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onecanonlife · 3 years ago

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Wilbur wakes up one morning to find white in his hair. This is—irritating, for several reasons, but that’s all it is. An annoyance. A distraction.

There’s nothing deeper at work here. There’s nothing wrong at all.

(Or, the stresses of the presidency give Wilbur a white streak of hair earlier in canon, and somehow, this serves as the cry for help he can never bring himself to make.)

(word count: 6,249)

(first part) (third part) (fourth part)

——————–

Part Two

He tries to pen a letter to Phil. It’s more difficult than he remembers.

Dear Phil, he starts, and that’s good, that’s fine. All is well here in L’Manberg, he continues, and that’s good too. But from there, he’s stumped. What next? What does he tell him about? This is the part where he’d launch into a cute story, something Fundy got up to, or some trouble Tommy caused. But nothing comes to mind. Nothing recent, anyway. But the last letter he sent to Phil was—a month ago? Two, now? So he needs to write, because Phil’s far from a helicopter parent, but he still likes to know what he’s up to. Will still worry, if he gives him a reason to.

So, he needs to finish a letter. Needs to stop procrastinating.

He could write about Niki’s bakery. He can’t remember if he told Phil about it or not. He probably hasn’t, not if it’s truly been that long since his last missive. So he sets his pen to work, scratching out a few more sentences, and he reminds himself that he doesn’t need to be overly verbose. Phil doesn’t need an essay. Just a paragraph or two to assure him that he and everyone else are well, that he’s having fun, that he’s thriving.

Telling him about the bakery will work for that. Except, then, after a bit, he ends up writing, It eases my mind to visit. Truly, it’s one of the only places I let myself relax, and—no. No, that won’t do. That will make him sound as though he’s stressed, and he doesn’t want Phil to worry about that. There’s nothing Phil can do about it, and he couldn’t stand it if the admission led his father to think any less of him. He’s not going to—to start complaining to him. That would be ridiculous.

So he scratches the line out and continues on, except then, he writes, I worry that I’m shirking my responsibilities, but then, I’m probably doing that anyway, simply by virtue of not being, and he stops before he can finish that sentence, because, no. Simply, no. He is absolutely not telling Phil that.

He bites his lip. He’s already scratched out enough that he’ll probably need to start an entirely new draft anyway.

He sets the tip of the pen to paper.

I’m exhausted, he writes, but my mind won’t allow me to rest. Too many shadows in too many dark corners, I suppose. Too many thoughts circling. It’s like a hurricane in my head, and I should be in the eye, but I think the storm wall has caught me. I’m tossing in the air, at the wind’s mercy, and I’m afraid of what will happen when I fall.

I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t know why I ever assumed that I did. And I feel afraid, because my inadequacies are failing everyone around me. I have to protect them, have to keep them safe, but sometimes I close my eyes and see everything aflame, or I see Dream and his friends flooding into the Final Control Room. We were betrayed, there. I’ve never told you this, but we all lost a life. Me, Tommy, Tubbo, and Fundy. I couldn’t do a thing to stop it. Somehow, I never thought that dying would be terrifying for me, considering who my mother is, but it is. I was so scared, and I still am.

I think I’m a disappointment. I think that if this country fails, it will be my fault, and it will only be right if I go down with it. My people have little faith in me, and they’re right not to, but I can’t bring myself to step down, because at the end of the day, I’m addicted to the power and responsibility. I’m nothing without it. If I can’t manage this, then how can I deserve the trust and faith that others have placed in me?

Most days, I think that everyone hates me. Most days, I think they’re right to do so. I can’t trust anyone. Not completely, not fully, no matter how much I love them. I feel very alone.

He stops writing. Reads it over. Feels his lips quirk up into a wry smile. He’s certainly not sending that.

But the smile fades away after a moment. He supposes that he hoped writing it all out would make him feel better, but if anything, he feels more tired. Drained. Wrung out. Blank.

He fishes around for a new, unmarred sheet of paper.

Dear Phil, he writes, All is well here in L’Manberg. The city is thriving, and my people are well. I really do want you to visit sometime—but not yet, of course! We’ve been having a spot of trouble with creeper holes lately, and I don’t want that to be your first impression. Between you and me, it’s just a little bit embarrassing.

It’s been a while since I last wrote. I do apologize for that; I don’t know where the time goes. There’s always so much to be doing, and I’m more and more thankful for this chance every day. It’s a lot of fun, having a country of our own, and we’re all working to make it as good as it can be. You should see Niki’s bakery—you haven’t tasted heaven until you’ve tasted something Niki’s baked, I swear. She’s a goddess, really, an essential pillar of our society. Baked goods make the world go round.

Tommy and Tubbo are well, and getting into just as much trouble as usual. Fundy grows up more and more every day. I’m so proud of them all.

Be careful of undead infants, and tell Technoblade I said hello, if you get the chance.

All love,

Wilbur

He sets down his pen and rereads. He’s satisfied with that, and more importantly, Phil will be as well. Now all that’s left is to let the ink dry and—

“Hey, boss man,” Tubbo says, opening the door to his office without knocking. He startles, violently. “How’re things coming?”

His heart shouldn’t be racing. It’s just Tubbo. But he came in without warning, which is—irritating. It’s irritating. That’s what it is. He feels himself flushing, just slightly, but surely it’s annoyance.

“There’s a lot of ‘things’ you could be referring to,” he says. “Are you going to be a little more specific?”

“Nah,” Tubbo says, meandering further into the room. But it’s not a regular meander, it’s a Tubbo sort of meander, which means that he’s here for a purpose. He just doesn’t want to reveal it just yet, or perhaps he’s figuring out how he wants to approach it. “Just wanted to know about general things. Big, vast things. Deep things.”

“Deep things,” he repeats, nodding. “Not much of that going on at the moment. Not a lot of deep things in paperwork.” He pulls the nearest sheet of paper closer to him; technically, that’s what he ought to be doing, not writing letters to a father that’s worlds away. He scans the words; it looks like something complicated about trade, something that sets his head to pounding already. The words swim, like they’re dancing, like they’re taking glee in the way he can’t comprehend them.

“I thought there were lots of deep things in paperwork,” Tubbo says, and he looks back up. “I thought that’s why the print is always so small.”

“Maybe,” he says.

“It makes sense to me,” Tubbo says. “Wilbur, is your hair really white?”

He freezes. “What?”

“Niki said that your hair is turning white,” Tubbo says. “Like an old man’s.”

Anger flares. He thought—he didn’t like that she found out about it, but he at least thought he could trust her with it. Thought that she would keep it to herself, that she wouldn’t let it spread to others, to others that might take it and try to use it as a knife to his jugular. But here is Tubbo, and Tubbo is so obviously staring at his hair, eyes flicking across his forehead and around his ears, and he won’t see anything. He double-checked when he arrived at the office; all of the white is under his hat. But he doesn’t like that Tubbo is looking, that Tubbo is actively trying to see, that Tubbo is treating him like some kind of curiosity, and that Tubbo surely must have some sort of opinion and that opinion cannot be anything but—

“Niki said that hair can turn grey or white if a person is very stressed,” Tubbo says, casually. “Are you very stressed, Wilbur?”

Oh—oh, fuck. Is that actually a thing that happens?

“I told her, it was a bad dye job,” he mutters, glancing back down at his paper. The words remain incomprehensible, but he’s not focusing on it. He nudges his pen with his finger, latching onto the light clicking sound it makes as it rolls and then comes to rest.

“Yeah?” Tubbo asks doubtfully. “What, were you trying to dye your hair white?”

He grits his teeth. “Was there something you needed, Tubbo?”

“Nothing I needed, really,” Tubbo answers. “I just wanted to see how you’ve been doing. Seems like forever since you came out of this office. Do you live in here now or something?” He keeps talking before Wilbur can reply, which is just as well, since he might as well live here, considering the state of his room. “And I think I’ve got a new design for a TNT cannon. Kind of streamlined, you might say, if you wanted to check it out. But I think you should just come and hang out with me and Tommy sometime. You never really do that anymore.”

He has a few feelings about TNT cannons. He doesn’t think about TNT too often, because when he does, his mind fills with fire and smoke, and his heart starts beating faster, climbing into his throat, and he wants to run, wants to run far and fast and away, wants to sit and shake until his body can’t move anymore, even when he knows very well that nothing around him is exploding, that his country is secure and his friends are safe. But some days, he can’t so much as smell smoke without a memory rising up to overwhelm him.

Once, he found himself zoning out in the middle of a conversation, a nearby campfire taking him far away from himself, and be barely returned in time to cover for his lapse.

He’s not a fan of TNT cannons, and he can’t bring himself to pretend to be, not even for the sake of Tubbo’s enthusiasm. And—

Hanging out with him and Tommy sounds nice. He misses them, he admits, and some part of him misses the old days, the first days and weeks and months on the server, when it was them and a dream and his fingers dancing on the frets of his guitar, his voice strong and steady and hopes high on the wind, words ready at his lips and Tommy a force of chaos at his back and Tubbo clever and quick by his side, and he just—misses it. Misses them. Misses it all, misses the days before so much was riding on his shoulders.

But he hasn’t the time.

“I’m sorry, Tubbo,” he says, and tries on a smile. “I’m a bit busy right now. Take a rain check?”

“Sure,” Tubbo says, and shrugs. “Later, then. You say that a lot, though, do you know that?”

He winces. Tubbo smiles. He means no harm. Probably. He thinks he would know if Tubbo meant him harm.

And then, Tubbo leaves, and the tension leaves him all in a rush, leaving him—exhausted. Exhausted, and near tears, for some reason, but he blinks those back. That can wait. He doesn’t cry in his office. That’s unprofessional; anyone could walk in on him, and then where would he be?

What was he doing before Tubbo came in?

Right. The letter. He glances it over, scoops it up, and tucks it away in an envelope. He’ll chuck it at the next crow he sees.

---

It’s Tommy who barges in next, a day later, though at least this time, he’s somewhat expecting it. Because if Tubbo knows, then Tommy knows. That is simply the way of the world. He has a difficult time imagining anything ever coming between those two, even information that would be better kept to oneself.

“Why the fuck is Tubbo going on about your hair, then?” Tommy says, with no preamble, and despite himself, Wilbur smiles. That’s Tommy, all the subtlety of a charging bull. And the question is just as irritating as it was yesterday when it came from Tubbo, but he’s more prepared for it this time. He looks up from his work—work that he’s actually doing, at the moment, and he feels rather proud of himself for it—and meets Tommy’s gaze squarely.

“I’ve had an unfortunate encounter with some hair dye,” he says. “The hair dye won.”

“What the fuck?” Tommy says, but there’s already a laugh in his eyes. Good. Tommy is fairly easily deflected, he’s learned. Because Tommy looks up to him, he knows, and that means he’ll willfully look away from any evidence suggesting that perhaps he is not worthy of admiration after all.

It makes him sick, the way he’s thinking about it. Makes him feel like he’s using Tommy, somehow, taking advantage of his affection, when really, that’s the last thing he wants to do. Tommy is his little brother, his little brother by choice, by years spent on the road together, by hushed conversations in the dead of night as the stars bear witness, by all the little intricacies they’ve learned about each other as time continues to pass. Tommy is his little brother, which means it’s his job to protect him, as best he can. He’s done a piss-poor job of that lately. Tommy only has one life left now.

So he can’t fail him again. And perhaps it’s selfish of him, but he doesn’t want Tommy to think he’s failed, either. If it ever turns out that Tommy hates him, he thinks it might kill him.

“Can I see?” Tommy asks, and he prepared for this, too, braced for it. With a long-suffering sigh, he sweeps his hat off his head and angles his face forward, letting Tommy take a good look.

“Satisfied?” he asks.

“Holy shit,” Tommy says. “How the fuck did you manage that?”

“Very impressively,” he says, and puts his hat back on. He’s sure to tuck all the white back under it. It’s a practiced motion, by now. “Or perhaps not very impressively, as it were.”

“Well, it looks sick,” Tommy says, and Wilbur glances at him immediately. He doesn’t seem like he’s lying. He seems almost—impressed? But he sees him looking right away, and immediately backtracks. “Sick as in disgusting, obviously. It makes you look old. Like an old, old man.”

Tommy’s joking, of course, is all bluster and smoke, no fire. But something in his chest stings, and he realizes that the words hurt, and more than that, they hurt because it’s an echo of what he tells himself. He doesn’t like to look in the mirror anymore—though he never did to begin with, actually—but he is well aware of what he looks like. The white hair is just one more symbol of his failing faith, his lack of ability to handle the job that he set himself out to take in the first place. He should be able to do this, and yet, he can’t, and the white hair—well.

After what Tubbo said, it can only mean that he’s weak. Physical proof of his incompetence. That’s really the only way to look at it.

“Shut the fuck up, child,” he says. “Why don’t you go and find a juice box to drink?”

“Oh, fuck you,” Tommy says, and the song and dance is familiar. Tommy rolls his eyes at him—the disrespect in this house is unbelievable—but he turns to go, and that means that Wilbur’s won.

What he’s won, he doesn’t know. Some more self-disgust, maybe. That’s what it feels like.

Lying to Niki. Lying to Tubbo. And now, lying to Tommy. What a stunning specimen of humanity he is. Working through them all like he has a checklist.

And then, Tommy stops in the doorway and looks back.

“Wilbur?” he asks. “You really are alright, aren’t you?”

And that gives him pause. Tommy’s not supposed to ask him that question. If anything, he’s the one who’s supposed to be asking Tommy that.

“It’s just that,” Tommy continues, “I don’t see you around so much, these days. Except for when there’s a problem, and you come out to try and solve it with, with your words and shit. Diplomatic shit, innit? You do that, but you don’t just—you never come to just spend time with us anymore, like how it used to be. And I just sort of miss that, you know? So I was thinking that maybe we could try and do that again, sometime soon? Just, hanging out, like the good old days?”

The good old days.

He doesn’t quite have the heart to tell Tommy that the good old days are long over, that they have been long over since the day Sapnap came to arrest them all for starting a drug empire and the forest around them was set ablaze, since the day they declared independence from the Dream SMP, since the day he in all his naivety declared that all they had to do was ignore the conflict and it would pass them by, since the day he was proven so very, very wrong. Since the day he learned that as much as he values his words, his diplomacy, his efforts toward nonviolence, some people only recognize power in iron and steel.

Since the day he watched his men, his comrades, his family die around him, and knew that he led them to that fate. Since the day Tommy traded his life and then his discs for their independence, and he knew that he couldn’t do a thing to help.

The good old days are long gone. The good old days belong to a different version of him, one that was young and hopeful and stupid, one that had no idea what he was getting into. And he likes to think that he’s still hopeful, that he still strives for a better future, but—

He’s learned. Nothing comes easy, here. There will be no more halcyon summers. The days are getting colder, and there will be no more rest.

“Sure,” he says, and this lie tastes far more bitter than all the rest. “I’d like that.” He gestures at his desk. “I’ve been really busy, but I would like to spend time with you. I’ll let you know when I can, alright?”

And Tommy believes him. He sees it in his answering smile, and he hates himself.

“Sounds good, big man,” Tommy says. “See you later then, yeah?”

“See you later,” Wilbur agrees, and then Tommy, too, is gone. He’s alone in his office, with his duties and his thoughts, and neither of them are kind.

Not that he thinks himself deserving of much kindness.

---

He waits two weeks before visiting the bakery again. It’s not completely intentional; he doesn’t have much time to get away anyhow. But part of it certainly is. He doesn’t want to come again so soon, doesn’t want to know how Niki’s going to look at him, doesn’t want her to poke and prod at something that isn’t important, that is a minor, irritating detail. He doesn’t want to discuss it, and he thinks that Niki might try, so he stays away.

But not forever. He can’t bring himself to take so drastic a step, even if his visits are a bit of a distraction. One that, perhaps, he can’t really afford.

So he steps inside and immediately wants to backtrack, because Niki’s not the only one here. Fundy and Jack Manifold are both sat at the counter, and both of them are looking at him now, having swiveled in their seats to watch his entrance. And that means he can’t leave, because if he leaves without saying anything, they’ll ask him why he did that, and he’ll have to make up something to avoid admitting that he’s been a little bit terrified of interacting with people lately. Because absolutely no one can know that.

Because it’s stupid. Pathetic. He’s pathetic, and he’s become quite accustomed to that word. It seems to live in his head now, like it’s made a nest in his brain, a little roost. Pathetic. Everything he does feels pathetic to him, and probably to everyone else around him.

“Oh,” Jack Manifold says. “Hi, Wilbur. Didn’t expect you in.”

Fundy doesn’t say anything. Just blinks at him, tail swishing. He finds that he doesn’t know what to say. But he needs to think of something, some reason for being here, and if he can manage it, some excuse for extricating himself quickly. The silence has gone on just a little too long, and he’s been standing in the doorway for a full five seconds now, and he needs to come in completely because it’s weird, what he’s doing, and they’re going to call him on it.

And then, Niki pops her head between the two of them, leaning far over the counter, resting practically all of her weight on it.

“Wil!” she says, and smiles. “I’m glad you came! I’m making honey bread, and I know you like that.”

And just like that, he relaxes. Not completely, but to ask that of him would be to expect the impossible. It’s enough.

“I do,” he agrees, and steps further in, letting the door close behind him. “Seems I have good timing.”

The tension in the air—imagined or real? He’s not sure—dissipates. Jack grins at him, raising a glass of—probably not alcohol? He doesn’t think Niki keeps alcohol stocked in here, or at least, none other than the cooking variety. Might be milk. And Fundy still doesn’t say anything, but his tail keeps twitching, and his eyes keep darting between him and the empty stool next to him, and he really hopes that’s an invitation, because that’s how he’s going to take it.

He slides onto the seat, letting his coat fall behind him. His hat, he keeps on. He’s not laying his face on the counter today. Not with other people here. He probably wouldn’t have anyway, tempting though it is. He always feels sleepier in here. It’s probably the warmth.

But he won’t fall asleep.

Niki’s gone back over to the ovens, inspecting her bread. He can smell it on the air, fresh and sweet, and his stomach twists. Has he eaten today? He’s not sure that he has. Though he definitely did yesterday—evening. He thinks. Definitely. A couple apple slices shoved in his mouth, swallowed without really tasting them. But it counts.

“What have you two been up to lately?” he asks. “Haven’t seen you in a while.”

“Not too much,” Jack Manifold answers easily. “Mostly been hanging around Tommy and Tubbo. Getting into mischief, you might say. Nothing too serious or anything!” he is quick to add, seemingly remembering exactly who he’s talking to. “Nothing—I mean, nothing illegal, no, sir. Not us. But, you know, it’d probably be best not to share the details.”

He quirks an eyebrow. “Fair enough,” he says. “As long as it’s not something that I’m going to have to clean up later.”

“We’ve already cleaned up,” Jack says.

“Good.” He looks at Fundy, and affection blooms in his chest, sudden, almost overpowering. His boy’s grown up of late. He can barely remember it happening. It seems that only yesterday he came up knee-high, and now, he’s a man in his own right. But still his little champion, always. “How about you? I know we haven’t been fishing yet. I’m sorry—you know that’s the first thing on my list when I finally get a bit of time.”

Fundy glances away. “I know,” he says. “I’ve been fine.”

“I’m glad,” he says, and Niki saves him from having to say anything else—though why he thinks of it as a rescue, he isn’t sure—by walking back over and placing some bread on the counter before them.

“Fresh from the oven,” she says, “so it’s hot. Be careful.”

It smells nothing short of divine. Niki smiles, pleased, as Fundy and Jack reach for a piece right away, and he isn’t far behind them. Though he tries to be a little more neat about it than the other two are being. The way they’re digging in, he’d think that they’re starving. Frankly, he can’t blame them for it, not when it’s Niki’s food on the line, but he still tries to have a bit more decorum.

“Niki,” Jack says, mouth full, “you are an angel among mere mortals.” Fundy doesn’t say anything, but his tail is swishing happily.

Niki rolls her eyes, and takes a bit of bread for herself. “Don’t talk with your mouth full,” she admonishes. “But thank you, Jack.” And then, her gaze drifts to him, and he finds himself stiffening. For no reason. It’s Niki. It’s just Niki. He trusts Niki. She’s basically his best friend, and he’s comfortable here. He is. This is a place of safety, as much as there are such places to be found. Safety, true safety, is not a thing that exists, not really. But here is as close as he can get to it.

Why can’t he let himself unwind?

Is it because Jack and Fundy are here? He hopes not; that wouldn’t be fair to them. They are his countrymen, his citizens, and more than that, Fundy is his son. What would that say about him as a parent, if being around his child makes him nervous? Not just nervous in a I-hope-I-don’t-fuck-up-my-kid way, but in a I-don’t-feel-safe-here way?

But his shoulders are stiff, slightly hunched. He can’t force them down. So he has to hope it’s not too obvious, that the lines of his coat disguise the hard set of his posture, a stance that indicates he thinks there’s a threat, if they know how to read him right. Which they shouldn’t. They shouldn’t.

“How about you, Wil?” Niki asks, and he takes another bite of bread. Small, so as not to get crumbs everywhere, and he swallows before answering.

“It’s as good as always,” he says. “Do I have to say it?” Though it sits heavier in his stomach than usual, but she doesn’t need to know that.

“I’m glad,” she says. “It’s been a little while since the last time I saw you. You are eating properly, right?”

It’s concern, not an accusation, no matter how misplaced. The question shouldn’t raise his hackles. But it does, and all that’s left is to keep it from showing, to keep it from his voice.

“Of course I am,” he says, and before he can get anything else out, Jack laughs.

“Wouldn’t do to have our president starving on us,” he says, and his voice is light, full of laughter, joking. It’s a good thing that Jack feels comfortable enough to joke with him. He’s glad, because—he doesn’t know him all that well, definitely doesn’t trust him, not yet, but Tommy and Tubbo seem to like him, so it’s good that he’s fitting in, that he’s found a place, that he likes it here. Though liking isn’t always enough to stop the betrayal before it comes. He ought to keep a closer eye on him, just in case, but—that wasn’t the point of this.

The point is that, joking or not, Jack is completely right. It wouldn’t do to let his eating habits interfere with his duties. He’s already weak; is he going to add malnutrition on top of that? Never mind that he often doesn’t feel like eating, these days, that he really only has an appetite when he’s here, in the bakery. He needs to keep his strength up so that he can get things done. And he can’t force himself to sleep, so that problem is out of his hands, but he can force himself to eat.

Jack couldn’t have known what he was prodding at, of course, when he made the comment. But he takes another bite of bread anyway. It’s tough to swallow, even though it tastes delicious. He doesn’t know why. He’s never had an issue eating Niki’s food before. He hopes this doesn’t become a pattern.

And he hopes it’s not because there’s other people here. It would be an explanation, at least, but not one he likes. The implications there wouldn’t be—good, to say the least.

“Jack,” Niki says quietly, admonishingly, and he wishes she wouldn’t, because he doesn’t want Jack to examine what he’s just said, to analyze it as anything other than a joke. So he musters a smile, a quirk of an eyebrow, and Jack grins back at him.

Safe territory. Level ground, even footing. Relatively speaking.

And then Fundy pipes up.

“Hey, Wil,” he says, and Wilbur wonders, suddenly, where he picked up the habit of calling him ‘Wil’ or ‘Wilbur’ more often than he calls him ‘dad’. Not that he minds it, but it’s curious. Could it be from him? He himself calls Phil by his name more often than not. Perhaps it’s genetic. But then Fundy continues, “Is your hair actually, like, turning white?” and Wilbur is no longer interested in thinking about little details like that.

He’s tense again. Tense enough now that they can probably see it, even without looking too hard.

“Why is everyone so interested in my hair, lately?” he asks. “It’s just hair. Grows out of everyone’s head. Except for yours, Jack Manifold.”

“Point,” Jack Manifold agrees, but there is a gleam in his eyes, behind his glasses, that says he too is interested in the direction this conversation has taken. Not ideal.

“It’s just that,” Fundy persists, “it’s a little bit weird, right? If it’s turning white like that? Is that normal?”

“It’s not ‘turning white,’” he says, which might be a mistake, because he’s lying through his teeth, now. “It was a bad hair dye incident. Nothing you need to be concerned about.”

Jack laughs. “How’d you manage to fuck up hair dye that badly?” he asks, and the way the question is phrased is irritating; he doesn’t want Jack to start thinking he’s an incompetent fool who can’t dye his own hair properly. But he’ll also take this line of questioning over the other, so perhaps it balances out.

Except then, Niki splays both her hands on the counter. Any earlier levity that she had is now gone.

“Is that so?” she says. “That’s not what you told me.”

His heart is pounding again. He really, really hopes that he’s not developing a condition of some kind. He’d know if he were having a heart attack, wouldn’t he?

“I’m pretty sure that is what I told you,” he says, and Niki shakes her head.

“No, you told me that it wasn’t dye, when I asked,” she says. “And then you said that it was, but you were lying.”

She doesn’t sound angry, which is perhaps the worst thing about all of this. She doesn’t sound angry that he’s lied to her, taken advantage of her trust and fed her a blatant falsehood. Her voice is calm, matter-of-fact, and there’s a glimmer in her eyes that isn’t annoyance or betrayal or any of the other emotions she should be feeling. Instead, it’s concern. That blasted concern again.

He doesn’t deserve it.

“Really?” Jack says. “Huh. Well, what’d you do that for, then?”

He’s changed his mind. The worst thing about all of this is that there are other people present. That he’s not alone with Niki, which would still be an undesirable situation, but manageable. Jack Manifold and Fundy are both here, staring at him, expecting answers that he doesn’t want to give, and Fundy—

Why is his son looking at him like that?

“Why are you all so pressed about my hair?” he demands. “It’s hair. You don’t even see it.”

“I mean,” Fundy says, “like I said, it’s just kind of weird, right? I don’t think hair just turns white for no reason. Not unless you’re really old, which you’re not, I don’t think. So I guess we’re just curious about what the reason is.”

He doesn’t want to talk about this. This isn’t why he came here. This place, this bakery, these people, it’s supposed to be an escape from his responsibilities. The only one he allows himself, even though he knows he shouldn’t. It’s the one place where he doesn’t have to think about his own failings, where he can relax a bit and let himself be, if only for a little while, but here they are, pushing him on this, and he doesn’t want it. Doesn’t want to be reminded of his incompetency. And they don’t know, can’t know exactly what they’re doing to him, but—

He slams his hand against the counter, sudden emotion boiling over. They all jump, the three of them. Niki’s eyes widen, and Fundy’s ears press back against his skull.

“Then don’t be,” he snaps. “Leave it the fuck alone. It’s really none of your business, is it?”

There is a moment of silence. The only sound is the crackling of furnaces.

“I guess not,” Fundy mutters, and he realizes what he’s done.

He’s just snapped, lashed out at his friends, his countrymen, his son, and for what? Because their questions are stressing him out? He should have turned around and left the moment he saw them in here, no matter what they would have thought, because this is worse. This is so much worse than that, and now he feels like an absolute shitstain of a human being. What kind of person gets so fucking upset over questions about his hair?

“I’m sorry,” he says. Too little, too late. “I didn’t mean—” Fundy is looking at him. They all are, and suddenly, he can’t bear it. Not any longer. “I’m sorry. I’ve got a lot of work to do. I really should be going. Thank you for the bread, Niki.”

It’s painfully transparent, and he is very aware of the fact that it’s the exact same way that he rushed out of the bakery when he was last here. Except this time, there are more people here to witness his shame.

History repeats itself, he thinks, bitterly. History repeats itself, and it only gets worse.

But he’s not staying here. He can’t. He just—can’t. Because he feels very upset over such a stupid little thing, and he’s upset that he’s upset, and now he’s upset other people, and he can’t stay here any longer, because if he does, the gods only know what’s going to fly out of his mouth next.

“Wil, please stay,” Niki says, but he’s already standing.

“Be seeing you all,” he says, and the door isn’t far, but it feels like miles, because he can feel their stares burning into his back as he makes his exit.

“Aw, wait, Wilbur, you don’t have to—” Jack starts, but he’s out the door. He’s out the door, and he lets it swing shut behind him, and the words cut off. He doesn’t have to listen to them. So if Fundy says anything, he doesn’t hear it, and he wonders why that makes him feel so much worse. Worse than he does already, which is no mean feat.

His stomach growls. He’s hungry. How many bites of bread did he take? Two? Three? Not enough to be filling. But somehow, he already knows that if he seeks food elsewhere, it will turn to ash in his mouth. And he can’t go back, not after the scene he’s just made, so he’s going to have to be hungry. Which is fine. He’s fine. He’s fine, even though he’s just fucked everything up, and he rather thinks he might not be able to show Niki his face ever again. So, no more bakery. No more safe place, and wow, he is being a dramatic fuck, isn’t he? But he can’t help himself. He never can.

He should have known better from the start. There is no such thing as safety. No exceptions. He should have tried harder to remember that. And he’s not angry, not anymore, not really, because they weren’t aware of the hornets’ nest they were stirring up; rather, he’s angry at himself, for losing control, for letting himself react, for not being able to handle a simple question with the poise and calm that is expected of him as president.

For being weak. That’s what it comes down to. His weakness. Persistent, and now, persistently on display.

He does a lot of screaming into his pillow that night. It doesn’t help. And sleep, it seems, is determined to continue its avoidance, so the night stretches long, and even his tears eventually run dry.

---

The next day, Niki comes to his office.

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frogtanii · 4 years ago

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hq boys as the crimes they’d commit

warnings: CRIMES, crackfic, probably many typos idk i’m so tired lmaooo, cursing, drinking ??? idfk 😩💦

an: and i did this for what?? inspired by hq hcs royalty @sugardaddykenma @hina-wit-da-glock (AJSKSJ SORRY FOR TAGGING Y’ALL IF YOU SEE THIS, IT IS DEF NOT UP TO PAR W Y’ALLS WORKS ILY)

karasuno

sawamura daichi- insurance fraud!! somehow this is such a dad crime to commit?? dadchi didn’t try (dumb excuse, how do you accidentally commit insurance fraud smh) to commit insurance fraud but at one point in his late-thirties, he was very very broke and was already working as much as possible so, he decided to fake an ankle injury, as you do, and filed a bunch of claims which made him bank. daichi kept doing it until he was able to quit one of his jobs and buy himself a really nice suit and a rolex (uhhh 🥵). he somehow never got caught tho and to this day, none of his friends know how he was able to afford a tesla on a cop’s salary (sorry daichi but acab 😔✨)

sugawara kōshi- child abandonment!! ok you can try and fight me on this but i feel in my bones that suga absolutely despises children. he can tolerate ages 10+ but anything younger than that, he will punt them into the next dimension. the thing is, people just assume he likes kids because of how good he is with his team which is why his aunt begged him to babysit his nephew taro. taro was being an absolute brat when suga took him out for the day and he was 👉👈 this close to snapping. he put taro down for like 3 seconds to pay for their ice cream and when he turned back, the demon spawn was gone. he panicked, running around the park looking for taro when it turns out, taro was just bent down behind the bench. some random karen called the police and suga has never craved murder more.

nishinoya yuu- arson!! you CANNOT tell me nishinoya doesn’t have a ~murder~ playlist that he listens to to get himself hype (me too noya, me too). one night, he got a lil too hype listening to start a riot by duckwrth and watching demolition videos on youtube. he snuck out of his house to an empty shed like 30 minutes away and maybe... lit it on fire while genocide by lil darkie played on a speaker nearby. what he did NOT anticipate was the absolute size of the fire so he freaked out and called the firefighters who promptly called the police. he didn’t want to get grounded so he called daichi to bail him out. daichi still told noya’s parents 😔.

tanaka ryūnosuke- vandalism!! tanaka had been on alt tiktok and saw a group of cool friends spray painting an abandoned building. he thought “that’s cool, lemme do that!” but then he realized he had no friends (AHDGS JK I LOVE TANAKA). he asked nishinoya who was grounded from the arson incident and he knew he definitely couldn’t ask daichi, suga, asahi, or enoshita so he decided to go it alone. that proved to be a MASSIVE mistake. he got the supplies, arrived to the building of his choice (thanks saeko :3), and decided to spray paint a huge p3ni5 in bright red paint. he finished “successfully” and zoomed back home. what he didn’t realize with his two-and-a-half braincells is that he signed his glorious piece with his full name. the cops were at his house the next morning...🧍

hinata shoyō- forgery!! hinata did NOT think that forgery was even a crime. how was he supposed to know that he wasn’t allowed to copy his mom’s signature on a permission form! all he wanted was to go to an overnight training camp 😿

kageyama tobio- attempted murder!! kageyama swears it sounds worse than was and he is absolutely incorrect. what happened was so much worse. he and hinata were having a competition to see who could hold their breath the longest underwater (you can’t tell me they haven’t done some dumbass shit like this) and kageyma lost almost instantly (he has the tiny lungs of an asthmatic). he didn’t want hinata to notice so he held hinata’s head under the water for like 10 seconds. suga walked in though, saw hinata thrashing around in the water and immediately called the police. kageyama never forgave him.

tsukishima kei- cyberbullying!! first of all, i had no idea you could get arrested for cyber bullying!? that being said, neither did tsukishima who spent 80% of his time making fun of people online (and on his real account!! bold). eventually one of the people he bullied (hinata) reported him on instagram and his very lame account was deleted (pls don’t bully people online 😤).

yamaguchi tadashi- shoplifting!! andjksh this is so funny because this scenario has happened to me and i can just SEE this happening to poor tadashi. yamaguchi gets super late night cravings (and usually tsukki will walk with him at like 3 am 🥺 nEWAYS) so he’ll sneak out and walk to the mini-mart near his house. one night, he was so tired but also super hungry so he went onto his nightly routine and basically sleepwalked into the store. he picked out his favorite chips and candy bar (which are sour cream&onion lays and milky ways in case you were wondering 😌✨) and just... walked out the store without paying. the store clerk was mysteriously missing so yamaguchi made it all the way home, ate half the bag of chips and passed out without realizing what he’d done. once he did, he cried for 2 hours straight.

nekoma

kuroo tetsurō- telemarketing fraud!! kuroo originally did telemarketing fraud as a joke?? like he was trying to prank call someone pretending that they had lost their information and they actually gave it to him??? he was mildly concerned but even more excited. he did it over and over again but he never used the info for anything. to this day, kuroo literally has a notebook full of credit card numbers and bank account passwords but he refuses to use it because he believes it’s ✨wrong✨(but it isn’t wrong to take all that information in the first place under false pretenses, not realizing that once people find out, they are forced to close credit cards and accounts but go off self righteous king). once he brought the book up to kenma and he offered to sell it on the dark web. now kuroo feels less bad about what he’s done! :D

kozume kenma- computer crime!! pfttt this one seems kinda obvious but what do you expect from kenma :). he spends so much time on the internet, he’s definitely picked up some less than legal skills that still help him now 👀. kenma did little mini crimes like getting into other people’s wifi but his crowning achievement was when he hacked into the minneapolis pd website and had it so when you opened the page, a black lives matter screen came up. he never told anyone that it was him who did it but he thinks it’s the best he’s ever done.

yaku morisuke- racketeering!! yaku, the feral king, ran an underground gambling ring in the basement of nekoma (do they have basements?? who knows! i don’t!) during his third year. the only reason it didn’t get shut down was because coach nekomata took a portion of yaku’s profits whenever he won (which was literally all the time). everyone on the team has lost money to him which is why they never play with him anymore. they won’t even let yaku play monopoly 😔.

haiba lev- indecent exposure!! poor lev’s head is so empty, he tends to fall for whatever pranks his senpai’s do to him. this time kuroo had somehow convinced him that in order to grow his schlong, he had to run outside naked for 10 minutes because the moonlight had special growing properties. lev was a lil scared ngl because he was already superrr tall and didn’t need to grow his height (or his dick ((boy is hung)) but poor lev is insecure) but he did it anyway. long story short, an old woman saw him parading around the neighborhood naked and called el policia. 0/10 dick did NOT grow and had to spend a night in jail naked 😿

aoba johsai

oikawa tōru- prostitution!! KAKKAKA iwazumi made fun of oikawa for being so shitty and said that he couldn’t pick up anyone if he tried. flattykawa took this as a personal challenge and went out onto the street, asking people if they’d have sex with him. with the way he was asking (and the way he was dressed), people assumed he was a paid w h o r e and someone eventually reported him. iwazumi had to pick oikawa up from the station- he never let him live this one down.

iwaizumi hajime- battery!! it wasn’t technically battery but oikawa is a lil bitch and overreacts (at least in his words -_-). the amount of times iwa-chan has beat the absolute shit out of oikawa is uNREAL. he just can’t handle the stupidity sometimes so he just smacks the crap outta him. not for real for real but the way oikawa reacts, you’d think a murder was occurring. one time, shittykawa screeched so loud, they got a noise complaint -_- hajime hates it in these streets.

matsukawa issei & hanamaki takahiro- conspiracy!! issei and hiro have a secret blog where they discuss conspiracy theories and such but one day, hiro found an article that explained how jfk’s death was an inside job. he sent it to issei who began to theorize how HE’D do it. that devolved into a massive thread on their blog of how’d they murder a president which blew up and caught the attention of the cia who sent the a letter telling them to quietly delete the blog. they did because they were terrified but they kept the letter and now it’s framed in issei’s apartment.

kyōtani kentarō- assault!! baby is an angry little boy but for all the right reasons. he was at a bar (when he’s all grown up, duh) and he spotted an absolute drunk creep hitting on a girl who clearlyyyy did not reciprocate his feelings. kyōtani, being the respectful king that he is, went over to the guy, pulled him by the jacket and beat. the. shit. out of him. while the bartender was happy with the fact that the creep was out, he was not impressed with the damage to his bar. he just sent kyōtani out who casually adjusted his leather jacket and rings, and hopped on his motorcycle to ride away into the night. i am the FATTEST simp for this man ONG 🥴

shiratorizawa

ushijima wakatoshi- stalking!! poor ushijima has no idea how intimidating he can be. he was on a train late at night after practice and the woman sitting across from him left her purse sitting on the seat. being the gentleman that he is, he took the purse and followed her to return it. the only problem is that the closer he got, the faster she ran and when he tried to speak (yknow with his scary, deep, baritone voice), the woman screeched and called the cops on him because he was a “strange, big man who was following her home.” when the police showed up, ushijima was painfully confused and just held up this tiny ass purse in his massive hands. the cops laughed.

tendō satori- ???!! no one knows what crimes (or how many 😳) tendō has committed but each of his teammates have different ideas- ushijima: “i don’t believe tendou is capable of committing any sort of felony. well, maybe murder”; semi: “of COURSE he’s capable of crimes??! do you know how many times i’ve seen him come into the dorm with a suspicious stain of red on his sweater?? *shudders* if i end up dead, tendō did it...” in actuality, the only crime tendō has committed is ~drugs~ but he’s not bouta tell his friends that.

goshiki tsutomu- would be a VICTIM!! my baby tsutomu would NEVER commit a crime!!! i love this man with my everything and the only crime he’s committed is being too damn cute 😤🥺

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hopetofantasy · 4 years ago

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Actress Nora Dari (wtFOCK): “I hope I don't go crazy. I wouldn't be surprised if that happens”

Two years ago she was allowed to bump into Matteo Simoni in ‘Patser’, now your fifteen-year-old knows her as Yasmina from ‘wtFOCK’ and she ended up in Cannes because of the new film by Bas Devos. Where it ends for Nora Dari remains to be seen, but you don't want to get in her way. “You’ve been looking so long for a Moroccan girl who wants to act and then you get me.”

“So I always try to be a bit low key...” She hesitates. "Eumh, do you know what 'low key' means?" "How much of antique do you think I am exactly?" “Gosh. You have a flip cover for your smartphone, I saw.” “Point for Dari. But what are you trying to be a bit low key...” “Huh? Sorry, I have no idea anymore. I was completely distracted by that pigeon over there.” It’s easy to forget - especially when she starts talking in her Genk dialect about her sky-high ambitions or her tough childhood in Winterslag - that Nora Dari is barely seventeen. After all, she’s already accumulated a nice record of achievements in two years. From the Belgian-Finnish crime series ‘Bullets’ (shown on Telenet) and a leading role in ‘wtFOCK’, the online series of SBS and Telenet, to her supporting role in ‘Ghost Tropic’, the most recent full-length movie by Bas Devos, who made the selection of Quinzaine des Réalisateurs in Cannes in May. The day after our conversation at an Antwerp terrace, she leaves for London, for a fourth and final audition for a lead role in an international film project. “It looks good, but I can't tell you anything about it yet. That’s a tough assignment for me: my whole body really wants to scream. Seriously, I'm pretty much the Moroccan Tom Holland (Spider-Man, and the spoiler king of Marvel's Cinematic Universe). But I'll remain silent!”

How does a large, international production house ends up at your door? Nora Dari: “I started knocking on their door. I'm really not going to sit around and wait for someone to discover me miraculously, so if someone gives me a tip about an interesting movie, I'll go after it myself. I always want more and everything I set my mind to, seems to be working. An international series, ‘wtFOCK’, Cannes with my first film role and now this latest project is also within reach. Can you blame me for believing? In my head, I'm already in Hollywood. First become a Shooting Star at the Berlinale.” Just in between everything? Dari: “You can dream, right? Acknowledgement is not for me - I don't even know who decide such things - but rather, it’s a means to an end. If you end up in the same list of acting prodigies (those Shooting Stars) as Marwan Kenzari, Matteo Simoni and Matthias Schoenaerts, every director knows who you are.” You can also quietly build an acting career in Belgium. Or is that really not an option? Dari: “Why should I linger on a few square meters? My world was so small in Winterslag and now that it’s gradually getting bigger, I really don't know why I should stop at Flanders. Even if ambition is a very dirty word where I come from.”

How? Dari: “Winterslag is a neighborhood where many young people are going into the wrong direction. Big dreams are taboo, apparently. I was bullied, mainly because I wanted to start something with my life. Even if I said that I would one day want to go to New York, I would be laughed at: “Just sit down, Nora! Who do you think you are?”

Keep your head down, keep your nose clean and make sure that you can start working at the age of eighteen: something like that? Dari: *nods* “Graduating and going to work at the age of eighteen seems like quite an achievement in Winterslag. If you hadn't gotten into the wrong shit by then, you would’ve done well. At my school, we had two pupils without an immigration background and otherwise exclusively Turks, Moroccans and Italians from families who were really poor. Our parents worked very hard, you spend a lot of time on the street and bad things sometimes happened. *thinks* There’s a reason why I almost exclusively watch gangstershit movies. I come from a neighborhood where a lot of gangstershit happens. I’ve seen and experienced so many bad things, but at the same time Winterslag is such a big part of who I am and I get very angry when someone else talks about it like I do now. *small laugh*

I’ll buy a house there one day. It’s still my home, all the beautiful things and all the rotten things in one pile. To be clear: I don't want to romanticize my childhood. Winterslag is hard, but nothing to be sad about. There are so many people who have gone through the same thing. Only, it sucks to be called a whore, because you want to do something that is apparently 'not normal'.”

It dawns on me why you once said that Algerian-Canadian Zaho's song Kif'n'dir summed you up quite nicely. Especially the text 'Je fais la morte pour ne pas mourir'. Dari: “That's what I've been doing for a long time. Keeping myself deathly still and don’t stand out too much. In the long run, you also start to believe what others are telling you, that acting is not for you.”

When did you finally stopping ‘being death’? Dari: “When I was fifteen, when I heard that Adil El Arbi and Bilall Fallah were looking for extras for ‘Patser’. That didn't mean much more than just bumping into Matteo Simoni, but I was sold immediately. In between shots, I approached Adil: “Mr. El Arbi, thank you for opening my eyes. From now on, I’ll go all out for this.” *laughs* We clicked and in the meantime we’ve become friends. I hope he thinks of me when they start recording ‘Patsers’, so that I can show how much I've grown in those two years.”

Not much later, through their casting agency Hakuna, you ended up as a suicide bomber in the Finnish-Belgian Crime series ‘Bullets’. What have I missed? How did you go from a sixteen-year-old extra to such an intense role in a few months? Dari: “I think - if I may say that - they were shocked after my casting. I’ve never thrown myself into a project as hard in my life. Whining. Shouting. Tantrums. All fucking emotions, one after the other. You’ve been looking so long for a Moroccan girl who wants to act and then you get me. *laughs* I've never loved anything as much as acting, so I’m giving everything during a casting. I know that I’m not the best and still have to learn, but I suspect my energy is making up for it. That, and I consider myself a very pleasant colleague. *laughs* I greet everyone in a Genk dialect, always walk around smiling and even bring cookies.

I've always had the feeling that I have to work harder than the rest, because people expect less of me. That's what my father taught my brothers and me. At the Liège boarding school where he studied, he was the only Moroccan in Latin studies: his classmates thought he was weird, because of his origins and the other Moroccans looked at him weirdly, because he aimed higher. "Ah, Mr. pope is back there." In the end it became so unbearable that he enrolled in the TSO (technical school), which was socially accepted.”

How does a 16-year-old feel like a suicide bomber? Dari: “They gave me a background, but I added a few things myself to make it easier. And music helps me really hard too: ‘Qui suis-je’ from Scylla on repeat and then a little method acting in that character. My mother was there on set and apparently got terrified. *laughs* I asked them not to accompany me anymore. When I see them, I come back to myself, while I try very hard to forget myself in front of the camera. I need to be able to get into a role on set. Although it remains very strange to hype yourself up for hours with the mantra 'I'm dying and I'm taking all these people with me'. Fortunately, I can also easily let go. I had to, I had exams the next day. *laughs* Suicide bomber by day, studying economy by night.”

In May you hopped around on the Croisette for the world premiere of ‘Ghost Tropic’. You play the daughter of Khadija, a woman who walks home through Brussels after falling asleep on the metro. Devos makes quiet, poetic arthouse films: it’s a huge leap from teenage series and thrillers. Dari: “It was an adjustment, yes. Before I played in ‘Bullets’, I had never even seen a Flemish film. Not a single one. Or wait: one at school. What was it called? I have to give a speech soon, with its protagonist.”

‘Daens’? With Jan Decleir? Dari: “That one! Everything I had already learned about acting was from Hollywood movies. That enlarged playing style also worked in ‘Bullets’, but when I tried that in ‘Ghost Tropic’, Bas blocked it very quickly. *laughs* "The less you do the better, Nora!" I thought about it all too hard. "Nora, just go." “Yes, but Bas, who am I? What have I been through up to this point?” I have a hard time playing without a backstory in my head.”

Did you learn something from Devos? Dari: “Bas and Maaike Neuville told me in Cannes that I shouldn’t forget to live. I was only busy with what should be my next big step, but I also have to learn to enjoy. Surrendering is nothing dirty, but if I put everything aside for this job, I’ll never be able to put content in my characters. Then they’ll give me a heavy role and I’ll get stuck.”

Sensible advice. Alarm bells already went off when I read in ‘Het Belang van Limburg’ that you certainly wanted to remain celibate until you were 27 and wouldn’t continue your studies, just focussing on your career. Dari: “In the end, I’ll study cross-media management and I’ve come back to that other one as well. *laughs* What?! I’m seventeen, I change my mind completely every month. When I am 40, I don't just want to have a nice IMDb profile to look back on.”

'9000 followers? That is more people than have seen my last film', Devos thought humbly in your Instagram Stories. Dari: “I hope ‘Ghost Tropic’ gets more visitors than I have followers, but I'm not going to bitch if only fifty people come to watch the film in the end. I just like to act and have hardly seen anything from ‘Bullets’ or ‘wtFOCK’ myself. When I'm not on set, I just feel bad. As if I'm not getting the most out of my life.

At the very least, ‘Ghost Tropic’ gave me another experience and I was able to take my father with me, when we went to the Dominican Republic. My grandfather had passed away just before the shoot and we kind of processed that together there, while we were watching the sunrise at five in the morning. A very tender moment. Very cinematic, too. *thinks* I’m a very passionate person. Everything I experience is immediately very big. It’s all hard, good or bad. So hard that I can't always process all the feelings. *dryly* I hope I don't go crazy. I really wouldn't be surprised if that happens.”

You seem to be especially prone to obsessions. Whether it’s making music, painting or acting: if you decide to do something, everything has to make way for it. Dari: “When I got a keyboard, I was immediately very invested in my music. Making beats to accompany my slam poetry, tinkering at night, searching and keeping my parents awake until they went crazy. And then I suddenly got tired of it and started painting. Swimming. Dancing. I also played soccer for a while, mainly to get my dad's attention. During the 'consultation hour' around the tajine I could never have a chat with my brothers and father, because it was only about football and anime.”

Anime? Dari: “The men in my family are all next-level anime fans. They even speak Japanese to each other. *thinks* And I also plunged into my religion for a while, in between football and slam poetry.”

How? Dari: “When the community center closed its doors around the age of 13 and I saw a whole circle of friends go away in one go, I started clinging to something else. So, faith. At that time I also wore a hijab, because I was convinced that you could only be such a good Muslim. I was really pretty strict and took everything way too literally. Today I understand that you mainly have to look for your own interpretation.”

In the meantime, the average 15-year-old is also going through a storm for the second season of wtFOCK, which can be followed daily on Instagram and wtfock.be, good for about 400,000 visitors a week and more than 8 million watched - or at least started - episodes. Significantly more than the first season, although that also had good numbers. Especially for a series that was deliberately launched in silence. “You’re already bombarded with advertising on Instagram, subtle and less subtle,” says Dari, while she tries so intensely to make eye contact with a waiter that he almost bumps into a glass door. “I don't have any big theories about the future of television, but ‘wtFOCK’ really was a relief. It’s on the internet and you mainly do what you want with it. "Ah, I don't have to look?" That unforced approach works. The worst thing that could have happened to us, was that the press started writing about it en masse: it had to remain a bit mysterious and above all belong to the young people themselves. Normally we don't give interviews either: ‘wtFOCK’ is one big bubble that you shouldn't talk too much about.”

Without any illusions about the appeal of Knack Focus to fifteen-year-olds: is this conversation a good idea? Dari: “Sounds okay to me. I’m more now than just Yasmina? And I think fifteen-year-olds do know Knack.”

For real? Dari: “That's the book we get in History as source material in class. *laughs* I think I'll stop giving interviews again after this. A little mystery can't hurt.”

SKAM, the Norwegian series of which ‘wtFOCK’ is a remake, became a hit in its own country. That’s not always the case with foreign remakes, except for the Flemish one. It continues to gain popularity. Do you have an explanation for that? Dari: “No idea why things were less successful in other countries, but ‘wtFOCK’ is so good because it is real. We don't disguise anything, don't pour Hollywood sauce on it and talk like I talk to my friends. Apparently, a lot of teachers also follow the series to get a better understanding of their students. Smart, because we tackle all issues a teenager has in a very realistic way.”

The makers of SKAM were prepared with a tour through its country and a survey of Norwegian teenagers. Their biggest conclusion was: no generation suffers as much from performance pressure and comparison anxiety as yours. Dari: “Social media. Instagram is a very beautiful, but at the same time very scary place. A lot of girls now ask me, for example, how they can also enter this profession. But if you ask them why, it turns out that there’s no passion, they just see it as a fast road to fame. Then join ‘Temptation Island’? They see people like Millie Bobby Brown (from Stranger Things), who is barely fifteen and has a crazy career and they let themselves be hyped about it. I should actually say 'we'. I said it already: I hope I don't go crazy.” *giggles hysterically*

About 1200 teenagers showed up for the casting of wtFOCK, but the makers did not find their Yasmina there. Dari: *nods* “In the end they also had to call Adil, who gave me the tip.”

Why do you think that is? Dari: “I get angry when someone says they want more diversity, but can't find anyone. *throws arms up dramatically* "They aren't there!" They are there. In my neighborhood alone, so much talent is packed together. You may have to do your best to find them, because if you come from a neighborhood where ambition is laughed at, you’ll not find your way to a casting. Because the TV and film world seem so closed off from the outside - and it is. I also didn't know how to do that, I was just lucky that Adil, Nora Gharib and Ikram Aoulad wanted to help me. They helped me avoid a lot of rookie mistakes. And that I won't sign myself up for Temptation Island or something tomorrow.” *laughs*

Gharib also predicted that as a Moroccan woman she would have problems with ‘Patser’. From the moment you do not portray a classic religious Muslim woman, it seems to already lead to commentary. Dari: “I've had my part too. Women who send to me that I brought shame on the entire Moroccan community, for example, because Yasmina doesn't always wear her hijab. Usually these are women who’ve seen two minutes of the series and then get angry without seeing the context. *blows* You know, I don’t care. If my parents and I are okay with it, then no one has anything to say to me. Criticism slips away from me. It really takes more than an angry DM to get me off my path, I come from Winterslag breeding.”

*** Bas Devos, director ‘Ghost Tropic’:

“I had never seen Nora at work, but her audition video immediately made me curious. At the final casting, where she had to improvise a bit, it was already clear to me after a few minutes. She did a beautiful job. Nora is not trained as an actress, but I often work with a combination of non-professional and professional actors. That really doesn't matter to me. It's all about how naturally someone relates to the camera and how relaxed you are while being filmed. Then very beautiful things can happen. And I think she also liked not having to make her character bigger in an understated film like ‘Ghost Tropic’, as that’s sometimes the case for TV. To hear that you are still playing without doing anything.

It's cool how she dares to go for something so outspokenly at such a young age, but I did point out to her that working alone isn’t the perfect solution. She’s very fond of that international career, but it is also easy to walk into a wall there. Seventeen-year-olds have to live, right? Well, she's sensible enough, I'm not worried. She'll eventually find the right balance. At the end of the shooting period, she said she hoped we could work together again. I told her that I hope she still likes it by then. *laughs* Who knows which films will she be in then.”

#wtfock #wtfam #older article

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generallynerdy · 4 years ago

Text

At Home (Elrond X F!Reader)

Summary: And when he kissed her-- fiercely, recklessly-- she’d never felt more at home.

Requested by @lovinghufflepuffgirl: Hello, I believe this my first time requesting and I am so excited! My request is (if possible): Elrond courting the reader (she's a high born elf and a princess) and they fall in love. A grand wedding soon follows. Thank you so much!

Key: (Y/N) - your name, Imladris - the Sindarin (the more common Elf-tongue) name for Rivendell, fëar - souls/spirits in Quenya (the older, rarer Elf-tongue of High Elves) Warnings: cursing in the author’s note as usual, my sister and I made Tolkien-selves once and Elrond was my dad so this was really weird at first but I got over it, the Evenstar is from the movies and it has a sort of book equivalent but I didn’t want to leave out movie-only fans so pre-warning for book fans Word Count: 3,495 WOW. W O W. I have NO self control.

Note: technically speaking you could swap (Y/N) with Celebrian and this would be canon LMAO. Anyway, I made the reader Galadriel and Celeborn’s daughter since to my understanding Elves don’t have princesses? (I haven’t finished reading all Tolkien’s Arda things so I may be wrong, pls let me know if I am.) ALSO UH. This is the longest request I’ve written in,,,so long holy shit. This spiralled. I am so sorry.

Imladris was beautiful, (Y/N) decided. After a mere few days there, she was certain she could live there for the rest of her exceedingly long life.

As the daughter of Galadriel and Celeborn, (Y/N) was of High Elven blood, which many assumed meant that she was accustomed to a certain...luxurious lifestyle. In reality, she had spent much of her life in Lothlórien longing to be elsewhere. The forests of her home were beautiful, she had no doubt of that, but something in her wanted to be elsewhere.

And, frankly, Imladris felt like that elsewhere.

It was here she felt safe, here that she spent hours wandering the gardens, something she had hardly ever bothered to do before.

It was also here that a certain Elf Lord lived.

Lord Elrond was about (Y/N)’s age, relatively young-- for an Elf-- and a good leader, in (Y/N)’s humble opinion. He was respectful, well-spoken, and, well, handsome.

The very moment (Y/N) met him, she received a knowing, teasing glance from both of her parents. It took every ounce of will the Elf maiden had to keep herself from either turning bright red or outright flirt with Elrond.

Despite her excellent first impression of him, she wasn’t quite certain he thought the same of her. He’d hardly spoken a word to her beyond pleasantries.

She would be offended, but he was a busy man and for that she could not blame him.

(Y/N) was lucky enough to have a clear schedule. She used most of her time exploring Imladris and found what she believed was going to be her favourite place: a balcony carved into the mountains that overlooked the entire city, a waterfall tumbling nearby. There, she sat on the railing, letting her legs hang over the side despite the danger.

“Might I join you, my lady?”

She startled at the voice, but was smart enough not to jolt before she glanced back. “At your leisure, Lord Elrond. This is your home, after all.”

The man that had yet to leave her thoughts since her arrival was standing there, remarkably relaxed for someone who'd been hosting the Elves of Lorien. The distant setting sun landed on his raven hair, bringing (Y/N)'s attention to it before her gaze slipped to his eyes. Often, the few humans she met spoke of the knowledge the Elves held and how it manifested in their eyes; how they had something beyond in them, how the years they'd lived always seemed plain in their irises. She'd never really understood it until she saw him, saw the wisdom his hundreds of years gave him. It was a funny thing, she thought, that their age would show in their eyes of all things. His were lovely.

Elrond moved to join her at the edge, allowing himself to sit on the railing almost sideways. His feet did not hang over the edge as (Y/N)'s did, but the idea that he'd already followed her so far made her smile.

"I had no desire to interrupt your thoughts," he added quietly as he made himself comfortable.

She knew he was fishing, curious as to what had brought her here. It amused her like nothing else. "Oh, I'm hardly preoccupied. I'm simply...admiring. Your realm is beautiful."

He raised his eyebrows. "High praise from a Lady of Lorien."

"Believe me, the forests of my home are a sight like none other, but this place..." She let out a deep, awed breath. "I have not the words for it. I find myself lost in its sights. I've done nothing these last days but explore, yet I feel there is still so much more to find."

His chuckle surprised her. "I thought the same when I found it. It's why I settled here, after all. I couldn't tear my eyes away. You find it to your liking, then?"

"I adore it," she declared. "Especially the waterfalls. They're almost...other-worldly, as odd as that may sound."

"Hardly," he said, waving a hand. "Have you passed through the one in the lower gardens? There's a cavern behind it with the most beautiful crystal formations in the walls."

Her eyes widened. "No, I hadn't realised. Which garden did you say?"

"I'll have to show you, I think, it's difficult to find." A smile crossed his face. "If you don't object."

"On the contrary, my lord, I'll hold you to your word," she teased, laughing. Then, she sighed. "I do think I could stay here for the rest of my days, if I had the choice."

A pause.

"You could stay, if you wanted," Elrond said suddenly.

(Y/N) turned to look at him so quickly that it almost hurt. "Pardon?"

The smile on his face was...shy, now, and hesitant. It took everything in her not to gawk at the Lord of Imladris being sheepish.

"You could stay, if you wish. There's too much to see for one visit, I think, but you could always return," he said, glancing out onto the horizon.

"And...you wouldn't mind if I stayed? I wouldn't want to become a nuisance," she murmured, reaching up reflexively to fix a strand of hair.

He looked over and shook his head immediately. "Not at all, my lady." Then, he smiled. "In fact, I would enjoy your company."

She was struck with overwhelming joy. Clearly, he hadn’t thought bad of her at all, a thought that had been nagging her. Maybe-- maybe he even thought of her what she did of him. Perhaps he was interested in her in the same way?

(Y/N) couldn't help a wide smile. "Very well, then, I'll stay. We can't have the mighty Lord Elrond dying of a broken heart, after all."

He laughed, his voice a song to her ears. Sitting there, overlooking the city with him, it occurred to her that, yes, she was right before. She could stay here for the rest of her life and be perfectly happy.

Many months later, (Y/N) had taken residence in Imladris permanently. (Of course, the lives of Elves were long and she knew not to take her welcome for granted, so many of her belongings still remained in Lothlórien.)

She'd explored much of the city by now, though there were always little things to discover. Many of her days were spent with Elrond, so many in fact that she was practically taking part of Lindir's job. The poor man didn't mind at all-- he was glad to have someone helping, actually.

Especially when it came to Elrond and his habits. (Y/N) found out quickly that he tended to bury himself in his work, regardless of what the work was. She decided, much to Lindir’s amusement, that it was her job to keep him from getting buried alive.

"My lord," she said in a sing-song tone, clearly teasing. "My lord?"

Elrond shot her a dry look from over the edge of his book. He was at his desk in his study, which was covered wall to wall in bookshelves. Lindir hovered by the door, holding back snickers as he watched (Y/N) walk about the desk, almost like she was teasing out a predator; far enough to be safe, but getting dangerously close. The glare they both received only added to the concept.

"This is important business," Elrond drawled. "I'll be with you in a moment."

"You said that many, many moments ago,” she sighed.

"You need to take a break."

"I need to be left alone," he shot back.

She gasped, offended. "Did you hear that, Lindir? How rude."

"How unbecoming of a Lord," her compatriot added, grinning mischievously.

Elrond looked up at both of them with a tired expression. "Don't you have someone else to bother?"

"Not until you die, my dear Elrond," (Y/N) declared decidedly. "Now, let's see...how could I possibly drag you away--"

She cut herself off, snatching the book he held from his hands with the speed of Shadowfax. He made an offended noise, but the deed was done and she waved it about almost gleefully.

"Oh, look! No work now," she said lightly.

"Give it back--"

She smiled brightly. "Or I could--"

"Don't you dare," he very nearly growled, already pushing his chair back and getting to his feet.

"I dare!" she laughed, already darting toward the door. "How rude of you! You are chasing a lady of Lorien!"

"I am chasing a nuisance!" he huffed, chasing after her. "And a threat to my crown!"

The laugh she barked out was almost uncivilized, but she masked it by slipping behind Lindir, using him almost as a human shield. Meanwhile, Lord Elrond stood opposite her, frowning and no doubt trying to use Lindir to his advantage.

"Did you hear that, Lindir?” she asked once more. “I'm a threat to his crown!"

"I can hardly believe it, my lady," he replied dryly.

Elrond made a grab for the book, but she ducked away at the last moment, making a run for the door.

"You'll have to catch me, my lord!" she cackled, very glad that she'd chosen comfortable shoes that morning.

He was right on her heels. "You'll regret this!"

Left behind, Lindir sighed and rolled his eyes, now that he was no longer in respectable company. "One of these days they'll realise this isn't normal."

Outside, in the streets of the city, it was thankfully too dark and too late for anyone to witness Lord Elrond chase Lady (Y/N) building to building, garden to garden. She led him right to the lowermost garden, where he'd shown her the cavern beyond the waterfall weeks and weeks ago. Once there, she quickened her pace and ducked behind a tree to hide.

(Y/N) tried to keep her heaving breaths quiet, peeking around the trunk every few moments.

She frowned when he didn't seem to follow. He'd just...disappeared, really. Looking in the direction from whence she came, she took a step back and shrieked when she hit someone's chest.

Strong arms wrapped around her, but not in a way that was restrictive; she could fight her way out if she wanted. Elrond's rumbling laughter came from deep within his chest. (Y/N) felt it more than heard it as he grabbed his book from her hand. She burst into near-childish giggles.

"I believe this is mine," Elrond hummed.

When she could breathe again, she turned in his hold and hit his chest good-naturedly. "That was terrifying!"

"I thought it would make us even," he said, the smile on his face worth every second of fear.

(Y/N) realised abruptly how close they were, mere inches apart, really. It didn't help that she was still breathing heavily from their chase, something he mimicked as well. His smile fell and his expression became...not solemn, but thoughtful.

"Is my distraction working?" (Y/N) asked, tilting her head slightly.

He chuckled. "Thoroughly." His gaze moved from her eyes to her lips, then back up again.

(Y/N) felt her heart in her chest. For months they'd danced around each other, always thinking but never acting. She was so unbelievably fond of this man, this place, this feeling. It never seemed to leave her alone and yet she'd never done anything about it. Her mother had urged her repeatedly to ask to court him, but it always felt...early.

Elrond let out a sharp breath. "May I--?"

"Yes," she answered breathlessly, already knowing what his question was.

He leaned forward and slanted his mouth against hers, taking away what little air she had left in her lungs. His touch was unbearably gentle and curious, always curious. (Y/N) had never experienced anything quite like it, she thought. It was remarkably like her first day in Imladris.

When they finally pulled apart, she let out a soft laugh, which he echoed. He pulled her closer, closer still, and held her, resting his forehead against hers. And they stayed there, in the garden, comfortably silent.

Months went by and slipped into years. The time that passed was mere moments in the life of an Elf, yet (Y/N)'s days in Imladris had never felt longer. Each one was a new adventure, a new experience, and to get to live it by Elrond's side was a blessing.

They began officially courting some time after the garden incident, which Lindir was grateful for. (According to him, their 'pining' was becoming insufferable. (Y/N) had no idea what he was talking about.) Elrond wore the Evenstar, a family heirloom gifted to him by his new partner, while (Y/N) had a circlet of silver to match his own, which he'd had specifically made for her.

It was a slow, comfortable sort of thing, a pace both of them were comfortable with.

Some days, though, (Y/N) felt as though the courtship was pointless. They were practically married as it was, living together and ruling together, in most ways. Elrond had insisted on her becoming comfortable as a lady of Imladris, simply to see if she would enjoy it at all, and she'd fit into the role quite well. The two were, essentially, already settled into a life together.

(Y/N)'s parents thought the same from what she could gather from their letters. Her father, at least, was insisting on a wedding soon, but her mother was far more patient. Celeborn had always been fond of ceremonies, but (Y/N) begged him to wait. She didn't want to push Elrond, not with how busy he always was.

Every week, another letter would come in the mornings by messenger and, every week, she would write a letter back.

One week, however, she didn't receive a letter.

"You're certain?" she asked the messenger.

"Yes, my lady," he replied nervously. "I have no letter for you, only two for my Lord Elrond. I'm sorry."

She frowned. "Odd. Here, I'll take them. He's out with a hunting party."

He handed over the letters, which she took graciously. Biting her lip, (Y/N) was almost tempted to read them when she recognised her mother's handwriting on the outside of both letters. She stopped herself, though, reminding herself that it could be official White Council business. (That was one of the few things she had yet to get involved with.)

Still, it made her smile, seeing her partner's name written in her mother's script. He was fitting in with her family as well as she was fitting in with his home.

A storm of horse's hooves against stone echoed across the city. (Y/N) smiled to herself. Speak of the devil...

Turning on her heel, she watched Elrond ride up to her on his faithful steed, covered head to toe in shining, beautifully crafted armour. He smiled fondly at the sight of her, coming to stop just beside her.

"To what do I owe the pleasure, dearest?" he asked, preparing to dismount. "You never greet me upon arrival."

She rolled her eyes. "I hate to embrace you with the armour and you know it. A messenger from Lorien arrived this morning with two letters for you. From my mother."

His eyes widened. "Oh. I hadn't realised-- one moment--"

He dismounted from his horse, his hesitation making (Y/N) frowned. As soon as he was on the ground, he removed his gauntlets and took the letters, opening the first envelope curiously. When he looked up to see (Y/N) watching him, he smiled.

“I would ask you not to worry, but I know it’s pointless,” he teased.

She huffed, crossing her arms. “Since I’ve come here, my mother has never neglected to write to me, but the one time she does, she writes two letters to you. Care to explain, dearest?”

Elrond chuckled. “Momentarily.”

Pulling out the first letter, he skimmed over its content. Something in the letter caught his eye and suddenly he was beaming, his smile brighter than the sun.

“What?” (Y/N) asked, voice tinged with concern. “What is it?”

Abruptly, he handed her the second letter. She went to rip it open, but he stopped her. “Ah, wait.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Really? I’ll break your fingers.”

He grinned and held out his hand to her. “Humour me?”

“Fine,” she sighed.

Much to (Y/N)’s surprise, he led her away from the main road of the city and down a familiar path. She laughed when she realised they were headed for the lowermost garden, the place he’d kissed her for the first time, the place he’d spoken of the very first time they’d met. Elrond muttered something about wanting to get rid of his armour, but when she asked, he waved her off.

Finally, he seemed pleased when they found a small stone bridge over a deep creek, a place shaded by trees with a waterfall nearby.

Elrond turned to her and took both of her hands in his, caressing her knuckles with his thumbs. (Y/N) eyed him curiously. She appreciated the gesture, but her curiosity was eating at her. What could her mother have possibly said that prompted this?

“(Y/N),” he called gently, gaining her attention.

“Hm?”

She smiled when he reached out, taking a gentle hold of her chin.

“You have become as much a home to me as this city is,” he murmured, his thumb running up and down the length of her jawline. “Anything you’d ask of me, I would do it.”

She shook her head. “Elrond--”

“I know you would never ask for anything unreasonable and I love you all the more for it,” he added quickly. “And I do love you, more than anything. I don’t think I can imagine living as long as I will without you here.”

“Neither can I,” she admitted with a little laugh.

“(Y/N) of Lorien,” he breathed out, taking both of her hands again, “I humbly ask for your hand: your life, your love. I ask that you make Imladris your home, that you stay at my side for as long as the both of us are on this land and beyond.”

(Y/N) exhaled shakily. “Oh...oh, my Elrond,” she said, moving to cup his head in her hands. “I’m already home. You never had to ask.”

She initiated the kiss, capturing his lips with hers and pulling him close. The way he responded, clutching the material of his dress, was almost a thing of relief. He was weightless, so weightless, standing there with her. And (Y/N) felt the same, felt at home here, in ways she never had in the forests of her birth.

Elrond was the first to pull away. “I had to ask your parents,” he said, laughing.

“I’m going to kill them,” she hissed, though she didn’t mean it for a second.

When he pulled her back into his arms, she let herself breathe in and breathe out, her lungs filling with the sweet smell of safety and of love.

Weddings weren’t as ceremonial to Elves as they were to Men. Yes, the ceremony was still a beautiful thing and the respective families attended as best they could manage, but it didn’t take nearly as long to plan.

As soon as (Y/N)’s parents arrived, they were ready to go.

(Y/N) donned her best fabrics, just as Elrond did, and met her father, who would escort her to her soon-to-be husband.

Because Elrond was lord of his people, there were many, many Elves in attendance, which made (Y/N) nervous. However, from the moment she spotted her beloved Elrond, the crowd melted away and a smile came across her face.

He was speaking quietly with her mother, who held the strips of fabric that would symbolically bind them to each other. But he looked up and saw her, his entire demeanor seeming to shift. He was lighter, all of a sudden, and his eyes shined. Her heart ached to stand with him, to hold his hands and tell him she loved him.

Soon enough, she was standing with him, her father standing dutifully beside his wife.

Her mother smiled softly at both of them, but (Y/N) couldn’t draw her eyes away from her partner. Elrond was the same, the twinkle in his eyes saying what he couldn’t.

“Elrond Peredhel, (Y/N) of Lorien, today the Valar will witness a binding of your fëar,” her mother said.

She lifted the white fabric and motioned for them to hold out their hands. When they did so, (Y/N) grasping Elrond’s with a breath of relief, she wrapped it around both of them, binding them together.

“And with this, the two of you are bound, forever promised, on these shores and beyond. May you live and love without fear, without darkness.”

As one, (Y/N) and Elrond spoke; “On these shores and beyond.”

And when he kissed her-- fiercely, recklessly-- she’d never felt more at home.

River’s Tags: @hahaboop & @mystoragehatesme

Masterlist

#elrond x reader #elrond imagine #elrond fanfic #elrond oneshot #lotr #elrond #lotr x reader #lotr imagine #lotr fanfic #lotr oneshot #elrond peredhel #rivika #river #generallynerdy #request #at home

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since0202 · 4 years ago

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Chapter 29: Home

After a tearful goodbye with their mothers, Grace and Bella made their way to the ticket counter to check in for their flight.

“Oh, Miss Swan, Miss Alo, you’ve been upgraded to first class and instead of your original flight with two layovers, we were able to accommodate you with a direct flight. Here are your updated tickets and Amy here will show you the way to the VIP Lounge to wait for your flight.” The front desk attendant gave them a warm smile and motioned to the woman beside her.

Bella’s mouth was opening and closing like she meant to say something and Grace’s eyes went wide with excitement.

“Nice!” she exclaimed. “Finally, the perks of having a rich boyfriend are paying off.”

“Grace!” Bella nearly scolded as they followed the aforementioned Amy to the lounge.

“What? Might as well benefit from your line into Richville.”

“You sound like Jake.” Bella laughed taking a seat in the overstuffed chairs as a waiter handed them champagne. “Speaking of which,” she set her champagne down without taking a drink, unlike Grace or delightedly downed the first quarter glass in one swift chug, “Have you spoken to him?”

Grace shook her head aggressively, “Absolutely not.” Her mind wandered back to the last text message he had sent yesterday afternoon after they had returned from lunch on the water.

You can’t avoid me forever.

Oh, how true that was.

Bella rolled her eyes and Grace decided to give her a taste of her own medicine.

“And what about you? Should we start wedding planning the minute we get home then?”

“It was his one condition to have him turn me himself.” Bella shot back. Grace wasn’t expecting that.

“So you’re still on this whole immortal kick then?” Grace crossed her arms after popping a piece of gum into her mouth.

“I was never not on it. I know what I want,” Bella said determined.

“And I want a burrito, but it’s 7 in the morning.” Grace said with a little too much venom. She was starting to sound like Sam. Bella looked away from her, annoyed. Grace decided to call a truce, she wasn’t going to convince Bella not to become a member of the undead in an airport. “Can I at least see the ring?” she said more gently.

Bella looked over at her tentatively, thinking for a moment and then dug into her bag and pulled out an oversized ring box. Grace held her breath knowing it was going to be enormous. But she was pleasantly surprised.

When Bella revealed the ring to her, it was big, but the old fashioned and unique oval shape set with glittering diamonds was breathtaking and fit Bella so well.

“Holy fuck,” Grace said a little too loud. Bella snapped the case shut as they drew a look from an older man reading his newspaper a couple seats down from them. “Sorry, it’s beautiful.”

“Thanks. I still..am a little nervous about all of this,” Bella wrung her hands above her and Grace gave her a soft smile.

“I know. But you love him so…” she trailed off, not sure what else there was to say.

Grace had never thought about marriage growing up. Her parents were incredibly happy loving people and she had the best model for marriage, but throughout her life, she never envisioned herself as married. Now a soft feeling turned over in her stomach where she held onto a new idea that was starting to bloom there. One that she saw blooming in Bella too. It might be nice to call someone yours forever.

Their flight landed early that afternoon and both girls were giddy when they got off of the plane. It was their first time flying first class and they were buzzing off the high of a catered meal and sparkling cider.

As they came out of the terminal to baggage claim, they saw Edward standing there, his face fitted with a perfectly stretched smile when he saw Bella.

Bella actually dropped her backpack and ran toward him and into his arms. Grace picked up her bag and slung it over her free shoulder and trudged toward them. As she approached them, Edward pulled his face out from behind her hair and said:

“I brought you a present.”

“A present?” Grace cocked her head to the side confused as Edward took Bella’s back from Grace’s shoulder.

Rachel Black came strolling from around the baggage claim with their suitcases. Grace’s heart dropped into her stomach. Son of a bitch. Grace inwardly cursed and sucked in a quick breath. Was this Edward’s idea of some kind of a sick joke?

“Hey!” she said, trying to sound cheerful and shoving her hands in her back pockets. Edward saw the look of disappointment cross Grace’s face and suddenly felt like he’d made a mistake. Bella looked at Grace worriedly.

“Hey little Alo,” Rachel said, that same twinkling smile on her face. Seeing Rachel made her feel slightly sick which frustrated her even more. A dumb imprint, that Rachel wasn’t even in control of, was going to make her suddenly dislike a person she’d known almost her whole life? “I got to be honest with you, I’m not here just for me.”

Grace was confused and raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“I’ve been sent to take you to see your new home,” Rachel rolled her eyes but let out a little laugh. “Well, I think the exact instructions were to take you to my brother first and then the house second, but tomato, tomato.” She shrugged and Grace found herself fighting a smile. Same old Rachel, warm, but still took no shit.

“I hope that’s alright,” Edward said from the sidelines. “We’ll drop you off at your place.”

Rachel nodded and Grace let out a big sigh holding her arms out at her sides in a wide shrug.

“Why not.”

Edward was able to drive Grace right up to her home since technically it wasn’t on the original treaty line that they had agreed to so many years ago. Tensions between the pack and the Cullens had ebbed slightly since the fight, so Sam was a little more lenient about where they could come on their land.

Grace, however, was completely floored when they pulled up. The old, falling down house had been given a facelift in her absence. A new thatched roof adorned the top of the house and a second level had been installed. A large circular window looked out toward the cove. Where the sagging porch had been a new one was installed that wrapped around the front of sides of the home. Tools were still scattered about and it was still being installed in some areas. They had painted her front door a dark mossy green and when Grace pushed it open, she thought she might faint.

The interior of the home was completely refinished. A small kitchen looked out over her spacious living room that Esme had expertly decorated to match her rustic, simple style. Her bedroom was on the second floor in the large loft that looked out over the cove and the back bedroom was converted into a pseudo indoor greenhouse with a desk and comfy, plush chairs. One wall was dedicated to an entire bookshelf that held an assorted collection of books.

Grace dropped her backpack in the back room and turned to Edward who was standing in her doorway. “This is incredible, thank you so much.” she couldn’t quite catch her breath.

“It’s the least we could do, considering everything you’ve done from my family and Bella.” Edward said softly before nodding and taking his leave. Bella gave her a hug before she left and said “Tell me how it goes with Jake” before joining Edward.

Rachel was sitting in the new living room waiting for Grace. “Sooo, what do you think?”

“It’s incredible,” Grace said plopping down on the soft linen sofa. “It’s too much but it’s incredible.”

“Naaah, you deserve this.” Rachel steadied Grace with a look and she shifted uncomfortably under her gaze. “I wanted to ask you….” here it comes “About the whole Paul thing.”

Grace felt an awful pang in her stomach rise up. No, not now.

“What about Paul?” Grace said nonchalantly and Rachel tilted her head knowingly at her.

“Don’t act like that, I know you.” Grace gave out a huff. “Sam said you two were pretty serious...before I showed up.” Rachel looked at her fingernails now not wanting to meet Grace’s gaze. Grace looked her over carefully trying to see what she was getting at.

“Yeah, we were together, so?”

“Don’t say ‘so’ like that. I’m asking if you’re okay.”

“Rach, what do you want me to say? Yes? Totally fine? Don’t think about him at all at night? Because that’s not the truth.” Grace looked over her shoulder out the open front door toward the cove. She wanted to disappear in this moment.

“I just...I know I screwed everything up, but I didn’t mean to. I didn’t even know.” Rachel looked at her now. Tears were welling up in Grace’s eyes. She felt her phone buzz in her pocket but momentarily ignored it.

“Why are you bringing all this up again? Are you and Paul going out or something?” she looked at Rachel now with a hurt, scornful look. She didn’t want to know the answer but she also couldn’t shy away from it now that Rachel was trying to gauge her reaction.

Rachel didn’t respond for awhile and picked at the skin on the tips of her finger. Grace watched her carefully and then nodded, “Right…” It was clear what Rachel was after now. Grace pulled her phone out of her pocket and looked at her most recent text message.

SMS Text—4:33 p.m.: Jake

Did you make it home okay?

Rach was supposed to bring you by an hour ago.

I need to talk to you.

Grace considered not responding, hightailing it out of there and swimming as far out into the ocean as her body would allow, but she didn’t want to be alone in this new pain that was becoming clear now that Rachel clearly wanted Paul. She typed a hasty reply.

I’m home, at the new place.

Come over.

“Grace?” Rachel said looking at her now with a sad look on her face. “I don’t want you to be unhappy. You know how much you mean to me but I...the imprint makes it hard for me to…”

“Are you asking for my permission or something? Or my blessing?”

“No, I….” she took one look at Grace and switched topics suddenly, “What’s going on with you and my brother?”

Oh, so she wanted to play it like this? Grace was game. She stood up and walked over to her kitchen to pull down a green glass water cup and filled it with cold water from the sink. She took a drink and then turned to look at Rachel.

“Not the same thing that was going on with Paul if that’s what you’re asking.” Rachel winced and Grace immediately felt guilty.

“Grace, I’m….I’m so sorry,” her voice piqued with emotion and Grace felt immediately drawn to her. “I don’t know what to do here. Help me.” her eyes were pleading but Grace couldn’t find the words to make either of them feel better at the moment.

“You should go,” Grace said in a hard voice, Rachel’s face changed to one of disappointment, anger even, “Jake’s coming and if you don’t want to get your head bit off, then it’s best to head off now. So…” Grace trailed off refilling her water and staying away from Rachel.

She got to her feet and nodded, walking out the front door and heading off into the forest. Grace let out a frustrated groan as she wrapped her arm protectively around her stomach where the pain was still pulsing. She definitely didn’t expect Rachel to turn up at the airport and what’s more, she was not prepared to have a conversation about her and Paul dating. Grace knew the imprint was in play but it still hurt to think of Paul moving on so quickly. As she gripped the countertop and tried to hold herself together, a familiar voice echoed across the room as Jake made his way through the open door, shirtless and in his cut off jeans.

“Hey, you okay?” He was in front of her in an instant, his hands cupped under her cheeks and pulling her face up to look at her. Grace felt a calloused thumb move gently across her cheek and she took in a deep breath, letting her arm fall as she stood up straight. She grabbed his wrists and pulled his hands down off of her face in one movement.

“Yeah, fine.” She moved past him to go sit on the porch steps, suddenly needing a dose of fresh air. Jake tensed from the ease at which she pulled away and followed her shortly after.

He lowered himself down next to her on the front steps and watched her face for a second before looking out into the cove. “What did Rachel say?”

“It’s bullshit, Jake,” Grace let it out, “This imprint is the cruelest thing in the world. Because no one gets a choice. Why? Why do that to us when we already have so much to deal with? I don’t….” she choked a little, trying to swallow a sob. “I hope it never happens to me. I want a choice.”

Jake listened patiently and nodded his head, “I hear you.”

“Just...promise me something,” she looked at him seriously now and Jacob trained his eyes on her, even with her face red and puffy, lips parted, and hair flying around her, he thought she was beautiful. He desperately wanted to raise a hand to graze her cheek or pull her into him and kiss the top of her head until he felt her breath even out.

“Anything,” he said seriously.

“Promise me that when it happens to you, you’ll still be the same.” Her eyes were swimming with hurt just thinking about Jake being pulled away from her in any way. But still, she pushed down that ache in hopes of keeping herself whole.

“I promise, Grace. I won’t let you down.” His voice was soft, calm, and reassuring. The tension in her face melted right away when he looked at her like that and Jake knew that whatever she asked him, he would do.

She leaned her body against his, resting her head on his shoulder and he let out a sigh of relief.

“These last four days without you were not my best,” he admitted suddenly.

“What do you mean?” she mumbled, listening intently to the crash and roll of the sea.

“When you left, something in me stopped working. I felt….irritated. Like I was being pulled in a million different directions and I couldn’t sit still. Sam had to send me on rounds by myself a couple of nights because no one could stand to be around me and I don’t blame them.”

“That’s weird,” Grace said distractedly.

“Yeah….weird,” Jake said softly. Grace wrapped her arms around his bicep and scooted into him more.

“Are you hungry?”

Jake let out a laugh, “Always.”

They spent the evening prepping and cooking vegetables and chicken for burritos in Grace’s kitchen. Esme, delightfully, had stocked a part of Grace’s closet with extra men’s t-shirts and jeans for the pack in case they had ever phased nearby or needed something to change into. It was incredibly thoughtful and Grace hugged the black t-shirt to her body before coming down the stairs and tossing it at Jake. He laughed and eagerly put it on, returning to his chopping of the onions while Grace watched a pan of sizzling chicken breasts.

When she came over to supervise she gave out a short laugh.

“No, no Jacob. Diced, we need diced onions.”

“These are diced!” he protested. She pushed in front of him and gently took the knife from his hand to demonstrate.

“Slice this way, and then this way,” He was standing very close behind her and was looking around her. As Grace delicately chopped the onion, Jacob raised two tentative fingers and brushed back a swath of dark black hair that had fallen in front of her face. His fingertips gently brushed the side of her neck as he stroked the hair back behind her shoulder and peered from behind her to take in her work. Grace shivered, goosebumps rising on her neck and she suddenly felt very hot and very aware of his presence.

“Like that, okay?” she said, handing him the knife back. He gave her a mischievous smile and nodded.

“Got it.”

They worked easily together, each reaching around the other for things, making jokes and laughing at something the other said. They opted to eat on the couch, cuddled up under a blanket and flipping on a movie to pass the time as the sun set. Jacob didn’t ask her once about the phone call and Grace was grateful.

Having Jake in the house made her whole body feel warm and in the back of her mind, she started dreading the time when he’d get up and leave. They talked late into the night, Grace laying her legs over Jake’s lap as she reclined on the couch.

She shared how good it was to see her mom, how she wanted her to see this place and know that she really was okay, so that she wouldn’t worry about her future. Jacob listened dutifully, his eyes always patient, kind, and open as she opened up about her fears and her dreams. He absently moved his hand up and down her thigh, pausing only when he was telling a story about his most recent night of rounds to emphatically show how he wanted to strangle Embry for something he said. Grace laughed at this and revelled at the sensation of warmth when he placed his hand back on her thigh. As the night wore on, they each drifted off to sleep peacefully on the couch.

Grace woke some time in the night to see Jake still there, his head leaning back against the couch and snoring softly. She gently picked her legs up off of him and strode to close her front door and turn off the lights. Then she gently leaned over him and placed a hand on his arm.

“Jacob.” she whispered and his eyes slowly opened looking around at the darkened room. “Come on.” she said running her hand down his arm and taking his hand. He yawned and stood as she guided him through the living room and up the stairs to her room. Once in her room, she let go of his hand and strode into her closet to change into some soft pajama shorts and a thin linen tank top. When she returned, Jake was taking off his shirt and folding his jean shorts, setting them on a chair in the corner of her room.

Grace crawled into bed and Jake nestled in beside her. Easily, they meshed into one another, Grace cuddling up into his left side, arm slung over his chest and head on his shoulder. Jacob wrapped an arm down her back and rested his hand on her waist, under her shirt to feel her skin on his. The moonlight filtered in above the bed and they fell back asleep almost instantly.

Grace didn’t know what it meant to have him here beside her just yet but she knew that she didn’t want him to leave. She had never felt so at peace before and decided as she drifted off that whatever awkwardness happened in the morning, she’d take it if it meant she could have this moment with him. She felt him lean over to kiss the top of her head before she let the sound of the waves and the rise and fall of his warm breath pull her into a deep sleep.

#twilight fanfiction #Twilight FanFic #twilight #new moon #eclipse #jacobblackxoc #jacob black #jacobxoc #paul lahote #bella swan #edward cullen #the cullens #The Pack #chapter 29 #a monster lives here

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mirukunofuwa · 4 years ago

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Red String of Fate (part 1)

Ok so I was gonna have this be one mega fic, but online class things happened and I haven’t had the time to write any more of this >.> Part 2 will hopefully be up next week!

Based on a request from @shycoffeeparadise :3

Izuku Midoriya x Katsuki’s Sister!Reader WC: 2.4k Warnings: Something that appears to be unrequited love & rejection, Kacchan doing a lot of swearing, soulmate au

When you were a child, you had heard the story of the red string of fate; an invisible tether that connected you to your true beloved. It ensured that no matter what, the two of you would come back to each other.

You were 5 years old when you first heard it from one of the older kids that lived in your apartment complex. Upon hearing it, you had proudly declared that you shared a string with ‘Zuku-chan’, your neighbor that you tried to spend every waking hour with. This announcement was met with disdain from your older brother of two years, who delivered a smack to the back of your head.

“Why would you want to marry a loser like Deku?” Katsuki had grumbled, crossing his arms as he glared down at you.

“‘Cause I love ‘Zuku-chan!” You pouted, stomping your foot. “He’s gonna be my husband!”

“No way!”

Your vision was blurred as hot tears filled your eyes, and you pushed Katsuki with all the strength you could muster, before running off to sulk on the swings.

“(Y/N)-chan?” Came a familiar, comforting voice as Izuku climbed into the swing next to you. “What’s wrong?”

“K-Kacchan was b-being mean!” You managed to whimper out, wiping at your eyes and nose.

Izuku took your hand and squeezed it, giving you a bright smile. “It’s alright, (Y/N)-chan! I’m sure Kacchan didn’t mean to make you upset!”

You sniffled and nodded, getting off the swing to give Izuku a hug, which he returned. “Thank you, ‘Zuku-chan…”

Neither of you noticed Katsuki glaring at you from his spot with his friends, before storming off, telling his companions that he didn’t want to be around his “loser sister” anymore.

From then on, your love for Izuku was cemented, much to Katsuki’s chagrin. He’d have to pull you away from following Izuku around like a lost kitten, firmly reminding you that he was in charge of you, and he said you couldn’t follow “stupid Deku” around. You hated when the two would go off to middle school, and you had to stay at your elementary. You would walk with them for as long as possible, before Katsuki would flick your forehead and tell you to “go to your own damn school”. You would, but not before giving a hug to the both of them. You always made sure to hug Katsuki first, but Izuku would get a much tighter squeeze.

In middle school, you hung off the two older boys whenever you could, usually during lunch and after school. Katsuki would always shake you off, taking a different route to leave you and Izuku behind. While you would’ve loved to have your big brother there with you, you would always cherish the time alone that you had with Izuku.

You had been rehearsing your confession to Izuku for the whole year, finally working up the courage the evening after a school festival. The two of you were walking home as usual, but something about the sunset over the city skyline, and the way Izuku swayed and hummed some of the music you heard at the festival told you that now was the right time.

“‘Zuku-chan… Do you want to go to the park? It’s just a few blocks away.”

“Are you sure, (Y/N)-chan? It’s getting late…”

“I’m sure. I… I have something I want to tell you.”

“Oh… a-alright!” He gave you a grin, following you to the park.

The two of you found yourselves at the edge of a duck pond, watching the water ripple in the wind. You sat down on the grass, prompting Izuku to sit beside you.

“So…” Izuku started, fidgeting with his pencil. “What did you want to tell me?”

You tried to say something, wanting to tell him how you felt, but the words wouldn’t come. Before you could even think, you were surging forward and pressing a kiss to Izuku’s lips, before quickly pulling away.

When you opened your eyes, you were met with a bright red face, and emerald eyes blown wide in surprise.

“I… I…” Izuku stuttered, then scrambled to stand up. “I need to go!”

Before you could say anything, Izuku was running out of the park in a panic, leaving you to stare after him.

It took all your strength not to cry on your way home. The ambient sounds of the city were uncomfortably loud without Izuku to talk to you; buses and trains drove by, people chattered idly, dogs barked, but the most deafening was the absence of your friend’s excited prattling.

When you got home, you didn’t say anything to your parents that were watching a movie on the couch, nor to Katsuki in his room. You knew if you opened your mouth it would come out as a sob.

Once your door was slammed shut and you had flopped face-first onto your bed, you finally let loose. Your entire body trembled with your sobs, and your pillow was quickly dampened by your tears. It didn’t last long, though, and you simmered down to pathetic sniffles in a matter of minutes.

Once your cries had quieted, there was a gentle knock at your door, and Katsuki’s muffled voice came through. “Hey, (Y/N). Can I come in?” When you didn’t respond, he opened the door and stood beside your bed with his arms crossed. “Mom told me to check on you.”

You finally lifted your face from your pillow, cheeks patchy red and eyes welling with tears once more.

“Are you gonna tell me what happened or not?”

When you responded with silence, Katsuki gave an exasperated sigh before sitting down on the bed. “Fine, idiot. Don’t tell me.”

You paused for a moment, before finally mumbling out. “I… Izu…”

Katsuki seemed to perk up at the mention of his rival. “What did the bastard do?!”

“I… I w-wanted to tell him I l-liked him so I… I k-kissed him and he r-ran away…”

Katsuki’s fists clenched together while he tried to maintain his relative sense of calm. “Well I could’ve told you how bad of an idea that was, dumbass!”

“I d-didn’t know what to do!” You sobbed again, fat tears pooling in your eyes once more.

“What you should’ve done is not fall for fucking Deku in the first place.” He growled, unable to help the tiny popping sounds that came from his palms. His expression softened a little when he saw you trying to wipe away your tears with your sleeve. “...you want me to go beat the shit out of him for you?”

“N-no…”

“Damnit.” He huffed and flopped back onto the bed, staring at your ceiling. “I’m still gonna make sure he stays away from you. He doesn’t even deserve to see you if he’s gonna hurt you like that.”

“Thank you, Katsuki…”

“I have to do this, idiot. How am I gonna be the number one hero if I can’t protect my own sister?”

You tried to tune Izuku out throughout the rest of your middle and high school career, but it was near impossible when he seemed to constantly be by your brother’s side. What made it worse was that he was flaunting his quirk, a quirk he only ever revealed once he stopped being your friend.

Had he been lying to you to make you feel better about your own lack of a quirk? Part of you questioned why he would do that if he didn’t love you, but you suppressed that thought immediately. He just didn’t want you to feel alone, that’s the kind of person he is.

You still couldn’t avoid him when you graduated from UA’s general ed course, not when you wanted to be a reporter. Deku was all the public ever wanted to hear about, and you’d be damned if you didn’t give the people what they want.

You’d constantly find yourself at the scene of his latest escapade, praying that some other reporter would get to him first just to give you an excuse to talk to someone else. When you were unlucky enough, he’d give you a friendly smile, but he never talked about anything other than the task at hand.

At least he was professional about it.

Aside from having to see your childhood crush, you were living pretty well. You always had something to write about, being Ground Zero’s “favored reporter”, and you got exclusive access to many events that were for heroes and their guests only.

That was how you ended up at this exclusive party. The press weren’t technically allowed, so you weren’t able to take notes or pictures, but it was a good experience anyway. You didn’t know what you were expecting when Katsuki had texted you asking to be his guest, but you were pleased to find that it was a relatively run-of-the-mill formal gathering.

The mayor’s penthouse apartment was packed with pro heroes that you recognized from the field, some of them recognizing you in turn, making jokes about reporters not being allowed. You still hung around Katsuki and Eijirou, who was likely Katsuki’s preferred plus one, but he was going to be at the party anyway.

You knew Katsuki could’ve just come alone and met up with Eijirou, so you were thankful that he brought you along.

Mostly thankful.

You couldn’t help bumping into Izuku, because of course the friendly bastard was going to say hello to everyone he knew, especially Katsuki.

You tried to busy yourself with your champagne glass while the two exchanged niceties, but held your breath when Izuku turned to you.

“Hey, (Y/N)! How have you been?”

“I’m… good.” You gave Izuku a smile, cursing the butterflies that still invaded your stomach when you made eye contact with him.

“That’s great!” He grinned, and you tried to hold in a sigh of relief when someone else grabbed his attention. “Oh, um… good seeing you!” Izuku gave you one more signature grin before going off to say hello to whoever it was that had called his name.

You could still hear your own heartbeat loud in your ears, fixated on it only until you heard Eijirou’s voice.

“Katsuki, what’s wrong?”

Your brother had his fist clenched in an effort to hide the mini pops sounding off in his palm. “Nothing, Eiji. Could you go get my glass refilled?”

“Oh… y-yeah.” Eijirou nodded and took Katsuki’s glass from him, going off to find a waiter.

Katsuki stared at you for a moment, before sighing. “If you wanna go home, I get it.”

You shook your head, “I’m fine.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure.” You gave Katsuki a side hug, smiling at Eijirou when he got back with his and Katsuki’s glasses filled with wine.

“Everything alright?” He asked, tilting his head in curiosity.

“Yeah, don’t worry about it.” You smiled and finished off your own glass, before heading off to get it refilled as well.

The line was fairly long, and you stood behind a sleepy-looking woman, one that you didn’t recognize, probably the guest of a hero.

It wasn’t long before the waiter had to run and get more drinks from the kitchen, bringing the line to a standstill.

“Um… excuse me?” The woman in front of you had turned around, looking a little excited.

“Hi?” You gave her a nervous smile, and she returned with a smile of her own.

“My name’s Naoko, I came with my boyfriend, Hainu.” She nodded towards one of the rookie heroes trying to network with some higher-ups. “Um… this might sound weird, but… have you heard of the red string of fate?”

You felt a pit in your stomach at the mention of the fairy tale, but you nodded. “Yeah, I’m familiar.”

“Well, I can see people’s red strings, and… it’s probably easier to just show you, yeah?” Naoko took your left hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it, leaving a bright red lipstick stain. All of a sudden, what looked like a glowing thread wrapped around your pinky, extending across the room and finally ending in a crowd of people.

It was a few moments before your supposed soulmate was visible, the opposite end of the thread tied in a bow around his own left pinky.

The pit in your stomach grew, and you felt tears well up in your eyes.

“I-is everything alright? I thought this would be exciting for you.” You could barely hear Naoko’s voice over the blood rushing through your ears, but you nodded anyway.

“I just… I need to go home.” You quickly turned around, weaving your way through the crowd to find Katsuki. You set your glass down on the side table of the couch he and Eijirou were sitting on, before giving him a teary look. “I’ll see you later, Katsuki. Thanks for inviting me.”

“What happened?” Katsuki’s eyebrows knitted together as he moved to stand up, “Did that asshole say something–”

“No. I’m fine, I just… I need to be alone.” You leaned down and gave your brother a quick hug before swiftly leaving the party, taking the moment of peace in the elevator to gather your thoughts.

You were going to go home, take a nice bath, watch a show, try to forget about this. It would be hard considering the metaphysical string tied around your finger, but that wouldn’t stop you from trying.

Katsuki had been your ride over, so the trip home was one agonizing train ride. You looked out of place in your formal clothes, and with the streaks of mascara running down your face, but you tried to ignore the looks you garnered.

It wasn’t long before your phone was buzzing in your purse, a text from Eijirou.

-“Hey, everything alright?”

You stared at your phone for a moment before texting back.

-“Yeah, I’m fine.” -“It’s okay if you aren’t. I won’t tell Katsuki. Wouldn’t want him blowing up the party ;P”

You smiled at your phone, thinking for a few moments before responding.

-“Do you have Deku’s phone number?” -“Yeah! Want me to send it?” -“Yes please.”

A few moments later, he sent you the contact.

You typed out your message, letting it sit unsent in the app while you stared at the words. What if he didn’t show up? What if he didn’t actually want to see you, what if he was just pretending to tolerate you in order to save face?

You gathered up your courage and finally hit send, reading over the text and wishing you had said nothing.

-“Izuku, meet me at Watanabe Park by the pond. I have something I want to tell you. –(Y/N)”

#deku x reader #izuku x reader #izuku midoriya x reader #izuku #izuku midoriya #midoriya #midoriya izuku #bnha x reader #bnha x you #soulmate au #it's got mentions of my ocs for like two seconds

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soheila-1996 · 4 years ago

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Wake up, Rookie- Part five (final chapter)

Paring: Ethan x F!MC

Word count: 3,492

Warnings: major character death 😭

A/N: I’m posting an alternative ending tomorrow!

Catch up here

Tags: @dulceghernandez @rookie-ramsey @choicesandanimeruleme @aylamwrites @ethansmommyissues @schnitzelbutterfingers @therookie @lilyvalentine @sitihania @cordoniaqueensworld @eramsey28 @lucy-268 @swimmingauthordreamerbonk @utterlyinevitable

Any feedback is always super appreciated! :) All characters belong to Pixelberry

(Ethan’s POV)

We’re now nearly two weeks into this nightmare and nothing has changed. I’m back at work, somewhat. I can hardly concentrate when I’m away from her and not sleeping isn’t helping either. All I’ve been doing is going to my office and looking over some notes and doing paperwork- it’s a distraction. The problem is it doesn’t actually distract me. My thoughts, my heart is on a completely different floor and It’s all I can think about. There’s no distracting myself from this. Even when I’m sometimes able to get some sleep, seeing her in that bed, in that state always plagues my dreams. Every day is like another painful blow when nothing happens. When she makes no progress and therefore gives no indication that she’s recovering from this.

I drop the pen in my hand back down onto the desk. I can’t sit here and pretend that everything is okay when it really isn’t. This place once felt like my home in a way. My work, this place meant the world to me and now I can’t stand the sight of it. I hate being here but when I go home, not that I’ve been back to the house much, I’m surrounded by even more things that remind me of Casey. Remind me of that night. I’ve made a fair few mistakes in my time but letting her walk out will always be the thing I regret the most. This whole, heartbreaking ordeal is making me slowly lose my sanity. I like solving problems, I like fixing things and I just can’t fix this. There is nothing I can do to fix this.

I stand up from my desk after placing all the papers into a neat pile then leave my office. There’s no point being in here since I’m seemingly incapable of thinking about anything else. Naveen has said I could take as much time as I need off of work. I thought that helping someone else would distract me but It doesn’t. It just reminds me of the one person I want to help more than anything but I can’t. I lock my office door as I leave and make my way to the nearest elevator.

When I reach Casey’s room Abigail is just walking out. We quickly exchange pleasantries and she tells me she’s heading outside to get some fresh air and to meet Anthony. Her dad hasn’t really been here all the much, I understand though, It’s hard seeing someone you love like this.

Just as I sit down, someone knocks on the door and Harper peeks her head in. The look on her face makes me immediately start to panic. I can read that woman like a book and sometimes is wrong.

“We need to talk.”

***

I’m surprised to see Abigail and Anthony already sitting around the table in the board room Harper has just brought me to. “Take a seat,” Harper says, gesturing to the vacated seats that stood around the large oval table.

Somethings wrong. Something feels off, I conclude as I sit beside Abigail. Harper sits opposite us all. This is bad- I can feel it. I’ve had that same look on my face when I’ve told people that their loved ones aren’t going to recover.

Harper reverts her gaze from us and looks down at, what I presume are Casey’s notes, in front of her. “There’s no easy way to tell you this,” She begins. “As you know Casey suffered a severe head injury-”

“Can you just say whatever it is?” I interrupt, “Just- just stop beating around the bush, Harper. Just say it.”

“Casey’s brain dead,” She blurts out with no preamble. That’s what I wanted and asked for after all. How am I supposed to react to this? I don’t know. I- She can’t be. No…

I turn to look at Abigail and Anthony- they don’t seem that surprised which confuses me to say the least. “W-When-?” I stutter and turn back to harper, “When did you-? Why-?”

“Abigail asked me my opinion on whether Casey would recover or not. I gave my opinion, we ran tests-”

“When?” I interrupt.

“Last week,” she explained.

“How long have you known this, Harper? When did you start looking into this, start running tests? What tests have you run? And why the fuck did nobody tell me?!”

“Ethan-” Harper starts but is promptly cut off by Abigail. She turns to me and takes my hand.

“We- I wanted to make sure of everything before we told you, Ethan. It was my decision so blame me and not Harper”

I just can’t deal with this right now. I- I just can’t. I can feel myself starting to panic. I pull my hand out of Abigail’s grip and get up to my feet, tipping the chair over in the process.

“Ethan, come back!” Harper calls after me as I storm out of the board room and back towards Casey’s room. This isn’t real.

So much for the ‘don’t give up on her just yet’ speech Harper gave me the other day.

No, this-this can’t be happening. I refuse to believe this is really happening. This is just some sick joke, right? A nightmare. This isn’t real.

“Ethan stop.” Harper manages to catch up to me and grabs my arm to pull me back. “Just stop.”

I stop trying to get away from her and turn to face her. I can feel the tiny tear droplets falling down my cheeks. “Ethan…”

“Please, please tell me you’ve made a mistake. Please, Harper,” I beg her but the look on her face is telling me that no mistake was made and I lose it. I open the floodgates and I don’t think that I’m ever going to be able to close them again. Not without her.

“I’m sorry, Ethan.”

I stifled and wipe my eyes. “When are you going to do it?” I ask, referring to turning off life support. I know that’s what is coming next. I can’t do this. I can’t. We’re supposed to spend the rest of our lives together. I want to marry her, I want to have kids with her one day….I want to spend the rest of my days with her by my side, loving her and making more memories together. I want...no I need her. I need Casey.

Harper places a hand on my shoulder, “That’s down to you and her parents. No one is going to rush you to do this, okay?” I nod in response. “Would you like me to tell her friends?”

“No, I should do it,” I insisted, “It should come from me.”

*** It’s now a couple of hours later and I have in no way shape or form, accepted this. I will never ever be able to come to terms with this. This is...this isn’t fair for anyone. Casey isn’t even thirty yet. She’s only two months off her birthday. She is incredibly young and she’s essentially lost her life because of a stupid argument, a stupid accident. If that guy wasn’t in custody...I’m not sure what I would do. I want to kill him.

Harper showed me the tests results for everything. Both of her pupils are unreactive to light, she’s unresponsive to any sort of stimuli, cold water has been inserted in each ear, which would normally provoke a reaction, but nothing happened, they turned the ventilator off and she couldn’t breathe on her own. A whole plethora of tests have been preformed and the reaction, or rather the lack of a reaction, all points to being... brain dead.

What really fucking bothers me is A: nobody told me, B: Everyone let me think that there was a possibility that everything was going to be fine. They all allowed me to sit beside my brain dead girlfriend and make plans for the future. C: Keeping her alive- as much as I don’t want to say that in all technicality she’s dead. Is it not cruel to keep someone alive for the sake of it? She’s not going to recover from this. She’s not going to be able to be a mom one day like she’s always wanted. She’s never going to get to do all things she’s always wanted to do. Keeping her alive is cruel when there’s no possibility of her recovering.

Anthony, Abigail, and I talked things over. I still don’t understand why they thought not telling me was the right thing to do but we all agreed that keeping her here for the sake of it is cruel and she doesn’t deserve that. She doesn’t deserve any of this actually but life just isn’t fair, is it? Bad things happen to good people. We all made the decision to turn off life support today.

I’m standing in my office with all of Casey’s best friends- people she saw as family. I can see the unease on everyone’s faces. They’re all scared and that’s painfully obvious. How do I tell them that Casey isn’t going to get through this?

“What’s going on?” Bryce asks, not wanting to beat around the bush. This is harder than I thought it was going to be.

I straighten my posture and clear my throat. I don’t want to break down in front of them. I can’t. “I’m not really sure how to tell you all this,” I start. I’ve started and now I’m not sure how to continue. I don’t know what to say.

“Ethan?” Jackie questions.

“Casey-” This was something I never thought I’d have to do. I’ve had conversations like this with people so many times in my career but I never thought the person that I would be talking about never recovering would be the love of my life. “Casey isn’t going to recover,” I state matter of factly. I know that I must look cold and desensitised to them but this is the only way to do this and not completely break down.

“What?” Elijah asks. I know they’re all probably hoping the same thing I was earlier. That they’ve heard it wrong. Jackie and Bryce stand in complete shock and Sienna looks as if she’s on the verge of tears, actually, they all do.

I go through everything with them. All the test results and everything and answer any questions any of them have. As I suspected, they all ask to go and see her….to say goodbye to her.

***

(Bryce’s POV)

I’m sitting beside Casey’s bed, her hand in mine. I’ve seen her multiple times since she was admitted but this is the first time seeing her and knowing that she’s never, ever going to wake up. That I’m never going to get my friend back.

“Who am I going to mess around with now? Eh?” My eyes begin to tear up. God, she’s my best friend. I think overall the hilarious pranks we’ve pulled together over the years and all the other amazing, funny times we’ve spent together.

Casey is one of the kindest people that I’ve ever met. She is one of the best people that I’ve ever met. She’s not only insanely smart, but she’s also intuitive, kind, compassionate, she doesn’t judge people on their past but on rather who they are now. She even managed to overlook the fact that my entire family is literal criminals. It’s a skill many people don’t have. I don’t think any amount of words assorted into combination can describe how much I’m going to miss her. Casey Valentine is my best friend and she made the world a better place.

I give her hand a small squeeze as I get to my feet. I want to spend all day with her but there are other people who need to come and say goodbye. I lean over a place a kiss on her forehead. “Bye Case.”

***

(Ethan’s POV)

I stand just outside Casey’s room. Her friends have all had a little time with her and have all been able to say goodbye. I’m able to see Anthony and Abigail inside as they completely break down. I’m sure that they feel 100x worse than I do right now. That’s they’re a child. Abigail will never be able to help her pick out a dress for her wedding day, Antony will never be able to walk his daughter down the aisle and give her away. They are going to miss out on everything. A parent should never lose a child. It’s sadly meant to be the other way around.

It’s a little while later when the heartbroken parents vacate their daughter’s room and allow me to go and say my goodbyes. I’m looking at her but I’m not seeing her...I don’t know how to explain this feeling. She’s in all technicality dead, she’s brain dead, it’s just her body laying on that bed. She’s not there anymore, she’s just a shell, and that kills me. I wish there was something that I could do. I wish I could fix this, find some sort of loophole or something but I can’t.

I take a seat and pick up her lifeless hand to hold in mine. I’ve been wishing that she’d squeeze my hand back for nearly two weeks but that’s never going to happen now. I’m never going to get to see her open those beautiful eyes again. Casey was my future and now I don’t know what the future holds or what I’m going to do. I don’t know how or if I’m ever going to be able to move on from this.

“I don’t really know how I’m supposed to say everything that I want to say to you. Casey I-” My voice cracks. I don’t know why talking to her is making me feel better, logically. I know that she can’t hear me but talking to her and holding her hand does help me. It helps me and arguably I’m the reason we’re where we are now. “There are so many things that I want to say, Case. There are so many things that I wanted to do with you but I guess Life had other plans. I’m sorry. I was supposed to protect you and I’m sorry that I couldn’t. I’m sorry for everything.” Why is this happening? This isn’t fair. “I love you and I don’t think- I know that I’m never going to love anyone half as much as I love you. Goodbye, Rookie.”

***

It’s time…

Casey’s room is full. I’m sitting on one side of her, her hand still in mine both her parents on her opposite side, both of them clinging on to their daughter’s free hand. Bryce, sienna, and Jackie as standing around the outskirts of the room, and Elijah is sitting just beside me in his chair. Harper and Naveen are stood beside the ventilator. Just outside, June, Baz, Ines, and Zaid are stood.

“Are you ready?” Harper asks us all. I look up and give Harper a nod. She gives me a sad, small smile before switching the ventilator off. It beeps as she does so and a loud puff of air fills the room as she disconnects it from the intubation tube down Casey’s throat.

I don’t think I’m ever going to be able to look at Harper the same way again. Not after this.

The heart monitor begins to incessantly beep. I can’t help but to still hope that some miracle happens and she takes a breath but any hope of that happening is dashed away when she flatlines. The room is filled with a loud, piercing sound that I’m sure is going to haunt my dreams forever. Some try to hold in their sobs but ultimately fail. Naveen switches the monitor off and the sound is replaced with everyone’s cries. Everyone’s but mine.

This is a feeling I’ve never felt before. I feel..empty, lost. Casey Valentine is- was the little glimmer at the end of the long, dark, suffocating tunnel. When I started to lose myself, Casey would be there to guide me out safely when it felt like the walls are caving in on me. She was everything, my everything and now I have nothing.

Today Edenbrook lost not only an amazing doctor but one of the kindest human beings on this fucked up planet.

***

It’s the funeral today. The day that I been dreading since Casey...Since Casey died a little over a week ago.

This is the first time I’ve come back to our house. Everywhere, everything reminds me of her and it’s just too painful. It hurts too much. Since Casey...Since she died I’ve been staying with Naveen. He had offered to come and pick up my suit I’m wearing to go to the funeral today but I declined. I’m going to need to come back at some point. It’s my home even though it feels more like hell now, much like Edenbrook.

Nothing is ever going to be the same ever again. Not without her. Not without Casey.

I push the front door open and step inside. The memory of coming to view this house for the first time flashes in my mind. The first time we walked into our new home to start a new chapter together. Tears start to sting my eyes as I head to the staircase. I pass by the living room and once again, flashes of the meaningless but also amazing moments in between goes rushing by. I peel my gaze away from that room and to the front door. I remember that night, I remember hearing the door slam when Casey stormed out and her engine coming to life as she sped off.

I shake my head, trying to rid the memory from my mind. It still feels like it’s my fault. I let her walk out. I make my way up the staircase and into our bedroom. I honestly don’t think I’m going to be able to live here again, not without being bombarded with memories of her.

I’m cautious of taking too long since Naveen is sitting outside in his car waiting for me but...coming here is hard but nice, helpful in away. This was our home. This was where we spent time together, creating new memories together. This was where we were supposed to raise our children one day. This was where I was supposed to carry my new bride in to. The next chapter of our life together was being written here. I quickly retrieve the suit from my closet and head out of the house.

***

The service was nice. Everyone was there, her family, all her friends, even some old patients of hers turned to up to pay their respects to the doctor who saved their lives. All in all, it was the send-off that Casey Valentine deserved but a goodbye that happened way too soon than It should have.

I thought that saying goodbye, having a funeral, would give me some sort of closure but it hasn’t. I don’t see this ever getting easier. I made the executive decision to come and stay at the house tonight. I need to be on my own and I need to get used to being here again.

I’m sitting on the couch, a beer bottle in one hand, and a photo album Casey had put together a long time ago in the other. Drinking isn’t going to fix this I know that logically but It’s pretty tempting right now.

From where I am I can hear someone put a key in the lock and open the front door. There’s only one other person who has a key to this house. I don’t turn to look up as they enter..

“Hello, Ethan.” That’s not who’s supposed to me here. I turn around to see Harper instead of Naveen who I assumed was here. I’m confused as to why she’s here. We haven’t really spoken since Casey’s death. It too hard. Look at her reminds me of the worst time in my life.

“It’s never going to go away, is it?” I ask as I look back down at the picture of Casey I’ve been staring at for some time now.

“Ethan, it’s only been a week. You just need to-”

“Don’t say I need to give it time,” I interrupt. “No amount of time will fix this. No amount of time will bring her back, now will it?!” I snap at her.

Harper doesn’t say anything as she sits herself down beside me. A Little bit of time goes by as I think over everything and all the emotions I’ve held back today and when she died comes bubbling to the surface. My head ends up leaning against Harper’s shoulder as she slings and arm around me. I finally feel able to cry.

“It’s okay, Ethan. I’m here. For as long as you need me to be I’ll be here.”

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sserpente · 5 years ago

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A/N: THIS IS PART II! Read Part I here! Multiply requested, finally, here it is with input from @nightrose64. Enjoy, my lovelies! ♥♥♥

Words: 2288 Warnings: mentions of attempted rape, mentions of blood, fluff

His lips were soft, cool, like the feather light touch of butterfly wings. Your eyes fluttered shut, bathing in the warmth and affection Thomas embraced you with. You were lying in his arms, listening to his steady heartbeat and wondering just what had caused the universe to show such mercy on you to bless you with this wonderful man.

The bond between you was growing stronger with every day that passed. Neither of you was able to explain what was happening to his body, how his body warmed you at night and how he could touch you ever so tenderly without reaching right through you… how his heart had come to life, pounding for you. It was a miracle—your miracle, even though you never properly spoke about it.

Sir Thomas Sharpe was still a ghost, that fine line between life and death separating you… at least that was what the both of you thought. He made no secret out of following you around on campus but respecting your privacy if you so wished. You had never sent him away before. If anything, knowing Thomas around you made you feel safe and secure.

You were about to fall asleep in his arms, with him stroking your hair gently to calm you down from your rather stressful day when there was a sudden knock on your door—a vigorous and impatient sound alerting you instantly. Shooting Thomas a worried look, you climbed out of bed and answered it, peeking through the smidge.

A small beam of yellow light from the hallway partially flooded your dorm.

“Hey, (Y/N). I’m sorry, were you sleeping already?” Suppressing a yawn, you nodded. You could sense Thomas’ presence right behind you, ready to support you if need be. A silent sigh escaped your lips when he put his hand on your shoulder in the shadows to let you know he was there.

“Almost… what is it?”

“It’s… it’s Clara. I can’t find her. She disappeared after supper and she didn’t show up for her appointment with Mrs Martins, she was furious about being stood up without being notified. She’s not with you, is she?” You frowned.

You recognised the late night visitor. She was taking the same course as you and sharing a room with Clara, your friend who had attempted to convince you to join her and those two shady young men Thomas had saved you from.

You had barely spoken since. Clara seemed… so reserved all of a sudden, like somebody had drained her of all of her energy and liveliness. During classes, she never asked questions, always staring at her notes, not to mention the dark circles under her eyes. You had spoken about it with Thomas and he suspected the men had introduced her to the dark depths of taking drugs. You had tried to talk to her and ask her if they had done anything to her she had not consented to… but the girl would not speak up.

You had considered talking to the police but what proof would you deliver? Surely, Clara and the men would deny everything, especially if there were illegal drugs involved.

“No… no. Where did you last see her?”

“Like I said, after supper. She hurried outside the main entrance when I told her how late it was and then disappeared around the corner with two men. I’m really worried something happened to her. She’s meeting with these guys almost every day but she never seems all too happy about it…” You held your breath. There was no need to exchange silent looks with Thomas to figure that something was not right.

“L-let me put something on real quick. Alert the caretaker, or any authority you can find at this hour. We have to go after her.”

The girl nodded, hurrying away as you closed the door, switched on the light and began searching for your college pullover.

“My darling, are you sure this is a good idea?”

“I have to help her, Thomas.” Self-righteousness and courage flooded your senses, pumping adrenaline through your veins. Yes. This was the right thing to do.

“I cannot let you roam the forests all on your own in the middle of the night. I will not allow it. Please, (Y/N). Listen to reason, this is way too dangerous.” His tone balanced between sternness and gentle begging.

“You will come with me?”

“Of course I will… but I am no living being. I can only protect you to some extent and you know that. I could never forgive myself if something happened to you.” He answered quietly.

“Thomas… I didn’t help Clara the first time when I should have. I… I know you only wanted to protect me but… every time I see her in class I feel such pangs of guilt… I have to do something. What if they kill her?”

“At least arm yourself. The scissors on your desk, anything you can defend yourself with.”

Thomas admired your braveness. You reminded him of Edith, in a way. Strong, independent and proud, you did not hesitate to protect and avenge the ones you loved. Perhaps it was in this very moment that Thomas realised he had fallen in love with you. But for now, he pushed the fact he was dead and could never be with you for real to the back of his mind. Keeping you save was much more important in this very moment.

Thomas followed you outside, never leaving your side. Your mobile phone was posing as a torch, the scissors in your hand almost ridiculous.

You met Amanda, the girl who had knocked on your door and the caretaker, who had already alerted the police a girl was missing, at the edge of the forest. His eyes widened when he spotted you approaching.

“Blimey… that’s impossible.”

“Sir?” Out of breath, you raised your eyebrows at him. But he wasn’t even looking at you. He was looking at someone behind you.

“Am I dreaming?”

Thomas opened his mouth, ready to explain… it took you both a moment to realise the old caretaker could see him. Nobody but you could see him. And it was clear that he recognised him. There was a portrait of Sir Thomas Sharpe in the dining hall, after all.

“I must be on drugs as well…”

Amanda appeared equally shocked, staring at him as if she’d seen a ghost. Well, technically…

“W-what? This is Thomas, my… my boyfriend. His, uh, great-great-great-great-grandfather was Sir Thomas Sharpe himself. His father was the one who sold Allerdale Hall to the university.” You came up with quickly, shooting him a quick glance.

You were stunned—the both of you were. But right now was not the time to celebrate whatever this was. Clara was in danger and she needed your help.

“Alright then…” The caretaker did not sound convinced. “Amanda, you come with me. (Y/N), you search with… Thomas.”

You waited until the others were out of sight before you spoke up.

“How… how can they see you?”

“I don’t know. I really don’t. I—“ Thomas’ reply was interrupted by a sharp scream tearing through the air. You flinched, eyes widening. This had been close, almost too close.

Alarmed, you stormed in the direction the scream came from, your mind racing with unspoken thoughts.

“Have you lost your mind? You can’t just run off like that, (Y/N). We have to be careful. I am not losing you, now that I…” Now that he what? He was unsure himself. His voice when he reached you, however, was so strict you almost flinched. Now that he was… physically present, for real?

None of this made sense. If only you could turn back time to still lie in bed with him, cuddled up against his chest and listening to his steady heartbeat. For right now, you were not paying much attention to his worried look. Only a few yards away from you, a scene of pure terror unfolded.

Clara was lying on the ground, her clothes cut and a trickle of blood running down her face. Hovering above her, the two students Thomas had saved you from. Clearly, they intended to rape her… and worse. But there was something else. Someone else. A dark-haired woman wearing a crimson dress, a downright murderous expression on her face. She was transparent, just like Thomas had been when you first met him.

Her face fell when she spotted him behind you.

“Thomas. Thomas, my love…”

“W-who is that?” You heard yourself whisper anxiously. Thomas inched closer to you, his body warmth in your back reassuring you and promising you safety. And even though both the two students and Clara were unable to see Lucille, they too saw Thomas… and they witnessed him speaking to thin air. How… how were you able to see this woman then?

“Lucille…”

“Oh, Thomas.” Her smile was both pitiful and angry. It faltered when she realised he wasn’t as transparent as she was—and he was walking; not hovering or gliding over the ground like she did. “Thomas…”

“Lucille, stop this… these men are innocent, so is the woman. Leave them.”

“Innocent?” He replied indignantly. “They took our home! Polluting it with alcohol and drugs and parties! Look at what they’ve done to this place, Thomas, look at it! How could you not want revenge as well? Why don’t we want revenge together?”

You realised with a start what was happening. Lucille. Thomas called her Lucille. Lucille Sharpe? His sister who had murdered both their parents and so many innocent women… who had killed… him. She must have influenced the young men to wreak havoc. As a ghost, she was unable to harm the living, unless… unless she messed with their minds.

“It’s over, Lucille. This is wrong, you know that. We no longer belong in this world.”

A painful sting went through your heart. We no longer belong in this world. It couldn’t be true, not anymore. What about his heartbeat? What about Amanda and the caretaker? They could see him too! Did he… you gasped. He only said this because of his sister.

“And who is that?” Her voice broke, her piercing eyes landing on you and making you swallow. “Why are you protecting her?”

Thomas knew that no matter what he said now, it would be the wrong thing. Lucille was beyond reason, she always had been.

“Lucille…”

“I missed you. I missed you, Thomas. You… changed. What happened to you?”

You looked up at him in a concerned manner when he gently pushed you behind you, fearing Lucille might find a way to hurt you. He took a deep breath.

“It’s… it’s love. Love, Lucille. Love, it… brought me back to life. I fell in love.” It was impossible. But for now, it indeed was the only plausible explanation. Again, you swallowed, this time in a desperate attempt not to sob loudly.

Lucille cried out. “I love you! I always loved you!”

You only realised you were crying when the first salty drops ran down your cheek, more tears worsening your sight.

“But you killed him!” You snapped. “How can you speak of love!”

“Shut up! You shut up!” Lucille screeched. She was mad—you could see it glistening in her eyes. The madness was haunting her even in death, making her soul restless.

“Lucille… if you ever loved me like you claim you do, then let this people be. Think about how much we suffered. Do you want Allerdale Hall to be cursed with this much agony for all eternity?”

“Put your hands up in the air where we can see them and move away from the woman, gentlemen!”

Police. Clara glanced up in shock, the two men doing as they were told as if they were being ripped straight from a deep trance.

You wrapped your arms around Thomas, his presence calming your rapid heartbeat in an instant. Amanda and the caretaker were running towards Clara, helping her up and covering her bare shoulders with a coat. Everything happened at once, along with the two men being arrested for attempted rape and illegal drug use. You turned your gaze back to the spot Lucille had been standing on… but she was gone. For good?

“Thomas…”

“I know. I know but she will not harm you, or anyone else on campus. I swear… on my life.”

On his life. Life. Thomas was alive. He was alive because he loved you.

There were still so many things left unexplained, things you might never understand. But you were together. Your tears of fear soon turned into happy tears as a weak smile spread on your lips, your body overwhelmed with feelings. You were still shaking from all the adrenaline, the shock of having met the ghost of Thomas’ dead sister Lucille and her threat to harm you and your study colleagues residing deep within you… but you were also happy. It took you only the fraction of a second longer to realise what his words meant—and how significant they were.

“Thomas? I love you too.” You breathed out, standing on your toes to, for the first time, properly kiss him, passionately. His tongue sneaked into your mouth as the scissors in your hand fell to the ground, timidly asking for permission before intensifying the kiss, pressing you so close to his body it almost hurt.

You were dizzy by the time he let go of you, your lips only inches apart.

“Let’s head back. I need to hold you in my arms, in your bed.” He whispered hoarsely. You nodded, unable to object even if you had wanted to. But you doubted it would be just cuddling this time.

A/N: Check out my blog to find more Imagines and take a glimpse at my first (to be) published novel! Also, if you enjoyed this story, I would appreciate so much if you supported me on Kofi! ko-fi.com/sserpente ♥

#thomas sharpe #thomas sharpe imagine #thomas sharpe x you #thomas sharpe x reader #thomas sharpe fluff #sir thomas sharpe #sir thomas sharpe imagine #sir thomas sharpe x you #sir thomas sharpe x reader #sir thomas sharpe fluff #crimson peak #crimson peak imagine #tom hiddleston

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bladekindeyewear · 4 years ago

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HS^2 bloggin’ mainline 2020-09-15

This caught me laaaate at night gosh I’m tired but I’m gonna get it outta the way so it won’t stick in my craw! Already saw the first page, so it’s time for:

> CHAPTER 13. The Funeral

Church with chess symbols at the peaks and a Prospit/Derse or Hope/Rage split color theme on the stained glass windows.

JANE: Dearly beloved...

> (==>)

Trolls, humans, and papparazzi. Oh, hm, this church is RATHER carapacian isn’t it? Between the chess and the continuing Prospit-Derse themes, like how this corresponds to how they align in the incipisphere top-left to bottom-right if I recall:

(Minus the outlying orbs to the left and right for symmetry.)

That twisted pattern is interesting, and not quite a spirograph. Is that gonna be important later? If we’re going to get some sort of class chart later in the comic, it’d be easy for them to hint at the chart’s graphical structure subtly by dropping it places like here.

JANE: Ladies... JANE: Gentlemen... JANE: News outlets... JANE: And other valued members of the Human Nation State.

Technically true, but still odd to hear-- ...oh right, I forgot this was asshole dictator-wannabe Jane, too.

I read an interesting twitter thread recently about the intense psychological distinction between wanting to BE the best, and wanting to be TREATED like you’re the best. Epilogues/HS^2 Jane is kind of written as a case study on the pitfalls of leaning on the latter instead of the former.

> (==>)

They brought Yiffy WITH them-!? --Oh right. The hostage exchange was supposed to happen here wasn’t it.

Yiffy definitely looks like a Harley-Lalonde daughter in this shot.

JANE: Gamzee Makara, High Court Jester, exalted saint of the purple veil, has left us to traverse that grand, gay carnival in the sky, where, I am told by various members of the clownly cloth, he will spend the rest of history, honking in grand tribute to the Mirthful Messiah.

SINGULAR???

Weird. Is it because Alt!Callie “won” here?

Or is Jane just forgetting because she’s culturally used to monotheism (ironically) and is insensitive.

JANE: And my first memory of our Purple Prince, was his robust codpiece--

Wow.

> (==>)

JANE: --As he offered me his friendly support, along with the sacred blood of his brethren, the holy sacrament--

He STILL killed trolls??! (EDIT: No, a friend points out that she's talking about when she met him first in Act 6 and he tried selling bottles of troll blood to her. EDIT2: -which may be another inconsistency, since Vriska supposedly overwrote that post-retcon.)

> (==>)

It takes Jake a few seconds of puzzled eye contact before he catches exactly what it is Yiffany is tossing down. In his defense, he is distracted by his wife’s speech, which is doing the emotional equivalent of wringing him out like a wet towel, before using that towel to slap the sweaty buttocks of a large, odorous man. Even if he knows everything she’s saying is a load of horsefeathers, it does nothing for his composure to hear her heap praise on that smelly, homewrecking clown.

Bad things about Gamzee deserve to be said here, yes.

Jake wonders what she’ll say about him, at his own funeral.

Now those are some uncomfortable thoughts.

He narrows his eyes in Yiffany’s direction. She’s a lovely girl, really. He wishes he could have gotten to know her under better circumstances. He’d known she existed, of course--Jane had complained about her often enough--but they’d never had much chance to get acquainted. He rather believes her and Tavvy would have been fast friends.

Then again, perhaps it’s better that she never had much of a chance to get to know his family.

He lets go of the leash.

Yep, there’s a plan to set in motion that he’s probably already discussed with her privately. Gotta unite this four-kid team after all.

> (==>)

Wait, are you ATTACKING?!? --Of course you’re attacking. You would even if the plan was something different, wouldn’t you.

JANE: And I know that at times like these it is easy to want to give in. JANE: To throw in the towel, and turn our faces away from the light of democracy and moral fortitude that we, the citizens of the human kingdom, are blessed with from birth. JANE: God knows I’ve had my own faith tested in the last few weeks.

Jesus Christ, what has she turned the place into, a fucking theocracy?

She sounds like the leader of some screwed-up, fundamentalist country! Like the United States!

*rimshot*

JANE: As many of you know, I did not grow up with the same privileges that all of you enjoy.

Jesus.

JANE: I was born on proto-Earth, that half-finished dystopia mangled by the ravages of foolish leadership and endless war.

Jesus, she really IS a self-evident takedown of hypocritical entitled political figures. With the bonuses having Jasprose explicitly ADDRESS said entitlement to make things even clearer cut.

JANE: And as for Gamzee, well, his upbringing was even worse. JANE: He was born to a violent and uncaring home, a lonely child with few natural gifts.

...Some natural gifts and status.

> (==>)

She’s just, shaking with fury here isn’t she? And about to perform an impressive corpse-lob.

JANE: It would be simple to let this disgusting, vile, SHAMEFUL act of spiteful revenge turn us away from the blinding light of the sword of justice that hangs over us all--

This sentence seems suspicious so I’m quoting it to refer to later if I need to, but is probably just platitudes.

> (==>)

JANE: Poised

> (==>)

JANE: Trembling

Okay maybe the sword’s a dick, but what exactly is Yiffany doing?? I’m finding it difficult as usual to tell between some of these image transitions.

> (==>)

JANE: Ready to burst forth--

Bad PR to shock-collar a kid mid press junket. (Very dicks description.)

> (==>)

Click. (Did they swap the shock function with Jane’s necklace somehow, that’d be fun.)

JANE: I want to give up, at times. I understand your pain.

While shocking a kid? GREAT PR.

> (==>)

JANE: I sympathize with your pain.

Wow, those horrified audience members. She REALLY can’t even see herself anymore can she? Not even hear herself. And they’re making sure this is pointed out to EVERYONE watching. They described this as in large part a PR campaign to defeat her, didn’t they?

> (==>)

Great furious businesswoman-villain look, that art.

JANE: But when that pain! Becomes too hard! To endure! JANE: Remember poor, lifeless Gamzee! Who suffered pain far worse than any of us could ever fathom! JANE: THE PAIN OF BETRAYAL!

Click click click. This is a fun sequence.

> (==>)

DIRK: Dude, didn’t you lower the voltage on that shock collar? DIRK: Little Red isn’t looking so hot. JAKE: Yes of course i did but the damn doohickys got the kick of a donkey! JAKE: I couldnt remove it completely shed know i was the one who did it! DIRK: Well, if that supervillain cuntwaffle doesn’t stop, she’s going to kill her. Not really the best at hostage management, is she.

Decent plan. (And of course Dirk would pull out the word cunt.) When’s the cavalry coming?

> (==>)

JANE: But we cannot allow his memory to be in vain! JANE: For Gamzee Makara taught us that even the most loathsome degenerate can take their place in society. JANE: All they need is the right redemption arc - !

Trying to hammer home some of the Epilogue’s trolly-critical themes a little less bleakly, I take it.

I kind of like the violent vibration in ALL of these gifs in a row. It makes the scene seem small, slow, teeth-clenching but still full of steady action, emphasizing the importance of the relatively small events from panel to panel while giving them the sense with the animation of them being [i]drawn out[/i] and tortuous instead of just “occurring”. It feels that way to me, anyway.

> (==>)

If he got up alive here, that’d be hilarious. (Presumably he’s been treated and done-up like a normal funeral body, not “dormant” and undecaying like a dead god-tier.)

> (==>)

CORPSE PUNT w/ CLEATS

> (==>)

That face is just. I love that face.

> (==>)

SHE MAD

JANE: Young lady, I am just about at the end of my rope with you. JANE: Throw all the dog bowls you want at the walls of my warship. JANE: But don’t you dare act up in front of a JANE: Live JANE: Fucking JANE: Newsfeed! YIFFY: Grrrrrr

What did you expect to happen? Do you expect to shout her down from this, Jane?

JANE: After everything I’ve done for you--paying for your education, helping your parents cover up your existence from the world! JANE: Just imagine what Rose and Jade would say if they could see you now, even dissidents can have a little decorum! JANE: Get down from there at once! YIFFY: Grrrrrr

But this is GAMZEE. --I guess it’s seriously disrespectful to his followers, though. Still. If you wanted civility from her, a shock collar, leash, and food bowl wasn’t the way to go about it.

JANE: Don’t you threaten me, young lady. Not today! YIFFY: GRRRRRRRRR

What is your PLAN even, Jane? You’ve completely disregarded her.

JANE: There’s nowhere for you to go. My agents are swarming this church. Be reasonable, Yiffany. JANE: Ugh. JANE: Disgusting name. JANE: But that’s hardly your fault. You were always just a footnote. Your parents’ little prank. JANE: Honestly, that’s why I helped them all those years ago! I do love a good jape. JANE: But let’s be serious. JANE: You don’t matter. If you did, they would have come for you already.

Can all the press hear her being such an asshole?

Okay, stereotypically, their arrival should be the next couple panels:

> (==>)

Jake, do something useful like hoping harder.

> (==>)

And she knocks the remote away. Excellent.

And she does. Seemingly at the end of her tolerance for insults toward her name, social status, and heritage, Yiffy performs an impressive backflip off the podium and down onto the church floor. One that, if it hadn’t been happening amidst a sea of other newsworthy events, would surely have ended up on someone’s instagram story within thirty seconds. She gives Gamzee’s corpse one last parting kick: a hard, proper kick that proves those cleats aren’t just for fashion. Although they are certainly also for fashion.

Good, good.

He vanishes into the seething crowd, and we are confident that we will never have to deal with this asshole ever again.

God damnit.

> (==>)

Jake watches this from a safe distance, poised on the edge of intervening to pull Yiffy out of there. But in the end he doesn’t have to. Instead he watches in admiration as she tears the place to utter shreds. An echoing sympathy swells inside of him as she rends apart the funeral flowers and punts Gamzee into the shrieking congregation. Here is a girl who felt the cold, indecent hand of fate wrapping around her, and instead of submitting to it and slowly sublimating down into morasse of boiled doormat, she slapped it away from her with a lively oh, no thank you.

All at once, Jake feels immense affection for his granddaughter. He hopes the two of them can make up for lost time.

Lessons belatedly learned, but learned nonetheless.

> (==>)

JANE: Enough of this. JANE: Seize her!

Kind of Red Queen of you. (Are those stained glass windows in back of the frame about to burst?)

> (==>)

Yep.

The stained glass window shatters inward, obliterated to stardust. The war is knocking.

Even attacking a disgusting faith’s church is pretty bad form, though.

Tired and busy, seeya next upd8. <3

#Homestuck #hs2 #Homestuck Liveblog #upd8 #Homestuck^2 #spoiler #spoilers

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weaselbeaselpants · 5 years ago

Text

Rewritten Alastor notes (TW: NSFL, Cannibalism, Vore, animal abuse)

This is unexpected I know, but I’m suffering from a major headache and I need something to do.

Alastor the Radio Demon in my non-existent Hazbin repaint. Things he has in common with his canon self:

Human soul of a man who died in the 1930s. Was a cannibal in life.

Tried (and succeeded) to corrupt a bunch of lesser demons.

Respected by the big-bads of Hell, like Valentino and Vox. Feared among them as well because he creeps even them out.

Deer + wendigo motif still very much still at play.

Still asexual, though I wouldn’t recommend putting him on any pride flags.

Gets along with Charlie and loves antagonizing Vaggie.

Treats Nifty and Husk as goons and/or pets.

His weird hair tufts emote along with him like ears. I don’t know if they are ears though. I think Viv has the right idea not confirming what the frack is up with his anatomy.

Can’t ever stop smiling. Ever. That aspect of Al’s design is something real special that I think Viv has the right idea implementing. A character who can not stop smiling makes for a lot of terrifying and hilarious reactions. Just look at Sans near eternal smile.

Inexplicably likes pineapple pizza. Funny out-of-character gag.

AGAIN: CONTENT WARNING ESPECIALLY FOR ANYONE WITH TRIGGERS TO THE STUFF ABOVE. KEEP READING AT YOUR OWN RISK.

Changes made to his character:

I do not mind Hazbin being crass and vile and offensively-over the top as long as it has a good grasp on what the joke is (like Helluva Boss :>). My Hazbin thesis is that all of the characters are “demons” in as much as they’ve done bad things or were bad people, but are not maniacal or sadistic + there’s hope for some of them. THEN there’s Alastor who absolutely lives up to the demon-reputation and did genuinely evil things in life. Alastor’s the kind of person who absolutely should be purged but has escaped because those who are supposed to be for justice aren’t threatened by him.

He isn’t involved in voodoo or has any affluent Creole background. With all do respect that aspect feels just a little too lifted from Dr. Facilier. My Alastor’s background is American “mutt” with an Algonquian-native grandmother.

His sin in life - and in Hell itself - is Gluttony. Taking a page from the OG Wendigo mythos, which describes them more as pulsating, gorging Elderitch abominations, Al’s MO in the show is to consume everyone and everything there is.

Alastor’s demonic powers are presented as a wave of high frequency radio static that messes with a demon’s psyche so much it physically hurts them. Al then scoops up his victim’s souls to power his microphone and everything that demon had in it’s possession beforehand crumbles or becomes his.

Angel is afraid of him. Unlike in the canon cartoon, Angel is the one who recognizes Alastor and knows he’s dangerous, not Vaggie. Turns out, Angel had a run in with the Radio Demon sometime during the mid twentieth century (so when they were both pretty young in demon years). Angel tried to steal Al’s microphone but Al flung a nasty radio-frequency in Angel’s face, taking out one of his eyes. Angel was present during Al’s first attempt to take over Hell, so he immediately knows Al’s bad news and Alastor never misses the opportunity to mess with Angel in season 1.

Alastor is a shape-shifter. In what is probably the most grizzly detail about my take, he technically self-mutilates in order to re-imagine himself ala the Hellraiser Cenobites - which he does quite a bit to hide from Charlie’s parents.

Technically, Al is naked. What looks like a suit is actually his flesh. Look closely at you’ll see that he’s all stitched together like a crude taxidermy piece. Beneath his “skin” are his bones; which all look like mechanical radio parts and move independently of another. Sometimes Al tears them out if he thinks his “wiring needs to be reworked”, which is Al for ‘feeling an emotion’ and he doesn’t like that.

The motif my Alastor is supposed to invoke is everything about him was “stolen” and crudely pieced back together: he collects and traps other demons inside his microphone; he eats by unhinging his mouth and swallows in one gulp. Alastor’s anatomy invokes a lot of vore imagery as well as Ero Guro. Despite being ace, there is a sexual (but not arousing) edge to his character, which leads to a lot or horror and humor.

Alastor does not like that he was human. He’s even in denial of it and insists “I was always a demon. I simply had a nightmare that I was a man. Now I’m awake and the nightmare is long gone”.

Alastor’s human name was Edward; he was a sad, pathetic little man whom everyone walked all over. Edward wanted to be a radio host but was denied that position cause he ‘couldn’t smile’. Edward was deeply disturbed and fixated on ingesting human meat (a condition called ‘wendigo psychosis’). Despite committing murder and then eating all his victim’s bodies, he can’t recall most of the process and was frightened by his behavior, knew what he was doing was wrong. BUT he never went about treating his addiction with meat; he’d have “cold periods” where he didn’t kill and thought he was ‘fixed’ only for his psychosis to resurface.

Alastor’s demon self aims to be all the things that he wasn’t in life: happy, fulfilled, complete, confident, cheery, and satisfied. Al relishes in his self-made creepy image and no doubt took his demon name from a famous Alastair from his youth.

Al’s character arc throughout the ‘show’ (there is no show, why am I treating this like genuine pitch bible blah) goes as follows:

For the first season leading up the the finale and beginning of season 2, Al pretends to be Charlie’s friend until he backstabs her and takes over her hotel to harvest the ‘redeemed’ souls so he can restart his broadcasting-takeover that was just barely stopped years before. Charlie, Vaggie, and Angel intercept him however and destroy his microphone - which holds all the souls - causing him to loose his power. Charlie personality terminates his physical form leaving only his ‘heart’, which Lucifer makes Charlie eat so that Alastor will forever be under her control. The downside to this is Al’s soul+heart+person exists within Charlie now, and he of course speaks to her within her mind, trying to discourage, belittle, threaten or taunt her plans and feelings throughout the second season. Season 3′s opening would be about the main cast trying to get Vaggie out of Heaven once they learn it’s as corrupted as Hell. Charlie needs Al’s expertise, so she vomits him up. Al agrees to help her but is obviously not happy and vows to get his freedom back. In the second half of season 3, the main characters have to lay low while the angels partake in spiritual warfare against Lucifer. So Charlie and co. escape to the human world disguised as humans. Though an agreement, Alastor comes along and aquires a foreclosed motel for the demon’s to live (he intends to trap mortal souls while he’s there, though Charlie intercepts this too).

Angel and co. end up discovering Al’s human identity (something he tried to cover up any evidence of having in Hell) and invite his now elderly human daughter to the motel. It works too well however, and the fright of seeing his daughter again triggers an all out anxiety attack in Alastor causing him to merge with the motel. Charlie has to traverse his insides to try and get to his crumbling psyche which would be very Akira-inspired.

Meanwhile, inside Alastor’s mind we see his demon form finally baring a frown and freaking out as the pathological spirits of his victims sing to him in a radio booth about the life he’d chosen and the lives he took away from them. (Yes, this is absolutely taken from Bojack Horseman)

Once Charlie cuts to his core+Al faces the fact that there never was another demon responsible for his actions, it was always just him, Al relinquishes his hold on that motel and his physical form become that of a baby deer, whom Charlie nicknames ‘Deerlastor’. Deerlastor doesn’t appear to have any of Al’s powers, memories, or personality but Angel and the other demon’s Al’s abused insist on killing it, sure that this is just another one of Al’s weird forms. Because of Alastor’s absence, it takes a lot longer and harder for the main cast to get back to hell and help Charlie’s dad’s stop the (previously human) angels who want to wipe purge ALL of hell.

To take out the main ‘enlightened’ angel that’s in the middle of trying to purge ALL of Hell, the demon’s need a power of their own. Deerlastor agrees to sacrifice its body and because of that, Alastor pops out from the deer’s body and head on collides w. the big bad angel-villain, eliminating both their souls. Alastor gets no proper redemption arc kids, he just gets to be the one to take out the main villain.

Edward/Alastor’s daughter’s name was Lavinia and she was the closest thing to genuine ‘love’ he had in his life and the only person who obviously looked up rather than ignore or abuse Edward. When Ed was arrested and confessed to his crimes, his daughter wasn’t allowed to see him and the knowledge that her father was a cannibalistic serial killer haunted Lavinia all her life.

His crimes were not sexual. This is NOT AN EXCUSE for what he did though because -

- two of his victims were children. Yep.

Unlike the rest of the filth-spewing demons, Al doesn’t appreciate racism or sexism. He thinks himself a feminist for his day...despite also having killed women and children. Keep in mind he’s also from the 30s, so he’s as “progressive” as people could be for back then, AND he believes that his partial native ancestry means it’s okay to call himself a ‘wendigo’.

In reference to an oooooooooooold ref sheet Viv made for Alastor back in the day, Deerlastor gets shot in the head and dismembered a lot but always gets up like nothing’s wrong.

Alastor does not like electroswing. He likes jazz, doowop, twist, show jingles, and lots of American Folk ballads. You know, the stuff they’d jam the radio’s with back in the 30s.

Big influences on my Alastor are They Shoot Horses Don’t They?, American Murder Song, My Friend Dahmer (a graphic novel), Llamas with Hats and Haunted by Chuck Palahniuk.

(Ima thinking of renaming my Hazbin gang to better distinguish them between the canon. Alastor’s the only one who won’t be renamed though, just probably spelled a different way. (Alystar, Alaster, Alastar))

#alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel rewritten #the radio demon #rewrite #TW: GORE #tw: cannibalism #tw: child abuse #tw: animal death #tw: ero guro #tw: vore

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thomaslightwoodenthusiast · 4 years ago

Text

here it is!!! i hope you guys like it fjfkcks (disclaimer: it is set in modern world!)

no time to die - thomastair

(TW: death, mentions of suicide and murder, also for simplicity reasons even though it’s technically iran i called it persia like the book)

➰➰➰➰➰➰

Thomas turned to Alastair. “Are you sure you’re gonna be okay?” he said, whilst adjusting the shorter man’s suit jacket.

“Thomas, you need not worry so much. You know I’ve been doing this for years- an awards show should be no different.”

Thomas looked at his boyfriend. Boyfriend. It was still strange to even think. It had taken him so long to accept the truth, and even longer to admit his feelings for Alastair. Despite their past, Alastair alongside Anna had been the ones who understood what he was going through and helped him. It was just that, it had taken so long to get him, Thomas was afraid Alastair would disappear.

“I love you. Blow them away, eh?” he said with a wink.

“Oh darling, I always do,” Alastair replied. “Though sometimes I do feel like I’m doing so much that I’ll have no time to die!”

That had been their last conversation. The last words Alastair spoke to Thomas before...it. Even though five years had passed, Thomas kept replaying the night and the events over and over. He still cried about it. The pain had been immense.

The song ends.

Lights go down.

Bang.

Men rushing to the stage. Paramedics running to the scene. People screaming bloody murder. Thomas didn’t believe it. Couldn’t. But there was Alastair, down like a flash and bleeding across the wooden surface. His typically brown skin paling to a sick, deathly colour. He had tried to get across, tried to see what had happened but not only did the men refuse; he was promptly dragged out of the building and sent away.

Something about what happened wasn’t right.

They all claimed Alastair had killed himself onstage; that he’d hidden the gun and used it at lights out. But Thomas knew that wasn’t true; there were no guns in their house, and he would definitely have noticed if Alastair wasn’t feeling okay. No; Thomas was convinced.

He was murdered.

The men hadn’t let him near him, which just convinced Thomas more. And any time he tried to make an attempt to the press, they didn’t listen. They brushed it off as ‘a grief-stricken boyfriend’.

Which was exactly why, five years later on the anniversary of the incident, Thomas Lightwood was sitting in a bar with his cousin Anna.

“Bullshit!”

“Whoa there, where did that come from?” Anna said, offended.

Thomas flushed. “Oh- sorry. Nothing.”

Anna could tell he was lying. Ever since Alastair’s death it had never been the same. Cordelia had been heartbroken; she refused to mention him at all even now. Thomas was the reverse. He was absolutely convinced it wasn’t suicide, but rather murder. He had dedicated the majority of the last five years to trying to find information or any evidence. It was almost heartbreaking to watch. Thomas had been through enough, losing his sister too. Anna was always very protective of her cousin- they used to nickname each other the ‘Gay Defense Squad’ because of how they stuck by and defended each other from anyone who might ‘disagree with their way of life’.

“I know it’s not nothing, ya big idiot. It’s him, isn’t it?”

Thomas sighed. “Yes. It is. I’m sorry, Anna. I really am.”

“You don’t have to be. You lost someone extremely important to you in an awful and tragic way. It takes years to get over that stuff. Especially with poor Barbara. How many years now? 7?”

“Yeah.” Thomas felt his eyes tearing up. The mental pressure to hold everything together was terrible. “Dad’s still- Gideon is still heartbroken. Well, anyone who lost a child would be, but sometimes I see him and I can see how red his eyes are, how pale he is and it’s just not fair. If there was some way, any way to just take all my parents’ pain away I would.”

Anna was thoughtful. “But what about your own? Thomas, you need help. You need someone who’s a therapist; not your cousin.”

Thomas shook. “No, no I don’t need help. I’m not insane, do you think I goddamn am? I’ve spent years trying and trying to find out what happened and look where it’s got me? No. Fucking. Where. I won’t rest.”

Anna Lightwood’s heart tore. Thomas didn’t deserve any of this. She wished he could understand that people didn’t think he was insane; they thought he was in denial. Anna had to admit; she agreed with what Thomas was doing, but there comes a time where you can only do so much, or else you might uncover a truth you might not want to hear.

A slim waiter approached the two, holding a note in his hand. “Hey guys! Sorry to bother you, but there was a man sitting at that table over there and he handed me this note. Pointed to this table and said it was for the dude.” He dropped the folded piece of paper in front of Thomas and sauntered off. Thomas picked the paper up and unfolded it. It read;

324 Blackends Street.

Tomorrow. 8pm.

Anna glanced over. “What is it?”

“I don’t know,” Thomas replied. “All it says is an address and a time. What could this...mean?”

Anna winked. “Maybe someone’s seen something they like?” she said, to which Thomas glared. “What? Look. I don’t want to get your hopes up, but this could be your big break. Your next step into finding out what happened! I say you go, but leave if the person isn’t there after a few minutes.”

Thomas considered it. He’d waited for a moment like this for so long, yet now that it was a possibility he felt strangely sick. He was anxious and terrified. “Of course, we could be wrong and maybe it’s just someone playing some stupid prank. I’ll give it a chance though. Just in case.”

The cousin duo left and parted ways at the door, Thomas’s stomach sick with a mix of anxiety and excitement. Could he really be about to solve the case? To find out the truth?

➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰

The whole day, Thomas had been extremely off. Even Christopher had noticed.

“Tom, are you okay?”

“James what have I told you about calling me that-“

“I know, I know. But you’ve been so quiet all day. You seem tense, worried about something. I know it was the anniversary of...that...yesterday. Do you need to talk? You can if you want, you know me, Christopher and Math are all here for you.”

“Look I appreciate it. Yes. I’m just stressed about something that happened when I was out with Anna last night and I can’t figure out what it means or why.”

Matthew came over from where he was sitting. “What is it?”

Thomas handed him the note.

“Ooo is someone involved in a secret little rendezvous? Kidding. Unless?”

Thomas deadpanned. “No, Matthew. No I am not. Although I don’t even know what I’m involved in myself. This waiter gave us this note saying it was for me from a random guy at another table. I don’t know what he wants from me or why, but I’m going.”

James’s eyes narrowed. “No you’re not. I don’t want you getting hurt or anything. None of us know what’s happening.”

Thomas took a breath. “I’m only gonna stay there for five minutes I promise. I’ll call you guys as soon as it’s over or if something goes wrong. Trust me, ‘kay?”

Christopher stopped his reading to look up at his cousin for a brief moment. “Please don’t die,” he said in a worrying tone.

“Kit!! I’ll be fine! Please don’t worry. You just concern yourself with your weird and wonderful world of books.” Thomas notices the way Christopher avoided his gaze. He was very fidgety. He tended to get like this when in stressful situations.

“Group hug,” called James.

➰➰➰➰➰➰

Thomas breathed in and out slowly to calm his nerves. He was walking towards the building he presumed it was. He knew he should nope the hell out of there, but what was life without a little risking it? He stopped at the right address-

And was promptly yanked through a doorway.

On which he banged his head.

“Okay now if you’re trying to be discreet on kidnapping me it isn’t really working-“

“Oh SHUT up I’m not kidnapping you you daft log.”

Thomas opened his mouth to reply, but he froze where he was standing. That voice, that beautiful voice. The accent with a slightly foreign lilt.

“No...”

The man replied back in a mocking tone. “Yes...”

“...Alastair?”

He flicked the light on, as if to prove it. And it was. The brown skin, the dark hair and eyes, the short yet lean stature. “In the flesh.”

Thomas threw his arms around him. Alastair returned the gesture. The two sobbed into each other’s shoulders for a while, as if their tears were glue holding them together. Alastair moved his head away, but did not dare to release his grip on Thomas. “I suppose I have some explaining to do?”

“I thought- I thought you were dead! You were shot! Wait, was it fake? Was-“

“That’s one thing that was real about the situation. They had intended to kill me but missed my head and hit me,” said Alastair, rolling up his shirt, “here.”

There was a scar on the left side of his chest. It looked painful.

“Who’s ‘they’?”

“Well it’s not really a they, more a he.”

“Then who’s he?”

Alastair stopped for a moment. Thomas could see his fear. Whoever had hurt him this badly deserved death.

“It’s actually- well, my psycho ex. But- you know him.”

“I do? Who the hell is he?”

“Think of Matthew. Did he ever say anything about his brother? About him going away for several days at a time with no explanation?”

“It’s not- no. Your psycho ex, the one who did all this to you, is Charles? Fairchild? The goody-two-shoes who always acted superior to everyone?”

Alastair nodded.

“Dear God! I’ll kill him, I swear to GOD-“

“No Thomas, please. I need to explain what happened. After I was hurt, I was taken straight to wherever Charles lived. The bleeding stopped on its own, but that’s why the wound hasn’t healed as well. I was basically held captive for three years- not allowed out on my own, or left alone in the house. But one day, I did it. I hurt him, Thomas. I beat the hell out of him and didn’t even care. I still don’t.”

“But- you said you were held for three years. It’s been five.”

“I’ve been all around this country. Trying to hide from him.”

Thomas felt hurt. “But why didn’t you just come straight to me? Or Cordelia? She’s been heartbroken ever since, and she refuses to even mention your name now.”

Alastair was desperate. “I know, and I’m sorry. I couldn’t go there because I thought it would be too obvious. I thought he’d come for one of you, and I couldn’t risk it. But over time, I realised I can’t do this anymore. I decided I was going to move back home- to Persia. Or at least, that I would...if I could do it with you.”

Thomas stood, suddenly angered. “What about my family? My parents?? They’ve already lost one daughter, I doubt they want to lose their son. And my friends??”

“You can visit them! They can come to Persia! It’s just, I will never be safe unless it’s at home,” said Alastair, rushing his words as if he was afraid Thomas would make a run for it. “Please, come with me. I love you, Thomas. I love you and I need you.”

Thomas resigned; he knew what he was going to do.

He leaned down and kissed Alastair; it was as beautiful a moment as it was heartbreaking. Years of pain, now joined together again. Alastair stood up on the tips of his toes and enveloped his fingers in Thomas’s hair. Thomas felt as if the two torn-apart pieces of his heart were knitting themselves back together in that very moment. They broke away from each other, catching their breath more than they thought they needed to.

“You don’t even have to ask twice.”

➰➰➰➰➰➰➰

Thomas informed the others of what was going to happen. No one was pleased, and Sophie was worried, but they made an attempt to understand his situation.

Thomas felt alive for one of the first times in a long time. It was exhilarating and the whole thing was so fun. Part of him worried for his family, but he knew they were safe; it was his duty to protect Alastair.

“I can’t help but feeling that there is not much difference between what we are doing and an elopement,” voiced Alastair, the two together on the plane. Thomas laughed. He put his arm around Alastair, who cuddled in to him as best he could with the awkward aeroplane seats.

“I suppose you’re right. Maybe we’re criminals, and we’re on the run! Or we’re secret lovers, running away to be who we truly are!” he said. The instructions started and the plane began moving. Alastair suddenly felt an odd sinking feeling.

“Are you okay?”

Alastair dismissed the question with a shake of his head and sat up. “I’m fine. It’s just- well we’re leaving so much behind I guess.”

Thomas gripped his hand. “You’re doing what’s right for you, and that’s all that matters.” The stewardesses finished giving their instructions and a new voice came over the plane.

“Hello and good afternoon, this is your pilot speaking!”

“No,” said Alastair. “No no no this can’t be true. He couldn’t have. I-I-,” he froze. He felt his seatbelt in an attempt to open it, but it was jammed. Speechless, he reached over Thomas, who had paled slightly.

His belt was jammed too.

“Alastair- breathe, please you’re going to choke.”

“...please keep your seatbelts absolutely fastened at all times...”

“He found me, Thomas.”

“...because there really...”

“I’m done for.”

“...is...”

Thomas was as speechless as Alastair. He was terrified. For even though they weren’t close, he knew exactly who the voice belonged to.

Charles.

“...no time to die.”

➰➰➰

this is so dramatic i’m sorry but anyways i have a plan for a short prequel (as in, the events leading up to Alastair’s ‘death’) if anyone wants one? and also lmk if you want a sequel 😗✌️

#shadowhunters #lgbtq #queer #the shadowhunter chronicles #the last hours #chain of gold #thomastair #thomas lightwood #alastair x thomas #alastair carstairs #fanfic #oneshot

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httpjeon · 6 years ago

Text

❝ book of beasts: the hunt ❞ pjm ― m.

― summary: every decade, your village holds a hunt to find a legendary white stag which live in the surrounding forest. in recent years, the hunt has become harder as the population of white stags have declined. this year is your first time participating.

white stag!jimin/reader | mythical shifter!au | fluff, smut, light angst | 8k ↬ content warnings: magic elements, loss of virginity, graphic cunnilingus, soft jimin, reader lowkey wants it rough but jimin wants 2 be soft

a/n: second installment of the book of beasts! this is white stag shifter!jimin! if you’re unaware, the first was hypothermia! you can find it on the series ml.

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The bells chimed in the village, signifying noon ─ all citizens were to gather together in the village center. You wrapped your worn cloak around your shoulders and ventured out.

It wasn’t long ago that you were even allowed to attend the town meetings, only those of age being allowed to be there. Children were to stay home or to be playing off in the outskirts of the village in the fields.

The ground beneath your feet was dead and cold, a sign that winter was coming. You knew the village elders would be announcing the Hunt. Just as you had been too young for town meetings, you were to young to attend the last Hunt.

The air had a certain chill to it and you pulled your cloak tighter around your frame. You could already see the crowd of people, surrounding the water well that was in the center of the village ─ your source of water and also a sort of landmark.

“The meeting will now begin,” An elderly man by the name of Dowon, the appointed village head. You hadn’t had much extended with him, he was a very busy man but from what you knew of him, he was a cold and calculated person who only showed warmth for the village children.

There was a time before you were an adult that he had offered you candy and smiled at you. Now, you only received hard stares from him. It was saddening but, that was the life in your village.

“Now that we are all gathered,” He began, scanning over the small crowd of people. “As you all know...it is nearing time for the Hunt. With just a week to prepare, I am aware there are a few new additions to the Hunt. I would like to take a moment to address what will take place.”

You knew a little bit of the tradition but the adults were always rather quiet about the details.

“For generations,” Dowon began, clasping his hands behind his back as he spoke. “Every decade, we hunt for a creature whom has always blessed us with good fortune. The legendary white stags which take refuge in the Sol Forest that surrounds our village.”

The white stag.

Legend has it that the founder of your village, while the neighboring towns and cities were waging war, he came in contact with a beautiful young woman in the forest who promised eternal protection if he could find and hunt a white stag and present it to her.

Since then, the tradition was passed down and now the white stag was seen as a form of protection and prosperity. If you hunted the stag, you would live safely and happily for another decade.

There were times when people would leave the village, refusing to believe in the existence of such a creature that brought such good things. Sometimes people just couldn’t let themselves fall prey to something that could be a hoax.

You, however, had never once doubted the stag.

Recalling a time when you were young, you had been eavesdropping from outside an open window listening to your parents talk.

“The population of stags is depleting,” You mother had whispered, sounding almost nervous. “One day there will be no more,”

“Don’t say that, Isaura,” You father had hissed, making your mother sigh.

“You cannot ignore the facts,” She had argued. “What will happen when the stags no longer exist? ____ may never get the chance to see one for herself.”

Your young self felt heartbroken at her words.

You would never be able to witness the beautiful creature you grew up hearing tales about?

Before you could even hear the end of your parents’ conversation, you were taking off into the forest. It wasn’t anything new, every child had played in the forest some time or another. With both your parents working and no friends to speak of, you often played by yourself.

The sun had been high in the sky and with it raining the previous night, causing the leaves and grass to shimmer and sparkle.

You should have expected to get lost. While you had played in the forest, it was always in places near the village. This time, however, you have traveled much deeper and before you knew it, when you looked around it was nothing but tall trees with overgrown canopies; effectively blocking out the sunlight that once flitted through.

It was silent and still and fear began to settle into your heart, causing it to pound in your chest.

You spun in circles, desperately trying to make heads or tales of where you were, which way you came from, and where to go. The sound of a twig snapping had you shrieking, your voice echoing through the trees, scaring some birds out of their nests.

“Are you okay?” A small voice startled you even more but when you went to run, you found yourself face first in some dirt which finally made tears burst from you.

“Oh no!” The small voice was closer this time and when you looked up, you came face to face with a baby-faced boy with messy black hair about your age. You instantly stopped crying, simply sniffing when he grabbed your elbow and helped you sit up. “I didn’t mean to scare you,”

“Wh-Who are you?” You asked, standing up beside him, looking him up and down.

He was wearing all white, an oversized fleece sweater and nicely fitting pants but no shoes. His clothes were shockingly unstained despite obviously wandering through the woods.

“My name is Jimin,” He smiled, holding his hand out for you to shake. “I live around here with my parents,”

“Oh, I didn’t know people lived in the woods,” He furrowed his brows for a moment, looking confused but then it changed and shrugged with a smile on his face. “Do you know the way back to Sol Village?”

“Sol?” He parroted, looking around a few times, humming. “It’s that way! Come on, I’ll walk you there!”

“So what’s it like living in the forest? It’s scary further away from the village,” You spoke as you followed behind him, stepping over branches and puddles.

“Well, I was born here so it’s not scary to me!” He replied, holding a branch down for you to step over easily. “I get to play in the trees and stuff all day so it’s fun for me!”

“That sounds cool, I guess,” You responded, falling silent for a split second before speaking again. “We play in the fields and stuff, we’re not really allowed in the forest,”

“Then what were you doing in there?” Jimin asked, though he didn’t sound like he was scolding you at all ─ more curious.

You shrugged, sighing. “I heard Mama and Pa talking about how the white stags are almost gone a-and I wanted to see if I could find one myself. It’ll be years before I get to hunt and what if by then there’s no more!”

Jimin stopped short, making you bump into his back. You stared at him from behind, watching as his shoulder rose and fell with a long sigh before he turned to look at you.

“The stags are leaving,” He responded, making your heart hurt with the admission. “But not only from the Hunt but because they’re leaving...for their own safety. W-They don’t want to die,”

His last words struck you and that was when it fully hit you that the Hunt wasn’t just a tradition to bring fortune and health to the people ─ it was the killing of an animal and they were running so they could live. For as long as you could remember, the people of Sol never once used the term death for the Hunt.

“You should be able to make it back on your own now, I’m not allowed to go any further,” Jimin said, offering you an almost sad smile. “Just go straight ahead and as the trees thin, the village will come into view.”

“Thank you, Jimin,” You looked up at him and smiled genuinely. However, before you could take a step away, he grabbed your arm.

“I didn’t get your name,”

“_____,”

“_____,” He repeated, nodding and smiling once again but this time, it was sad. “Listen, I have a favor...consider it repayment for helping you get back to your home,”

“Okay,” You couldn’t argue with that. You technically did owe him now.

“When you’re able to hunt,” He swallowed thickly. “The night before...I’d like you to come back into the forest. If you head north of your village, following the treeline, you’ll come across a willow tree. You won’t be able to miss it. When you find it, head straight into the forest from that tree. If you continue straight on, you’ll be lead right to a clearing.”

“Why would I do that?” You asked, not understanding the point of going to so much trouble. Why would this repay him?

“I want to speak to you that night. When we’re both older ─ so I can show you something really special,” You stared right into his eyes, deep and dark but holding childlike innocence before nodding. “I hope that you’ll remember. It’s very important.”

“Okay Jimin,” You agreed softly, looking down at the forest floor before back up at him, this time with conviction. “North of the village following the treeline, there’s a willow tree, and if I go straight in...you’ll meet me at the clearing,”

“Exactly,” He beamed, and this time his smile caused his eyes to disappear. “I’ll be waiting. Just 10 years,”

“10 years,” You repeated.

10 years.

That night you told your parents of the boy who lived in the forest. You mother quickly squashed those ideas by telling you there were no people in the forest, that perhaps the spirit of the stag had led you home.

You went to sleep confused.

Until your Mother’s death, she had been convinced you had made the whole thing up, chalking it up to childlike imagination and wonder. You didn’t bother trying to convince her.

“The Hunt is set to take place in just 3 days,” You tuned back in to Dowon speaking, announcing that that full moon was coming ─ thus commencing the Hunt.

The walk home was chilly, with dead leaves cracking beneath your feet with every step. You smiled kindly at the children who began to rush back home at the sound of the evening bell.

Inside the comfort of your home, you sat at your kitchen table and sighed.

Tomorrow night, you could go to the willow and meet Jimin.

The day of the hunt caused the village to be more lively than it had been in years. Newly of-age men and women were celebrating with home-made feasts they’d been saving up for all year; using their finest meats and vegetables while also partaking in a glass or two of wine.

The children of the village were allowed to celebrate, though they would be confined to their houses to be watched over by elders ─ those too old to participate. Chances are, most of them would be restless as they awaited to the return of their parents and siblings.

You, however, remained in your home just waiting for night to fall. You watched out your window as happy families laughed and sang songs of celebration together.

As night descended upon the village, you slipped your cloak over your shoulders, pulling the hood up to hopefully disguise yourself. It’s not that you weren’t allowed out during the night, although there was a curfew, but you didn’t particularly want people in your business as you went.

You rounded your house, keeping to the shadows.

Your house was a little bit aways from the busy center of town, in fact you lived closer to the outskirts. It had always been your preference, much quieter and you enjoyed looking into the forest.

Sol Forest, ever since that time you met Jimin, had been a been a source of interest to you. Many times, when you passed by a window in the night, you could swear you saw him standing on the treeline. But when you took a second look, there was no one.

At first it scared you, but before long it became fun to see when you would spot him.

When you tried to tell you mom that the forest boy visited you, she was convinced you had an imaginary friend so you just dropped it.

You knew what you saw and that’s all that mattered.

You managed to sneak past all the houses, not arousing any suspicion from the families inside. The moon was high in the air, casting light as you followed the treeline, allowing sufficient light for you to see the willow tree. Truth be told you had never been this way in your life, and it was a little unsettling. However, young Jimin’s voice begging to see you the night before the Hunt festered in your mind, making you persevere.

Finally, you came to a stop.

It was there.

Among tall oak trees was an incredibly out of place willow tree that seemed to almost radiate heat from it. Gently, you placed your hand against it and gasped; the tree had energy. You ripped your hand away, holding it to your chest, feeling your nerves almost buzzing.

A twig snapped, causing you to jerk your head to the right. Your eyes widened as you saw it; a white stag.

It’s antlers were magnificent and it seemed to almost glow. It stopped, locking eyes with you, one of its delicate ears twitching in your direction. Then, right before your eyes, it began to walk straight from the tree, exactly where you were meant to go.

Hurrying off, you rounded the tree to head into the forest, following after the creature. There was a path, overgrown and clearly unused, but it was still there. You lifted the ends of your dress, stepping over twigs and the like. Although there was natural light from the sky, with the treetops causing gaps of darkness, you had to be extra careful not to trip.

When you finally stepped foot in the clearing, there was no sign of the stag at all. That, however, quickly disappeared from your mind as you looked around; the grass in the clearing was fresh, plush green grass ─ as if it were spring. You crouched down and gently touched it, making you realize how warm the ground was beneath you as well.

“This clearing is connected through magic to the willow tree,” A voice had you squeaking out of fright, throwing you off balance and making you land on your butt.

“Wha-” Looking up, you were face to face with a beautiful man. “Jimin,”

“Ah, you remember my name too,” He grinned, making his eyes disappear. “I was afraid you wouldn’t show up,”

“What did you mean by magic?” You asked, watching as he took a seat in front of you.

“Well,” He hummed, playing with a blade of grass. “The tree is...a source of life for the stags in this forest. We all gather here for energy,”

“...We?” You whispered, making him look up with a smile.

“We...the stags,” He explained, keeping his tone calm and gentle.

“You...How are you a stag?” You furrowed your brows, leveling him with a firm stare.

“I can show you,” He offered, standing up. “There’s a book my kind have kept for centuries, you can read it if you’d like.”

He held his hand out for you to take. You hesitated for a split second but ultimately decided to give it a shot. When you placed your hand in his, the same energy that zapped in your system at the willow tree. He smiled when you yanked your hand back in shock.

“Follow me,” He said softly, turning his back to you to begin walking into the dense trees that surrounded the clearing.

He almost seemed to glow as you followed behind him, a halo of golden light surrounding his body. He was graceful, holding his head high with his shoulders squared ─ looking absolutely regal.

Trailing behind him in silence, you held the hem of your dress up as you walked, not wanting to get snagged on anything. You had no idea how much time passed as you walked, simply following paths through dense trees, leaves crunching beneath your feet behind the only sound. It took you a moment to realize how gracefully Jimin was walking, making virtually no noise ─ not even the leaves or sticks crunched beneath his feet.

Finally, you came to another clearing; this one didn't hold the same energy as the other one, however, it did hold a small, quaint little cottage. In front of the windows were small flower boxes, filled with pink and purple flowers you didn't have the knowledge to identify. There was a gentle glow coming from one of the windows, the others dark. It deemed almost like a beacon in the otherwise dark forest.

"You live here?" You asked, finally breaking the reigning silence that had been hanging over the two of you.

"Yes," He chuckled, looking behind his shoulder as he opened the front door to his home. "Did you expect me to live among the wildlife?"

"Do you want a serious answer?" You teased, smiling easily as you accepted his invite inside.

It was warm and you undid the golden button on your cloak, letting it slide off to hang on a little hook beside the door.

"Come," The young man beckoned you deeper into his home.

In the living area, there was a bookcase. Scanning the various novels on the shelves, you were shocked to see such a variety of books; romance, mystery, even journals you could only assume he wrote himself. Books were a luxury that were rarely available in Sol or really anywhere, so you were quite curious as to how he had amounted such a trove of literature.

Before you could ask, though, he pulled out a book that was much thicker than any of the others. The veins in his hands bulged under the weight as he picked it up and with a nod of his head, he directed you to sit beside him on the couch.

"This is a book that holds the history of this forest," He said, carefully blowing off a layer of dust that had accumulated on the cover before opening to a page he seemed to easily find. “Long ago, Sol Forest was watched over by an entity Dibin. She protected all the creatures that inhabited until the die she died; when she did, her magic became infused with the forest. Thus, the creatures she once looked over had the ability to alter their appearance. White stags were some of the only magical creatures left living here from Dibin’s lifetime. There was many of us, thousands of us occupied this land,”

As he spoke, he flipped through the book, grazing his fingers over pictures and art. It didn’t take you long to realize that the words were in an entirely different language. You briefly wondered if he understood as his eyes drifted over the text, a small smile coming to his lips that could only be described as nostalgic.

“When the village of Sol was erected and the tradition of The Hunt began, we tried to stay and fight through it, persevere. We didn’t want to leave our home. But as the population began to fall and thousands turned into hundreds; many fled for self preservation. Only a few of us remained...a dozen or so,” Your heart ached as he finally looked up at you, dark eyes holding much sadness within them. “When we met...those years ago, I was living here in this cottage with my parents. A few years ago...my father passed away..”

“How did he die?” You asked, note breaking your eyes away from his so he could see the sincerity in your gaze.

Jimin shrugged before speaking, this time in a much desolate tone. "He got sick one day and just...didn't get better," He sighed, flipped a few more pages in the book. "After that, my mom wanted to leave the forest and follow where the others had gone."

"You didn't go?" You asked, glancing at a piece of art in the book which depicted a white stag in front of the willow tree.

"No," He responded quickly, looking back up at you. "I didn't want to leave Sol. This is my home, you know. So, she left without me."

"That's so sad, I can't imagine how that must feel. You miss her?"

"Yeah, I miss her every day," He confessed, his shoulders slumping as he said those words. "I'm the last stag in this forest now."

"The last?!" You cried. How had a forest that was once filled with white stags dwindled down to one; one with whom you were sitting beside right now.

"Yes and," He turned to look straight at you now, his eyes holding a fire that hadn't been there before. "That's why I need your help. You're the only human I can ask."

"Help? How can I help?"

"When The Hunt begins, you can lead them away from my home. I'll hide out here; if I can make it through this hunt then I can work on the population of Sol Forest until the next one." He explained, speaking almost desperately.

“I’ll do it,” You agreed easily. You had never wanted to participate in The Hunt as much as other villagers had; whenever it was brought up there was always a pit of anxiety in your stomach. Now, you knew this was what you were meant to do; protect the beautiful creatures that had been decimated by a years of tradition. Maybe one day, the forest would be flush with the white stags once again. The first step was to protect the last one. "But wait,"

"What is it?"

"How come you don't just...blend?" At the confused look on his face, you explained. "I mean, since you're human...right now...why don't you just wear a cloak and blend with the hunters?"

"Well," He hummed, flipping further into the book as you watched. He stopped on a page filled with unfamiliar characters of his language. "The village would probably easily notice an unfamiliar face among them. And also...I shift during the full moon."

"Full moon..." You sighed, realizing the plan you had wouldn't work. "Like werewolves?"

Jimin laughed at this, his shoulders shaking. "I suppose it's similar to werewolves except we don't crave blood and kill things in a blood-rage like they do. I'll be fully in my mind and self-aware but...unable to maintain a human form."

"Then I guess...your plan's the only way, huh?"

Nerves were alive and well in your chest as you stood with the men and women of your village. The sun was barely peeking above the horizon, painting the sky with splashes of warm reds and oranges; it was a contrast with the chill that was in the air.

"You all know what to do," Dowon said, voice booming and overpowering the soft murmur the crowd had been enveloped in. "Let's go."

You all set off, tightening your grip on your bow as you skulked into the forest the same as everyone else.

You had specifically joined the group that would be scouring the area around Jimin’s home. While you weren’t the leader, the group was small enough that you knew they would listen to you.

“I’ll search this way,” You offered, nodding your head to the left.

“There’s a stream out that way,” A man, Alan, claimed, adjusting his hunting knife in his grip. “There may be wild animals gathering there for water.”

“I can handle myself quite well,” You quipped, meeting his worried gaze. “Plus, it’d be a good place to try and track footprints, right?”

“I guess so,” Alan sighed, his shoulders sagging. “I’ll be nearby then, in case you have a run in.”

You plastered a false smile on your face while internally rolling your eyes. Turning your back, you stalked through the woods, putting on an air of attempting to be stealthy. The moonlight provided some visibility; you didn’t need it because you knew a bit of the way there.

“They’re nearby,” You whispered as quietly as you could as you caught sight of Jimin hiding out of sight. “I couldn’t keep them entirely away but they know I’m searching in this area alone.”

It was then that you realized this was your first time seeing him like this.

He was absolutely magnificent; coat as white and unblemished as freshly fallen snow. Antlers atop his head that seemed to sparkle in the moonlight. Hesitantly, you reached out and brushed your fingers against his fur; to your shock, he leaned into your touch, closing his round brown eyes at the feeling.

If you hadn’t believe him before when he told you he was a white stag, this certainly would have been enough to convince you. You could see the emotions and recognition in his face and eyes when he looked at you.

“Once the sun begins to rise, we’ll all return home,” You saw the way his eyes sparkles at your words, a small smile forming on your lips.

You knew you would probably sleep for a while 48 hours after this whole stressful affair was done. Never in your life had you been so terrified of being found by someone of your village; you didn’t even want to think of the consequences of trying to hide a White Stag.

“Maybe I should have made some paint and colored you brown, make you blend in with the trees,” You joked, holding in a laugh when he fixed you with what you could only imagine was meant to be glare.

He was knelt on the ground, making himself as small as possible as you sat beside him ─ the ground was quite cold beneath you. Both of you would flinch and your heart would accelerate at the sound of twigs snapping or leaves rustling.

Even if you wanted to relax, you couldn’t.

You stalked into the woods, feeling much calmer than you had previously. You lightly touched the willow tree, feeling the small tingle flow up your arm before you carried down a path you seemed to have already memorized. Since The Hunt, you had been visiting the stag relatively often; the two of you forming a close friendship.

Jimin's cabin came into view and you smiled; picking up the pace to reach his front porch. You knocked a few times and, to your surprise, he took only a second to answer; that adorable eye-smile lighting up his entire face.

"How are you doing?" You ask as you step into his warmly heated home, the smell of firewood burning filling your senses.

"I'm great," He shut the door once you were inside and took your cloak from you to hang it up; the bright red contrasting prettily next to his white cloak. "How are you?"

"I'm okay, pretty tired," You responded easily, following Jimin into the living room. There was a fire going, and you smiled at the cozy feeling it gave off.

"I'm making tea, would you like some?" At his question, you readily agreed, feeling your body and soul relaxing in such a calm atmosphere.

When he placed the mug in front of you on a little coaster, you smiled, patting the seat beside you. He held his mug in his hands, uncaring taking a sip of the steaming liquid without flinching. Then with a sigh, he place the cup down and looked at you.

"What is it?" You asked, cocking your head as you registered the complete seriousness in his gaze.

"I need to leave," He said, tone flat.

"Leave? The forest?" He nodded, heaving another sigh.

"Mating season is coming up," He explained, not noticing the way you blushed in response. "Since there are no females available this season here, I have to travel to the nearest cluster in order to mate. It will be the first step to repopulating this forest."

"Is it dangerous?" You asked. "The travel, I mean."

"Yes," He admitted. "I haven't done it before. This is the first season I decided it would be worth it to try. But there are many creatures which will want to have me for food. Also the hunters of various villages and towns along the way, I could very well perish."

"That's so scary..." Then something he said seemed to click in your mind. "But wait...if she lives in another forest...how will the child be here?"

"Well, my kind mate for life," He explained, shocking you. "We find a mate and...for the rest of our lives we are together."

"Wow, that sounds lovely," You whisper, not quite understanding the ache in your chest.

"Don't look so worried, I'll be fine!"

"Huh?" You looked up to see the shine in his eyes was brighter than ever.

"I'll come back safe and sound, I promise,"

Without knowing why, you forced a smile and nodded at his words.

Your bed felt oddly cold as you stared at the ceiling. Never before had you shared a bed with another person but you couldn't help but feel like someone was missing.

You forced yourself out of bed and pulled on your cloak, not even bothering to change out of your nightclothes or put on any shoes. You had one clear goal in mind and without a second of hesitation or taking a moment to think of the consequences of your actions, you rushed from your home.

The air was much chillier than you expected and you briefly regretted not putting on shoes.

However, when you stepped foot into the oh-so-familiar clearing, the ground allowed some heat into your frozen toes.

You were panting by the time you reached Jimin's front door ─ all the lights inside were turned off. However, you could see the smoke coming from the chimney, meaning he was in fact inside at least. Steeling yourself, you raised your fist to bang on the door. But before you could make contact, the door swung open to reveal the very man you were searching for.

"I knew you would come back," When he spoke, his voice was much deeper than you had expected. Every time you talked to him, he always had a bright, soft lilt in his tone that made you feel happy. Now, it was low and husky and had a heat settling in your body.

"W-What?" You whispered, your breath showing up in the air as a result of the cold temperature.

"You feel the same way, don't you?" He asked, although the way he looked at you showed it was more of a statement. You nodded in agreement anyway, which caused him to smile. It wasn't the bright eye-smile you loved, however, no it was more of a smirk. He reached out and gripped your wrist, pulling you inside his home.

"Jimin, I-"

"I know," He whispered, reaching up to undo the golden button on your cloak, that held it on. Once it was unbuttoned, he hung it up in the same spot you always hunt it in. "I saw that way you looked at me when I told you I had to leave. I could hear the way your heart ached at my words,"

You stepped closer to him, feeling almost desperate to be closer to him. He seemed to understand as he ever so gently placed his hands on your waist, letting you feel his warmth through the thin fabric of your nightdress.

"Do you want me the same way I want you?" He questioned, leaning closer to you so you could feel the tickle of his bangs brushing your skin. "You know if you do this...you'll be with me forever?"

"I...I want it, I want to be by your side until I die, Jimin," You whispered, inching onto your tiptoes to urge him to kiss you, bringing your lips closer together.

"Sweet girl," He cooed, finally touching his lips to yours.

The same feeling as when he first touched you zapped through your system. You whimpered, the electricity flowing through your body and causing you to tremble. However, you didn't pull away ─ couldn't pull away. You gripped the front of his shirt, soft cotton beneath your fingertips, pulling him even closer so your bodies were pressed together. One of his arms wrapped around your waist and the other wrapped around your shoulders to let his fingers tangle in your hair. You were so close, so warm against each other that you wouldn't stop the soft sighs of pleasure that escaped your lips even if you wanted to.

When Jimin finally pulled away, you immediately missed his lips on yours. He smiled, pushing a piece of hair behind your ear, looking absolutely smitten already.

"I'm so happy," He whispered, watching the way your eyes lit up at his words. "I feel so lucky to have found you. You went so far for me and I never thought a human would be someone I could take as my companion."

"But...how will the population come back if I'm just a human?"

"It will not matter," He responded, leaning down to press a chaste kiss against your forehead. "My magic will overtake in the child's system."

You blushed at the mention of a child, making Jimin chuckle. It wasn't abnormal for couples to marry and immediately have a child. Part of you wanted to voice to Jimin that you wished to just...be with him for a while.

"Don't worry," He suddenly cooed, seeming to understand your thoughts again. "We will have time to have a child, I promise."

"How do you do that?" You mumbled, fighting back a chuckle.

"You are mine," He responded quickly. "You have accepted me into your heart...I can tell what you're thinking...what you're feeling." At the last one, he licked his lips and chuckled, making you blush like mad.

"Would you like to wash up first?"

"Sure, that'd be nice," You agreed, letting him lead you through the cottage with a hand on your wrist.

"My room is just across the hall," He muttered, turning around and heading to the door across the hall. Ever so gently, you shut the door and let out a sigh once you were in solitude.

You stood in front of the mirror, taking in your flushed appearance. The run here had caused dirt to stick to your face and even your neck. You dipped your hands into the water basin to gather water, using it to wipe away the sweat and dirt that stained your skin.

When you looked back up, water dripping down, you let out a breath.

You looked presentable so you grabbed the towel off the rack and dried your face. With a pounding heart and trembling hands, you opened the bathroom door.

Jimin's bedroom door was open, a gentle glow coming from within along with the soft scent of apple pie wafting through the air. As you stepped into the doorway, you could see Jimin lighting a couple candles.

"Oh!" He jumped when he realized you were there, placing a now lit candle on the nightstand beside his bed. "I uh...hope you don't mind. My mother once said you should always make a woman feel special when she is to be your mate,"

You felt the heat of a blush take over your face at the mention of becoming his mate. Still, despite feeling shy, you bit your lip as a wave of excitement traveled over you ─ making you shiver in anticipation.

When Jimin slowly walked over to you to cup your cheeks to bring your eyes to his, you could see the way his sparkled. He leaned down, pressing the softest kiss to your nose before speaking.

"We don't have to do anything," He cooed, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear and dusting his thumb along your cheek.

It was then that you remembered he could tell what you were feeling. His care for you lightened your heart and you reached up and cupped the hand that rested on your cheek no.

"Don't worry, I really want to," You whispered, knowing he could sense the honesty in you. Just as you expected, he visibly relaxes and a serene smile passes over his face.

"I really want to kiss you,"

"Then kiss me," You replied, taking the lead and leaning forward until your lips barely touched. Then Jimin closed to distance, pulling you into a deep kiss that made your head fuzzy.

His hands grabbed your waist, pulling you so your bodies were pressed together; it made the fact that he was growing hard in his slacks difficult to ignore. Instead of feeling shy, however, it sent a wave of lust through you and Jimin groaned as you pressed against the hardness more.

"Do you─Can I take this off?" He asked, his voice trembling as he bunched the fabric in his hands.

"Y-Yeah," You consented, stepping away from him slightly so he could pull it up.

One of the buttons became tangled in your hair, making you whine as he tugged it. He let out a small laugh, leaning closer to carefully freeing you and then letting the fabric fall to the floor.

Instead of ogling your exposed body like you expected, he pressed a chaste kiss against your forehead before taking your hand and leading you to the bed. When you were seated comfortably on the mattress, he pulled the white shirt he always seemed to wear off his body.

You swallowed thickly, taking in his body; the flat plane of his tummy and the bulging veins in his arms.

However, what truly caught your eye was the beautiful, intricate tattoo that sat on his right peck, going in and traveling down his ribs. You reached up, dragging your fingertips along the art to feel the zap of electricity through your arm.

"When my kind turn 16, we are given this tattoo to show we have reached maturity," He explains, smiling as you continued to touch him.

Instead of answering, you pulled him down so you could kiss him again. He smiled against your lips, pushing you to lay flat on the bed, holding his weight above you by his elbows. Your hands became busy, brushing through his hair to feel the soft locks and wrapping your arms around him and trail your fingers up the bare expanse of his back, making him shudder.

Then, he pulled away to sit back on his heels. His dark eyes slowly trailed down your body, taking in the gentle curve of your breasts topped with pebbled buds, the smooth skin of your stomach, and finally your heat, which was covered by white cotton panties.

"White," He whispered, dragging his fingers over the fabric, smiling. "My favorite color."

"I should have guessed," You replied, teasing him, making his playfully glare at you.

He didn't say anything, however, instead he leaned down to press a kiss against your chest. You sighed at the feeling, watching through lidded eyes as he continued to kiss his way across your chest until he reached a pert nipple. Biting your lips, you kept your eyes on him even as he closed his own and enveloped your bud in his hot, wet mouth. You sighed at the feeling, unable to keep your eyes open once he added his fingers to the mix to cater to your other nipple.

One hand tangled in his hair, unable to resist touching him while the other was gripping his sheets tightly to ground yourself. It felt like you should be feeling shy or embarrassed but with him, you felt oddly comfortable; like you had nothing to hide or be ashamed of.

In this world, many people married for the sake of marriage and passing down the genes and having children. Not even your parents were married out of love.

And although you weren't sure if what you felt for Jimin was love, it certainly felt right.

While you were becoming dizzy with the feeling of him, his other hand brushed over your core through your panties, making you jump. When you glanced down at him, Jimin was gazing at you through his lashes.

"Jimin," You whispered, your voice making him break away from your breast to respond with a soft "yes". You didn't know what to say, making him giggle, leaning down to kiss the center of your chest.

"I'll take care of you," He whispered, sitting up completely again but this time he scooted further down the bed before he laid flat on his stomach between your thighs. "You're wet."

"Hey!" You cried, attempting to shut your legs, not used to such blunt language referring to your body.

"Don't hide," He chastised, but still holding a delicate smile on his lips.

He slipped his thumbs beneath the band of your panties, starting to pull them down. Biting your lips to fight the heat threatening to overcome your face, you lifted your hips to help him pull them all the way off.

You were completely bare before him and he grinned, pressing his lips against the skin of your calf, knee, and thigh all the way up your body until he met your lips once again.

Kissing him was definitely your favorite thing, his lips were so plush and soft and warm against yours. You couldn't stop the whimper escaping at the introduction of his tongue, deepening the kiss. He finally broke away, leaving you both panting.

He recovered first, dropping back down your body again, spreading your legs with more force than you expected. However, the feeling of him treating you rougher had your core clenching around nothing, making you gush.

"Do you like that?" He whispered, licking his lips as his mouth was level with your heat. When you nodded, he chuckled darkly. "We'll tackle that another time. Right now I just...want to make you feel loved."

Then, when you relaxed against the bed, he suddenly licked a stripe up your slit, gathering the creaming wetness there and moaning. Before you could control yourself, you fingers were tangling in his hair as you cried you. He chuckled, the vibrations making you keen before he licked up again, this time focusing on catching your clit.

"Jimin!" You whined, arching your back as he wrapped his lips around the bud.

it felt phenomenal; like nothing you ever felt before.

"You're...sensitive," He whispered before using his thumbs to spread your folds, exposing your twitching entrance and hard clit; licking the little bud as it peeked out from under its hood.

You couldn't respond, too overcome with the pleasure he was giving you. Part of you wondered if Jimin had done this or if regular sex without mating was even allowed; he was just so good.

He pulled away rather suddenly, closing his eyes and licking his lips free of your leftover juices.

You nearly cried in relief when he began to push his pants down, tossing the fabric on the floor.

His cock was hard, the head red with a bead of precum leaking at the tip. He wrapped his fist around it, giving a few good pumps as he knelt between your legs again.

All your life you expected to feel nerves at this stage, with his cock prodding your entrance, a centimeter away from spreading your virgin walls. However, as you find yourself in this position with Jimin, you only felt the need to make him go faster.

He leaned down, giving you a sweet kiss and making you smile at the softness. His eyes were sparkling as he gazed down at you, making you feel like the most special girl.

“Are you ready?” He asked, gripping his length in one hand as he prodded against your tight entrance.

At your nod of consent he began to push inside you, keeping an eye on your facial expressions. Your brows furrowed and your mouth opened in a silent moan as you felt your walls stretch around him. There was a slight burn but the second he brushed against a spot inside you, your back arched. Jimin chuckled a little at your reaction, bottoming out and reaching down to circle your clit; enjoying the feeling of your walls clamping down around him at the feeling.

Tossing your head back, your felt your eyes roll when he slowly pulled out, pushing back in the solid slap of skin meeting. He was slow and careful, aiming for the spot inside you that had your thighs trembling, all the while rolling your hard clit beneath his thumb.

You clawed at the sheets and pillows, nearly beside yourself over the pleasure that was flooding your system. Jimin panted above you, giving you a beautiful view with his bangs pushed back, making him look powerful. The hand not occupied beneath your legs traveled up your body to cup your breast, pinching the nipple between two fingers, groaning when you clenched around him hard.

Suddenly, you could feel pleasure mounting inside you; threatening to explode. It was white hot heat in your core, winding up and you couldn’t stop yourself from arching.

“Are you close?” Jimin whispered, smirking as you were too caught up in your head to even respond to him. He sped up, panting and groaning himself as he finally let himself go as well.

Pinning your thighs open, he fucked you much faster; sending you flying over the edge. Your mind blanked, the only thing your mouth could say was his name. He removed his thumb from your clit as you became too sensitive for the extra stimulation.

You relaxed, still trembling and coming down from your high when he pulled out, wrapping his hand around himself to pump himself to completion. Warm splatters of his cum painted your skin, your eyes opening to catch the tail end of his orgasm; his head possed back to expose his neck and his whined.

He relaxed, leaning down over you to meet your lips in a lazy, slow kiss.

“We should wash up,” You whispered, voice scratchy due to the moaning you did.

“We can head to the stream,” Jimin sat up, leaning off the side of the bed to collect his pants and shirt.

He offered the shirt to you, helping you slide it over your head; it was too big for you so when you stood up, it covered everything it needed to. Jimin simply slid on his pants, not bothering with a shirt before he lead you out of the home.

The walk to the stream was peaceful and quick, not even taking two minutes to get there. Jimin was quick to strip his pants off and hop in the water. As soon as he was submerged, you body was overcome with a shiver; it felt like you were just dunked into the water. JImin laughed from where he was wading, a shit-eating grin on his face.

"I was waiting for that," He laughed, his voice echoing through the trees.

"W-What?" You whined, still too stunned to strip yourself.

"Well," He giggled again, wading closer to the shoreline, reaching his hand out to you. "Now that we're mated, you can feel me just as I feel you." You fought a smile, pulling the shirt off and taking Jimin's hand to allow him to help you into the water.

You both washed yourselves free of the sweat and fluids that accumulated on your bodies. The water, though cold at first, seemed to grow warmer the longer you were in it; your body temperatures becoming accustomed. He wrapped his arms around your middle, resting his chin on your shoulder as you both stared at the sparkling night sky, feeling absolutely blissful in each others hold.

And as the sun began to peek over the horizon, casting delicate shadows along the ground and bathing the serene Sol Forest in washes of red, you turned in Jimin's arms and pressed the most gentle kiss upon his lips, making the beautiful man smile.

#bts smut #jimin smut #bts scenarios #jimin scenarios #bts imagines #jimin imagines #bts preferences #jimin preferences #bts reactions #jimin reactions #bts fanfic #jimin fanfic #jimin/reader #jimin/you

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thebiasrekkers · 4 years ago

Text

Make It Right [BTS Mafia!AU]

Plot: “It’s always darkest before the dawn…” It’s a dog-eat-dog world in Seoul, South Korea. One has to dwell in the shadows in order to reach for the light. What are you willing to sacrifice in order to feel the sunlight on your face? What will it take to drag you back into darkness? How long will the journey be to make it right?

Rating: NC-17 // NSFW

Pairings: Jin x OC | Taehyung/Hoseok x OC | Yoongi/Jungkook x OC

Warnings: Graphic Violence (bloody violence), Heavy Language, Angst, Slow Burn, Smut

Previous Chapters: Prologue 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45

Links: FAQ || BTS Masterlist || Admin E’s AO3 || Admin E’s WP || [ REQUESTS ARE OPEN ]

Word Count: 2,480

Tag List: @prisczero, @pinkpjmin, @btsaudge, @flowerwrites06, @unoriginal-username15432, @halussali, @shrimpmsg,

Chapter 45: 21st Century Girl

“Whatever other people say, whatever this world tells you, you’re the best to me just the way you are.”

© thebiasrekkers (Admin E). All rights reserved. Reposting/modifying our work is prohibited. Translations are not allowed. Plagiarism/stealing is not tolerated by any means. Legal action will be taken in instances of theft.

“Isn’t it early where you are?”

“No, it’s only nine.”

“You look tired though.”

“A lot’s been going on with my new job.”

“I’ll admit, I was a little worried when you said you were quitting your other job. Is that even allowed with the visa you currently have?”

“It’s fine. I applied for another visa through my new company.”

Anastasia sighed, attempting a smile for Jacob. The Skype call had only been going on for about twenty minutes, but it felt like they were talking for hours. She tried to check in about once a week, but with all the hustle and bustle with the company and the ever-blossoming relationship she was in with Seokjin, it was hard to maintain contact in the way she would have liked. Add on the extreme time zone difference and that was how things wound up.

“Is it harder than working for your old job?”

“No,” she said while shaking her head, “it’s about the same workload. I have more responsibilities because I technically got promoted when they hired me.”

Jacob nodded, brushing some of his hair out of his eyes. It was getting a little longer than she was used to. He would have cut it by now, but he seemed set on trying out a new image.

She watched him take a drink of water. “Are you happy, Ana?”

Blinking, she wasn’t quite sure what to make of his question. Had she given any indication that she wasn’t happy? She hoped not. She didn’t want him worrying unnecessarily.

Again, she smiled. “Yeah Jake, I’m happy.”

Anastasia watched her brother’s eyes furrow from the computer screen. She knew it wasn’t because he didn’t believe her. He just worried a lot and tended to fuss over her unnecessarily. It was the role Jacob chose to play since he was the second-born. They were only two years apart, but they were thick as thieves and she appreciated how close they were despite her being the oldest of her three siblings. Their baby brother, Phillip, was still just starting college while Elena just graduated from her university. Their parents were still harping on about practicality when it came to their futures, something that both Anastasia and Jacob despised. They should have all been allowed to choose the paths they wanted to live, regardless of the outcomes.

“Well,” he finally said, shrugging one shoulder, “as long as you’re happy, that’s all that matters.”

Relief washed over her and she sank back in her chair a little more, cradling the mug of green tea in her hands. Her hand slid from the handle to press a palm to her stomach, a warmer smile touching her features. She must have looked a little silly because the sound Jacob clearing his throat loudly startled her from her thoughts. When she peered back at the screen, his face was a little closer, as if he was leaning forward to look directly into her eyes.

“So, are you finally dating someone now?”

She coughed loudly, sitting up and quickly setting her mug down on the desk by her keyboard. “W-What?” Anastasia attempted to wrangle the words that were escaping her. “What’s with the interrogation anyway?”

Again, Jacob shrugged. “I know you dated that one guy, but that’s it.” He leaned back in his chair, lounging lazily. “Just figured you were seeing someone new.”

She felt her cheeks grow warm, her hands fidgeting until Anastasia started twirling a few locks between her fingers. It was a nervous tick that she hadn’t been able to break and there was no sign of it stopping anytime soon. She’d be an old woman pulling at her thinning gray strands until they put her in the ground.

Jacob laughed, realizing he’d caught her in his cleverly laid trap. If he was within arms-reach, she would have shaken him like a rag doll. “Your face gives away everything. It’s why you suck at poker.”

“Shut-up,” she muttered.

Another window suddenly popped up, notifying her that she had another call. She stared at the screen as Seokjin’s name and picture appeared in the window. Her eyes lowered to the corner of the monitor, spying the time, and she wondered why he was calling. He’d given her the rest of the week off so she could adjust to all the hormonal imbalances that came with her pregnancy. Talking with her brother was part of the whole routine check-up bit, but she really wanted to talk to him about her being with child.

“Hold on, Jake. I have another call.”

“Sure.”

She put her brother on hold, answering Seokjin’s call. When his face popped up on the screen, Anastasia could only stare at how uncomfortably close his face was to the camera. Neither of them said anything. She was too startled to speak and he apparently was trying to read something about her. He did this often when he was trying to catch her in some kind of lie or if she was secretly up to something.

“Seokjin,” she finally said, blinking, “what are you doing?” Anastasia looked over his shoulder to see if he was in his office. “Shouldn’t you be, oh I dunno, working or something?”

“Why are you on the computer?” he asked suddenly. “I gave you the rest of the week off to rest. Not so you could stare at a monitor.”

Anastasia sighed. “I’m talking to my brother. Why?”

“You can’t talk on the phone?”

“Phone calls are expensive. Skype is free.”

He gave her a dissatisfied look. “Are you serious?”

“Yes, I’m serious! Why are you calling me on Skype if you’re worried about me being in front of a monitor?”

“Because you won’t answer your phone!”

“My phone’s dead and I’m charging it!” Anastasia puffed out one of her cheeks. “Geez, you’re impossible.”

He frowned, brushing some of his hair out of his eyes before leaning back in his chair. “…are you hungry?”

“Am I hung—what?” She looked back at the clock to make sure of the time. “It’s still early!”

“You should at least eat breakfast. It’s the most important meal of the day.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Anastasia rolled her eyes. “Shouldn’t you be working? Go back to work!”

Without waiting for his response, she hung up the call and went back to the window her brother was on. Jacob was busying himself with scribbling some notes on a notepad.

“Sorry about that.”

He looked up at the screen, setting his pen down. “Who was that?”

“A potential headache.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “Just a headache.”

Jacob smirked. “Yeah? Sounds like a boyfriend to me.”

“Jacob Martin!”

He laughed loudly, holding a hand up as he patted the air. “Okay, okay. I get it. Dropping it now.”

Anastasia smiled as she sighed, realizing how much she missed her brother being around. He mentioned coming to visit from time to time, but between working and trying to find his place in the world, she knew that it was almost impossible. Air fare wasn’t cheap and while she could afford to fly him out if he wanted, there was the internal worry about him judging her ties with former gangsters. Their home life wasn’t peaches and cream, but it was far from unsavory. What family was perfect?

Even so, she still wondered what her brother would think of her if she told him she was having a child out of wedlock.

Once the heavy topic of her work environment was no longer the focus, the two of them were able to engage in lighter conversation. Again, Jacob mentioned coming to visit her in South Korea, mostly because he wanted to see the country she’d called home for the last three and a half years. The place was full of beauty and splendor. There were many things about the land that helped heal her from the horrible fall she’d had over her broken dreams. While she may not have been a chef and restaurant owner like she wanted, her current occupation brought her to this place.

The path she walked led her to Seokjin, the man she loved.

Half an hour passed and she realized that it was getting late. She worried that she was keeping Jacob up longer than normal.

“You should probably get some rest,” she said, noting the tired look in Jacob’s eyes, “you have the overnight shift this week, don’t you?”

Jacob stifled a yawn. “Yeah, but it’s fine. I need to make sure that Phillip did his homework.”

“Let Elena worry about that.”

He nodded, waving a hand back and forth to her. Anastasia wished to ruffle his hair like she often did when they were teenagers. A painful wave of nostalgia overtook her and she did her best not to cry, cursing herself for all the pregnancy hormones throwing her out of whack. Jacob didn’t seem to notice as he finished off his bottle of water.

“Mm, alright. I guess I’ll try to get some sleep. G’night, ‘Stasia.”

Anastasia rubbed at her eyes to keep the tears from falling. “Goodnight, Jake.”

The blip noise sounded after the call ended and Anastasia was left with only silence. She curled her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around her legs as she buried her face into her knees. A weak sob was all she could muster, mourning the lack of family around her to tell her that everything was going to be okay. That her worries would be for nothing and that she would be happy. That she deserved to be happy, despite all of her failures.

For a moment, all she could do was sob quietly to herself. There were so many missed opportunities to empty her soul to her brother. He would have understood and encouraged her. Jacob would have told her that she was strong, that she was one of the strongest people he knew, and that this little bump in the road was just one pothole on the way to glory. Their parents would have told her she was shameful for carrying another man’s child when she hadn’t even so much as been introduced to his family. That it was a disgrace to have a child as an unmarried woman. People did it all the time, but not her family. Not the D’Angelo’s.

Anastasia didn’t know how long she was curled up in her chair. She was pretty sure that she’d drifted off at some point. Her limbs ached from scrunching herself up into a ball and they protested as she tried to straighten herself out. A hand rubbed at her stomach while the other wiped the moisture from her cheeks.

“I’m sorry, Baby,” she whispered, rubbing circles over her belly, “I didn’t mean to cramp you up like that.”

She stretched her legs out, then her arms, before standing. Grabbing the mug, she made her way downstairs. She’d barely made it into the kitchen before the front door burst open and in walked Seokjin, looking flustered and haggard. The mug slipped from her hands and fell into the sink with a loud clatter as she spun around the moment he stalked into the kitchen.

“W-What are you doing?!” Anastasia managed to stammer out, taking a step back as Seokjin quickly closed the distance between them. “You’re supposed to be at work!”

“You hung up on me!”

“That’s because you were acting crazy!”

Anastasia peered around him, hoping that Jimin had the wherewithal to at least follow so she could drag Seokjin back to the office. She frowned, ducking under his arm and bolting from into the living room. He was practically on her heels.

This was insane!

Stopping short, she whirled on her heels and Seokjin had to raise himself up onto the balls of his feet to keep from crashing into her. She stuck her hand out.

“Phone. Now.”

He blinked down at her. “What? No!”

“Gimme the phone, Seokjin!”

His eyes narrowed, issuing his silent refusal. Anastasia didn’t care as she took a step forward, her hands lunging out to reach into the inner pocket of his suit jacket. He wasn’t fast enough to move out of the way and her fingers quickly found the item. When he tried to snatch it back from her, she twirled so that her back was facing him.

Her thumb slid over the dots to form the pattern needed to unlock his phone and she immediately dialed Jimin. As the phone rang, Seokjin tried to take the phone back but Anastasia was already half running, half jumping up the stairs toward the loft. Jimin answered before the second ring could finish.

“Hyung! Where did you go?!”

“Jimin-ah, you tell your boss to take his ass back to work!”

“A-Ana Noona? What are you—?”

“Do you hear me?” Her feet landed on the top step and she turned around to stick her foot out, her heel planting itself against Seokjin’s chest to keep him from moving any closer to her. “He has fivemeetings today and one of them is in twenty minutes. How could you let him leave the office in the first place?!”

“I’m sorry, Noona. I tried! But Seokjin Hyung hit me. He hit me in the chest and I was horrified!”

She shot him a glare. “He did what now?”

“He’s never hit me. I didn’t know what to do! I was caught off guard! I’m sorry. I’ll come over right now.”

Anastasia hung up the phone and tossed it back to Seokjin. She then pointed downstairs. “Out.”

He pouted. “Anastasia, come on…”

“Go back to work!” Her eyes narrowed. “If I end up having to take you backto the office, I’m going to work and I’m gonna make every second of your life a living hell while I’m there. Do you understand me?”

Seokjin gave her the once over, as if trying to surmise if she really would do it. He knew better. At least she hoped he knew better. She was as stubborn as a mule and if he thought, for even one second, that she was playing around, then he’d rue the day he ever hired her. She wasn’t going to back down from this and an angry pregnant woman was not a variable that Kim Seokjin would be in a hurry to deal with.

After a moment, he sighed and leaned against the wall. “…alright, you win.” He held his hands up, turning to head downstairs. “I’ll go.”

She stayed upstairs, waiting to hear him put on his shoes and open the door. When she didn’t hear it close, however, Anastasia smiled and shook her head. “I’ll see you tonight,” she called down to him, “have a good day.”

“…love you.”

Her cheeks flushed slightly and she walked down a few steps so she could see his pitiful face.

She laughed.

“I love you too.”

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shooting-stars01 · 5 years ago

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Temptations of Time (Pt.5)

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4

A/N: Hello everyone! This week has been crazy for me. I am currently sick so this chapter took longer to put together than I thought it would. I apologize if there are any mistakes that I didn’t catch. I promise that the next chapter will have more “steamy” moments. As with the other chapters, this is not canon, just a story I created using characters from the MCU. Hope you enjoy!

Synopsis: You were taken from your home when you were too little to remember the truth. You are the last surviving royal from your home, and in an attempt to continue the royal bloodline of your family, Odin, King of Asgard, arranges a marriage between you and his son Thor. Despite this, over the years, you have culminated a friendship w/ his brother Loki, and though you are promised to Thor, you long for something more between you and his mysterious brother.

Pairing: Loki X Reader/ A little Thor X Reader

Chapter: 5/?

Words: 4.1K

Warnings: Arranged Marriage, a little smut ( I will put an asterisk [*] when the smut begins and ends so that those who wish to skip it may)

“I felt the cold settle in my bones, fearing for the worst, that Loki would never speak to me again, that it was over, but as I sat down at the table and began to eat, a heated determination began to settle within me. Two could play at his game. He wanted to be stubborn, well so could I.”

I awoke to the feeling of heat against my skin, the light from the sun cascading down through the open window and landing on the length of my side. It was calming and I felt lethargic, wanting nothing more than to bask in the sunlight with Loki by my side. He was still asleep, his face peaceful and angelic. His hair splayed out underneath his head and I ran my fingers through it, enjoying seeing him without his usual facade. I leaned over and pressed a light kiss to his forehead and moved my lips to ghost over his. His eyes fluttered open, still adjusting to the bright light and I lowered my head back down to the pillow, waiting for him to wake up completely.

I wanted to stay like this forever, basking in the afterglow of the most perfect night I ever had, but I needed to leave soon. My maid would be coming back to my room any minute if she hadn’t gone in for the morning already, and if I wasn’t there, I wasn’t sure I would be able to come up with a good enough lie as to where I had been. Loki would be perfect in helping me come up with something clever to say. He always handled such situations with an elegance that was both mesmerizing and terrifying at the same time.

“It’s time for me to head back now.” I lay my head on his chest, holding him close, not ready to say goodbye just yet.

“I wish it didn’t have to be this way.” He ran his hands through my hair, pulling out some of the knots that formed during the night.

“Me too.” I didn’t know what else to say. I was helpless against my own fate, unable to fight destiny, and it was my fault that Loki had been caught up in the mess. In a few weeks, I would be married to his brother, and though I wanted whatever ‘this’ was with Loki to continue, I didn’t know if I had it in me to go behind Thor’s back. Technically, I was doing the same thing now, but it was different. Thor and I weren’t married yet. I hadn’t made a vow to him, but when I did, I knew it was bound to change everything between Loki and me. Would he constantly be angry I was married to his brother? Would he be able to look at me the same? These questions haunted me now in the aftermath of what we had done, but nothing had ever felt more right, more perfect than his arms wrapped around me, his mouth on mine, his fingers inside me. Loki and I were made for each other, but this whole marriage thing was in the way of that and all we could do was sit back and spend what time we could together, waiting for the inevitable to happen.

I lifted myself from Loki’s side, using my elbows to help prop myself up from the bed. I let the sheets slip away from my naked form, allowing the sun to dance on my bare skin, the warmth making me feel sleepy once again. I entertained the idea of staying, of letting Odin find me here in bed with the son whom he had grown to resent. It thrilled me and I found a feeling of wetness growing between my legs. As if Loki could read my mind, he maneuvered his way on top of me and placed his lips on mine. At some point in the night he must have removed all his clothes and his bare skin on mine felt like heaven. Last night I had been denied access to almost all of him, only being allowed to explore his chest, but I would take advantage of this morning to prove my love, my desire, my devotion. With all the strength I could muster, I caught Loki off guard and flipped him over so that I was on top of him. He let out a gasp of surprise and I used the opportunity to slip my tongue into his mouth. When he regained his bearings, the fight for dominance began. This time, I did not give in as easily as I had the night before. He seemed unwilling to give up and I eventually broke away, needing to take a moment to breathe. He seemed rather pleased with himself and it was at that moment it became my sole purpose to wipe the smug grin off his face. I began to move my way down his body, tracing the path with small kisses. His eyes grew wider as he realized what I was about to do. When I finally reached his manhood, I saw in the daylight how truly large it was for the first time. I felt the slick wetness sliding between my thighs as I imagined all the different ways he could take me.

I took his member in my hand, not entirely sure what I was doing, but I knew I was doing something right when I placed a soft kiss on the tip and his eyes fluttered back into his head. I moved my mouth, attempting to take as much of him in as I could, and placed my hands around what I couldn’t fit. I moved up and down his length, drawing out the pace, wanting to tease him as he had done with me the night before. I could feel myself growing more and more aroused with each stutter and moan that left his perfect mouth.

He soon grew frustrated with my slow pace and gripped my hair in his hands, encouraging me to move faster. I felt I had teased him long enough and decided to oblige, wanting to see and hear him as he came. I sped up my actions, doing my best to take as much of him into my mouth as I could as he steadily began to lose control. It took only a few more seconds before he fell over the edge, moaning out and cumming into my mouth. I swallowed, not wanting to leave behind any evidence of our encounter. I removed myself from him, laying back on the bed beside him. He moved his hand over my breast and began to massage it, attempting to pay me back for the pleasure I had given him, and as much as I wanted to stay, we had already pushed our luck a great amount. I placed my hand on top of his, brought it to my lips and kissed it before placing it on the bed. I turned so I was facing him in the bed and looking into his eyes, I had all but decided this was how I wanted to wake up every morning, but I knew I had to face reality eventually. I pulled him into a soft kiss, taking the time to memorize everything about it from the way his mouth tasted to the way his lips were a touch cold, creating a wonderful contrast on my heated skin.

I pushed myself from the bed and retrieved my nightgown which had been tossed into a corner of the room in the heat of last night.

“I don’t want you to go.” He pleaded with the saddest eyes I had ever seen.

“I don’t want to go either, but we both know I have to.”

“We could just run away together, find some far off place.” He was practically begging.

“Yes, I’m sure that would go over quite well... Please, can we not ruin the moment? I just want this feeling to last a little longer...okay?”

“Okay.” He looked somber, resigned. I knew he wanted to fight me on this, to find some way for us to be together away from all this mess, but I didn’t want to think about it at the moment. We could wish all we wanted, talk about it all we wanted, plan to get away all we wanted, but nothing was going to change the fact that I was promised to his brother. I might have agreed to run away, but I needed this alliance, my people needed this alliance. My home had been in a state of weakness for so long after the rebellion which claimed my parent’s lives, and almost mine, and the only thing keeping my people and my home safe was this very marriage. Without it, my home would collapse into nothing. I would not turn my back on my people no matter how I personally felt about the marriage.

“I promise we’ll be together again soon. We’ll find a way.” I wanted to leave it on a hopeful note. I wanted to believe what I said, but as I said the words, I felt they held no truth and it seemed that even Loki didn’t believe it either, but he gave me a small smile, the glimmer in his eyes steadily returning.

I opened the door of his room and before stepping out, blew him one last kiss and quickly shut the door behind me.

I could tell it was still early in the morning by the angle of the shadows cast throughout the hallway. Perhaps, if I hurried, I could make it back to my room before my maid got there. I scurried throughout the corridors as fast as I could, trying to make myself as invisible as possible. When I reached my room without bumping into anyone, a great weight was lifted off my shoulders and I entered, hoping nothing had been disturbed. I found the curtains were still closed and nothing had been set out of place, which meant my maid had not yet entered. I let out a sigh of relief. I was in the clear.

I practically threw myself on the bed, feeling the stress slowly melt away into the darkness of the room, the smell of lavender calming my nerves. I felt tired, both from the stress of coming back to my room and from not getting much sleep. I found within a few minutes of laying on the bed, I began to fall back to sleep, that was until my maid burst into the room, startling me from my blissful haze.

“Morning M’lady.” She moved to draw back the curtain, allowing the sun to cascade through the window and fall right into my tired eyes. Shielding them from the sun, I struggled to pick myself off the bed and move to sit in front of the vanity mirror. My maid came up behind me and began to brush my hair.

I grew bored of the silence quickly and hoped starting a conversation with my maid would be an easy way to keep from falling back to sleep.

“Do you ever wish you could do something else?”

“M’lady?” She looked entirely taken aback by my question, as though it were some kind of trap.

“Just a bit of light conversation.”

“Oh.”

“So do you?”

“No M’lady. My service is to the King and his royal family.” I wasn’t sure if she was saying what she thought I wanted to hear or if she had been trained to respond that way. I could tell by the stiffness in her voice she didn’t mean what she said and I wondered if she had spoken the truth what her answer would have been. I wished to have her as a friend, not just some poor girl who dressed and bathed me. I craved some other sort of companionship in this castle, someone who I could trust and confide in. I needed someone whom I could talk to but it seemed I had been looking in the wrong place. Of course my maid could never see me as a friend.

When my maid was done prepping my hair and face for the day, she moved to the closet and retrieved a dress for the day. It was a beautiful green and reminded me of the color of Loki’s bedsheets. My cheeks flushed at the thought of his bed and I had to suppress a smile. I was dressed quickly and left to go to the dining hall for breakfast, looking forward to getting something to eat. I was absolutely starving.

When I walked into the dining hall, I was met with a smiling Thor and a gloomy looking Loki. I had been expecting Loki to look at least a bit happier after the night we had and I felt my joy fade a little, becoming a bit more unsure of the situation. Had he resigned to thinking our situation was hopeless and had decided to give up? I felt my stomach drop at the thought, knowing that no matter what happened, I never wanted him to give up on us. I suppose it wasn’t fair of me to expect him to wait around for something that may never come, but my heart longed for him, longed for him to long for me. I wanted to be desired by him, to drive him crazy by the simple thought of me.

Thor greeted me by taking my hand in his and kissing the top of it lightly. I smiled at him, wanting to appear as polite as possible, after all, I had acted so strangely the night before at dinner. I didn’t want to let on that anything out of the ordinary was happening.

“How are you today Lady y/n?” Thor pushed my seat in after I sat down, being as gentlemanly as possible.

“Quite well. And you, your Grace?”

“The same.” His grin seemed to grow even wider which I didn’t think was possible; his charm practically tangible at this point and I found the tension I felt upon arriving slowly melt away.

I risked a quick glance towards Loki, hoping to catch his eye, to find some sort of assurance from him that things were still fine between us, but he was busy staring down at his plate. His demeanor made me feel strange and empty. The contrast between how we had been together this morning, happy and light, in love, to how we were now, isolated, not allowed to show any sort of connection, left me feeling uneasy. I didn’t know if I could continue on like this, sitting together, but somehow separated.

“So Lady y/n... I was thinking that perhaps today we could visit the lake together.” Thor, ever so polite. I saw Loki from the corner of my eye, his hands gripping the underside of the table attempting to control the angry shake in his hands. I didn’t want to upset him, but I couldn’t turn down his brother. Thor was a prince and not just any prince, he was next in line for the throne and my fiance. I did not have a choice in the matter. It was expected of me to follow and so I did.

“That sounds lovely.” I feigned a smile and to end the conversation, I took a bite out of my food. When Thor began a conversation with his mother and father over some detail in the wedding and those at the table became fairly distracted, I, as stealthily as possible, stretched my hand over to Loki and took his hand in mine, attempting to reassure him that nothing had changed between us and nothing would happen between his brother and me. It was a silent promise. His hand clamped down over mine and though we couldn’t look at each other or speak to acknowledge the moment, it felt special and I felt comfortable in the bond we had.

Breakfast ended quicker than I wanted. I was not eager to begin my day with Thor, not because I didn’t enjoy his company, but out of the fear it would destroy the progress I made with Loki. At the breakfast table I felt how fragile the string was which held us together and I didn’t want to go back to the way we were before. I think it would kill me to pretend as if nothing happened between us. Last night would be burned into my memory for eternity and nothing made me happier than the feelings of comfort that thought brought.

Loki was the first to excuse himself from the table, leaving without a single glance in my direction. I tried to convince myself it didn’t mean anything, that he was just trying to make it appear as it always had been between us, no affection, no affiliation. I was sure it was nothing, but that didn’t stop my brain from thinking of all the worst possible things. I was ripped out of these thoughts when Thor got up from the table too. He pulled out my chair for me and held out his hand, helping me to stand. We said our goodbyes to the King and Queen and then he led me out of the dining hall and into the halls of the castle. The sun cast beautiful shadows into the halls, making the palace seem even grander than it already was.

“What exactly are we going to be doing at the lake today?”

“Well, that is a surprise.”

“A surprise?” I was not one for surprises. I had been kept in the dark for so long in Asgard and for too long forced to deal with the deception in court, so the idea of a surprise did not arouse feelings of excitement in me. Thor could sense my apprehension and moved to grab my hand in an attempt to reassure me.

“It’s nothing bad. I promise...nothing too grand, just a nice day to get away from all ‘this.’” He gestured to the palace. I never thought about how much all this political stuff must take a toll on him. This whole time I imagined he thrived on it, that it was like second nature to him the way it was to his father. It was one of the reasons I never sought further connection with him, I felt his love for the palace and the people in it separated us beyond reconciliation. It was refreshing to see this side of him and I wondered if his father hadn’t encouraged the separation between him and Loki if they would get along better than they thought.

When we reached the lake, I was taken aback by its beauty. I wasn’t allowed to wander this far away from the castle usually so I had never seen the lake before. There were many moments in the castle when I often thought about the many things on Asgard I had been denied to see because of my position, but never before had the extent of my captivity and what exactly I had been missing out on hit me so hard

“Do you like it?”

“It’s very nice.” I wanted to appear reserved in my reaction. I didn’t want to give Thor the false impression this would be a successful attempt at the two of us growing closer.

“Are you going to tell me now what our day has in store?”

“Ah yes!” His face lit up with excitement. “I was thinking we could take a boat out on the lake and have lunch.”

“But we just ate breakfast.”

“Well, I thought we could do some paddling first. Takes a lot more energy than you would think. I guarantee you’ll be starving in no time.” He was so cheerful and I suppose I let it get to me a bit. I felt drunk off his enthusiasm and was rather excited to begin our day on the lake. Perhaps I had been too callous and cold in my approach to this. Just because I was having a good time and making a connection with Thor didn’t mean anything had to grow into something more or change between Loki and me.

We walked towards a small boat that was stationed near a tree at the bank of the river. It looked rickety and I was not too eager to step onto it. Thor climbed into the boat first and then offered his hand to me, steadying us and I stepped in. It was a rocky ordeal as I tried to find my balance and eventually settled into the seat, still feeling unsteady. He pushed off of the shore with the oars and we began to drift off into the water.

“It’s rather beautiful outside today.” He looked at me expectantly, waiting for me to respond, hoping I would end the awkward silence.

“Please tell me you didn’t drag me all the way out here so we could talk about the weather.”

“No, of course not. We can talk about other things like…” He paused for a moment, trying to come up with something interesting to say.

“Why don’t we start with something simple. You could ask me what I like best about Asgard or something like that.” He smiled and nodded his head.

“What do you like best about Asgard?” I let a weak smile overtake my face.

“Well, I like the gardens, love the gardens actually. And the royal library is fascinating. Some of the books are even older than Asgard, gathered from all across the universe.”

What’s your favorite kind of book to read?”

“I love reading books about my home. I was too young when I was taken to remember much from it. Reading about my traditions and cultures, the life I would have had if the rebellion hadn’t started, I don’t know, in some ways it gives me a sense of comfort.” I leaned back against the seat of the boat, not knowing how Thor would respond to my answer.

“I’m sorry about what happened. Sometimes I forget the reason you’re here, what the rebellion did to you, your family.” I tried to avoid his gaze, not wanting him to see the vulnerability in my eyes.

“Yea. So what about you? What’s your favorite kind of book?”

“Oh. Well, I don’t really have much time for reading. I’m mostly dealing with my father and issues of the court.”

“I’m sorry.” His eyes seemed glazed over.

“No, it’s fine. It’s what I was born to do.”

“Yes, but don’t you ever wish you could do something else?” He looked up and stared directly into my eyes. It was a piercing gaze and I felt as though he could read every thought I ever had.

“Yes.”

*****

The day had been truly wonderful. We talked about so many things. I had started off the day wanting a friend in which I could confide in, find some sort of companionship, and now I believed I had found it in Thor. Granted, I couldn’t tell him everything, but I felt like I understood him and he understood me. We made it back to the castle just as the sun was about to descend behind the last hill. We walked towards the entrance to the dining hall at a hurried pace, past the point of starving and practically jumping at the thought of food.

Just outside the door, right as we were about to enter, Thor gently put his hand against my arm causing me to stop.

“I just wanted to let you know I had a really great time today.” he gave me his big smile which I had grown so accustomed to.

“I did too.” He looked relieved.

I was about to turn to walk into the dining hall when Thor leaned down and placed his lips on mine. I was caught entirely by surprise. In all the ways I had imagined today going, I had not pictured this.

It was a simple quick peck, nothing invasive and I figured nothing could be wrong with that, but I immediately realized my mistake in thinking so when I turned and saw Loki standing a few paces back. Thor turned around to see his brother and greeted him with a large grin, not knowing how deeply Loki had been affected by what he happened to witness. Loki began to move towards the two of us and I felt the hair on the back of my neck rise and goosebumps begin to break out on my skin. When Loki reached us, Thor gave him a quick slap on the back and then opened the doors, walking into the dining hall where the King and Queen were already waiting. I tried to grab Loki’s hand or even just catch his gaze before he entered the room, hoping to show with my gestures that the kiss was not my doing, but he walked past me, leaving a wide space between us, avoiding my eyes at all costs. I felt the cold settle in my bones, fearing for the worst, that Loki would never speak to me again, that it was over, but as I sat down at the table and began to eat, a heated determination began to settle within me. Two could play at his game. He wanted to be stubborn, well so could I.

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