yet it didn’t stop his parents from using it to describe him. The perfect son. Booksmart, eloquent, impeccable manners. But there was always more to learn, and though ‘perfection’ was in itself subjective his social skills could certainly use some work. He, like everything else, wasn’t perfect. His parents didn’t especially appreciate the observation.

The frustrating thing about being ‘perfect’ was you didn’t make mistakes. You couldn’t. Expectations were high and, for the people who put a roof over his head and clothes on his back, Logan refused to disappoint them. So he spent his days studying, learning as much as he could to live up to an expectation he, realistically, knew was unachievable.

It was only natural he spent most of his time in their library, surrounded by dead peoples words. He didn’t mind that much- people were difficult to understand, but books told you exactly what they meant. They weren’t perfect, either, but they were ideal for learning, curling up in an armchair and forgetting about everything and everyone until you’re torn back to reality.

“Logan!” A shrill voice cried, doing just that. He gently shut his book and set it aside.

“Yes, father?”

“Oh, there you are- so small, that’s hardly a gentlemanly way to sit’ now, is it? I could barely see you. Sit up’ now, sit up- there’s my boy!” He doted, Logan’s back instinctively straightening at the command. “Now… Your mother and I have something to talk to you about.”

Logan scanned over his shoulder, a small frown setting onto his face. “I don’t see her.”

“Oh, darling- That’s because I’m doing the talking!” His father exclaimed with a chuckle, seeming to have thought that was a joke. The laugh felt a little patronising, if you asked Logan, and he had no idea why he’d say it’d be a conversation involving someone who wasn’t present, but he nodded like he understood anyway. Experience showed that was easiest. “Well, we’ve got you a match!”

Logan blinked. His father looked at him expectantly. His frown returned. “What would I do with a match...? I’ve told you tobacco makes my lungs feel constricted, and it’s generally Amy's job to light the fireplaces-”

“Oh, Logan!” He laughed again like he’d said something ridiculous. “A romantic match, silly. A fiancé!”

“Ah.” Logan’s eyes flicked back to his book. He’d been reading about constellations before, and though learning of their origins was somewhat less academic than his other studies, it was a passion of his. “Will that be all?”

“You… don’t want to know about him?” His father prodded in that way that signalled he had been meant to ask for details. Logan shook his head anyway.

“I know I’m around that age, and I trust you to choose an adequate match- so long as I live with a library, I cannot foresee any issues.”

There was a beat of silence, for a minute, before his father seemed to come to terms with his answer. He let out a delayed squeal, squishing Logan’s face uncomfortably between his hands and pressing a kiss he had to fight not to move back from to his forehead. “There’s our boy!”

Logan offered him a smile, hand already reaching back for his book.

-

Virgil groaned loudly, tearing a page from his sketchbook and crumpling it up in his fist. He threw the balled up paper at the bin... and watched it bounce off the lid, onto the floor with all his other attempts. He slumped and hit his head on the table. Nothing he drew was good enough. Seemed to be a pretty consistent theme in his life, actua--

“I’m home!” He heard his brother yell, almost like the self deprecation had summoned him. That happened a surprising amount, and Virgil was beginning to wonder if he had some kind of sixth sense for wallowing.

“What’re all these?”

Virgil peered up to see Patton scoop up some of his discarded paper and huffed. “Shit.”

“Hey, language!” Patton scolded, unfolding one. Virgil knew better than to protest because, either way, there was nothing he could do to stop the incoming onslaught of validation. Pretty rude of his brother, if you asked him, breaking in like this and ruining his lamenting. “Kiddo, this is amazing!”

“Kinda loses its meaning when you say that about everything, Patt.” Virgil grumbled, pulling his hood up. “It’s covered in mistakes- I kept having to rub them out but it happened so much the paper just looks messy and flaky, but I kept fu- screwing up and-”

“There’s no such thing as a mistake.” Patton scolded lightly, not wanting to let him fix onto something so negative. “Just-”

“If you say ‘happy accidents’ I’m setting the apartment on fire.” Virgil warned, hiding a small smile.

“You know me too well.” Patton replied with a deep sigh, slipping into the chair opposite him and not quite meeting his eyes. “In other news, though... I’ve got news. Oh! I said ‘news’ twice.” He giggled, and Virgil rolled his eyes- before he registered what ‘news’ meant. It meant something new, which meant change and, yeah, they didn’t exactly have the money to keep going as they were in this shitty expensive flat without any work but where else would they go? Were they homeless now? Was the news that they were being kicked out? He knew they were overdue but they had time, still, surely--

“Kiddo! Kiddo, I’m sorry, I should’ve been clearer.” Patton gently pulled him back to reality, the guilty look on his face enough to make Virgil feel terrible for spiralling. He didn’t admit that, though, because it’d make Patton feel worse, and then they’d just be in their own spiral of upsetting one by upsetting the other and he did not have the emotional stability to deal with that. “I have a job!”

Virgil was pretty much a master in nerves, and he could spot them a mile away- especially in his brother. The wringing of hands and avoidance of eye contact wasn’t exactly subtle. Why he’d be nervous about getting work when they needed it so desperately, though, didn’t seem right. Was he a criminal? Were they going to get arrested? “That’s… good?” He offered, before he could jump to any more awful conclusions.

“It is!” Patton nodded eagerly, latching onto it. “Just…”

“Just...?”

“It’s on a boat.”

Virgil's throat went dry. “We can’t swim.”

“I know, but most of the crew can’t, it’s really safe, and we’ll have our own room and it’ll be warm and-”

Virgil shook his head quickly. “We’ll be surrounded by miles and miles of sea and we can’t keep afloat by ourselves and if it sinks we’re fucked and-”

“We… don’t have much of a choice.” Patton reminded him softly, and they both involuntarily looked over at the red envelopes shoved under the door. Their eviction notices. “Anyway, cheer up kiddo- they say it’s unsinkable!”

[we-are-only-halfway-home93]

Come and Lay the Roses 27- Somebody You Can Blame- [Ivar x OC]

Summary: Ivar learns the meaning of compromise.

Characters: Ivar x OC, Bjorn xTorvi, Ubbe x Margrethe, Hvitserk x Thora, Sigurd x OC, Ragna, Lagertha

Warning: arranged marriage, mentions of sexual assault/rape, violence, sex, torture, language 

Word Count: 2467

Ch. 26

AN: I appreciate everyone’s patience with this chapter. Work got stressful there for awhile and spent my free time focusing on destressing and self-care. I’m on Winter Break now so hopefully, I can focus more on things I enjoy. 

I had a hard time writing this chapter. It was almost done and then I didn’t touch it for 2 weeks because I couldn’t get the love scene done. I don’t normally have so much trouble but, for whatever reason, this one troubled me. 

I knew you all deserved an update so I did what I could with it. Let me know what you think.

“Compromise is not about losing. It is about deciding that the other person has just as much right to be happy with the end result as you do.”

~Donna Martini

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Ivar screamed, slamming the door behind him. 

Ragnar sighed and gazed into the amber liquid he was swirling in his glass. He was not surprised that his youngest son had followed him. Frankly, he expected it. His anger was misplaced if not understandable. 

Ivar was under the impression that he could tell his wife what to do. He was young and had yet to learn that Lothbrok women were never told what to do. It did not end well for the men. 

The Lothbrok women inherited the name through marriage, yes, but Ragnar found that all of the women tended to display a certain tenacity when it came to their desires. Ragnar learned early in his life that he was attracted to strong and determined women. 

Lagertha was strong willed and had never backed down from his endeavors to be the best. She followed him wherever he wished to go and, when the gods saw fit to separate their paths, she succeeded in her own right, leading a team of her own men and proving to him that she did not need him then and did not need him now. 

Aslaug was powerful in her own way. She matched him in wits like no other and she gave him four beautiful sons. She’d brought him to his knees more than once with her cleverness. 

Oh how he’d wished he could’ve kept them both but Lagertha would not share him and Aslaug was not one to come second.  

As his sons grew, he realized they were much like him. All of his daughters displayed a strong will and fought for what they wanted. 

Ivar was having trouble grasping this fact apparently.

“My son, it is time you learned that you cannot tell a woman what to do much less your wife.” He turned to face Ivar and grew amused at the rage mounting within his youngest.

“Why are you so angry, child?”

“You undermined me! In front of my wife!” 

Ragnar clicked his tongue and sat behind his desk. He gestured for Ivar to take a seat but his son only narrowed his eyes. Ragnar shrugged and drained his glass. He licked his lips.

“Ivar, your wife is not a trembling flower on the branch. She is oak, unbendable even in the strongest of storms. It’s important for her to witness what this family does to those who betray us.” Ragnar raised an eyebrow in challenge. 

Ivar narrowed his eyes. “I’ve never doubted her will. I know exactly what she’s capable of.”

“Then why do you object?” Ragnar stood and faced his bar cart, pouring himself another drink.

“A blood eagle is no place for a woman.” Ivar startled when Ragnar barked out a harsh laugh. 

Ragnar turned to face his son. “My boy,” he clicked his tongue and settled his drink on the corner of his desk. “Now I know you’re not stupid.” Ivar opened his mouth to protest but Ragnar cut him off with a raised hand.

“No place for a woman? Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, is the saying, yes?

“Lagertha attended Jarl Borg’s blood eagle. As she should’ve since she helped bring him down. We couldn’t have done it without her. It would’ve been disrespectful to exclude her. 

“Your mother was there, as was her right since he tried to kill her and your brothers. Even Torvi was there and he was her husband at the time. She practically insisted.” Ragnar stepped towards Ivar and smiled.

“Son,” Ragnar settled his hands on Ivar's shoulders. “Why do you protest so much?”

Ivar stared at his father, lost for words for the first time. Ragnar gave him a knowing smile and patted his cheek. He released him and picked up his scotch.

“She comes. I think it’ll surprise you, how much she enjoys it.” Ragnar sat and flicked his free hand towards his son, a dismissal.

Ivar blinked, took a deep breath, and turned on his heel, stalking out of the office. Ragnar grinned into his scotch, joy bubbling in his chest for the first time in days.

.

Aaline shouldn’t have been surprised at the anger that swept into their room alongside her husband. It was like a storm cloud closing in on a city where it had once been bright with sunlight. 

He opened the door with such force that it bounced off the wall behind it and landed with a thud back in its frame. 

She could feel him seething behind her, his breath coming out in harsh puffs, blowing against the hairs along the back of her neck. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath to ground herself. 

She turned slowly to face her husband who was red with rage. She narrowed her eyes. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

A deep growl built up in Ivar’s chest and he bared his teeth. “Do you know what you’ve done?” His voice contradicted his anger. His tone was smooth and calm. 

Aaline tilted her head, studying him. His eyes were narrowed and black with rage. His shoulders were raised and tensed, rising with each breath he took. His hands were clenched at his sides, his knuckles white and shaking. She lifted her eyes to meet his, challenging him. 

“I’m curious. What have I done?” She asked. 

The noise that left his throat made her shiver and heat pooled in her stomach. He began to crowd her and she backed away, angry at his attempt to intimidate her. 

He backed her into the wall and dropped his chin, glaring at her from under his brow. She glared right back up at him, her own breath coming out in short puffs of air that ghosted over his chest. 

“You’ve embarrassed me. In front of my father, my brothers. You undermined me.” He pressed his hands against the wall beside her head. She arched a single brow in surprise, astounded by his impertinence. Then she narrowed her eyes and shoved the heels of her hands up under his ribs, successfully pushing him back enough to duck under his arm.

“I embarrassed you? You made me out to be some damsel in distress. Acting like I can’t handle trauma. Do you know what I’ve been through?” She shouted. She stormed across the room, putting distance between them, and turned to face him.  

He snorted. “Do I know what you’ve been through? Of course I know what you’ve been through. I’m trying to protect you.” She laughed without humor, making his anger well up in his chest, flushing his face. 

“Protect me? You’re not trying to protect me. You’re trying to control me. You want your brother’s to think that you get to make the decisions in this marriage. Do you forget that in marriage you compromise?” She pointed an accusing finger at him. He remained silent.

“Don’t ever try to say you’re protecting me. We all know you’re not.” Her chest heaved from her sudden breathlessness.

Ivar stomped towards her and pushed her finger down. She scoffed. “Do you even know what happens at a blood eagle?” He said, accusation heavy in his voice. 

She narrowed her eyes but said nothing. He nodded and hummed low in his throat. 

“We’ll tie him up so he can’t move his arms and his legs. He’ll be stripped from the waist up and barefoot. Ragnar will start by cutting down the length of his spine, then making cross cuts at his shoulders and waist. Aelle will scream.”

Ivar searched her face but found nothing. He pressed on. “Norsemen believe that screaming will bar the accused entrance to Valhalla. My father has performed only one other blood eagle. On a man named Jarl Borg, Torvi’s first husband.” Ivar hummed at Aaline’s look of surprise. 

“Didn’t know Torvi was married before, did you? Björn’s her third husband.” Ivar held up three fingers to emphasize. “Jarl Borg was her first. Ragnar blood eagled him after he tried to usurp him. He tried to kill my mother and my brother’s. This was before my time.

“According to Björn, Jarl Borg didn’t make a sound when father cut him open. He sat there, on his knees, as my father opened his back, broke and spread his ribs, and tore his lungs from his chest. Not a sound passed his lips.”

Aaline could feel the heat in her face. She wasn’t sure if it was anger, lust, or embarrassment that made her hot but she wouldn’t let Ivar win. 

“Are you trying to scare me?” She whispered.

“Are you scared?”

“Not in the slightest.”

Ivar sneered and stepped away from her, shaking his head. “A blood eagle is violent. It’s…” She cut him off.

“You think I can’t stomach violence?” She was indignant. Ivar whirled to face her, his lip curled up and his face filled with rage. 

“Let me finish, woman!” She snapped her mouth shut with an audible click and glared at him. He continued.

“It’s violent, yes, but most of all it’s torture. My father will be torturing a man to death.” His voice was low and almost soft. For the first time since he’d entered the room the anger seemed to leave him. Aaline could feel her own anger dissipating. 

“Anyone not necessary to the ceremony need not attend.” He finished. 

Aaline took a deep breath and approached her husband. His back was to her. “What about Sibylle?” She whispered. Ivar turned his head to the side, eyeing her in his peripheral vision. 

“Sibylle is the widow. She’s supposed to be there.” Aaline stepped around to face him. 

“She’ll be alone.” She said, running her hands down Ivar’s chest. Ivar shook his head and caught her hands at his ribs, pressing them down and still.

“She won’t be alone.” He answered. Aaline nodded and curled her fingers against his ribs, scratching gently at the tender skin there. Ivar grunted and suppressed a shiver. Aaline tugged her bottom lip between her teeth, contemplative. 

“Maybe I want to be there with you.” She whispered. Ivar blinked, his face unmoving, and tightened the hold he had on her hands. She looked up at him and met his eyes, unflinching.

“This is the only part of your life I haven’t seen.” She searched his eyes, bringing their faces ever closer. “I want to see it. I need to see it, Ivar.” His name had hardly left her lips before he came crashing down towards her. 

He pressed their lips together in a violent clash of teeth and tongues. She moaned into his mouth and bit his bottom lip, pulling it between her own. Ivar hissed and swept his hands down her sides and beneath her thighs, lifting her with little effort. He walked them forward until her back was pressed against the wall.

She locked her ankles around his waist and tangled her fingers in his hair, scratching at his scalp. Ivar groaned and slipped a hand between them, probing her center. 

She was soaked already and a shiver ran down his spine. 

Aaline trailed one hand down his neck and across his shoulder, dropping it between them and going to work on his pants. Ivar groaned against her lips and pulled away, settling his face in the curve of her neck when her hand wrapped around his length. She nosed his ear and squeezed, his hips arching forward against her. 

She moaned and circled her thumb around his head, collecting the precum there and trailing it up his length, stroking him in long, slow slides. 

Ivar gasped against her neck, the hot air sending chills along her spine and heat to her belly. He dropped an arm under her ass, supporting her against the wall. His other hand came up to the side of her face, cradling it. He lifted his head from her neck and met her eyes. 

Her hand slowed between them until all she was doing was holding him. Ivar kept his eyes locked on hers as he slipped his hand down from her face to her neck. Using his thumb under her jaw, he turned her face to the side and latched his mouth to the curve of her neck, sinking his teeth in and sucking. 

Aaline cried out and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, digging her nails into his back. Ivar grunted and released her neck, dropping his hand between them. He fingered her pussy, pushing her panties to the side. He wrapped his hand around his cock and stroked the head of it against her drenched lips.

Aaline moaned and tightened her hold on his shoulders. Ivar pressed himself forward, breaking her open slowly. Aaline moaned and tightened around him as he buried himself inside her. 

Once he was pressed all the way in, he sighed against her neck, pulling back and pressed his lips to hers. Aaline rocked her hips forward and plundered his mouth, taking him inside her in all ways she could. 

Holding her hips steady, Ivar pressed her into the wall. He pistoned his length inside her walls with devastating accuracy, leaving Aaline shaking against him. He pulled away from her mouth and settled his lips on the untouched side of her neck, giving her matching bruises. 

She shivered against him and brought a hand between them, circled her two middle fingers around her clit. Ivar groaned when she clenched around him, his hips stuttering against her. 

She groaned when he brought his hand down around her wrist and stopped her from circling her clit. He pulled back from her neck and pressed his forehead against hers, mixing their breaths. Aaline met his eyes and brought her hands up to frame his face.

“Wait for me.” He whispered. Aaline released a broken sigh and nodded, pushing her fingers up into his hair.

Ivar rocked his hips against her, increasing his speed. He replaced her fingers with his own and she cried out, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and burying her face in his neck. He pressed down hard against her clit and felt her shudder around him, her walls trembling around his throbbing cock. 

He stopped circling her clit but kept rocking forward. He grunted and froze against her. She could feel him twitching inside her, his cum leaking out where they were joined. 

She stroked her fingers through his hair, breathing hard against his neck. He pulled back, staring at her. She stroked her thumb along his cheekbone. 

“Promise me, you’ll stay with Sibylle.?” He asked quietly. 

She smiled at him and, still stroking his face, nodded. “I promise.”

Tags: @dreamlesswonder @youbloodymadgenius @inforapound @bcarolinablr @funmadnessandbadassvikings @jay-bel @feyrearcheron44 @londongal2810 @khiraeth @didiintheblog @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123 @xbellaxcarolinax @shannygoatgruff @kingniazx 

[samnatandsteve]

Nat gets Amnesia

 so @mockinghawk-romanogers asked for a fic of this based off a post of mine. it took a lot longer to get to than I planned thanks to university and life, and it’s not really the same as the of post but that’s okay. I like both of them. 

This is the post in question by the way: 

[Steve and the Bucky are in central Asia following a lead on a terrorist organization after Civil War][Nat and Sam are following other leads in central America, Nat got hurt and can't keep things straight in her mind]

Nat : *gets a long and well written love letter from Steve*Nat : awwww

Nat : *writes back* "you have a crush on me? That's embarrassing :P"

[A week later]

Steve : *calls Nat on burner phone only for emergencies* Nat, we're litterly married!

Nat : is that how I got your dog tags with your mom's ring on it?

Steve : yes! Don't you remember?

Nat : not really... did I look nice?

Steve : ....of course you did, can I talk to Sam?

Nat : why?

Steve : I need him to check something for me

Nat : what is it? I can do it

*Sam walks in, sees the phone, panicks, and grabs the phone*

Nat : hey!! What gives?

Sam : *trying to act nonchalant while shooting Nat away* hey man, what's up?

Steve : why doesn't my wife remember she's my wife?

Sam : whaaattttt? that's crazy!

Steve : is Nat hurt?

Sam : Not a cut

Nat : *in the background* tell the pizza man I want extra banana peppers on mine

Sam : *to Nat* sure thing

Steve : Sam what happened?

Sam : what do you mean?

Steve : what happen-

Sam : woops well look at that, times up, got to go! Tasha, say bye

Nat : why do I have to say goodbye to the pizza man?

Sam : because he likes you

Nat : likes likes?Sam : ohhh yeah

Steve : wait a minute Sa-

*Sam hangs up*

I can do the whole pizza man part in another one if you guys want me to. But this is the oneshot I whipped up today because I finally had the time and motivation :) 

-

They were on a mission in Brazil that of course brought them to the Amazon Rainforest and not only there but at a Hydra base right on the banks of the river itself. Hydra and their fucking cliches. Sam and Natasha went down there to do some snooping around - “Recon” as Tasha put it. Which of course quickly turned into “innocent intel gathering” as she put it in the middle of the night. Then one trip wire (fucking cliches) got them into a “good old fashion shoot out” as she so cheekly put it as she put a bullet in a Hydra goon’s head. Which may or may not have made Sam question Steve’s sanity for marrying such a scary woman. And they just in Brazil that morning, barely had any lunch and Sam’s stomach is really pissed at him. 

   But back to the point! Hydra, Amazon River, terrifying  woman for a partner, kicking Hydra goon ass all in the very humid and very yuckie air of the Amazon. Just one other reason to add to the list of “why I hate Jimmy”, Sam should've gone with scissors that last round, at least then he would be in Central  Asia and just  be dealing with the heat. 

They managed to get outside where they could get the upper hand,  mainly thanks to Tasha’s kick ass assassin skills. Now he was providing air support and Redwing was being awesome and finishing up the intel theft. 

So Tasha was on the ground kicking ass like only Sam could dream of doing, Sam was playing snipper and taking out stragglers and thinning them out for Tasha when suddenly Tasha was in the river face down and Sam was fighting to right himself midair with his ears ringing painfully.

Cold sweat ran down Sam’s back as the biting air rushed in his ears and brought tears to his eyes. He’s going to blame it on the wind if any of those Hydra idiots brought it up, because Sam Wilson does not cry for his friends, he was a stone cold certified bad bitch (by Tasha the queen of bad bitches herself) thank you very much. His stomach twists painfully making him want to throw up and he does and it’s just acid and it burns his throat and he hates today. 

In just another example of classical Hydra cliche, they blew up their little super secret base and bebrie hit Tasha, sending her into the river. His mind registers the fact that Redwing’s still connected to the goggles’ computer and online. Sam thanks the beings that be as he takes a swan dive to Tasha. One thing is for sure, Sam thought as he pulled Natasha out of the river, Steve will kill him if he finds out about this. 

“Redwing buddy tell me I didn’t just let cap become a widow.” The electronic drone bird chirps as they run away- make a strategic withdrawal into the night sky to their hotel room. Sam breathed a sigh of relief as her vitals popped up and he saw her steady heart beat. “Thank god! He still can’t know about this though!” Redwing chirps again as Sam readjusts the spy in his arms. “Well if she snitches we just have to go into hiding.” Another chirp. “Can you stop pointing out faults in my plan?” Silence. “Thank you.”  

Natalie grones as the light hits her eyes causing a pounding headache to erupt across her head. “What the fuck happened last night?” Her cold hand helped a bit when she held it against her forehead. A black man walked out of the bathroom with a hesitant smile on his face.

“Heyyy girl, how’re you feeling?” She  grunted in reply and she threw her bare legs over the side of the bed. Pausing, she looked down and raised an eyebrow, she had her underwear and tank top on. 

“Why the hell am I half naked with a hell of a hangover? Did we sleep together? You better have used protection!” She jabed her left index finger at the man who was still standing on the other side of the room by the desk. Her eyes caught the gold of her wedding band. “You better be my husband too, I am no cheat!” The man’s mouth went slack as his eyes went wide. 

“I broke her- Hydra broke her and I let them.” He started to ramble to himself, rubbing his hands over his head. Natalie pauses again, what the hell does a Nazi subdivison have to do with this? 

“I thought Captain America took care of those guys.” The man stopped and she could practically see the dread set in as she watched his back. Something in a bag on his side of the room chirped and he snapped at it to shut up. 

After a slew of questions the man, Sam, tells her she had memory loss and thinks she’s one of her covers for her job; A history teacher named Natalie Rushmen when she was really an intelligence agent named Natasha Rogers. They were on a mission in Brazil when she got hurt and they will not be leaving until she gets her memory because “Your husband will kill me if he finds out about this and as my friend you would be obliged to kill him and the whole thing would go down into history books and I don’t want to be in history books like that.” 

They stared into each other's eyes for a while, sweat running down Sam’s face as a smirk played on Natasha’s. She hummed, putting her head in her hand, finger tapping her chin,  pretending to mull it over. 

“Hmmm? What do you mean hmmm??” 

“He is my husband, and I like to think we-” 

“Then don’t think! Trust me, you love to pull shit over him, it's your favorite pastime!” 

“Okay” She got up and left him to get dressed “But i think my other favorite is to keep you on your toes.” She calls from the other side of the closed bathroom door. He flops onto the bed, rubbing his face. Thank god the mission was originally planned for a week and radio silent. 

_

A day later the front office stopped Natasha and gave her an envelope. Said envelope found its way into her purse quicker than a snitch in those Harry Potter books she was working through for the eleventh time according to Sam.   

 When she found the room to be empty and void of said man, she plopped onto her bed and opened the letter. A love letter from a guy trying to be mysterious by going by S - how sweet! But she was married and the most faithful wife-who-can’t-even-remember-her-spouse’s-face there ever was!  But she wasn’t a mean woman either, plus it was so nicely written, clearly S loved her a lot. And she was going to love breaking that big heart of his, gotta set her foot down. 

 So she got to writing her own letter complete with a lipstick kiss on the letter’s bottom corner next to her N.

“Dear S, 

Fuck you, I’m married. 

With nothing but love, 

      N <3” 

Short and to the point, just how she liked it. Smiling to herself with a bounce in her step, she hands her response to the young girl at the front desk, thanked her and went back into the room to watch some Brazilian dramas. The letter from S tucked away in her bag, she was going to ask Sam about it  later when he got back with dinner. 

But dinner came and went and the letter was left forgotten under one of her bras. That was until two days later when Sam got a call on a flip phone. Well the phone in his bag did and like always he way out, so she did the friendly thing of answering it when she saw the unsaved number thinking it was spam. 

“Hello, this is Cathrine from Bed Baths and Beyond, how can I help you on this wonderful day?” 

The midwestern American accent came easily to her as she played with her hair with the phone held in place with her shoulder and cheek 

“Nat what’s going on?” She doesn’t know how she knows but that was Mysterious Mr. S on the other end of the line. 

“Who the fuck do you take me for mr S?? I am married and I’ll bet twenty bucks you’re not even half the man my husband is!” She fished the letter out of her bag “I mean seriously! ‘Words cannot even begin to describe how beautiful you are, Aphrodite cannot even hope to compare.’ “ She reads the line in a high pitched mocking town. “Did you read that from ‘Pickup lines so used and abused even their mothers won’t recognize them’? I wouldn’t be caught dead with a man who thinks that’s the hot shit.” 

  There was a pause and Natasha had to check that he didn’t hang up. 

“What - I’m your husband! Me! Steve Rogers am your spouse!” 

“Yeah okay buddy nice try.” 

“Where’s Sam?” 

“Who’s Sam?” 

“Natasha please don’t, where’s Sam?” 

“He’s at work, doing accountant stuff with the numbers and shit.” 

“Sam barely passed algebra, he hates math.” 

Just  as about to call him a staker, Sam the man walked in with food. 

“Got you some waffles!” He did his best Donkey impression at the word waffles as he closed the door behind him. When he turned back he dropped the food and basically tackled her like a linebacker or something to get to the phone. - Point is it hurt her bruised and battered body.  “Give that to me woman!” 

“No!” 

“What’s going on with you two??” -Steve 

“Yes!” 

“I don’t wanna!” 

“I’ll buy you ice cream!” 

They pause in their battle for the phone. 

“Chocolate?” 

“I’m not a heathen like your husband.” 

“I heard that!” - Steve 

She let go, hand up and palms out in surrender. Sam put the phone to his ear.

“Heyyy Steve, whatsup man?” Sam shoved his unused hand into his armpit as he started to walk the length of the room. Nodding to the food to tell Natasha to start eating, which she does. So she watched him talk while eating her waffles far more entertained than she would be watching a Brazilan show. 

“Why doesn’t my wife remember me?” 

“You have a wife? Wow, congrats man! Who’s the lucky lady?” 

“The one you let get amnesia apparently.” 

“Amnesia-what?” 

Steve sighed on the other end.

“She hurt in any other way?” 

Sam shared a glance with Natasha who had booth cheeks stuffed with waffles. 

“Not a scratch.” 

“You sit on a throne of lies.” Natasha hisses. “I have three broken ribs Mr. S!” 

“What! Thre-!” Steve is sooo going to kill Sam. 

“Oh wow don’t you look at that! Time’s out, gotta go! Bye Steve!” And with a snap of the phone, the yelling voice of an angry husband is cut off. Sam joined Natasha at the table and started to eat his waffles. 

“Is that really my husband?” She pointed her fork at the phone laying on one of the twin beds. Sam nods as he poured syrup over his waffles. “What was I thinking?” 

“To this day I still can’t figure it out.” 

[perseusjackson-jasongrace]

Kingdom Collisions XIV

Masterlist for other parts, more jercy, crackships and bad ideas

writing fic=more description=(hopefully) improve writing

no prewritten chapters=sporadic updates=as surprised as you about what happens

Tell me your thoughts, I'm insecure about this chapter. Also sorry for the long ass wait I haven’t felt in the writing mood but hopefully I'm back.

together or not at all. find him. find him. find him.

Crown Prince Jason’s dream starts as all his dreams do. Him sitting on a cloud looking over a burning meadow. He feels himself wince as if his body already knows its going to be hurt and then he is pulled under, under, under and suddenly the dream is a memory. One he had forgotten about, one he wishes he'll live through for the rest of his life.

"Prince," A soft, warm voice calls. "Are you in here?"

There is a moment of quiet, the crackling of the fire and the turn of the page the only interruptions.

"I'm here." The reply is gentle, and sweet, and full of the brightest days.

Jason blinks, looks through long blonde lashes. "Hello my Ardor"

Leo sinks into the couch, grabbing his hand with the need to be close and comfortable and together. "What are you doing here so late?"

"I had some things to research before tomorrow meeting with FreedomtoFeed."

The Captain of the Guards raises an eyebrow and gives a pointed look to the raunchy cover of the novel he has clasped in his hands. "That looks very appropriate for a feeding-the-people initiative."

He blushes crimson and shuts the book with a huff of embarrassment. "I finished the research."

Leo pulls them together until their foreheads bump gently, "I'm only teasing. But you should go to sleep."

"Will you join me?"

The fingers dancing at the nape of his neck still, and smoldering brown eyes catch his. "Of course."

They release twin breathes and move impossible closer, until lips brush against skin and oxygen is sparse.

"You are so beautiful," The Prince whispers, kissing his jaw. His cheek. Nose. Throat.

"Please kiss me." Leo is shaking with anticipation, arousal.

And who is Jason to refuse such a precious request? He brushes his lips gently across his Ardor's and groans at the softness he finds. Pillows, and peaches, and sweetness that only intensifies when it deepens. Their tongues dance, explore each other languidly. Like time is nothing but a suggestion. His fingers brush silken warm cheeks and dance across Leo's skin until they're resting on his thighs.

Jason is breathless when he breaks away, "You are—" His words are cut off as the Guard pulls their faces together.

"No talking now my Prince. Tonight we only feel."

Jason feels himself frown, as the memory becomes hazy, disjointed. This wasn't how it happened.

‘Together or not at all. find him. find him. find him.” Leo gasps, his head falling on the Prince's shoulder. "Jase, I can't—" He's cut off by a cry.

And suddenly all his beautiful brown skin is turning to ash under Jason's hands. He tries to grab on to anything, any part of Leo, but the more he holds the more ash comes away.

"Ardor?" He cries. This isn't how it happens. This isn't the way it goes. He can't go like this. They can't leave each other. He just got him back.

He can't, he can't, he can't, he c—

Prince Jason Grace wakes up with a scream, blunt finger nails tearing into his chest as he attempts to rid himself of the nightmare. And when his eyes adjust to the world he only knows darkness and despair. The love of his life is still dead and he is still far away from his dear kingdom. Actually he has no idea where he is at all. That thought is the final pick in the ice and suddenly his body is wracking with sobs. His life is a complete fucking mess. And he doesn't want to do this anymore. Every event piles onto his chest like boulders until he can't breathe, until he is hyperventilating.

Far from home; Leo is dead; kidnapped; tortured; his husband is—

Wait where is his husband? The thought shocks him out of his panic so fast he's reeling as he sits up. The cold floor underneath his fingers ground him to the present and he pushes off the concrete onto shaky legs. He feels so weird, like his body is not his own, like he's been forcibly removed from it and shoved into a whole new one and now he has to learn how to be human all over again. He feels like he's died. Slowly he stumbles around until he hits a wall and then plastering his right hand to it he walks. Or more like drags himself along, nails scraping against the brick and a bare shoulder scratching against the roughness.

His eyes are useless for anything further than his feet and he sees no evidence of light. But the room, or what he's beginning to suspect is a hallway, continues so he to keeps going. Someone will fill in all the blanks in his memory but first he has to find his husband. There is a deep chasm in his chest and he has the ugly feeling it will only start filling when he sees those green eyes and floppy curls. It almost disgusts him how much he needs to see the Prince of Mare. It's like his body, his heart, has forgotten about Leo entirely. He feels sick to his stomach at the thought so he banishes everything but the need to get out of here. Suddenly he hits a wall, hard enough that he knows there’ll be a bruise tomorrow. With a silent prayer to gods he didn't care to believe in, he turns his body and keeps walking. Right hand still on the wall.

There is nothing and no-one. He feels likes he's in the inside of a black hole. There is not even the faint sounds of outside. It is just his dragging feet and his cracking nails and the ringing in his ear from the sheer lack of sound.

He will get out of here. He will get out of here. He will get out of here. He will get out of here. He will get out of here. He will get out of here. He will get out of here. He will get out of here. He will get out of here. He will get out of here. He will get out of here. He will get out of here. He will get out of here. He will get out of here. He will get out of here. He will—

There's a scraping sound. Someone gives a sharp inhale. A pinprick stings his neck. He is never getting out of here.

together or not at all. find him. find him. find him.

Prince Jason clutches his rolling stomach, and without warning throws up the little contents that may have been in there. Before he even opens his eyes he knows whatever he will see cannot be good. Even behind his eyelids it is unnaturally bright and he can hear hushed whispers coming from somewhere. They sound angry. He will get the brunt of it.

"Well well well," A rapsy voice echoes around him.

He forces his eyes open and blinks back the harsh neon lighting to see Annabeth Chase, his previous kidnapper, and Grover Underwood.

"It's such a pity you don't remember me." She pouts unhappily, but there is nothing but viciousness in her grey eyes.

He wonders what he should remember.

"How do you feel Jason?"

"Like I died. Like I want to get out of here. Like I need to see my husband." He spits at the man leaning against the wall so casually.

"All in due time. But while we have you here I think we could use you."

"Why should I help either of you?" He curls his lip, anger making his vision blur, "You," He points a disgusted finger at the blonde girl, "Kidnapped me and Percy and then proceeded to torture us." She giggles and he wants to bury that sound six feet underground. "And you," He looks to Grover, the advisor to Mare and Percy's friend. He looks every bit the enemy. "I don't trust you one bit. Not if you can have her in your presence so calmly."

"I'm not looking for your trust Prince," The man, the being, scoffs. "I just need your cooperation. Otherwise Annabeth here has permission to get as creative as possible."

Grover tilts his head to her, a silent conversation passing between them, and then he leaves without so much as a glance to him.

"I'll never tell you anything." He growls at her.

She grins, pretty white teeth gleaming in the horrible light. "Let me tell you a story Prince Jason Grace, about the day you lost your sister."

"My who?"

She gives a secret smile and begins.

Twenty seven years ago a girl with blonde hair and grey eyes was born to The King and Queen of Mare. She was a sweet little girl with pigtails and a sharp mind and she kept her parents on their toes every second. One day this little girl's mom came to tell her that she would soon be getting a little sibling to play with and care for. The little girl was undeniably excited, or as excited as you can be when you're three years old and get told you're getting a small person just like you. Needless to say a little boy with blonde hair the exact same shade as hers, and blue eyes as bright as the summer skies was born. While she had eyes the exact shade of her mother’s he had their father’s eyes. And it was dangerous, but nobody knew that then. The little girl loved him immediately and with all her heart. They spent every moment together. Growing up and learning and loving each other as if it was the only natural thing to do. But when the little girl turned eighteen she received some horrible news. Her mother had died. Her brave beautiful mother who gave her kisses and taught her chess and spent hours reading to them. Understandably the family was devasted and they took it very hard. The girl— not so little anymore, grief will do that to a person— was angry and broken and unwilling to listen to the world that had so unfairly taken from her. So she rebelled against their father and lost their mother. And in her quest to feel something she engaged in nefarious, sinful, delightful activities. It was there that she met the love of her life. The Crown Princess of Hekima. Reyna. They got married within a year and have been together ever since. But the girl found out something about her mother's death and she was so furious as she rightfully should be that she renounced her title and vowed to bring down the very thing that killed her beloved mother.

together or not at all. find him. find him. find him.

“You are terrible at telling stories.”

Annabeth smiles like a lion ready to pounce. "Figured out who the little girl is?"

"You." He heaves, chest constricting as he takes her in.

"And her little brother?"

"How come I don't remember you?"

"When we kidnapped you we put a serum in that would make you forget certain aspects of your life." She shrugs as if she's discussing the weather.

"And you feel no remorse for hurting your brother?" He spits at her feet.

Her grey eyes flash like steel and she gets into his face. "I have no family."

"Why tell me at all? Why not just let me be ignorant?"

That makes her smile- no, bare her teeth. "Because unlike me Jason Grace you would do anything for the people you love, for the people you think you owe. No matter the cost."

"I'm not telling you anything." His voice is hard. Like the concrete he is pressed into. Like thunder.

"Nah uh," She grins at him, "I'm your sister remember. You wouldn't deny your sister the information she wants."

"Try me."

It must be a sibling thing because a challenge enters both their eyes and it shines bright enough to dull the horrid neon lighting in the room.

"How do we kill Crown Prince Perseus Jackson?"

He blinks at her. Blinks again. And then he starts laughing. Knee slapping, stomach aching, wheezing kind of laughter. He can't breathe. He can't even see because his eyes are so filled with tears.

"I'm serious." She grinds out.

"How the fuck should I know? We don't discuss ways to kill each other," He rolls his eyes, muttering "Even if we do think about it."

"You must know. You have to know. It is woven into your DNA. You meet each other in every lifetime and die. You have seen it for centuries."

His fading laughter vanishes completely as he whips his head up to look at her. "What?"

"You and Perseus. You guys are immortal deities who appear whenever the world needs to be remade.” Her voice is impatient as if he should know this. As if she’s explaining it to an incompetent child. “You as the healer and him as the destroyer. But people and beings alike have been killing you for centuries because your presence means they will cease to exist. You have watched each other die multiple times. You have revived each other multiple times too."

"So you're saying we're soulmates?" He can hardly believe what he's hearing. It sounds like the biggest load of bullshit he's ever heard.

"No. You're more than that. You aren't just two halves that fit to make a whole. You aren't even two wholes that fit to make a pair. You are each other. You do not exist without him. He does not exist without you. You are not bound by souls or hearts or whatever us humans believe is the epitome of love. You are bound by life."

"I don't believe you." He rolls his eyes. This is garbage. This is nonsense. This is not real.

"I don't really have time to argue with you about it. Just tell me what I need to know and you will be spared."

"Why should I?" He's not even considering it. He would never betray his husband like that. Would never put the Prince in such volatile danger.

"Because if you don't," She gives another of her terrifying grins, "The kingdom you know and love will crumble to nothing."

"You're lying."

"It's already started Jason." She cackles, "The more time you spend with Perseus the more he will bleed into you and you into him. There are already cracks in the castle. Do you really want to risk it?"

His heart is pounding but she is wrong. Isn't she? "I don't believe you." He says again.

"Oh Jase," She gives him a pitying look and he wants to rip her eyes out and toss them in a lake to watch the fish. "The Castle of Caelum is falling to the ground. Your Prince's blood spilled on mom's roses and they crumbled to dust. There are splinters in the stone. They will become chasms. Either you help us or you risk your precious kingdom turning to debris right before you."

"And what's in it for me?"

"You'll be spared from the slaughter of the monarchs."

"And my husband?"

"He will die. This is non negotiable. One of you must, to stop you from fulfilling your fates. We have someone with him right now."

Wrong answer. But he bows his head and pretends to mull it over. Inside his thoughts are whirring like a new machine and plan after plan formulates in his mind.

"Okay Annabeth Chase, my sister," He smiles soft and sweet. She returns it in triumph. "I will join your rebellion. I will tell you how to kill my husband."

And as she picks him up from the floor and removes the invisible ties keeping him pinned to the concrete he allows himself a secret smile of his own. It hints at the malice, the destruction, to come. They made the biggest mistake of their lives when they took him away from the Prince. They will pay.

I'm coming for you Percy.

So Crown Prince Jason Grace loops his arm through his sister's and makes friends with his enemy.

together or not at all. find him. find him. find him.

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

I don’t really know how I feel about this part. Feels a bit all over the place but at least we’re getting some clarification which is cool. Also are Annabeth and the rebels the good guys or bad guys for wanting to save the world from Jase and Perc? *raises eyebrow curiously*

Tags (if you want to be added to/ taken off the tag list just let me know, all my channels of communication are open):

@nishlicious-01​​

@queen-of-demons-and-hell​​

@leydiangelo​​

@sparkythunderstorm​​

@makos-bi-awakening​​

@aalikun​​

[teruthecreator]

okay everyone shut up leave me alone Jack Frost (1979) maplekeene au under the readmore i have to get it out of my head or else i won’t be able to sleep

argo is jack frost bc blue skin and desire to be seen/appreciated by others. they call him “jack frost” bc of the original bearer of the title--jackal--who they nicknamed jack frost

jackal retired from the position of going down to the human world and making sure winter happens, and then argo picks up the position 

father winter is hieronymous bc it’s a bigass dude with a beard like. c’mon. EITHER THAT or its mother winter so it could be shebrie. i haven’t thought deeply about this part 

snip is hieronmyous and holly is firbolg. they both know far too well about argo’s obsession w the human world and its inhabitants 

elisa is fitzroy but his motivations and personality are completely different (since elisa suffers from Female Rankin/Bass Love Interest Disease). 

he isn’t outwardly “in love” with winter and jack frost more than he just enjoys the season because of the freedom it allows. it is also the season his mother enjoyed the most (in past tense bc in this one...she dies! for good reason i’ll explain). he does kinda “talk” to jack frost a lot, since he hasn’t got many friends and he quite enjoys walking around the woods alone. this is how argo comes to know and become slightly enamored with his mortal lad (i say mortal bc i’m still working w the fantasy races--aka a good excuse for argo to keep his blue skin) 

kubla kraus is the commodore. big asshole man with a beard. controls everything by being a lying, cheating, evil bastard. has no friends. yeah that’s him alright

sir ravenal rightfellow is buckminster!! and his importance to the plot is Completely Different from the movie. i will explain now: 

okay so PLOT is that argo is jack frost, the winter spirit who comes to nua (aka january junction) to make sure winter runs smoothly. he is fairly new at this job (the original jack frost being jackal, who has now retired in the land of the winter where all the winter spirits live. he’s sorta argo’s mentor in jack frosting and warns argo not to get too attached to the mortals, but argo’s heart is simply too kind for that to not happen. 

argo develops a very deep love for mortals and their mortal ways, but is saddened by the fact that he cannot participate in their fun. winter and winter again, he returns to this poor village and gives them the means of living and joy, but he can’t even reveal himself to them!!! because he’s a winter spirit and mortals cannot see winter spirits. so it leaves argo feeling sorta dejected, even as he continues to watch the mortals he’s grown so fond of

fitzroy, on the other hand, is a native to this village. imma just call it January Junction bc i like that name a lot. he grew up here with his mother and father (though his father very quickly excused himself from the picture because i hate stable fathers <3). fitzroy and his mother are as poor as anyone else in the village--which is to say Very Very Poor since kubla commodore owns all the money and supplies in january junction. then, when fitzroy is about 13 or so, his mother suddenly falls ill and dies. before she passes away, she tells fitzroy that there’s documents in the kingdom about a week’s travel (by horse) away that he’ll “need when he’s older”. 

for a very long time, fitzroy doesn’t know what that means

in any case, he ends up being taken in by gordie and his husband to grow up with rainer, his childhood friend. though he eventually becomes acquainted with other kids around january junction that he hadn’t really socialized with before (buckminster and leon, rolandus, zana, rhodes), he finds himself more inclined to solitude. 

especially during the winter, the season when his mother passed away

despite the sadness of it all, fitzroy doesn’t find himself so glum when he’s out amongst the woods. winter is just so...beautiful. almost ethereal. he’s known about the myth of “Jack Frost” for years, so he begins just...talking to him. well, “talking”, since jack frost isn’t Real. 

once argo becomes jack frost (right around when the two are like. idk 18), though, he becomes the recipient of these rants. 

that’s when argo’s infatuation with mortals becomes a very deep desire. not bc he’s like In Love w fitzroy or anything (not yet), but because he feels like he really has a friend in fitzroy!!! someone is out there who actually cares about him!!! and talks to him about things!!! even if argo has no way of responding

so one year (aka the year the movie takes place) argo is especially despondent about this, when kubla commodore nearly kills fitzroy in his ignorance 

if you’ve never seen the movie, kubla kraus rides a mechanical horse onto a frozen lake and nearly kills elisa by making the ice crack and send her careening towards a waterfall. assume that happens here 

argo saves fitzroy by freezing over the waterfall and fitzroy exclaims “oh, jack frost, where would i be without you?” sorta just like an exclamation. but argo takes this to heart. where Would fitzroy be without him?? he’s been around this guy for so many years!!! hearing him vent about not being able to afford knight school, losing his own dream while buckminster and rolandus run off to live it for him. offering him advice (that fitzroy cannot hear) when fitzroy expresses how much he Hates doing manual labor for no pay. even being a (frozen) “shoulder” to cry on when the grief becomes too much! 

and where would Argo be without fitzroy??? the man has practically become the sole reason argo gets excited for winter anymore, and he worries about the half-elf the whole year after. 

so argo makes a decision that day, heads back up to the winter realm in the clouds, and begs father winter to let him become mortal 

father winter is, of course, Not willing to let argo do that because he knows how mortals can be. argo argues that it isn’t fair that he has to spend the rest of his eternity watching these mortals live, get older, fall in love, and appreciate his work--all while he just watches silently, unloved, in the background

father winter is moved by this and grants argo mortality for One Winter under this condition: if argo cannot find One literal reason to remain mortal, then he shall return to his spirit form. 

(this is a slight divergence to the original condition of “you must obtain a house, a horse, a bag of gold, and a wife” bc i’m modernizing it slightly okay it’s not just abt marriage now) 

argo is confused by the wording, so father winter goes on to give him examples: finding a job that is meaningful, finding a person who loves him, etc. and then argo is off 

before he leaves, he says goodbye to higglemas (also known as “snip” since he makes the snowflakes) and the firbolg. snips gives him his lucky pair of scissors that have the word “snip” etched into the side of them. yes this will be important 

argo goes back down to earth, becomes a mortal, and crash lands in the woods where fitzroy is

fitzroy is slightly baffled to see just a random stranger in the middle of the woods, but the dude seems lost and Very confused so fitzroy offers to warm him up and help him out back in january junction. fitzroy lives in a sorta commune situation with leon, rainer and zana (they’re engaged), rhodes, and rolandus and buckminster (whenever they come home). the group welcomes argo in warmly and argo finds himself feeling right at home with this crowd of early-to-mid-twenty-year-olds 

argo almost introduces himself as jack frost--as he is known by myth--but catches himself before he can reveal that. he calls himself “argo snip” (bc of the scissors and the fact that his name is actually argo), a tailor in need of business. rainer--a seamstress herself--is more than happy to have someone else in the town to work on fabrics with, and the shop that rainer runs in the house expands to allow argo’s tailoring business

while this is happening, father winter tells higgs and firbolg that they have to go down there and make sure argo doesn’t die. so now they’re human and they end up finding argo at the house. higglemas introduces himself as higglemas wiggenstaff, and the firbolg just doesn’t say anything and lets argo come up with the name “bud holly”. they are now Also tailors, which is good bc argo cannot sew. 

for the few months of winter, argo enjoys life in january junction quite a bit. though things are kinda bleak, since kubla commodore owns all the gold, the town keeps itself in high spirits during the winter. argo and fitzroy Especially end up bonding during this time, and fitzroy’s solitary walks through the woods soon find themselves one additional member. 

this is about the time where argo realizes “ah fuck, i think i’m in love with this fool”, which is when he realizes the One Meaningful Thing he’s meant to live on the mortal world for: fitzroy

fitzroy, meanwhile, also finds strange feelings developing for the eccentric genasi. but he’s a lot more emotionally constipated, so he won’t say much about it yet. 

it’s a few days before christmas and argo and fitzroy are talking alone--the house empty for some reason (a rarity but a blessing). fitzroy is embroidering something that argo’s recently sewn as they talk, and he accidentally pricks himself with the needle. argo immediately reaches out and cradles his hand, which is when fitzroy notices for the very first time just how Cold argo is. argo laughs it off and claims that it’s bc he’s “cold-blooded” but fitzroy just sorta laughs and goes “i never said i minded...” 

for some reason, this causes argo to look up at fitzroy, and the two realize how close they’ve gotten since argo grabbed fitzroy’s hand. the two are flushed, nervous, but argo dares to move forward to finally capture those lips in a--

BANG! the door flies open as a shorter man, clad in gold armor, stands in the doorway. fitzroy jumps up--first startled, then elated--as he realizes Sir Buckminster Eden has finally returned home!!! 

argo reads this reaction the Entirely Wrong Way and is instantly jealous of buckminster. poor, poor idiot doesn’t realize buckminster and rolandus have been doing circles around each other since they were teenagers...

then it’s christmas!!! everyone’s too poor for gifts so they hand out invisible ones (like the movie), but buckminster has an Actual gift for fitzroy (which argo, again, takes the completely Wrong Way). the gift is a sealed parcel from the royal parliament, instructing that fitzroy Cannot open it until he is 24 years of age. fitzroy’s birthday just so happens to be the day after christmas, and somebody is Very Aware of this fact...

...that person? oh, it’s kubla commodore, of course! who kidnaps fitzroy later on that day when his guard is down. kubla commodore throws fitzroy in a dungeon and keeps the parcel amongst his many piles of gold, determined to keep its contents away from the one intended to see them

argo finds out about the kidnapping and the whole group is sprung into action to save fitzroy. but, since argo has none of his winter magic, he isn’t really able to be the help he wants to be. buckminster--having knight training--is able to scale the mountain quicker than argo, fight off the k-nights, and break fitzroy out of the dungeon. 

argo doesn’t know this because he attempts to scale the mountain from the other side with higgs and firbolg, where he is captured by the remaining k-nights. now They’re locked in the dungeon as kubla commodore vows to send a thousand k-nights down to january junction to “wipe out the insubordinates” 

argo has no way of breaking out of the dungeon because he has no magic. so, in a moment of desperation, he calls back to father winter to turn him back into a winter spirit. he returns to his jack frost form--which is incorporeal--and begins to freeze over kubla commodore’s castle (try saying that five times fast)

with argo back as a spirit, higgs and firby aren’t needed as mortals, so they return to the land of winter to do their winter work

meanwhile, in january junction, fitzroy is Freaking Out that they can’t find argo in this freak blizzard. he tries venturing out into the tundra himself, but buckminster and the gang holds him back, telling the half-elf that they’ll look for argo when the storm clears 

oops, the storm doesn’t clear! because argo keeps up the insane blizzard for the duration of winter (though he focuses a majority of the intense weather on the castle to seal kubla commodore inside). eventually, though, father winter notifies argo that spring is soon approaching. argo is like “why” and father winter explains: “okay so basically a tiny useless groundhog comes out of his hole every year and if he sees his shadow then winter dies immediately” 

who’s the groundhog? why, it’s Gotta-Go Gary!! who argo scares the living shit out of to make 6 more weeks of winter happen

after the extended 6 weeks are up, father winter tells argo that winter will end at noon on that final day. argo is like “if winter ends, then kubla commodore is going to Kill Everyone” and he bargains with father winter to be mortal once more (since he Still has till the end of winter to find his One Meaningful Thing) to set things right. 

he goes back down, defeats kubla commodore (too much to explain, shenanigans is how i can describe it best), and realizes he has everything he could possibly ever Need now to offer fitzroy in exchange for his hand in marriage

you see, argo learned during his time as a mortal that marriages have dowries? and now he suddenly has a castle, a horse, and all the town’s gold in his possession so that seems dowry enough. also he thinks marriage is the only option to prove to father winter that Love is a meaningful thing enough to be mortal for 

however, when he finally gets to january junction, he sees...a wedding?? who’s getting married?? and then he sees buckminster in his suit of armor, looking rather pleased with himself, and argo immediately assumes that buck and fitz are getting hitched 

he storms over there and rants at buck about how He’s the one in love with fitzroy and how much He sacrificed to ensure fitzroy’s safety and happiness. and buckminster is like “woah, woah, woah, friend!!! one, uhhhh where the Fuck have you been??? two, rainer and zana are getting married dawg. fitzroy is right over there, helping rainer with her dress” 

just as argo spots fitzroy, fitzroy spots argo. and Boy does fitzroy look Pissed. he storms over to argo, ready to chew him out, when suddenly the church clock begins to sound and argo looks panicked. he grabs fitzroy by the shoulders and is like: “i don’t have time to explain much but i have a house a horse and so much gold to offer you if you agree to marry me right now”

fitzroy is like “???? hello??? what??? first off, where the HELL have you been. two, marriage??? m-moving a little fast there huh--” and argo is like. freaking out bc he knows by the final sound of the bell he will be a spirit forever and so he just very quickly explains how He’s jack frost and he trapped kubla commodore in ice for the whole winter so he wouldn’t come down here and kill him and everyone else and if he doesn’t prove to father winter that his love for fitzroy is enough to want to remain mortal then fitzroy will never see him again. and fitzroy is like. flustered honestly but also rlly panicked bc like. he’s 24!!! he doesn’t wanna get married bro!!!! 

basically he’s like “argo i--i Do love you, but. marriage? it doesn’t have to be that Now like--we have time!!” and argo is just like. split-second decision says “kiss me” and fitzroy doesn’t even hesitate in doing so because Dang he’s been thinking about that for A While 

and as the final gong sounds and argo’s form begins to shift, argo breathes a final winter’s breath into fitzroy. 

then something...changes. argo realizes, as the bell begins to fade, that he hasn’t phased through fitzroy’s body. and as fitzroy feels this cold air pass through him, he suddenly finds himself...unable to feel the chilly hands cupping his face. when they part, argo realizes what has happened. 

fitzroy doesn’t look Too much different, but he’s definitely changed. his skin glows only barely, his eyes have a ring of winter-blue around the iris, and there’s a streak of snow-white in his hair. his outfit has also become a glittery, royal-looking affair--COMPLETELY different than the formal peasant clothes he was in seconds before 

meanwhile, argo has returned to his jack frost attire and look, but he can still be seen!!! by everyone around him!!! and by fitzroy!!! 

turns out, father winter saw that argo would be unhappy as either human (with friends and his love, but none of his friends or the satisfaction of giving people winter joy) or spirit (with his job and spirit friends, but without his mortal friends and love) and basically turned him into a demigod. demispirit? half-and-half. and, in order to guarantee fitzroy would be able to travel between the places, he Also made fitzroy into a partial winter spirit. 

all of their friends are like “oh shit did you two kiss??? also why do you both look so fruity” and then the wedding happens. they hold the reception in kubla commodore’s castle, where fitzroy is finally able to read the parcel!!!! 

what does the parcel say?? well, turns out fitzroy’s mother was a descendant of a line of royals. and, though she was not signficant enough to rule an entire kingdom, her father had granted her ownership of the village she chose to raise her son in. the kubla was only supposed to be a temporary position, until fitzroy’s mother was settled down enough. but kubla commodore liked his wealth too much!! so he poisoned fitzroy’s mother and made sure to keep fitzroy Extra poor so he’d never have the ability to find the proof of inheritance himself. when buckminster became a knight, he swore to fitzroy that he’d find these documents fitzroy’s mother mentioned on her deathbed. 

okay so ending shit. fitzroy gives ownership of the village back to the people. wealth is dispersed, things are fixed, everyone is happy. buckminster and rolandus get together, rainer and zana take over the castle and turn it into a BIG ol spot where those without a home can have lodging, and everyone is happy. fitzroy is Finally able to travel and see the things he’s never gotten to see, while also achieving some of the “bringing people happiness and safety” thing that came w his desire of being a knight by helping argo spread winter throughout the world. the two of them sorta go back-and-forth between their cozy little cottage in january junction, going across the globe to maintain the cold, and going up to the winter realm to see higglemas and firby and father winter. 

they’re in love, everyone is happy, rankin/bass Bite My Ass 

just kidding i love you and your silly little movies