#me. chanting in the background: king au! king au! king au! king au! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

missksj · 4 years

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choose your hero!nct127

ﾐ☆ genre: punch inspired!au, video game au!, superhero au!

ﾐ☆ word count: 7k

ﾐ☆ warnings: mentions of greatest fears and nightmares, fighting, death, light smut but nothing too vivid, and sm ceo and dispatch make an appearance ew i know

ﾐ☆ author’s note: ah my first nct 127 headcanon and second creation on this site! yes i know it’s been a long time coming since punch dropped but ever since i saw the music video, this idea popped into my head. i heard of other nctzens talking about this aesthetic when mentioning the mv, but hopefully you like my take on it! please enjoy and look forward to more writing from me in the future! thank you so much! ps this is not proof read yikes sorry

Velvet clouds of psychedelic purple with the scattered rays of sunset hues made an unnatural background for the logo’s electric lettering with lightning strokes cracking the static screen in your stuffy apartment. Outside was a different matter. A thunderstorm jolted the placid crimson sky to a violet that only nature could create, although the graphic designers of PUNCH: NCT 127 came close. It was rather befitting for the stark opposition of the hurricane raging outside to the retro sparking aesthetic that you’ve witnessed for the ninth time, and it was the most pivotal. It was as if the thunder was the applause, the lightning rallying behind you, the pelting of the raindrops reverberating the hammering of your heart. Almost victorious in a way, the non-player hero that lurked in the background of the other eight paths taken would finally be the alternate hero to your player. He was a prize in the reverie that you constructed solely from his brief bio to the artificial mannerisms and quotes that he generated in the story lines which enabled you to project your fantasy on mundane men. The comparison was cruel, fictional characters were even crueler. Nimble fingers and darting eyes fell into a comfortable routine, familiar with the introduction story, it was a race between the controller’s buttons and the spiteful lightning that would sever the power.

[FOR OFFICIAL USE ONLY]

[PROPERTY OF THE NCT 127 DIVISION UNDER THE SM AGENCY]

PRIORITY IDENTIFICATION

[NAME]...F/N L/N

[ID #]...07201607

[STATUS]...Active

[CLASS]...Agent

[ALIAS]...Punch

[TEAM AFFILIATION]...N/A

Welcome to the NCT 127 Division, Agent L/N. I am Lee Soo-Man, the Director of the SM Agency and your guide for your latest mission: THE FINAL ROUND. On behalf of the whole SM community, we apologize for the abrupt summoning, but your presence and skills are crucial if we are going to defeat the DISPATCH terrorist. For too long, the person that cowers behind the mask that claims itself DISPATCH has tormented South Korea for too long, and only you can stop them. It cannot be done alone though, if you so choose to take on this responsibility, I will assign one of the nine superheroes of your picking to share this task. Do you accept it?

CLICK [YES] TO CONTINUE

CLICK [NO] TO RESTART

I am pleased that you have accepted the assignment. For the duration of the mission, the NEO ZONE will be the location of the base for you and your partner. Intel, equipment, and training will be at both of your disposals. Now that you have been briefed on all inner workings of the mission and the NEO ZONE, there is one last obstacle until you defeat the enemy. The selection of your partner is based on compatibility and trust, I implore you to consider wisely until you make a final decision. The designated superhero of your liking will be under one of two teams, FUTURE OR DREAMER. Both equally beneficial, but the bonds of loyalty run deep between the members, you have to determine which one of their morals you value more. Heed my warning though, with the right set of skills and talent, you and your partner will be unstoppable but tread lightly your connection with him. After all, you are his only weakness. Which team and hero will you choose?

CLICK [TEAM FUTURE]

CLICK [TEAM DREAMER]

You now have the option to choose your hero.

Before your perplexed mind could comprehend the change of dialogue, a streak of lightning had pierced the stillness of the undisturbed bedroom and released the tempest that was once contained to reality. With the abundance of consuming darkness, shards of glass pricking your paling skin, and tree branches pounding for entry--your white knuckles and twitching eyes fathomed the only connection you had with actuality; a plastic controller and the flickering avatar of your destined hero you chose only seconds before. Your heart had been thumping, not from the anticipation of a new adventure, no, it was pure fear that jolted your numbed muscles to sprint to sanctuary. The thunderstorm mocked your failed attempt at fleeing as another surge of electricity enveloped the room in white and sparks rippled at your ankles as you ran away but the tethering currents from the screen wrenched you back.

SOUL TRANSFUSION NOW COMPLETE_

Team Future

Taeil

Power: Pyrokinesis

A very vocal opponent when he’s on the battlefield, you might be on the other side of the area but you can always figure out where he is located by listening to his strange grunt/growl combos, enemies usually have to process the inhuman sound that came out of a small man but you just roll your eyes and toothy grin grows as you run to him for back up

Says “let’s get it!” any chance he gets, always attempts to make it your team chant before going on a mission but everyone votes no, even you

Loves to wear long sleeves as a staple piece of clothing despite his already burning temperature, he claims it eases him as if it were security blanket, and he enjoys when you tell him he looks adorable with his sleeved paws

During winter though, he always has to stock up on sweaters because you are always stealing them, whether it’s the feeling of his residual heat ghosting over your skin or look of complete adoration glazing over his eyes as he devours that look of yours, it’s a great excuse to wear one

If you had to assign ‘roles’ in the relationship, you would so be a top, he’s the most chill boy out there as you throw tantrums or squeal out of pure joy when you are finally promoted, it’s either purring hums out of his mouth or a silly smile as he gazes at you

Physical affection is minimal between you two unless you initiate it, but it’s mostly wrapping his arm around you, it’s in no way conveying that he doesn’t love you, but rather love to him is experiencing moments with you, making memories while watching a funny movie or dancing horribly to a playlist he created

An exception is when you end up falling asleep on the couch as you two watch a movie, he secretly loves to carry you back to bed as he tucks you in and truly soaks in what you mean to him

His hair gradually transitioned to its current red as his powers grew throughout the years and he would always dye it but his genes overpowered any artificial color, not until you said you liked his hair like that, he decided to keep it

King of making you smile especially when you are down, he can’t stand seeing you sad so he insists on becoming a goofball until your sides hurt from laughing so hard

Takes training way too seriously, you always start off competing but by like the 100th crunch you are wiped but he’s still going

Becomes sulky when his Disney Hades costume doesn’t come out as planned because his fire is red and not blue, but it was the best decision ever when you suggested Ghost Rider for the Halloween party, Taeil never looked better with just a leather jacket covering his bare skin

You finally convinced the clothing department to give you a fireproof uniform because Taeil has really bad aim, and your clothes are rags after a mission

Figured out you had a crush on Zuko when you were younger, so he would rewatch it with you and definitely cosplay Zuko, perhaps even role play with it if it’s something you were into

Having sex with Taeil was searing pain shooting through your thighs, tender love handles, heaving chests and lactic acid seeping through your muscles as he cheered you onto the last lap--it was a workout in itself with a sweltering room that reflected his aroused emotions

Both of you are constantly battling, whether it’s a rap battle or a cooking battle, Taeil is in love with the passionate side of you

Breakfast in bed is a tradition held during the weekends, he says he loves to spoil you but he just loves tasting his own food while you give him compliments on how delicious it is

Taeil is usually saved as a last resort for dangerous group missions, you’ve heard stories of his past battles as if he were legend already, but you’ve only witnessed his true power once by scorching down the enemy in one go, flames clawing his body as the inner glow within him exploded like he was a supernova--someone had to drag you out before the building collapsed on itself from the stifling heat and the roaring fire

You pinch his bouncy cheeks as often as possible just to see him roll his eyes while he fights off the widening smirk that makes his doe eyes curve into crescents, but it’s the blooming crimson of his cheeks that you indulge in, lightly sizzling your fingertips until you can’t take the pain any longer and yelp slips out, but Taeil swiftly swoops in and kisses your fingertips in an apology, it was a good pain though

It’s a normal night for both of you, 2 AM and your blabbering about everything and nothing, and Taeil always ends up the saying the same line to you as he coaxes you to sleep because he knows how grumpy you become in the morning, “I’m grateful we’re together, who would make you a fire if you were stranded on a deserted island? You definitely can’t, so, hmm, I guess it has to be me”

Johnny

Power: Lycanthropy

You’d suspect him to be bear when he morphed with his build and height, but he’s a hulking chestnut brown wolf with gentle eyes

Basically a puppy on steroids always expects a treat and good belly rub after eviscerating all his targets

Has the ability to shift at will, so during winter nights you can find him nestled around you for added warmth

During the colder months, he usually wears knitted sweaters and oversized coats in his human form because it reminds him of his fur, and he claims he likes to keep you warm while he holds you in any form

Creates video tutorials of both of you sparring with each other, lots of constructive criticism and compliments on your ‘form’

Begs you to ride him into a mission just for the sake of it, he can so see you as a badass warrior on their monstrous steed

Johnny’s favorite time of day is during the end when you wind down with him and you tell him every detail of your day despite you two being joined at the hip as partners

Always asks questions out of plain curiosity and simply in love with the sound of your voice, it’s the equivalent of you petting his sweet spot on the back of his ear

Without a doubt, he howls in bed while having sex, he’s always teetering the edge of shifting and even though you repeatedly tell him it’s fine to let go, the splintered wood of the headboard and floating feathers of a slashed pillow is evidence of how much concentration he puts in to keep you safe

Manicures and pedicures on a regular basis in the Suh household got to keep those claws clean

Adamant about not getting a pet dog with you, his excuse is he would get too jealous of another canine but his stance is weakening with your improved puppy dog eyes

Multiple jokes about ‘starting a pack’ with you

While in his wolf form, he can understand human language but he doesn’t have the ability to communicate, so both of you rely on subtle gestures

Naturally has a small smile, always nudges you with his snout, and whenever you make a joke to him, he bears his canines that are frightening to most but to you it’s comforting

Johnny’s greatest fear is if you two are ever in an argument and his anger blinds him to the point of him unconsciously shifting and accidentally harming you

Even clumsier in his wolf form, he doesn’t realize actually how massive he is which makes him a hazard to normal-sized beings

Gets most of his stances and moves from the wolves from the twilight series, he won’t admit but he’s certainly inspired by them

Sexual appetite is at a peak when the full moon comes out, growl central!!

The most treasured item you two have is a portrait of wolf-Johnny on his hind legs, attacking your face with slobbering kisses and you grinning brightly because nothing can compare to the bliss of that snapshot

Taeyong

Power: Superhuman Speed

After every assignment, Taeyong’s personal mission is to dote on you, this usually happens by using a covering or his own jacket and slinging it over your shoulders, if there is grime or blood on it, he lets out soft ‘sorry’ even though you always tell him not to

He knows it’s his job, he understands the need, but that doesn’t mean he is comfortable with the bloody side of it, and so he loves talking to you after incidents, your voice is soothing and it helps him process all the trauma, he says it’s for your sake but you know in these moments you are his crutch and you gladly accept the job

Naturally, a faster walker than you so he always manages to be a few feet ahead of you, but when he sees you fall behind, he holds your hand and tugs lightly while matching your pace

After enhancing his speed, he always has flushed cheeks and a glossy sheen across his forehead, so you make it a habit to kiss his forehead, cheeks, and lips to cool him down

It doesn’t work, his heart his pulsating harder than ever and does that exasperated airy laugh as an attempt to stabilize his heightened emotions while walking away so you don’t witness his even redder face

You give him piggyback rides after missions, his energy is basically depleted by then, so a jacket for a piggyback ride seems like a fair deal even though he fights you the whole way but you know he adores being cared for

You were the one to convince him to dye his hair pink in an effort to have an easier time spotting him during assignments and now he’s pink blur racing off to defeat villains

When he lightly peppers kisses on your face, the smacks get louder until he finally lands on your lips and it’s the most exaggerated sloppy sound he can make while he squeezes your cheeks

Weekdays for him are for cooking dinner, and you occasionally join to help him but mostly it’s him feeding you bits asking if everything is seasoned well and by the end, he is cursing because half the dinner is already gone

Type of boyfriend to remember you mentioning something you like and a few days later, he buys it for you or he randomly buys you things that remind him of you and leaves it for you as a surprise

Always doodling on you or leaving you notes with drawings so he can remind you that he loves you or to hydrate

After stressful missions, he just plops on top of you, his nose inhaling your scent as he forces his heart to match your rhythm, it lasts for about twenty minutes or until he can finally recharge

Taeyong’s gym locker in the NeoZone is plastered with couple photos of you two and photos of you modeling or candid while he directed you with his camera

The only way you can convince him to give you ten more pushups or five more pullups is if you bribe him with kisses and it always works

Very sacrificial, it’s one of his main flaws, he’ll get super flustered and annoyed when he sees you in the line of fire, so he’ll ultimately take all the heat and scold you after to put yourself first

His face usually has a cold blank stare to it as he observes his surroundings but once you collide into him and coil your arm around his, he grows this massive grin that only you can create

Never takes advantage of his speed with you, his surroundings are always in a constant race and he’s always anticipating the next move, but with you, your a serene presence washing over him; calming him, grounding him to capture every moment of you so it isn’t a blur but a vivid mural

Definitely tender and sensual in bed, once tried to spice things up by using his speed but he almost broke you, so now he only changes his pace if you request it

With your head on his chest every night, the last thing you hear before you fall asleep is the rapid thumping of his heart; it’s the only lullaby you’ll ever need

Yuta

Power: Supernatural Swordsmanship

Cut his hair with his kodachi and you most definitely needed to clean up the edges

Villains dread combating with Yuta, not just because he’s insane with a sword but he only talks about you and your relationship while fighting as if the opponent will answer his question of whether he should give you a cookie or ice cream cake for your birthday or even both

Rather than making you feel better when you feel down, he would be your soundboard, a shoulder to cry one, a great pair of ears; patience and multiple ‘mhms’ as you unravel your worries while his fingers swirl on your thigh and he kisses your temple

You two could be on opposite sides of the room but his eyes would always gravitate to you and he would wait until you notice so he could meet your gaze and he would do the dorkiest faces, especially his famous lion rawr aegyo, it makes you realize how good of a father he would be

Goes wild when he sees your body tremble beneath him as the cold metal of the kodachi glides along your skin

The only thing rivaling his love for you is his love for his katana, it’s bond that can never be severed and it’s a trust that only develops between soulmates, you could never understand but you accept and allow it to be the third partner in the relationship

It shouldn’t be possible for Yuta to look like a prince walking out of an otome game right after a battle, but there he is, glistening skin with swept hair and twinkling eyes as he sheathes his katana across his back as if he’s going to ride his horse in the Sengoku period

It’s usual occurrence to catch him absentmindedly talking to his katana, you wouldn’t be surprised if it could talk back, he can summon it by hand already, that sword and he shares one brain cell but he usually uses it as a mirror

You’re a killer couple, not only with looks and fashion but it’s quite a sight to experience as you shoot a bullet to his katana so it can ricochet at a target eighty feet away

Manages a rigorous training session before you wake up and when he’s done, he ends up collapsing on top with his sticky body as you screech at him to get off

The training facility in the NeoZone is rarely used because Yuta is a big believer in fresh air and beautiful scenery will motivate you more, so your sparring on the edge of cliffs and sprinting along the seaside

Alternates between reading books with you outside in your backyard with a makeshift picnic or both of you cuddled in bed with the open windows and the only source of light is the sun

If you have missions abroad, he convinces the agency to always give both of you one day free so you can act like tourists, nobody can say no to his dashing good looks and he knows it

One year for Christmas, you got him custom made tiny katana earrings and it’s literally the one pair he uses now, at least on his lobe

Yuta isn’t the overbearing type when it comes to jealousy, he shouldn’t have a say in what gender your friends are but when he sees a certain person obviously flirting with you it just takes slight glint of his katana to blind the intruder and they are already scurrying off

Gets a kick out of playing real-life fruit ninja

Decided to shave a slit in his eyebrow with his katana one spontaneous night, he got out of the bathroom with a huge grin and asked, “does this make me look more badass?”

Your hands always end up somewhere around his stomach, gliding across the lean muscles, squeezing around his hips, twiddling his piercing, you name it, you can’t keep your hands off him

Nakamoto Yuta is a force to be reckoned with on the battlefield, the pang of fear thrills you as you witness his lack of mercy and fiery anger at injustice as he slaughters anyone that stands before him, but that wicked glint in his eye softens just for you and then you see the scrawling of your name engraved on the hilt of the katana, and you know you are the only one that knows the true Yuta and you feel so blessed

Doyoung

Power: Precognition

You beg him every possible waking minute for him to allow you to do his makeup if only to contour his insanely sharp cheekbones, he finally relents but he has a scowl on his face the whole time

You’ve become quite a baker with Doyoung but he always has to guide you so his arms snake around your waist as an excuse yet he acts completely innocent when he knows it makes you distracted

Playlist for every occasion, especially when he’s having sex with you, the house ends up feeling hollow whenever he’s away without his angelic voice but to your surprise, Doyoung leaves you secret audio files lulling you in a trance

His mouth becomes a cherished part for you, especially the way the corners of his lips curl up naturally, the small smirk instantly widening when in front of food, or the blinding white teeth as he’s gritting them when approaching an orgasm or laughing at you, not with you

It takes about five minutes for Doyoung to arrange his plushies in the right position so you both don’t ruin them as you cuddle

One arm draped over a plush and the other wrapped around your back, or him in a fetal position with his plush embraced into his chest as you act as the big spoon

Hand holding is strictly for the bedroom with him, but he knows you admire his hands often, so he’ll have him some type of connection with you when out in public; whether it’s his pinkies wrapped around yours, curved into the loop of your pants, or his delicate veiny hand wrapping around your sleeve

End up catching him more than once, gushing over the phone with his brother about how in love he is with you and you may not lurk in the background for a few minutes until you interrupt the conversation by saying hi to Donghyun

Downtime for you two is building a puzzle, coloring some pages, playing board games and him smug with his victory, watching some documentaries or kdramas, and if you two bought some new furniture for your renovating house, he would most definitely want to do it by himself as you laugh while handing him pieces

Manages to still be shy when you both kiss, it’s you who initiates the subtle peck on his pouting lips, but soon the soft curve of his lips invites you more while your hands cup his warming cheeks--he’s a contradiction of being timid but with all the confidence as he nibbles your lips as if you were a delicacy

Training for you two equals nap time, his power allows him to rely on his mind rather than his body, so when you ultimately force yourself to exercise, Doyoung is laying on the couch, lazily cheering you on

Always giving you little compliments in your earpiece as he guides you around for a recon mission, and still holds his breath when he tells you about the unforeseen event that you need to be prepared for even though he knows you can handle it with ease

Studies multitudes of intel before a mission because he can never be too prepared, and it eases his nerves knowing that he can take every precaution in ensuring your safety

Would dedicate a photo album of himself on your phone, and even send you his recent selfies, telling you to choose one of them as an updated contact photo

You clown him 24/7 but he clowns you right back, it’s always a constant playful banter between you two, his eyebrows would furrow when you called him cute, the trembling of lips broke his facade, and when he does it to you, you essentially become his baby as he bites your cheeks but tell no one or he would deny it

From the moment you two wake up until you both arrive at headquarters, he has sullen look across his features, he would brush his lips across your temple and a hoarse good morning would escape his mouth in a notion to acknowledge you, but until he gets coffee in his system his energy hasn’t been restored yet, but your use to it as you tug him to the break room with his lidded eyes

Alone time is a must for you two, it could be both of you in the same room doing your own thing without communication or different parts of the house or mostly you would leave to run errands and Doyoung stuck in his room, but at the end of the day he crawls to you and says a small ‘hey’ as if his day just started from the moment he set eyes on you

Doyoung was always on alert, aware of incoming predictions that he had no say in but easily accepted, it’s a strain on his mental being, a reason why he needs to center himself by being alone, but then you come

Your blank, just like him, you’re unpredictable and foreign to him, but it’s not until you two kiss for the first time, that a hazy premonition reveals itself in a form of two children that share your hair but his feline eyes, it’s fragile though and uncharted, he knows that he needs to do right by you to get to the last level that seemed like paradise to him

Team Dreamer

Jaehyun

Power/Being: Android

During his exoskeleton stage, Jaehyun requested that the scientists create dimples during his living tissue transplant because he heard “they’re to die for”

Definitely thought it was a weapon utilized to kill his enemies

You make a habit to poke at his dimples until you feel the exoskeleton underneath, an oddly comforting sensation that makes you realize that Jaehyun doesn’t have a heart but his actions say otherwise

Literally the personification of steam coming out of ears in cartoons with scalding red tips, this only happens when you’re in danger or when he sees you in what he perceives as provocative

It took five hours to draw an array of tattoos on him for a disguise on a reconnaissance mission, and a certain neck tattoo was going to make you abandon the mission and your sanity

Sadly, he had to erase them because the “the bad boy” persona was an official disguise in his hardware and couldn’t be revealed to the public

Jaehyun kept one design, however, a soft beauty mark on the apple of his left cheek, he claims it’s your signature as his owner but you like the word partner better

Programs all your training sessions and signature moves to his hard drive because he believes there is no better instructor than you (except Bruce Lee)

The first time you helped him clean his internal munition unit, you couldn’t decipher any of the weapons so you gave them your own personal nicknames, he kept correcting you but he got tired so he now calls them “wholly fist” and “boom boom pow by the BEP”

You joke around with him that because he was created on valentine’s day, he should be credited as a sexbot but he always frowned at that comment until he figured out he could turn the tables on you by saying “I could be your sexbot”

Whenever he sees another person eyeing you in what he perceives is attraction, he activates his instant kill function with laser red eyes and declaring “target locked”

Suave and intimidating when you two first meet but truly transformed into a ‘soft boy’ after downloading your Pinterest board

Whenever both of you are out in public, eyes ogle him and mouths gawk, but Jaehyun is oblivious to it all until he turns to someone and starts up the most wholesome conversation about something mundane and you know that person melts with ease because Jaehyun was built to reflect human nature, but he was doing better than most in your opinion

Lots of arcade dates with him, he quickly figured out the algorithm of each game just so he can overflow you with gifts and so he can show off his basketballs skills because he knows you love eyeing his arms in action

When he’s with you though, he’d rather listen and absorb every action and word that you produce, he wants to immerse himself in you because he truly believes that you are all that is good about humankind

Archives every single detail that you speak, and replays it for you when you forget something or to prove you wrong, there is no in-between

Robot sex!!!! That drilling option though...oof

The moment he realizes the blaring internal alarm warning him of his elevated temperature and the shorted circuits whenever you are near, he correlates it to what humans label “love” so he downloads files on expressing these so-called feelings

Instead of saying “I love you”, he says “I dopamine, serotonin, oxytocin you” when he first confesses, and you assume there is a chemical imbalance within him so you rush him to the infirmary but for the first time, Jaehyun stalls and his eyes are clouded with retrieved information glowing neon green until he settles on “I love...I love...I love you” (yes, he stole it from Mr. Darcy, so sue him, he’s a fracking android)

Jaehyun sometimes doubts his ability to love you and even you sometimes question if you can love a piece of metal, but then you observe him before he joins you in bed that he triples check his instant kill function is disabled and he gushes about the new song he discovered and you are so sure that he was made for you

Jungwoo

Power: Lightning Bolt Projection

Gets easily flustered with the most pouty lip ever when you call him ‘Zeus’, it was his failed superhero name when he was trainee, but to you, he is much better than that jerk of a Greek god

Dressed up as the actual Zeus once for the office Halloween party and the year after that as a lightning bolt and you a storm cloud

Whenever Jungwoo craves attention but you’re occupied with another task, he repeatedly zaps you, not enough to harm, but until you cave in yet when you want to be annoyed with him, his owlish eyes and trembling lips easily subdue you

Your shoulder is a sacred space for him, it's the perfect fit for his head to settle in with a toothy grin and the warmest ‘mhms’ as he listens to you speak

Jungwoo was never much of a fighter, his powers were swift enough to eradicate enemies with not much mobility, but training sessions with you were more than enough of an excuse to spend time with you

Lately, your skin has been electrifying, not only the amorous glow you were emitting, but everyone you came in contact with felt a slight spark

Hair treatments are a must, the frizz is wild with Jungwoo, you really need to ask about his hair products because his hair so fluffy despite the amplitude of currents running through him

While brushing your teeth with him, he always shoots out finger hearts to you and winks through the mirror, it’s a great way to start the day

Never felt more grateful for his power until you were attacked on an assignment and your heart failed, it took four shocks to revive you with streams of tears and muttering to any God to hear his prayer

He’s most himself in the rain, umbrellas have never been on your shopping list

Definitely shoots bolts out of his finger guns and then blows on them afterward, if he’s feeling flirty, an added wink explodes your heart

Your biggest cheerleader when you are kicking ass during a mission

It’s a tradition for him to rake his fingers over your back with slight ripples of electricity while you cuddle in bed, it does wonders to relax your muscles

It’s been months of practice to improve his bolt voltage and range, but he finally managed to write ‘I love you y/n” in the sky, he couldn’t help it, he’s bursting at the seams with adoration for you

Both of you in the kitchen is a sight to see, you season but he cooks the food, his specialty is slightly charred chicken

Packs both of your lunches so you can eat together on break

Gets scared easily and as a result will discharge a lightning bolt as a defense, so pranks are off-limits between the team members

Literal sparks when you kiss, numbing and exhilarating as currents pass through your molding bodies to create goosebumps and raising hairs

When he thinks of home, his first instinct is to be cradled in your arms, watching trashy movies as a thunderstorm quakes the earth

Mark

Power: Compulsion

Mark might excel in whispering but when you turn the tables on him, with your sultry murmurs, he can’t help becoming a puddle of blushing mush

Never once used actual compulsion on you, the only exception is when you figured out the surprise birthday party he was planning for you, he redirected your attention to grocery shopping

His favorite part of you is your right ear because it’s where you naturally tuck your hair at and he just loves to twirl a strand of it in his finger while he mutters sweet nothings to you

You’re his bodyguard during missions, he can’t possibly get that close to targets while they attack if you aren’t watching his back

Even when he is supposed to be acting intimidating during an assignment, he can’t help but stutter and repeat ‘uh’ a thousand times, but he gets the job done eventually

Your literally breaking sweat, contorting your body so four targets don’t reach Mark, and he’s over there oversharing with another target

“The love of my life is about to kick your ass and you aren’t going to do a single thing about it, booby head” or “make the password ‘mark and y/n forever’ or else”

Naturally whispers in his sleep with his stinky breath in your ear, and you try to push him off but he just clings onto you like a koala

In the morning though, the slight breakage in his voice from pitched to croaky as he says good morning to you is on repeat in your head for the whole day

Mark’s give away when he is about to use compulsion is him licking his thin lips, and almost makes you get knocked out by the enemy because your already under his spell

Does a tiny dance for any occasion, from doing the laundry, stripping naked, or when you two had your first kiss

It’s the strained grunts, the heavy breathing, and the showering of hushed compliments in your ears that makes you reach your peak in bed, Mark always sounded better when he was being pleasured

To him, your voice is the loveliest sound across the universe and your adorably awkward cackle that you so desperately try to hide as he reenacts vines to you is what happiness is to him

Ice cream dates consist of him bringing a tub of ice cream to a yogurt shop because he knows you prefer it

Coughed over his first fart with you but now he loves to fart on you as you pretend you are suffocating and gagging

Has a folder in his photos dedicated to you where it ranges from blurry to candids and in during most of them he was either hyping you up or teasing you

Greets you with a ‘yo!’ whenever he enters the room

Will always buy you any lip product associated with watermelon and you’ll always buy him baseball caps for him to wear

Despite being loud for 90% of your relationship, he is most vulnerable with when he whispers his greatest fears, future goals, and nightmares to you because your the only one he can trust

With the many decibels that Mark Lee varies in, your favorite by far has to be the ascending chortle from the low HAs to the high HEEs with clapping hands and a scrunched nose that puffs out his cheeks-- it’s pure bliss to you

Haechan

Power: Light Manipulation

Haechan is utterly in love with your cheeks, instead of biting them or pinching them, he opts to kiss them whenever he has a chance, it’s rushing heat of your blush and the swelling of your smile that he lives for

The little spoon in bed, just so he can wrap his leg around you and nestle his head in the crook of your neck just like a koala

Literally always a brat to you, it’s the many ways he shows you affections

You asked him once to paint your nails, and now he does it every Friday ever since he discovered the ‘my hands look like this so hers can look like this’ meme even though his hands just have bitten nails

A man of action, Haechan shows you love through his movements with a heart framed by his fingers or blowing a kiss

Needs to always be physically attached to you, whether it’s hugging you from behind, leaning his head on your shoulder, or falling into you when he’s in a fit of giggles, he needs you to know that he will never let you go

Snarky remarks and cheesy jokes define your relationship with Haechan

Manages to always wake up before you on those lazy mornings with you burrowed deep into his side, and he can’t help but be memorized by your presence but soon feels selfish when he moves a ray of sunlight to your eyes so he can just peek at the explosion of colors in your eyes when you flutter them open--ah yes, this is his favorite part of the day

Loves to play video games with you into the late hours of the night, especially overwatch, but your always the first one to pass out, so he makes sure to tuck you in and dim the light of the screen so it doesn’t bother you

Most nights the both of you are wide awake so you end up playing ‘what the light?’, a game where Haechan creates 3D objects out of light and you have to guess what they are before he finishes them

Oh, and shadow puppets! He’s become quite the expert with them, he creates the most ridiculous stories with them but you join him by voicing the characters

In addition to ‘I love you’ as a goodbye, you have a secret intricate handshake with him, his excuse was that if you two ever question’s one identity if ever an enemy swapped bodies, you two would know the truth with the handshake but in reality, he just loves that extra time with you before you two part

It’s either Haechan teasing and making fun of you or he’s doting on you, there is no in-between because after all, you are his idiot

If he’s in the mood, he’ll solidify light photons into the shape of a sword and call it ‘sunflower’, he just loves to tell the tale that he took out fifteen assassins with a sunflower, but usually, he blinds them or burns them

Goes the extra mile for you to create a spotlight on you when you are giving a mission brief at headquarters, that’s the love of his life right there and he’ll make damn sure everyone notices them

Recreates Edward’s sparkling in the sun scene just so he can see you beam with laughter

Master of mood lighting during sex, and don’t even mention when he hits his climax, bulbs flickers and lamps explode

It might be a trick of the light, but Haechan’s eyes are vividly bright and he’s drowned in golden hues of sunlight, it makes you wonder if he was plucked from the star itself

Yet, as your lips quiver and your glassy eyes blink the last remnants of tears in Haechan’s cupped hands, there is an inner glow from them as you bask in their warmth, he can’t help but proclaim that you are the sun of his world, you are the light of his life even when it feels like his is diminishing

#NCT 127 #NCT #nct 127 punch #nct 127 au #nct 127 x reader #what did i even write #im choosing either jaehyun or yuta #taeil x reader #taeyong x reader #mark lee x reader #johnny suh x reader #kim jungwoo x reader #jaehyun x reader #haechan x reader #doyoung x reader #yuta x reader #nct scenarios

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starlightinhumanform · 4 years

Text

Midas

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Ship: Romantic Loceit, Background Platonic Logincality

Summary: Greek myth tells of King Midas who could turn anything he touched to gold. Damian hates New Years but when his friends drag him to a party, he meets a man makes everything around him just a little better.

Warnings (in order of strength): A lot of drinking/alcohol mentions/partying (none underage), Mild language throughout, (please tell me if anything needs to be added)

Genre: Fluff, Mild Angst with a happy ending, Human (college) AU

A/N: Deceit’s name is Damian in this fic :) ALSO I know there’s quite a few younger kids in this fandom and if you’re reading this (first of all, hi I love you) please please PLEASE do not take this fic as an inspiration to abuse alcohol. Underaged drinking/partying can be extremely dangerous. Ok enough being serious!! I hope you enjoy! Love you all 🖤✨

Ao3 Link Fic Masterpost Fic Request Info

Damian wasn’t a fan of New Years. It shouldn’t mean anything- he knew that. It was just another random day; the fact that people liked to put special significance on it didn’t actually do anything.

But all the talk of new times got into his head, made him think. It made him think about how many things had changed- the friends he had lost, the goals he had once held dear now thrown away. It made him think about how little he had grown- the bitterness he held onto, the stagnation that had settled across him. He was in his third year of grad-school; soon he would be shoved out into the real world with no academic purpose to shelter him.

“New Year, New Me.” Damian didn’t even know who he was.

If there was one thing he hated more than New Years, it was New Years parties. He would go so far as to say the things were the bane of his existence. The music was bad, people got loud and overly exuberant, and strobe lights were used were used far more than ever reasonable. Alcohol always floated around with disturbing prevalence. He hated how fuzzy it made his head- throwing off his balance and slowing his thoughts- but at least it made the party easier to handle.

Damian threw back a shot of cheap, bight blue tequila and winced as it hit the back of his throat. Disgusting. Just because he was trying to get drunk didn’t mean he lacked class.

He set the glass down on a table behind him so he could pretend he hadn’t touched the repulsive thing. He was sitting on a sofa tucked against the back corner of a living room in a house he had never been to before. Next to him, someone was already passed out. They would be starting their new year with a killer hangover.

Across the room, he could see the friends who had dragged him to the houseparty. Roman and Patton were dancing in a crowd of other students, broad grins painted across both of their faces. At least they were happy.

A young man weaved his way through the crowd and threw himself onto the sofa next to Damian with a mixture of disdain and defeat. Damian had seen him around a few times; they had a philosophy class together the last semester. What was his name? Lucas? Landon? Bradon?

“Hey,” Lu-nd-on elbowed him in the side, “You want some champagne?”

Damian raised an eyebrow as he turned to face the man, “Excuse me?”

He pulled a bottle of champagne from somewhere in his coat. The gold foil at the top was already ripped away and he popped the cork off with ease, taking a swig before offering it.

Damian tried not to stare incredulously, but it was a difficult task when his brain was short-circuiting, “Did you just drink out of a champagne bottle like it was a beer?”

“Sure. Why not.”

Damian reached out hesitantly to take the bottle. He was beginning to doubt that this actually was the guy he had shared a class with. That one looked like the type who wouldn’t have been caught dead at a party. The only similarity was the way they dressed- round wireframe glasses, a corduroy jacket over a black button down, and black skinny jeans. His hair- dark brown and pulled into a long ponytail- was the same too.

“Did- did we have a class together?” He took a drink. It was good- expensively good.

“Historical philosophy. You probably don’t remember me- my name’s Logan. You’re Damian, right?”

“Yep. I hear I’m kind of hard to forget,” Damian waved his hand at the dark red birthmark that stretched messily across the left side of his face.

“No. Well, yes. That is, I remember you for a different reason.”

Logan stared at him like he was supposed to understand what that meant. Damian stared back, hoping to convey the fact that he, in no way, understood what was going on.

“So, uh,” Damian searched for something to keep the conversation going, “can I ask about the champagne?”

“You’re asking why I have it?”

Damian nodded, “I am, yeah. Also why you pulled it out of your jacket?”

“As for the first question: people seem to have made a tradition out of getting wasted on New Years Eve and I decided to join them this year.”

Damian had never heard someone speak so matter of factly about getting drunk. He shook his head, laughing, “So you bought an entire bottle of champagne? There are easier methods, you know that right?”

“If you’re referring to the blue monstrosity everyone keeps offering, please know that I’m not a heathen.”

“Oh, so you tried one of those awful things too?”

Logan rolled his eyes with a ruthful smile, “I may have made that mistake.”

Damian handed the bottle back to Logan who took another drink before locking his gaze on Damian’s eyes. He stared like there was a problem in them and he just couldn’t figure out how to solve it. Damian was used to people staring, but not like this. Usually, they would take one look at him and their eyes would glaze over. Whatever the conversation might be, they would always be partially focused on the splatters some god had painted on his face long before he had a say in the matter. It wasn’t that Damian disliked his birthmark. He just hated the way people always saw it instead of him.

But Logan. He was looking at him. Into him, through him. He had no idea what to do with that.

Damian laughed nervously, “What are you looking at?”

Logan cleared his throat and stared out into the crowd, “Anyways I had it in my jacket because these people are all animals and I’d prefer they didn’t rob me of my 35 dollar champagne.”

Logan had handed him the bottle back and Damian choked on the mouthful he had been trying to drink, “I’m sorry, what? So let me get this right: you bought a champagne bottle which is worth more than I usually spend on food for a week. And now you are sharing it with me of all people?”

“Why not you of all people?”

Logan was staring at him again like answers to all of these riddles were obvious.

Damian blinked back, feeling more lost than he had in years. Even that stupid Advanced Geometry course he had decided to take in his freshman year hadn’t screwed him over this badly. Maybe the alcohol was finally getting to him. It would explain why he couldn’t hold a single coherent thought and why he was so hypnotized by the pale freckles that dusted Logan’s nose and cheekbones. They were so light they nearly melted into his skin and seemed to be phasing in and out off existence as the dim lighting played against Logan’s face. He had never noticed them before. Then again, he had never gotten this close before. It was a shame; Logan was mesmerizing. Damian wished he could get closer.

“So what are you going to do after we get out of here?”

It took Damian a moment to realize Logan was asking about a career and not what he would be doing after the party once they left- apparently together. That would have been strange; it was weird his brain even jumped to that conclusion. Maybe he should stop drinking that damn champagne.

He sighed as his mind returned to the actual question. He wanted to make something up, hide behind a lie of certainty and determination. But it was too much work to weave that fabrication together. Especially on the spot. Especially with how his head was feeling. Especially in front of Logan. He hung his head, “Honestly I have no clue. I’ve always been interested in social sciences but beyond that... no plan, no clue.”

A beat of silence played out between them.

“So what about you?” The forced brightness in his voice tasted fake and bitter in his mouth.

“I want to teach sciences,” Logan’s eyes glittered.

“A college professor, huh? I could definitely see it,” Logan handed him the bottle and Damian threw yet another swallow back. Didn’t he say he was going to stop?

“High school level, actually.”

“Really? That doesn’t seem-“ Damian pointed at the champagne bottle in an attempt to remind Logan of what a bougie, extra bitch he was, “ -sophisticated enough for you.”

Logan shrugged, “I kind of have a fascination with high schoolers-“

“Ok, that’s creepy.”

“Not like that! I mean the culture, the slang, the way it’s its own little society interacting within a larger one!” Logan’s face had split into a grin as he talked, waving his hands excitedly.

Damian didn’t even resist urge to smile back. Seeing Logan like this, well, there was something contagious about it. He couldn’t help but feel slightly in awe of the passion he saw in Logan, “You really like this stuff, don’t you?”

Logan nodded vigorously, “Do you know the new word high schoolers today have invented and are using?”

“Hmm?” Damian prompted. Anything to keep Logan talking like this. Damian wasn’t sure why he wanted to keep Logan talking. It had something to do with the way warmth was spreading out from his core in a way that was far gentler than anything drinks could do.

“Yeet.”

In the adjoining room Damian could see two groups standing on opposite tables chanting “Yeet, Yeet, Yeet, Yeet” as they tossed a smaller student (who looked like they were having the time of their life) back and forth.

“Uhh, I think college kids use that too,” Damian didn’t want to burst Logan’s bubble but he felt like he was losing his mind. At any moment he was going to start cackling.

Logan paused, giving him a pointed stare, “Maybe you do.”

Damian broke. He collapsed forward, glad he had handed the bottle back as he wrapped his arms around his shaking body. He could hardly breathe but he couldn’t stop laughing either. His head was light and buzzing warmly. It wasn’t necessarily a bad feeling, but as tears started streaming out of his eyes, he knew he was officially drunk. Who gave a shit? That had been his goal, right?

He fell all the way down, letting his head land on Logan’s knee. He still couldn’t stop laughing even though it had developed solely into wheezes at that point.

Damian felt a hesitant hand tap on his back before actually settling there, “Are you ok?”

Damian sat up and wiped away the tears that had gathered at the corners of his eyes, “Bro, you’re so judgmental.”

Logan’s face shifted from concern into a scowl, “Oh. Sorry.”

The heavy bass of whatever song was playing took over the space between them. Damian kept thinking about destroying that gap. All he would have to do would be lean over, rest himself against Logan, maybe fall asleep. Maybe it was the overpriced buzz in his head talking, but he felt safe around Logan.

Out of the blue, Logan stood up, adjusting the hem of his jacket as he turned to face Damian, “Well, I won’t be bothering you anymore. Maybe I’ll see you around campus sometime. You can finish that if you want.”

Damian looked down by his feet where Logan was pointing to the champagne bottle, “Wait, I don’t understand. You’re leaving? Where?”

Logan glanced around, looking anywhere but Damian’s face. Damian was used to that but this felt different. Logan was different. At least under usual circumstances, he knew why people so adamantly refused to acknowledge his existence. He made them uncomfortable; he didn’t like it, but he got it. Here, he was absolutely clueless.

Logan finally managed to make eye contact. He was trying for a smile but as an expert liar, Damian could see straight through to the grimace beneath, “Oh, I’m sure I’ll find someone else who will tolerate my presence for a few moments.”

“Hey,” Damian acted on impulse. After all, Logan’s hand was just hanging there. It was far too empty. And at the moment, reaching forward to grab Logan’s wrist was Damian’s only way to insure that Logan wouldn’t walk away. He knew Logan was a smart guy and would probably see his honeyed whines as deception, but he had to try, “You’re really just going to get me drunk and then ditch me? Who knows what could happen?”

Logan’s eyebrows creased but he didn’t say anything. He looked like he was in pain, eyes sharp and teeth clenched behind a grimace. It was enough to make Damian drop his hand.

“Logan, it’s entirely your choice but if you would like to stay with me, I would enjoy that very much,” Truth wasn’t his strong suit, but he figured it was worth a try.

Logan squinted at him, confused or at least doubtful, “I thought you disliked my judgmental attitude.”

Damian groaned, “Dude... I didn’t mean it like that. I thought it was funny. I think you’re funny.”

“Oh,” Logan looked like he was having a hard time processing Damian’s words. It made him wonder just how many of those tequila shots Logan had thrown back before walking over. He had to be drunk. It was the only way to explain why he was acting so strange.

Damian reached out again and slowly pulled Logan back. He was hesitant but didn’t resist. Logan sat down next to Damian as if he didn’t understand his own actions. His eyes picked Damian apart like he was looking for the fine print.

“You’re sure you don’t mind me?” Logan’s expression was completely open. He was looking for the truth and Damian didn’t think he’d be able to lie if he wanted to. It was a good thing he didn’t need to.

He smiled, “Yeah, I’m sure.”

“Oh. Ok,” Logan settled back into the couch but his eyebrows were still weaved together. Apparently his programs finished running because he suddenly turned to Damian, grinning brightly, “I’m glad.”

Damian smiled back. He was happy to see Logan with that sparkle back, if a little confused as to how he had caused it, “You’re glad... I don’t mind you?”

Logan nodded, “Some people think I’m a little strange.”

“Yeah, I get that,” Damian winced and tried to rush out his next words, “Not, like, I think you’re strange- I think you’re really cool. I just mean people think I’m strange too.”

Damian swore he could map constellations in the stars floating in Logan’s eyes, “You think I’m cool?”

He shrugged, “I mean, yeah. You always seem to have it all together and you have determination and goals and it’s so obvious that you’re going to reach them. That passion is rare to see any more. I mean, I don’t have any of that. You don’t know how much I looked up to you in that class.”

Logan blinked at him like a deer in headlights for a moment before he began frowning, “But you’re incorrect.”

Damian looked up from where had been trying to see how much champagne was left in the bottle, “What do you mean?”

“You obviously have passion. You always had points to bring up during discussions and it was clear you had deep interest in the topics. You don’t know how in awe of you I was. You always found the least likely angle to take and still managed to make a convincing argument,” Logan took the bottle out of Damian’s frozen hands and took a drink, “It was art.”

Damian opened his mouth but all memory of speech had escape him. He looked away, trying to find something safe to stare at while he tried to gather his thoughts. His head was full of fragments, dulled glass shards that floated through fog and bumped against the edges of his mind. It hurt to try to put them all back together into one piece.

So Logan had noticed him in that class. And had remembered him; quite clearly it seemed. Except the way he was talking... nobody had ever spoken to Damian that way before. He was tempted to ask Logan if he had mistaken him for someone else.

He found his eyes wandering down to the space between them. More accurately, he was staring at how little space there was between them. When Logan had sat down the second time, he had done so right next to Damian. Like, right next to him. Now their legs were pressed together, hips and knees bumping together every time one of them shifted. Damian marveled at the fact that he hadn’t noticed before.

“Damian?” He looked up into Logan’s concerned face. God, they were so close, “Are you ok? Your eyes kinda glazed over.”

Damian laughed. It sounded breathy and far away, “Yeah, I’m good.”

From another room, someone started yelling, “LAST 15 MINUTES OF THE YEAR!!”

Logan squinted down at his watch before glaring in the direction of the voice, “There’s only five minutes left.”

Damian chuckled, watching the lines of Logan’s frown as he grimaced at the sea of people around them. There was something endearing about the blunt disdain Logan had for the idiots around them. It was nice to know he didn’t fit into that group, that he had- by some miracle- managed to fit into Logan’s bubble.

“So... you usually celebrate New Years like this?” Logan had suddenly become quite fidgety, wringing his hands in his lap. Damian tried to ignore it. He was having a hard enough time working on his own thoughts; he couldn’t even begin picking apart Logan’s thoughts.

Damian shook his head, “You mean a party? Nah, I usually don’t even celebrate. What about you?”

“Same. I don’t generally go to parties at all.”

Ah, so Damian’s original impression had been correct, “So what are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” Logan deftly avoided the question with a smirk. Damn, he was good at this.

Damian rolled his eyes, “Some friends dragged me here. Now you tell me what a straight-laced nerd like you is doing in a place like this.”

Logan snorted, “Don’t remember the last time anyone described me as straight- anything.”

“What?”

Damian wanted to shake his head like a dog getting out of water. Maybe then, the pieces would fall into some sort of pattern he could recognize. So Logan wasn’t straight. Why did that make him so happy?

He ran his hands through his hair and tried to gain some composure, “Ok, so what is someone like you doing in a place like this?”

Logan looked out across the crowd, his mouth a tight line. On the other side of the room someone took a running start and flung themselves on a pool table that had currently been in use. The thing cracked in half.

“I was-,” Logan paused, hands tapping quickly against his leg, “-convinced.”

Damian raised an eyebrow, “I’ve never heard someone talk so ominously about going to a party; what is that even supposed to mean?”

Logan winced. His hands were doing full cardio now, clenching into fists over and over again, “I was told someone was going to be here. I just really wanted the chance to talk to him again.”

“But you’ve only talked to me.”

“Yes,” Logan gave him that stare again like Come on, dude, the puzzle pieces are right there- just put them together. He rubbed his eyes in his hands, “Maybe this was a mistake. I didn’t mean to get you drunk. I thought you’d still be able to figure out-“

Click.

Damian’s mouth fell, “Wait, I’m the one you wanted to talk to?”

Logan gave him a small smile. It was the first time Damian had seen him look unsure of himself, “Well, yeah.”

“Oh,” Damian’s head was swimming. He could have blamed it on the champagne or how late it was or the way the lighting had began strobing, flickering between bright neon shades. But he knew that wasn’t it. He couldn’t lie this time- not even to himself.

Logan’s eyes were wide, staring into Damian. Not into his eyes- him. It was unnerving in the best way possible. The shifting light played across his irises, making them every colour of the rainbow.

“Is that ok?”

Logan’s voice startled him back to the present. He had leaned forward, supposedly to be heard above the shouting that had started. Amongst all of the raised voices, Logan’s had only gotten lower. His breath played against Damian’s ear.

Damian looked up, startled slightly but smiling, “Yeah, yeah, that’s good. That’s great.”

Logan smiled, “Yeah? Great?”

He was definitely leaning forward.

Damian huffed out a sigh but smiled even wider, “Shut up. I’m pretty sure you’re drunk.”

Logan scoffed, “And you’re not? You’re a total lightweight.”

“Shut up.”

“TEN!”

The entire house shook as the ridiculous number of students began screaming in unison

“You know, it’s also tradition to kiss someone on New Years,” Logan looked infuriatingly smug.

“NINE!”

Damian usually hated this part, everyone around him creating one huge voice- everyone but him.

Damian raised an eyebrow, “Are you asking to kiss me?”

“EIGHT!”

What he always hated most was the way the entire world seemed to be celebrating- without him. The whole damn planet filled with joy for one tiny moment and he could never figure out why.

Logan smiled like the Cheshire Cat- except the Cheshire Cat had just won the lottery, “Maybe.”

“SEVEN!”

At this point, his heart rate usually would have been spiking, feeling the pressure of “new opportunities” pressing all their expectant eyes on him.

Damian laughed, “Did you come over to talk to me just so you could get a kiss tonight?”

“SIX!”

There was always a part of Damian that would scorn him for not being happy, question why he had turned out to be such a sad, useless lump while everyone else was happily looking forward to the future.

“No,” Logan set his jaw like a stubborn toddler, “I came over here to talk to you so I could get a kiss from you tonight.”

“FIVE!”

No matter what he did, the New Year would plague him. His whole apartment complex would rattle as chanting counted down. The first hours of the year would often find Damian wandering through empty streets, desperate to escape the celebration.

Logan slid his hand onto Damian’s knee, “So can I? Kiss you?”

“FOUR!”

The whole event was just one monstrous reminder. It was an ugly mar on the calendar that whispered Look at all the things you’ve ruined. Look at how far you’ve fallen. Look at how little your future holds.

Damian nodded dumbly. His heart was pounding in his ears.

“THREE!”

New Year made him think of his parents. He always put on a bright mask for them, feeding them lies of empty aspirations and opportunities that didn’t exist. How would they feel to know their son was barreling headfirst into a dead end?

Damian was learning he didn’t need alcohol; Logan was intoxicating enough. The shine in his eyes, the self-satisfied tug to his lips, the way he kept getting closer and closer- it made Damian’s thoughts slow to a halt and everything around him lose focus.

“TWO!”

Every year, the day after would be exactly like the day before. Everyone else seemed to be determined to make themselves better. As much as he searched, Damian could never find the ways to change. New Years was usually taunting, reminding him that he would always be broken and would never be able to fix himself.

Logan’s hands played across his chest, smoothed over his shoulder, ran through his hair. His eyes found Damian’s soul. Damian couldn’t remember how to breathe.

“ONE!!”

Damian had always hated New Years.

Logan leaned all the way forward and his lips were on Damian’s. It was deeper than Damian was expecting, both of their mouths slightly open. Logan kept surging forward with his whole body, destroying the few inches left between them. Damian happily followed his lead, mindlessly falling into synchronous rhythm as Logan kept moving his lips. Except it wasn’t just his lips; Logan kissed with his whole body. He leaned against Damian and his hands were always roaming, leaving little touches as they danced over Damian’s body.

Sure, Damian had kissed other guys before. But he was pretty sure this was the first time anyone had kissed him.

One of Logan’s hands found its way to Damian’s face. His fingers tapped lightly across his birthmark. Damian remembered the kids who stared without shame, the eyes that would dart away as soon as they saw him, the way he could never hold a conversation without his birthmark joining as an unwanted guest star. Logan hadn’t done any of that. Damian had no words to describe what that man was but he liked it.

Damian broke away, completely out of breath. He had no idea how long they had been kissing- it could have been hours for all he knew- but his lungs didn’t have the same luxury of losing track.

Logan’s chest was heaving as it pressed against Damian’s side. His eyes were wide and glazed, staring a million miles away.

“Hey, Logan?”

Logan’s eyes regained their sharp focus. He smiled brightly, “I’ve been wanting to do that for a while now.”

“You’re a dork. But really,” Damian sighed, “thank you.”

Logan gave him a puzzled smile, “What for?”

“I’m pretty sure this is the first New Year I’ve ever actually enjoyed,” Damian snuggled himself closer to Logan, smiling when he felt an arm wrap around his shoulders.

Logan spoke with measured, careful words, “If you like, we could, you know, make our own New Years tradition out of this.”

Damian could feel his eyelids falling and rising every time he blinked like the great velvet currents of a theatre. They were heavy and he was warm and his head was a vague haze. He yawned widely and wrapped his arms around Logan’s waist, “I don’t think we have to wait until New Year to do this again.”

He fell asleep listening to Logan stuttering out some happy response. Maybe New Years wasn’t so bad.

If you want to be added to my Sanders Sides fic taglist just send me an ask or reply to this post :p

~ @phan-fander @abi-beehive ~

#loceit #loceit fluff #loceit angst #loceit fic #loceit human au #loceit fanfic #loceit fanfiction #logan x deceit #deceit x logan #sympathetic deceit #sanders sides #sanders sides fanfiction #sanders sides fic #sanders sides human au #sanders side college au #ts logan #ts deceit #romantic loceit #starlight writes

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seriouslyhooked · 4 years

Text

Feels Like This (Part 1)

Emma Swan is a once lost girl who is now making good. She has made a way in the world for her and her young son, Henry, and after years of hard work, Emma is in her last stretch of schooling for the career she’s always wanted. Unexpectedly, she finds herself in a tiny nation no one’s ever heard of for her last year of study. She knows nothing about the place except that it’s beautiful, has a world-renowned child life program, and is filled with possibility. Meanwhile, Prince Killian is hardly happy with the title he received at birth. As the second in line for the crown, Killian has long tried shaking his royal duties. He built a career in the royal navy, and has stayed out of the limelight, but his ship has been called to port indefinitely at the request of his brother, the King. Fate (in her many forms) brings Emma and Killian together and the resulting fic is a cute, fluffy, trope filled romp featuring heart felt moments, a healthy dose of insta-love and an assured happily ever after. Story rated M and will have 12 parts. Available on FF Here and AO3 Here.

A/N: Hey everyone! So months back I hinted that I was working on a few new AUs. I have been wanting to write this fic since the moment it popped into my head, but I held back, knowing I had two other great stories that deserved their happy ending and a proper send off. Now though both of my other fics are done, we are on to one of our first new fics. To all of you that have begged for another CS AU where someone is a prince or princess… this is for you, and for me. I can’t tell you how excited I am to be writing this. I have missed this kind of world since I finished When Love Reigns, and this time the script is flipped – it’s Killian who is royalty. This first chapter though, is building a bit of our back story. It’s from Emma’s POV and it puts us on the path to change. So without any more delay, I hope you guys enjoy the story and thanks so much for reading!

“Goooood Morning, New York! It’s that time again – WAKE UP CALL!”

The sound of sirens and clanging that blasted through the clock radio next to her bed echoed through the once silent room, slamming into Emma with a force that gave her no choice but to wake.

“Crap!” Emma screeched as she jolted from the bed, woken from an incredibly sound sleep. On instinct her body moved quickly, trying to jump from bed like she would when Henry was little and called to her in the night, but she wasn’t totally coordinated yet. Instead of landing on her feet, she tumbled, hitting the ground hard and letting out a groan. “Double crap!”

A knock sounded at the door and two seconds later her son’s voice filtered through. “Mom, did you fall out of bed again?”

“No comment,” Emma replied, checking herself for major injuries. Thankfully she would be fine, but this was not a good look.

It’s temporary, she said to herself as she stood up and stretched, willing her limbs to let go of the tension and the achiness that a fall like that would cause. The semester is nearly over. I’ve only got one summer class. One not three. One not three.

She chanted the mantra that had gotten her through this spring over and over in her mind as she went through her morning routine. It was a rushed, frantic situation, as it normally was on weekdays, but somehow, just like always, things came together in the end. She was showered and ready, dressed for her admin job in the financial district. Henry was also totally geared up for school, proving once again how self-sufficient he was. Having a son with as much maturity as Henry was a blessing on mornings like this one where she was dead on her feet from studying all night and still had to be up bright and early for the office. He was eight going on thirty-eight. Honestly most days it felt like Henry had it more together than she did, but as she walked into the kitchen to press a kiss on the crown of his head and he smiled genuinely at her, Emma couldn’t seem to care. She might not be perfect at being a Mom, but her kid was happy and well, and that was all that truly mattered.

“Someone seems chipper this morning. Did you sneak those powdered donuts I hid or something?” Emma asked as she made herself and Henry some sliced fruit. Henry, meanwhile, measured out their cereal, liking to be a part of their prep process as much as he could. He handled things with the ginger care and attention of someone trying their best, focused on the task with so much purpose and precision.

“No, I didn’t, honestly Mom, I promise.”

Emma stifled a laugh at how adamant he was. She knew the truth: her son was too good for stealing, even just a few treats. It was amazing how much of a moral compass he had. Sometimes she wondered if it was too much for a boy his age. He should be getting into a little trouble, causing mischief, doing… something, anything that wasn’t picture perfect. But Henry wasn’t like that. He preferred stories to anything else, and the look on his face told Emma that a story was exactly what had him so animated this morning.

“Well if it’s not a sugar high then it must be a good book. What’s on tap for today?”

Listening to her little boy talk about his newfound tale made Emma so happy, because his own enthusiasm was infectious. Reading had always come easy to Henry, and he was on pace for the level of a sixth grader though he was only in 3rd. It was amazing to behold, but also a little overwhelming. Emma herself had never had that yearning to read, probably because the only books in the group homes she grew up in were ripped up and torn to shreds. By the time she was old enough to go to school and use the libraries they had, Emma was jaded. Thankfully she’d been quick to learn and always got by, but by high school she’d skipped town, never to look back.

A few years later she was barely surviving day to day and her heart decided it would be a good time to give the whole love thing a chance. She met a man who claimed he loved her, but, in the end he was nothing but a tough lesson made flesh. Neal taught Emma that it wasn’t enough to love someone. You had to love someone good, someone kind, and someone who loved you enough to care for you and fight for you too. Instead of meeting that marker, Neal stole a bunch of shit, tried to let her take the fall, and, to add insult to injury, skipped town and never looked back. Nothing ended up coming from the charges made against her – the judge threw the case out when he heard about her background, only asking that she commit to a hundred hours of volunteering, and in the meantime the only good thing Neal ever gave her was her son. But, despite her rocky beginnings, and thanks to a little luck and more than a couple of miracles, here they were. Nearly ten years had gone by since she’d seen Neal and Emma and Henry were good. They had each other, now and always, and though their family was small, and at times Emma wondered what it would be like to fall in love again, she didn’t want to rock the boat or jeopardize all the good she and Henry were lucky enough to have.

“Mom, did you hear me?” Henry asked and Emma’s mind shifted back into her room instead of where it had been, skipping down memory lane.

“Sorry, kid. Coffee hasn’t hit yet,” she said with a shrug. “What did you say?”

“I said I’m almost done with my final project for Ms. Harlow’s class.”

“Almost done? But you’ve still got another month of school.”

“I know, but it’s just reading and writing. My favorites.”

Emma listened in on his update about his project, and it didn’t surprise her to hear Henry was ahead of his class. This had been happening since he entered kindergarten. Every year the teachers set objectives and every year Henry met each one, most of them pretty early. It was a great thing in one respect, because it meant Emma didn’t have to worry about him. Henry was brilliant and gifted and would clearly go far in life, but it did make Emma wonder: was she doing enough for his son? More than once she’d been told that a private school might suit him better and might challenge him more. But she simply didn’t have the money. Hell, she’d worked overtime for years just to get them in this tiny apartment in this district which was one of the nicer ones in the city.

Henry continued to tell her all about school as they left the apartment and headed out, and their whole commute in was filled with his updates about the things he’d learned and still wanted to know. Emma noted that there were very few stories involving other kids and she knew that was probably because Henry didn’t have an enormous amount of friends. Oh the other kids liked him, of course, who wouldn’t love her son who only had nice things to say and a friendly smile to offer? But he wasn’t tied to any of them closely. Instead he preferred the company of books, and of Emma and their favorite friendly neighbors, Mr. and Mrs. Hubbard.

“All right Henry, so you know the plan, right? Today’s Wednesday which means…”

“School, then library club, then Mrs. H will pick me up and watch me until you get out of class. I wonder what she’ll make for dinner. I hope it’s spaghetti.”

Emma agreed, knowing that her neighbor’s spaghetti was legendary. Mrs. Hubbard had years of practice, cooking for her own family over the course of many years, but her kids were all grown now and it was just her and her husband living in the city. Her husband, though well past retirement age, loved his job down at the docks, and still went in for a few hours every evening to manage the shift change from day shift to night. Mrs. H, meanwhile, was desperate for the chance to mother people again, and she did so often with Emma and Henry. At first Emma tried to protest, but it all fell on deaf ears. Not only did this wonderful woman help care for Henry, she was always helping with the cooking and the cleaning. She was also pretty much a built-in therapist for Emma, and every time she met a challenge in her parenting she couldn’t face, Emma called Mrs. H. That woman was the closest thing she and Henry had to family, and Emma knew Mrs. H felt just as strongly for them in return.

“Whatever it is we’re going to love it and we’re going to thank Mrs. H so much for her help, right?”

“Of course,” Henry said with a nod. They’d finally arrived at his school building and now was the time to say goodbye. Last year parent drop off was in the class room, but this year they moved the kids to drop off at the door. Most kids took that as a sign to stop hugging their parents when leaving for the day, but not Henry. Instead he gave her a big hug which warmed her through and made her feel so blessed and reassured. Henry was truly the sweetest, and when he finally let go and ran into the building Emma let out a sigh, thinking to herself how damn lucky she was to have Henry as her son.

Her day from there was just about as crazy as she expected. The time she had to get from Henry’s school to work was minimal, but she managed to slip into the office just under the radar. For eight straight hours she was moving, and she barely had time to devour the sandwich she’d packed for the day while running to and from errands that the office staff needed help with. She couldn’t take lunch though, not when she had to leave early to run ten blocks to class this afternoon. Again, her ability to get there was nearly undermined, this time by a broken subway car that caused more congestion than ever on the street as people tried to walk instead. But in just the nick of time, Emma made her way through the wrought iron gates of her university, and was in her assigned chair in the Mills Center Auditorium, listening attentively to the lecture her favorite professor had lined up today.

Since having Henry, Emma had needed to work and pay bills and figure things out. At first she tried to do that with just her GED, but soon it became clear that she needed to go back to school. Thank god there had been online classes, and she’d managed to find enough scholarships for ex-foster kids to get her an associates degree. When that was done she went to the state school in the city and started taking more classes and in four more years she had her bachelors. She was so proud of herself and so glad for the bump in pay that a simple degree had earned her, but somehow school had called her back again, this time for a masters degree in childhood development and social work. It was a very focused degree, without any ties to her current financial job, but it was the work her heart wanted to do. With her MS she would qualify for a number of jobs, all aimed at helping kids in the system, and again, thanks to some hard fought for scholarships, she was managing it all at virtually no cost but time.

The two-hour seminar she sat in today was engaging and interesting, honing in on a case study of one particular city – Sacramento. Their public programming was a beacon for the American model and through partnerships of government, schools, companies, and community activists there was a significantly lower rate of teenage runaways and kids who graduated from the system with ‘bad outcomes.’ Emma noted all the policy choice that were implemented to help these kids and she applauded the effort of these experts, but she knew there were still more things that could be done. She took just as many notes on the lecture as she did her own ideas, and by the end of class, her pages were full and her mind was equipped with a few more answers and a lot more questions.

When their time was up, the rest of her cohort dispersed. They were younger than Emma and most of them were friendly with each other. They always were nice to Emma too, saying hi and asking about Henry, but Emma didn’t linger long after class. She had to get home to her son, and to get back to working on all the things she had to face tomorrow.

“Emma, would you mind coming with me to my office? I have something to give you. It’ll just take a moment.”

“Sure, Professor Hopper,” Emma agreed, not thinking much of it. ‘Doc’ Hopper was a great lecturer and a helpful teacher and there’d been many times when he gave her a book or some other sources for her work. She assumed that was what was happening today, but when he asked her to take a seat as he moved around his desk Emma started to get worried.

“I’m sorry, professor. Is something wrong?”

“Not at all, Emma. In fact, quite the opposite. The department has selected the JR Foundation Fellowship recipient this year.”

“Oh?” she asked, wondering which of the people in her class was getting the chance to travel abroad and learn from some of the best minds in childhood development and psychology. She thought maybe Ayana or Jade might be good choices. They were both bright and determined. Matthew was a wild card. But she imagined he must be up for consideration given his often out of the box ideas.

“It’s you, Emma. You’re our chosen fellow.”

“Me?”

Emma whispered out the clarifying question, not understanding what Doc Hopper was getting at. The connection to the JR Foundation Fellowship was one of the biggest selling points of this program. Students from across the world came here just to be considered for it and to say she was not lobbying for the possibility would be an understatement. Most of the time she felt she was barely scraping by. Everyone else in her program was younger than her, none of them had children, and those who had a job worked part time or entirely for the school. Emma was always on the fringes of her cohort, but all the late nights studying and reading had paid off. She learned a lot and did well when it came to grades. Still, she never imagined this would happen, and for a fleeting moment she felt pure excitement.

You can’t go, her inner voice said suddenly. You’ve got Henry to think about. How would you afford it? You could never take him out of school. You can’t move him halfway across the world just to nickel and dime things. We’ve had enough ramen to last a lifetime.

The reasons why this would never work mounted internally as Emma cleared her throat and fidgeted in her chair. She was about to turn down the most prestigious offer anyone at her level could receive and the pain of that was sharp. To know she’d earned this but that it wasn’t meant to be hurt her, but she would not allow herself to linger in the sadness. Nothing had changed from this morning – she was still a very lucky woman, with a roof over her head, food on her table, and an incredible son who filled her life more than any stop in her career ever could.

“Professor Hopper, I’m truly flattered to be chosen. But -,”

“Wait, Emma, before you turn this down, please know that the faculty is aware of your unique circumstances and we’ve made some adjustments to the fellowship terms. It’s all spelled out here,” he said, handing her a folder with papers and admission offers.

Emma opened it up, and within the bolded headlines of the first page there were all sorts of add ons. A housing grant that would cover her and Henry for more than six months, additional ‘cost of living’ scholarships, and more. Tears formed in her eyes at she looked at the stipend she would receive if she accepted this appointment. It was more than she made at city hall, and she knew already that her good standing with the city would allow for her to take this opportunity if she chose to. She could request up to a year of leave where they’d hold her job if she gave enough notice, and she had just enough time to do so. Still there was one concern – what about Henry? What about his life? Would it be right to spring something like this on him? They had only a month before the fellowship was set to start. She couldn’t do that… could she?

“I realize that you’ll need time to consider, Emma, but as you can imagine time is rather limited. I can wait a few days, but we’ll need to know by the end of the week if you accept.” Professor Hopper looked at her with a transparent sense of honesty and empathy. It was always clear why this man studied child psychology and counseling. He was quiet and patient but adamant in wanting to help. But when he looked at her like this, Emma remembered her own childhood and how little there had been by ways of help and guidance. “For what it’s worth, Emma, I really hope you’ll take the appointment. In all my years at this school, I’ve never met a student so well suited to this job. Your experience is one thing, but it’s a gift unique to you. You have a way with these kids, Emma, and a fellowship like this can help you make the most of your degree come graduation. It opens all kinds of doors and you know what that can mean.”

“Helping so many more kids,” Emma admitted aloud, and that was ultimately what she wanted more than anything. Yes, providing for her son was the most important thing, but there were so many more children out there who didn’t have nearly enough. Without family or money or hope, the world was a sad and scary place and Emma wanted to fend off some of that fear for as many kids as she could. Doctor Hopper’s point was undeniable, and people who had previously taken this fellowship had gone on to do so much, like launch successful non-profits and run whole government departments for children in need. It was a chance to learn, to grow, and to meet people who knew how to make things happen, and Emma was enticed by that, so much more than she should be.

“Take some time, Emma. Mull I over, talk to your son, and if it’s right, it’s right. You know you’ll always have my full support either way.”

Emma thanked Professor Hopper and collected her things, heading out of his office and away from school. It was a short commute back home, but riding the subway at this time of day meant being a part of the last big rush of people. She was squished into the train car, but she didn’t think much of it. Instead she read over the more than generous offer of the package the school was giving her. Usually the fellowship was generous, with the chance to go to Montenaro (a tiny European country she’d never once heard of outside of this) and a small stipend to live on with placement in student housing. For Emma, however, other arrangements had been made, including a small house that was still at least triple the size of where her and Henry lived now. The stipend was also larger (to cover the cost of any needed ‘childcare expenses’) and Doctor Hopper had written a note – he had a good friend who had a connection to a private elementary school near the University of Montenarro. There was a spot for Henry available for the fall semester, which was still a few months out, and a space for him at the University’s summer camp. Emma actually cried at how kind this offer was and how much time it must have taken and how many favors must have been called in. People had moved mountains for her and in the process they’d pulled down so many of the blockades that might keep her from saying yes.

Her heart began to believe that this might actually be possible. The timing was actually kind of perfect – her term would start in six weeks, in the middle of June and her lease on the apartment was set to end at the end of that month. She was planning to renew, but it didn’t make sense to keep the place for six months while they were away. That was money she could save for a rainy day, and when all of this was over she’d be done with her degree early and would be looking for a job anyway. Maybe they weren’t strictly bound to New York. They could end up anywhere. The possibilities seemed endless. Still, as she made her way back to her apartment Emma tried to get herself in check and school her features. The last thing she wanted was to get her hopes up. This would come down to what was best for Henry, and she’d never want to pressure her son into doing something for her that he didn’t really want. But at the same time it was such a great opportunity. The money, the living arrangement, and the work experience. It all seemed so perfect.

“Anybody home?” She asked, as she opened the door to her place and walked in, dropping her coat and taking off her shoes in the front walk as she headed to the kitchen.

“Hi Mom!” Henry said, barreling into her with another big hug and a huge smile on his face. “I missed you today.”

“I missed you too, kid,” she said, ruffling up his hair. “Hey Mrs. H. Something sure smells good.”

“It’s spaghetti Bolognese, and it’s very near ready. How was class, dear?”

“Great. Actually about that, I got some news today.”

“Big news?” Henry asked excitedly and Emma shook her head and smiled.

“Huge news. You know that fellowship I told you about? The one in Europe?”

“I remember. It’s in that tiny little country on the coast. What was it? Monta… Monta…”

“Montenarro,” she filled in and the light in Henry’s eyes burned bright with recognition.

“Oh right – you know their national fruit is called a montacari? It’s like if you mixed a strawberry, blackberry, and a raspberry. They only grow in mild mountain climates and before the berries grow the plants make flowers that are pink and red and white. Every August they have a festival there to celebrate the harvest.”

“How do you know that?” Emma asked, amazed at her son’s seemingly endless memory and then she filled in at the same time Henry did. “Let me guess: you read about it?“

“I read about it,” Henry echoed and they laughed. “So who won the spot?”

“I did,” Emma announced and for a beat there was complete silence. She watched as her son took in the news and then he was moving, jumping up and down and hugging her all over again.

“You did it, Mom! You did it! You did it! I knew you could do it!”

“You thought I’d win?” Emma asked and Henry nodded fiercely.

“Absolutely! You’re the best, Mom, everyone knows that!”

Emma laughed as she looked over to Mrs. H who had a huge smile on her face. “Congratulations, honey. But I think I must have missed something. What exactly is this fellowship?”

Emma explained the circumstances surrounding the placement. It was a six-month appointment, for two terms – summer and fall - and in that time the recipient worked for the J.R. Foundation. J.R. was an international charity with an impeccable reputation focused on helping vulnerable youth populations around the globe. They worked on literacy outreach, education initiatives, disaster relief and more, but this fellowship appointee would work with the counseling division, focusing on children’s health, wellness, and mental resilience strategies. That six months of work counted as her two semesters of full time interning which she needed to graduate, and for Emma, it would mean cutting down her time to graduation significantly. At the end of this six months, if she added in an online class or two, she’d be ready to graduate, finishing up eighteen months earlier than she previously expected.

Halfway through her explanation, Emma watched Henry leave and head to his room. She heard a lot of movement inside and she frowned, worried about what he was up to. “Henry? Everything all right?”

“Are you kidding? Everything’s awesome! We’re moving to Montanarro and I’ve got to get packing!”

“Henry, wait,” she said and her son popped his head out before she motioned for him to come closer. “We still have to talk about this. This is a really big change. It would mean you miss the last few weeks of school here, and that next fall you’re not with your friends here. We wouldn’t be back until just before Christmas. Are you sure you like that idea? I won’t be mad if you want to stay here. This is our home.”

“Home is where we are together, Mom. You know that,” Henry said, reciting a line she’d said over and over again to him, especially back when times were tougher and they really struggled to get by. His assuredness made her throat tighten. Again she was on the verge of tears but she fought them off. “Besides – every hero has a special journey, Mom, and their special journey usually starts with a new place. Think of the adventure we can have together. It’s gonna be awesome!”

“Henry it might not be that easy. Moving can be hard sometimes. Things will be different there. I know they speak English, but there’s other languages and customs too. It might not be the easiest adjustment.”

“I can do different!” Henry replied eagerly with a smile. “I’m great with different. Different is my middle name.”

“Henry, you don’t have a middle name,” Emma teased and he shrugged.

“Well now I do, and it’s Different. So can we go, Mom. Please? I promise I’ll be so so good.”

“You’re always good, kid.” Emma said softly, running her fingers through the hair that was shadowing his brow. “Are you sure, Henry? It’s a really big step.”

“Can’t you feel it, Mom? Don’t think with your head. Use your heart, like you taught me.” Emma was quiet for a moment as she took in her young son’s sage advice. “You feel it too, I know you do. This is right for us. It’s our path.”

“Why don’t I sleep on it, okay, kid? In the meantime you go wash up for dinner all right?”

Henry seemed to accept this non-answer, though he muttered under his breath about always having to wait for adventure. Emma smiled despite herself and then looked to Mrs. H who was watching her closely.

“So what do you think? I know we’d be leaving you and Mr. H in a bind. You weren’t expecting to have to look for new tenants and -,”

Mrs. H interrupted Emma by taking her hand in hers and silently commanding her attention. Emma looked up and listened carefully. “Honey, you don’t worry about that at all, you hear me? My Horace and I are golden. We don’t need to rent this place out, but we took one look at you and Henry and we knew you were going to be like family. And you know what family does, Emma? They support each other always. This fellowship sounds like everything you’ve wanted. You can make a difference and you and that darling boy of yours can see the world a little. In the meantime we’ll keep this place here for you. No one else is renting it and you don’t need to worry about paying anything at all. The payment has been getting to know you two these last few years. That’s better than anything money can buy.”

“Are you sure?” Emma asked, half wondering about her generosity but also asking if she should go at all. She was excited, to be sure, but she was also terrified. What if she failed? What if something happened? What if –

“I am, Emma. And deep down you are too. Henry was right, this is an adventure, one you should meet and embrace every step of the way.”

Emma appreciated the counsel and though Henry came barreling back in soon and the conversation shifted, Emma had all evening to think about the choice in front of her. She grappled with her options – to take the safe path and pass up on a once in a lifetime opportunity, or to take a little risk and have a taste of adventure and fulfillment with her son in a brand new place. By the end of the night, as she was drifting off to bed, Emma knew she had her answer: this was going to happen. She was going to take this step and take a chance, and somehow, despite her less than stellar origins, she trusted it would all work exactly the way that it should.

Little did she know how true that was, and just how much purpose and hope she would find in a tiny country halfway around the world.

Post-Note: So there we have it. Just in case anyone is curious about the title, I actually got a creative burst in conceiving of this AU plot line when I heard the song ‘Feels Like This’ by Maisie Peters. If you haven’t heard it before, you should definitely listen, as it’s a lovely one with all kinds of feels. Anyway, I know that this chapter was all from Emma’s POV, but as you might have guessed, next chapter we will see Killian and where he is at when we begin this story. I’m so excited for this AU and to build this dynamic and I am hoping to share the second chapter with you all next weekend. In the meantime, I would love to hear what you all think, what you might like to see in this fic, and what your general thoughts on this kind of AU are. As always I appreciate you all so much, I hope that you’ve enjoyed, and I wish you all well and happy! Thanks again!

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waterloou · 4 years

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Helloooo all! I’m bringing back oc Saturday for these trying times to showcase some brilliant ocs! If you’d like to nominate your oc or somebody else’s, feel free to shoot me a msg, ask, or tag #ocextravaganzasaturday ! Also, there’s an option to submit a blurb!

Oc extravaganza Saturday guidelines

Below are links/blurbs for the featured ocs this week! Go check them out!

Amreen Carr created by @emiliachrstine

Headcannons

Headcannons 2

Headcannons 3

“Stay”

Game of Survival

Fluff

Edit 1

Edit 2

Edit 3

Edit 4

Gotta love a kick ass mama to baby yoda. Her and mando and the whole family are just wholesome and cool and please go give them some love! They deserve it!

Belle Sinclair created by @lilhemmo

Multifandom Queen:

5sos:

Sunshine

Soon to be Riverdale

Background:

“her name is belle sinclair - she was kind of a tom boy growing up, but her brother died when she started high school. he died while she was driving him home from a new years eve date and he was drunk so he was distracting her, but then they got t-boned by another drunk driver. however, her whole family blames her for his death and she has extreme survivors guilt.”

“she's a sunshine, little sun drop, sunflower! she's really kind and very forgiving and a people pleaser”

Go show her some love!

Billy Holmes created by @humangrumpycat

Introduction

Mythology moodboard

Playlist

Billy cackles, turning his chair to face an irritated Sweet Pea.

'I'm sorry,' Billy wheezes, wiping the tears from his face.

'You saw some dude spray paint a wall, and when you threatened him, he pulled a gun on you?' he asks, his lips pressed in an attempt to stop laughing.

'Yes,' Sweet Pea grits through his teeth.

'That's the best thing I've heard all week,' Billy smiles. 'Thank you for telling me this.'

Sweet Pea clenches his jaw, taking a deep breath.

'It's not funny,' he hisses.

'It was, though,' Phoenix snickers. 'You should've seen his face,' he says to Billy. 'Dude pulled out an M1911A1.'

'Holy shit,' Billy gasps.

'He pulled out a what?' Fangs asks.

'Colt .45,' Billy explains, followed by Fangs nodding.

'How would you know?' Sweet Pea asks Phoenix. 'You weren't even there.'

'I was right across the street, leaving the candle shop,' he answers.

'Why were you at the candle shop?' Fangs scoffs.

'Buying candles,' Phoenix comments, raising the bag on eye-level. 'I thought that was pretty obvious.'

'Can we focus on my problem?' Sweet Pea interrupts. 'And how I need to take care of it?'

'"Take care of it"?' Billy mocks.

'You got something for me?' Sweet Pea asks, nodding to the closet to his left.

'Oh, NOW you want a new weapon?' Billy scoffs. 'I've been telling you that for years now. I mean, I get the nostalgia bullshit. But like I said: we're big guys, and big guys need big weapons or it'll just look weird.'

'Like he's holding a toothpick,' Phoenix adds, followed by both Phoenix and Billy nodding at each other.

'Shut up, Phoenix, I don't see you carrying a machete around.'

'Don't I?' Phoenix smirks, opening his jacket to show a machete strapped on the inside.

'What the-' Fangs gasps. 'How-'

'Gem sewed in the straps for me,' Phoenix explains with the widest grin.

'So, can you get me something new?' Sweet Pea asks, growing more impatient by the minute.

'I might could,' Billy says. 'But not tonight.'

Both Fangs and Sweet Pea throw up their hands.

'I'm sure y'all can beat him up tomorrow, and I'd love to join,' Billy comments. 'But it's Tequila Tuesday at the LOVE Club downtown, and I'm meeting Ace, Spades, and Snow White in ten, so I'll be a wreck tomorrow.'

'Can I join?' Phoenix begs. 'I can dump my shit at Viper's on the way.'

'Got your fake ID?'

'Always,' Phoenix answers.

'Why the LOVE Club, by the way?' Phoenix asks. 'Don't we normally go to The Maple Leaf?'

'Well,' Billy smirks. 'There's this pretty blonde who sings there every Tuesday, and we've had some "eye-contact" for the last couple of weeks.'

'You mean, real-life Disney princess? Nice!' he chants.

'Also, The Maple Leaf's starting to attract more Ghoulies, and we don't need that shit,' Billy mentions.

Billy is a great bad boy. He’s hilarious, resourceful and it’s just extremely easy to like. Go give him some love!

Oli Parker created by @reggiemantleholdmyhand-tle

Introduction

About ramble

Summer Camp AU

This boy is a hardworking, wholesome, compassionate ray of sunshine! Go give him some love!

Rhett Butler created by @s-s-southsideserpentine

Question

The common room of the boys dormitories was a ghost-town during this time of the night. Usually it was alive with haughty Stonewall Prep males, bragging about the colleges their showboat parents bought their way into, laughing at crude jokes and arguing loudly about theory and theology. Now though, in the late hours of the night after the RA’s were done skulking around the hallways with citations in hand, it was almost peaceful. Rhett Butler liked to sneak out of his dorm room and sit at the piano, basked in the milky color of the moonlight as it streamed in through the large, glass-paned windows. The high archways and ceilings made the soft tinkling of the piano keys sound like they filled the air around him and tucked themselves into every corner. He liked the emptiness of it all, how serene it could be to take comfort in his own loneliness. Rhett would wait until after lights out, way after the final few night owls broke themselves away from their studies, and would tiptoe out into the common room with his composition book in hand, jotting down music notes and time signatures while still trying his best to be quiet. A big anthology of British Literature is wedged in the doorframe, with Rhett trying his best to close himself away to conceal the noise. He’s too busy tinkering away at his next assignment for music class that he doesn’t hear the quiet thunk of the anthology hitting the parquet floor as someone slipped into the room with him.

“What the hell are you doing?” A voice pipes up from behind Rhett’s left shoulder, nearly scaring him out of his wits as he jumps, slamming the piano case down hard onto the keyboard.

“Holy hell” He chuckles, trying his best to recover and even out his breathing. His spindly fingers are shaking as he turns around to see the new scholarship student, Bianca something, in her pajamas, her curly hair dented and pressed from where her head pressed into her pillow.

Rhett had seen her around before, he sat in on the advanced writing seminar on the right day, he guessed, because he heard the girl make a snarky remark to that asshole Bret. It cost her an after-school detention but she gained Rhett’s respect immediately, and he had been intrigued by her ever since. Everyone knew about the scholarship kids, it was kind of hard not to. There were only a handful of them, a losers club of their own. But most of them kept their heads down and cowered at the taunts being thrown by their snooty classmates, making remarks about their thrifted textbooks and not-so-pristine school uniforms. Not this girl, though; it was a strange twist of fate, how he had wondered about her and now she was here.

“You know what time it is?” She asks with a raised eyebrow that doesn’t seem malicious, but Rhett doesn’t know how to take it.

Rhett palms the top of the upright piano until he finds where he tossed his phone, he clicks the home button, 3:13 am. “The witching hour” He muses, running a hand though his hair.

“Are you the one who’s always out here?” She asks again with that same hint of mischief. “That girl Donna’s convinced a bunch of freshman that there’s a ghost.”

“S’just me” Rhett mumbles, feeling embarrassed at the idea that his late-night musicalities weren’t as secret as he thought.

The girl walks across the room and sits on the other side of the piano bench next to Rhett. There was a funny sort of confidence she had, giving him an all-teeth smile as she says “So you’re the ghost”. Rhett smiles, excitement brewing in his stomach.

“Name’s Rhett Butler” He offers his skinny hand for the girl to shake and she does.

Gotta love a good, malnourished, take no bs academic boy. And he’s musically talented??? King. Give him some love!

#oc community #ocextravaganzasaturday #ocappreciation #friends ocs #star wars oc #riverdale oc #5sos oc #5sos #riverdale #star wars #oc: amreen carr #oc: rhett butler #oc: billy holmes #oc: oli parker #oc: belle sinclair

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chaotic-good-hawke · 4 years

Text

The Return, 887 Words

**As background, this takes place in my multi-warden AU. Twins Freya and Liam Aeducan are exiled to the deep roads and meet up with Signa Brosca, who escaped to the deep roads. Together, they survive, until the Grey Wardens arrive and help set up Freya for the throne**

Warning: Blood and gore

Read on AO3

*****

Freya stands straight, head high, gaze boring into Bhelen, her brother. The thought of him sickened her. He who killed their eldest brother and framed his siblings, all to be king.

Shocked and outraged gasps filled the chamber, nobles yelling when they realized the exiled royals had come home.

Freya paid them no mind, simply stocked into the center. She wore a white dress, accented with gold, the newly forged crown sat upon her brow, her dark hair braided into it. No armor, but her axes were strapped to her back.

Her blood would not be spilled tonight.

She vaguely felt her twin and her lover fall into place behind her, the two flanking her. The wardens had gotten them this far, voiced their support, now the next move was hers.

“Bhelen, Kinslayer! I challenge your claim to the throne!” Her voice rang through the assembly, shaking her blasted younger brother from his shock.

“Bold of you to call me Kinslayer, sister! And to enter this hall when you had been banished. You should be killed for this trespass.” He answered, his words hurried, though polished. Bhelen was an immaculate liar. If only she had known he would use his skill against his own family.

“You could try.” Freya growled low.

Her twin spoke up from beside her. “Lord Harrowmont, did we not supply evidence of our brother’s machinations, his cruel and malicious plots? Did we not show that our brother orchestrated Trian’s death and our exile?” Liam’s voice filled the chamber, he who was so soft-spoken, anger fueling his accusations.

“Yes. I stand before you, having seen the evidence with my own eyes.” Harrowmont’s voice didn’t waver. “I rescind my claim to the throne and support Freya Aeducan.”

Signa was the one who gathered the needed pressure against Harrowmont. With what she had found, it was easy to recruit him to their side and truly he seemed almost relieved.

At the lord’s words, there was more outrage, scattered with shouts of support. But Freya didn’t take her eyes of her brother. She knew better now, better than to trust him.

Voices rising, falling, arguing, other speaking in support, Bhelen’s lackies shouting them down. But the tides were turning, the unexpected return garnering more support than detraction. They had more than Harrowmont’s faction’s vote. Freya could see the realization come to Bhelen, saw his jaw clench. She saw the moment he made the decision, calculated how this would end, how it would have to end, for him to keep his claim to the throne.

Bhelen jumped down, into the center of the chamber, calling out to her. “Then meet my blade! Prove yourself, sister!” He drew his weapon, as some of his men jumped down to join him. “Prove these accusations!”

Freya reacted so quick, it caught him off guard. Bhelen had to rush to deflect the axe that was hurled at him. Freya had learned to be quicker, had to, in the Deep Roads. And to be more precise in her throws. Each one the difference between survival and ruin, between a darkspawn and her life.

It was that skill, learned out of desperate necessity, that quickness of movement, that meant that Bhelen didn’t see the second axe, before it was buried in his throat.

The surprise on his face would have been laughable, her unflappable younger brother, so certain of things, taken by surprise, but Freya had no room of laughter. Eyes-wide, shocked, mouth opening and closing uselessly, a ragged gasp escaping, she watched her brother realize he had lost, he had miscalculated.

Freya calmly walked forward as he dropped to the ground, hands clawing at the iron in his neck, grasping weakly as blood poured from the wound. She ignored the other warriors, her twin and Signa taking care of them, covering her.

She reached Bhelen, looking down at him. His eyes were turning glossy, disbelief, and…fear lingering. She dropped to her knees, cradling his spasming body against hers, his lifesblood flowing onto her dress, her arms, her hands. She gently stroked his head, watched the flicker of life leave his eyes, as he returned to the Stone.

Wordless, she rose, pulling the axe free with a sickening squelch. Freya raised her head, saw the remnants of her brother’s supporters, either dead, dying, or surrendered, weapons littering the ground, the bodies bearing the slashes of her brothers sword or stuck with arrows from Signa’s bow.

Freya gaze met each of the nobles in the assembly, piercing, proud, sorrowful, circling to see them all.

With Caridan’s forged crown heavy on her head, bathed in kinsblood, her hands strained and dripping with it, she raised her axe and shouted, a feral defiant look in her eyes. “I am Freya Aeducan, the next Queen of Orzammar! Who will challenge my claim!”

There was silence.

A long moment, as the decision was made.

Then, one by one, each noble kneeled, bowing to her. Signa started the chant. “Hail! Queen Freya Aeducan! Long May She Reign” Last to kneel, her twin, her brother, and Signa, her lover, these two the reason she had survived to this moment.

But this moment came at a great cost and all Freya felt was fury.

Pure fury at the utter waste, blood on her hands and another brother dead.

Long May She Reign.

#dragon age #dragon age fanfiction #Freya Aeducan #Liam Aeducan #Signa Brosca #My writing #warden aeducan #kinda #dragon age origins #bhelen aeducan #dwarf noble #got the idea and then it just flowed together #dao #tw: death #tw: blood

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alchemist-shizun · 5 years

Text

I’ll walk beside you, love

Read on Ao3!

-Part of Hadestown AU

Happy birthday @jeevashun! Words can't describe how happy I am to have become your friend and I hope you know that I love talking to you and my day gets brighter everytime I see your messages and kind words. Thank you for being the best you could ever be and for letting me introduce you to this fandom. (also for listening to all my ideas jsdhigr) Love you a lot pal, can't wait to meet you ♥ ti voglio un sacco bene

Word Count: 1,294

Summary: Roman has come to Virgil's rescue, down in the Hades. Thanks to his voice and his music, he reminded the kings of the Underworld of their ancient love and has softened them up. Virgil suggests they should leave the Hades together, but Roman isn't sure he wants to go back to the dark and cold. Virgil, however, simply needs him to be beside him, anyway the wind blows.

Characters: Roman, Virgil, Patton and Deceit

Pairing(s): Prinxiety, (background) Moceit

Warning(s): None, this is pure fluff! There are references to Promises and Epic III

A/N: Hiya everybody, yes this is a Hadestown AU, I recently listened to the musical and I'm kinda very much in love with it. I also saw yuputka's Wait for me (Reprise) animatic (Please go watch it, it's very beautiful!) and that's where the inspiration came from when I assigned the characters to the Sides! I wanted to do Chant or Wait for me (Reprise) but I had little time and the songs were too long dhsjfk I'm sorry I couldn't put in Logan and Remus as Hermes and The Fates, they would've fit so well, but I'll probably add more fics to this AU! With that said, I hope you enjoy, dialogues are taken solely from Promises if you want to listen to it while reading~

✾

« Roman? »

He looked around himself, still in disbelief and in profound satisfaction at the sight of the kings of the Underworld dancing around, their hands locked together and the song of their love finally reminded.

They halted to a stop, in each other's arms, sharing a tender look: they were, at last, able to see true beauty again, the concept only Gods could conceive, the most obscure and desired meaning that mortals yearned to comprehend.

Roman still had his fingertips brushing the strings of his lyre, the melody of the song had just barely left his lips.

« Yes? » his voice sounded strangled, almost unable to get out the word.

Then Virgil came into his view and maybe, possibly, he had just caught a glimpse of the significance of the beauty that Patton and Deceit radiated.

Especially when he focused on Virgil's small and precious smile. « You finished it. »

« Yes! » he paused, taking in all of Virgil's happiness in one breath. « Now what do I do? »

That was the first veil of uncertainty that covered him. Would he really come back with him? Was there even a chance for them to live happily, once back up?

« You take me home with you! » Virgil was beaming, his wider smile dancing on his lips. He took Roman's hands in his own, bringing them closer as the excitement of hope rushed in his chest. « Let's go, let’s go right now! » he tugged at his arm, ready to leave for the opposite direction.

« Okay, let's go. » Roman agreed, the ghost of his own smile faltered a second right after, he had not even taken a step before he was still again. Virgil turned around with a concerned look: he saw the slightest flicker of fear in his eyes. « … How? » he whispered, a pained expression now on his face.

« We'll walk, » Virgil took a step towards him. « You know the way. » he confided in him in ways Roman couldn't even fathom. The thought alone made a welcoming fire warm his stomach, burning nothing more than his self-doubt. « We’ll just go back the way you came. »

« It's a long road. It's a long walk, back into the cold and dark. » Roman warned him, as he reached out to take Virgil's hand in both of his. He looked down at him, voice soft and genuine, he talked again after a beat. « Are you sure you wanna go? »

Virgil's heart ache. He had to make sure, in any way he could find, that Roman knew the deepness of his love, how it made the flowing gold look miserable compared to what Roman could give him with a simple symphony.

He intertwined their fingers and moved closer. « Take me home. »

Roman tightened the hold a single thought crossed his mind as he scrambled for the right words, something sparked directly in his heart. “I want to”.

A reminder of their promises flew to his memories and, before he could realize, he was recalling them all, one by one, aware that he couldn't have kept them. The reason of Virgil's fall into the darkness.

« I have no ring for your finger. I have no banquet table to lay. I have no bed of feathers. » Roman untangled their hands but didn't lower their arms. « Whatever promises I made … I can't promise you fair sky above, can't promise you kind road below. » he moved closer, almost as close as a reckless child would get to a sizzling hearth.

« But I'll walk beside you, love. Any way the wind blows. » Roman placed a kiss on his knuckles without losing eye-contact.

Virgil let go of his hold, only to bring his hands on Roman's cheeks, fingertips brushing his skin slowly. « I don't need gold, don't need silver. Just bread when I’m hungry, fire when I’m cold. » he went through everything he had told him, hoping to reassure him until his deepest doubt was erased. He let himself smile yet again. « Don't need a ring for my finger … just need a steady hand to hold. » Roman looked at him adoringly, then placed his hand on Virgil's wrist and allowed himself to lean on his touch. « Don’t promise me fair sky above, don't promise me kind road below. Just walk beside me, love. » he brought their foreheads together. « Anyway the wind blows. »

Roman wanted to believe him, with every cell of his body, with every fiber of his being, but there was always this force, this malevolent deity pulling apart his brain, telling him he wasn't cut out to manage such a great quest. He wasn't worth enough.

« What about him? » he pulled away slightly, Virgil knew exactly who he was talking about.

« He'll let us go! Look at him. » so Roman did. And he saw it, he could see the long lost loving laugh on Patton's lips and the admiration Deceit felt for his husband, absolutely all smitten over him as if he had seen him for the first time in forever. He wasn't the fearsome God of the Underworld, or a King of shadows, just a man in love with another one, with his arms outstretched towards him.

« He can't say no. »

Roman knew he was right, but he couldn't still feel satisfied enough, there was some kind of unsettling agitation at the pit of his stomach. His head moved toward the workers of the Underworld.

« What about them? »

« We’ll show the way » Virgil moved his hands, placing them on Roman's forearms, getting his attention once again. « If we can do it, so can they. »

Before they knew it, they were in each other's arms once again, their feet dancing to the melody of their heartbeats, moving around a place that had now become the holder of their musings of love.

« I don't know where this road will end. But I'll walk it with you, hand in hand. » their bodies became a single twirling shape that sparked delight all around. « I can't promise you fair sky above. Can't promise you kind road below … » for a moment, they feared the goddess of love would have been envious of their devotion. Deep inside, however, they knew she, too, would've melted the moment Roman sang of her enchanting deeds, how thankful they were she existed, otherwise they wouldn't have known of each other in such an affectionate way.

« But I'll walk beside you, love. » Virgil threw his arms around Roman's neck, their noses barely brushing. « Any way the wind blows. »

« Do you let me walk with you? » Roman asked, as the thrill of successfully leaving with Virgil pervaded him.

Virgil gifted him a soft look, he cupped his cheeks and pecked his lips slowly.

« I do. »

Roman nodded almost imperceptibly, not pulling away from his hold. « I do. »

« I do. » they repeated, looking fondly in each other's eyes.

« And keep on walking, come what will? » Virgil ensured, almost demanding. Neither of them wanted to turn their backs on their mission now.

They shared another chaste kiss, before Roman moved away some inches.

« I will. » he confirmed, an authentic promise he intended to keep until the end of his days.

« I will. » Virgil nodded, their noses brushing again, eyes now closed to savor the moment wholly.

« We will. »

And they believed that.

But, alas, it was a sad song.

#fanfiction #hadestown #hadestown au #sanders sides #sanders sides fanfiction #sanders sides fluff #ts fanfic #ts fic #prinxiety #prinxiety fanfiction #prinxiety fic #prinxiety fluff #moceit #roman sanders #virgil sanders #patton sanders #deceit sanders #purp's writings #promises

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inmusicalseveryoneisscreaming · 4 years

Text

Newsbians Mermaid AU- Chapter 0

For: @klaineharmony

“Miss Pulitzer!” Hannah swam her way through the castle, her voice hoarse from calling the name of the young princess. “Princess Katherine!” She called again, sighing as she flicked her baby blue tail in irritation. That girl never answered anything anymore, she was far gone. And, Hannah noted, Katherine swam with The Peace Merfolk. Mermen and mermaids who believed in peace and care throughout all five of the Mer Realms. And… Peace for those who loved ones of the same gender. Katherine called them lesbians and gay people, also throwing around terms like trans, pan, demi, and bi around. What scared everyone else is that a lot of merfolk were like that, including The Coral Realm’s princess.

Because, Katherine was attracted to other mermaids.

King Joseph Pulitzer, Kath’s father, ruled The Coral Realm. The largest of the five, and he made sure they only get more and more land from the others. The main victim? The Seashell Realm, ruled by Queen Esther and King Mayer Jacobs. They had three children, two boys and one girl, who all believed in peace and swam with The Seashell Realm’s Peace Merfolk. It was talk all over the Realms. How do children of the rulers of opposing Realms believe in peace?

Her thoughts were cut off when she found Katherine in a lone alcove of the castle, humming to herself as she went over The Coral Realm’s Peace Merfolk’s meeting notes. They'd found Etching Stones, of course. Katherine was a master at writing in those things. “Princess Katherine!” She called again. Katherine jumped, her light pink tail going upwards in surprise. She turned to face Hannah suddenly, uneasily laughing.

“Don't do that, Secretary Hannah! You scared me!” Katherine tried for a smile as she put the stone down by the hundreds of others, floating over to the older mermaid with shoulder length blonde hair. “What do you need me for?”

“Your father would like to talk to you, Katherine. About swimming with The Peace Merfolk.” Hannah informed, glancing at the Etching Stones. “He’s starting to worry when the time comes for you to take over The Coral Realm, you'll only try to make peace with the enemies. And that you'll marry a mermaid.”

“I can marry who I please! That's how it's supposed to be! In fact, I need to be over at The Seashell Realm right around now! Attempt to make peace!” And before Hannah had any time to process what was going on, Katherine had grabbed an Etching Stone and swam out of the castle through one of the windows. ------ Katherine swam, and swam, and swam. More and more and more and more, going deeper into the depths of the wide open blue they called home. The Seashell Realm was easily noticeable once Katherine saw it. A large castle was in the distance, in her gaze, she could tell it was scattered with seashells. She carefully swam across the invisible border, trying to swim farther and then…

“Halt!” A voice called, and suddenly her arm was gripped. She looked up seeing an older man wearing a large, bejeweled crown. His tail was an indigo blue, but it had stripes of gold. King Mayer, of course, his resemblance was noticeable by even a Seaweed. He could probably tell she was a Coral from her tail’s light color. Coral’s had much lighter tails compared to the darkness that were the tails the Seashell’s had. “You're a Coral!” He growled out. “Esther! Take her to the castle! We’ll have Sarah and David help decide what we’re gonna do with King Pulitza’s little spy.” He dragged Katherine to Esther, Queen Esther probably, judging by her tiara and just as dark purple tail, and the older mermaid had an even tighter grip on the young princesses arm as she was dragged to the castle she was just admiring.

She was dragged into a room, where thousands of Seashell Merfolk looked down at her with a glare in their eyes. They'd probably all vote in favor of her death, and that scared her immensely. She couldn't die, not now. Not when she had so much left to change in the world. Esther led her to the middle of the dome like area, chaining Kath’s wrists to the shackles on the ground. She put a more round one around her tail, making sure Katherine was pinned there. Katherine thrashed, the iron shackles hurt badly, but she'd have to deal.

Esther joined her husband quickly at a desk, clearing her throat. “People of The Seashell Realm! King Mayer and myself were on our daily patrol when we found this Coral snooping around on our side of the border! And, inspect her closely now… She has oh, so beautiful, expensive looking jewels, a very light and pink tail…”

“She's the daughter of King Pulitzer!” One voice called, slamming a fist on the small concrete strip in front of them.

“We should kill ‘er! Or hold her for ransom! Or I'll just take ‘er pretty lil’ tail back to my place and-!” Another voice, more young and male, said.

“We should torture her! Lock ‘er in a dungeon, chained up like now, and torture her! Beat her! And we’ll broadcast it all!”

“All very good suggestions, my subjects. But, I think we should let this decision go to a higher power. My eldest daughter, Sarah, has been awaiting her moment to have something to do with Seashell Realm Law. Her decision is what will go. Now, she decides, what do we do with the little doll faced Coral?” Esther retorted finally, grinning wickedly as she called for the ‘Sarah’ of before.

Trumpets blared and voices chanted her name, and out from behind the curtain beside the desk… Came the most beautiful and wonderful looking mermaid Kath had ever seen.

She had long, flowing caramel hair, seen perfectly against the blue tinted background of their world. The crown of her head was adorned with a smaller jeweled tiara, so it was Princess Sarah Jacobs, notorious Peace Merfolk member. Her eyes seemed mysterious, hiding some sort of secret. Her slight smile was even more hypnotizing, especially when framed by light pink lips that the Seashell Merfolk would usually blotch with Lip Marker. Her tail was oddly light for a Seashell Merfolk, resembling her mother’s tail but in more of a light purple, almost… soft like violets.

Katherine caught herself staring at the royal mermaid who contained her fate, her gaze quickly turning to pleading. She'd forced herself to that look instead of peer admiration, hoping it'd strike Sarah somewhere, hopefully her heart. Sarah looked at Kath with intensity though, eyes tracing over her with darkness. Her darkness lifted though, and a smile crossed her face and… Please smile again, Katherine found herself thinking, I'd love to see your smile and dimples again.

“I understand a lot of you most likely… Wish harm on Princess Katherine of The Coral Realm, I do. You want her tied to a stake on Human Land and burned. You want to take her to your homes to beat and torture her with physical pain and other methods.” Esther looked at her daughter with a grin as she talked, obviously proud. But then, she was caught by surprise, because Sarah continued. “But, instead, I'd like to meet with Princess Katherine everyday at Night Hours alone in Heron Hall. That way we could establish peace. Starting tonight, right now.” Katherine felt her cheeks reddening slightly, as Sarah swam down and dealt with the shackles around her wrists. She quickly moved to the one around Kath’s tail, doing that with such care that Katherine couldn't help but watch, entranced.

Sarah smiled at her as Katherine swam up, moving her wrists and tail around a bit as she swam carefully in a circle. “I'm fine!” She grinned, looking over at Sarah, a grin still glued on her features. Sarah smiled, taking her arm gently.

“C’mon,” she spoke with gentleness as she started to drag Katherine, “I'll show you Heron Hall.”

“You heard the princess! They shall have meetings every night along at Heron Hall!” Esther exclaimed, bitterness laced through as she watched her daughter swim off with Katherine. Their meetings were sure to happen.

And indeed they did. Feelings sprouted early on in.

They got together within two months, in secret.

And, now, a year and a half later... Sarah and Katherine find themselves in trouble again. But now... It's because of their love.

#Newsbians #Sarah Jacobs #92sies #Newsies #Katherine Plumber Pulitzer #Mayer Jacobs #Esther Jacobs #Hannah (Newsies)#Joeseph Pulitzer (Newsies)#Mermaid AU!!!

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ellebabywrites · 5 years

Text

Judas Kiss 4 - Mark Lee

Type : Series // Angst // Fluff // Future Smut // Gang!au

Warnings : Violence // Character Deaths // Cussing

Summary : There’s only one rule. You protect your own. None of you had chosen this life, but sticking together was the only way to survive it. When one of you dies and things start going wrong, the boy that saved you once on a whim, might be the only one who can keep you together.

Author Note : Finally an update, thank you for being so patient !! I’m posting this on my birthday and I worked super hard on it so please give this chapter some love and let me know what you think !! (Flashbacks are in italic!!)

Walt’s. A local diner just on the other side of the tunnels, open from 7-11 every single day for the last 50 years. Also the only place King would willingly drink something other than coffee, and even then, only to appease his friends’ worried stares. Yes ‘friend’, perhaps the only true friend King had. He had known Peter Walt since they were teenagers; King followed in his father's footsteps and Walt followed in his - in running the diner. Despite their differences as time went on, they never lost contact, never gave up on each other. Walt was always there to give King a fresh pot of coffee after every rough night and King had always protected the diner from gang activities. King spent most of his days at Walt’s. Having just returned to N.City from a long vacation, he was taking a moment to readjust to the harsh realities of life here; no matter how long he’d been involved in the gang world, he could never fully get used to it.

King was sitting at his usual table, in the back corner by the window, facing the front street. He was sipping on his second cup of black coffee while reading the newspaper and occasionally people-watching.

“That stuff will kill you y'know,” a deep voice came from beside him. He didn’t bother looking up, already knowing whom it belonged to.

“No faster than a bullet would,” he replies indifferently, taking another long sip as if to make a show of it.

“Jesus King, do you have to be so morbid this early in the morning?” The man sat down opposite him, topping up the now empty coffee cup despite his previous warning. His thin figure leaning back on the burnt seats, folding his arms and giving King a cold stare in mock-anger.

“Sorry Walt,” King says, flashing a smirk and putting down the paper so he could talk with his old friend, “how’ve you been?”

While Walt proceeds to fill King in on all the news he’d missed in his time away; his wife’s new craft project redecorating the living room; his nephew’s College acceptance etc etc - King’s attention drifts to the people outside the window. Walt doesn’t mind; he’s known King a long time, aware that despite his seeming uninterest, the ticks of his eyebrows and slight lift of his lips let Walt know he’s listening.

Across the street, sitting on a bench huddled together, were two kids. The taller boy takes a foil-wrapped sandwich out of his coat pocket and hands it over to the younger girl; encouraging her to eat and smiling warmly, but they didn’t look very warm. The winter was fast approaching and there was no way the two could possibly be okay in just those thin coats, King thought. Noticing King’s sudden lack of attention, Walt follows his gaze out the window. Spotting the two kids, he calls over one of his waiters and tells him to take them out two hot chocolates.

“Those poor kids,” Walt starts, shaking his head sadly and watching as his worker made his way over to the two of them, “They’re homeless, I try and give them a drink or some food y’know, whenever I see them; it just doesn’t seem enough.”

King looks back at Walt, his eyes showing slight worry, but keeping his composure. “It’s not safe for young kids like that on the street,” He says, more to himself; looking back through the window. The two kids were sitting closely, sipping on the warm drinks they’d just been given; the taller boy stopping to help the girl roll up her sleeves.

---

“This is the gym.”

It’s the first official day of Mark’s training; you brought him down to the gym on the lower level of the firehouse, ready to show him around.

Down in the pit, there was an old busted up boxing ring, ropes frayed and mat wearing thin.

“That’s the ring, Ty works with us in there,” you explain, walking him around the edges of the gym showing off all the different sections with pride, “he teaches us all these crazy military fighting moves he picked up in Iraq, it will absolutely kill you at first but once you get the hang of it, you’ll feel totally badass!” Mark likes it when you’re excited like this. Your eyes light up and lips stretch into a beautiful smile, one you try to contain by pulling them between your teeth, but fail. It’s obvious how much you love this place, these people. It makes him want to work hard enough to make you proud too.

There’s a row of windows along one of the walls that looks into a room adjacent.

“That’s the ‘shooting range’, it’s kind of small but there’s never more than three of us in there at once,” you explain, opening the side door to show him inside.

There’s a shelf next to a bench, loaded with weapons; rifles, handguns and knives.

“This is Rikky’s I’m guessing?” Mark asks with a chuckle, pointing at the broken skateboard lying by one of the shooting stalls. You giggle along with him and jump on top of the split wood.

“Yup, he always breaks them so he uses the pieces as steps now,” you jump down and stand next to Mark opposite, facing the target sheets on the far end of the room, “Rikky will show you how everything works when you’re in here with him. He may act like an idiot, but he’s the best shot I’ve ever seen.”

“What about you? Mark asks, shifting a little bit closer, “What do you do?” He wasn’t exactly sure what answer he was expecting, considering how he had met you, it honestly could have been anything.

“I am the resident thief,” you say; proudly smiling up at him, “I pick locks and get us in and out of… difficult, places.”

“Ahh so that night at Bangtan’s you were stealing something, no wonder they were mad,” Mark teases, nudging your shoulder playfully and laughing at the way your lips automatically fall out of the smile and into a pout. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding! So what exactly will you be teaching me?”

“Nothing now,” you grumbled, turning your face away from him. Mark teased you like Johnny teased you. He knew how to play with you without pushing it too far; it made you feel comfortable, like you’d found a piece of the puzzle that was missing from your heart.

“Nooo, Y/N I’m sorry, please teach me,” he whines, tugging on your arm to get you to face him again.

“I suppose I could show you a trick or two,” you sigh, ready to continue the teasing, but a sound coming from the pit interrupts you both.

“I swear to God Rikky, I’m not in the mood!”

“C’mon big guy, scared you can’t take it? C’mon, hit m… ouch!”

You and Mark look out to see Rikky following Ty around the gym, wearing boxing gloves too big for him and throwing punches into thin air. It was comical watching the two of them; Ty, a 6ft marine, whining and pushing away this tiny string bean of a man full of energy, relentlessly pining for his attention. You both look at each other for a split second before bursting into a fit of laughter.

“Y/N!!” Ty called out, getting tired of dealing with Rikky and wanting to get away from him as quickly as possible, “Let’s go on a store a run! NOW!” you giggle again at his impatience.

“Time to save Ty,” you joke, poking Mark in the side when you move away, “I guess you’ll be with Rikky today, do you want anything from the store?”

In the background you can hear Rikky’s incessant chanting, ‘one two punch, one two punch, c’mon Ty just once, I’ve gotten so much better,’ followed by Ty calling out for you again, a heightened sense of urgency to his voice.

“No thanks, I’m think I’m good,” Mark says, feeling a little nervous about being here without you.

“Okay, I’ll see you later,” you wave goodbye, jumping onto Ty’s back when you reach him in the pit.

“Hey! Don’t forget my hot chocolate this time! It’s cold and you know my stomach is too delicate for that nasty coffee!!” Rikky yells behind you, making Mark laugh quietly, but of course that was his intention. Johnny made him feel at home a lot quicker by making him laugh, so he figured it would do the same thing for Mark.

“Yeah yeah, we got it!” Ty shouts back, halfway out the door already before Rikky can yell any more about his dietary requirements.

---

“Okay Mark let’s shoot some stuff!” Rikky came barrelling into the shooting range, a big smile on his face that in all honesty made Mark a little bit nervous. He’d never even touched a gun before, never thought he’d have to; now he had one of the best shooters around, according to you, showing him the ropes. Rikky grabbed a 9mm pistol off the shelf, checked the magazine and handed it over to Mark. “This is a pretty standard one to start you off with, it’s already loaded so just pull back the slider, aim at the target and,” Rikky moved Mark by the shoulders to stand in front of the target area and patted him on the back in encouragement, “squeeze the trigger.”

Swallowing dryly, Mark raises his arms up and takes aim. It’s a lot heavier than he imagined a gun would be; he almost doesn’t want to look as he pulls the trigger and hears a loud bang that definitely doesn’t sound right. Rikky’s hysterical laughter behind him is a pretty solid tell that he missed the target though.

“Jesus Mark, you might want to try keeping your eyes open next time!” Rikky is hunched over dramatically, still laughing his head off at Mark’s terrible first shot when he turns around.

“That was my first time, let me try again, I can do this,” Mark tried to pump himself up, when Rikky only laughs harder Mark decides he agrees with you - Rikky is a bit of an asshole. After a few more failed attempts and just a few half-decent ones, Rikky steps up to show him how it’s done; and that’s when Mark decides he also agrees that Rikky is one of the best.

“How the hell did you get so good at this!?” Mark asked, in complete shock at how Rikky hits every single shot dead centre. His mouth is gaped open and eyes wide, while Rikky just smirks, loving feeling like he was the best. It had been a while since anyone had had that kind of reaction to his talent.

“I used to run with a real bad crew,” he starts to explain, unloading the gun and putting it back on the shelf, “the kind of people I was with, if you didn’t learn quickly, you were dead .” His whole demeanour shifts slightly, no longer the joking ball of energy Mark had seen before, but now turning serious, almost sad, recalling the memories of his old crew. “It wasn’t like here with us. No one had your back, it was everyone for themselves. No one would come to save your ass if you were in trouble, no one cared. It was…. Dark.” Rikky handed Mark a bottle of water from his gym bag and sat down on one of the benches, Mark following him.

“Honestly, if I hadn’t gotten out when I did, I would be dead right now,”

It was total chaos. People rushing, shouting, shooting in every direction. Johnny grabs you by the arm and quickly pulls you behind a pillar just before a wave of bullets came darting passed your heads.

“KING !!!” Johnny shouts out over all the noise, “KING C’MON !!!”

All of a sudden everything stopped. An unsettling silence followed by the sound of bodies dropping to the ground.

“Okay kids it’s clear,” Lifting your head hesitantly, you see King standing among a pile of now deceased members of ‘The Pythons’, “Johnny, go take a look around back, see if we missed any hostages. Y/N, help me load these bags back into the van.” King ordered you both, grabbing one of the bags filled with cash and supplies, carrying it right out the front door.

“How did he do that?” you wondered out loud.

“C’mon Y/N, you know Kings’ bulletproof,” Johnny sends you a teasing smile before walking away to clear the back rooms. Back when you had first met King, you had been adamant he was some kind of iron man, the way he always managed to survive a shootout. Hence - bulletproof.

A month or so ago King had received a tip about a new crew from out of town, ‘The Pythons’, who were causing trouble. Kidnapping; arson; robbery - they were trying to move in on N.City and they were not being nice about it. It took three weeks to plan the take down; locating their current base; identifying the members and executing the whole thing. You’d rescued roughly 6 teenage girls from one of the storage rooms before it all kicked off. They were bloody and bruised, clothes torn and dirtied; you didn’t even want to think about what kind of things The Pythons made them do. You’re not ashamed to say that you all took great pleasure in putting them down.

Johnny circled round to the back rooms, using the barrel of his gun to push open doors enough to look inside. The door to the last room in the hall was slightly ajar; Johnny raises his gun and takes slow steps forward, ready for a sudden attack. But when he pushes open the door, what he sees is a man cowering in the corner; hands covered in blood and entire body shaking. Johnny recognises him from their surveillance photos, he was new, just a kid not much younger than himself.

“Hey, hey you’re Rikky right?” Johnny asks, crouching down in front of the trembling boy, “I’m Johnny. It’s okay, we’re not going to hurt you.” Rikky’s eyes were heavy and his breathing rapid, “no no no, buddy stay with me, it’s okay we’re getting you out of here! KING A LITTLE HELP!!”

“King carried me out in his arms. Y/N held me in her lap the entire ride back to base. Hell, Johnny wouldn’t stop telling me how it was all going to be okay and how I was safe now - even while I was drifting in and out of consciousness.”

Mark sits in awe listening to Rikky tell his story, he couldn’t imagine the strong, charismatic man in front of him being so broken and vulnerable. Maybe there really was more to the team then met the eye.

“What was Johnny like?” Mark asks carefully, noticing how Rikky’s eyes had started to glass over; but at the mention of Johnny, his whole face lights up.

“Oh man, Johnny...” he suddenly leans back smiling, wiping his eyes and letting out a small chuckle. “Johnny was my brother. Hands down one of the greatest people I have ever met, or ever will meet in my entire life. He dragged me out of that dark place kicking and screaming and put me back together with nothing but a bottle of mountain dew and FIFA,” Mark watches how Rikky’s face softens at the memories, “he..he taught me a lot. Johnny..Johnny was special,” after a beat of silence Rikky starts laughing again, “couldn’t shoot for shit though, still…better than you for a first try.” He nudges Mark’s leg teasingly, trying to lighten the mood.

“Hey! I’ll get better,” Mark promises, not being able to hide his shy smile behind a pout. Rikky reaches out to ruffle his hair before standing up again,

“I know you will, I’ll help you.”

---

There’s old Jazz playing, one of Ty’s vinyl's. King is busy chopping onions while you and Ty unload the groceries when Mark and Rikky walk in.

“Hey you two,” Ty calls out, handing you cups of ramen to put away, “How’d training go?”

You can’t ignore the way your heart skips a few beats when you see Mark walking in; he looks good; he’s smiling and joking with Rikky about something and there’s a small piece inside your chest that just clicks back into place.

“It was interesting,” Rikky answers, playfully shoving Mark towards you, where he instinctively starts helping unload the groceries. It’s cute, you think.

“Scratch that, it was absolutely terrible,” Rikky laughs, sending you a wink when you scowl at his teasing.

“Don’t worry Mark, you’ll get the hang of it in time,” King gives him an encouraging smile that makes Mark feel a more settled. He was still a little nervous around King, but I guess growing up hearing all the stories and legends would do that to you.

“Thank you, S-sir”

You all stifle a giggle, still not used to Mark’s over-politeness, but it was funny seeing him get so flustered over it.

“You don’t have to call me Sir Mark -” King starts,

“Yeah, Grandpa’ is fine,” but Rikky interrupts, earning a slap on the back of the head from King and a laugh from Ty when he dramatically falls to the ground.

“King, is fine Mark, Just call me King.”

You, Rikky and Mark all sit at the island, watching King and Ty cook; Rikky continuing to fill everyone in on their day of training, not leaving out how Mark may have made some new holes in the wall with his first few tries. “Yeah we’re definitely going to need a lot more training with Bangtan on our asses.”

“What exactly is all of this over?” Mark asks, eyes flickering to you next to him, “I mean, there are just so many different rumours.” That makes you smirk slightly. You’ve all heard the rumours, none of them true of course, but it made you feel like you were in some kind of reality show. If your talk with Mark on the way to the base was any indication, you could only imagine what kind of stories were running through his head now.

“You shouldn’t always believe the rumours Mark,” you tease, knowing full well that less than a week ago he was convinced King was some hell-sent demon dropping bodies left and right - when now he was making him spaghetti wearing the baby pink apron Johnny had gotten him for Christmas. While you and Mark lose focus, sending each other teasing looks and nudges, King get’s Rikky to help stir the sauce so he can prepare the spaghetti.

“We’re on good terms with most of N.City,” Ty explains, gaining the both of your attention once again, “Bangtan wanted to try and take one of our clubs-”

“They failed miserably obviously; King’s name’s too strong for them to take down,” Rikky adds, not really paying attention to his assigned kitchen duties and earning another nudge from King.

“They burned down one of our warehouses in retaliation,” you say, watching how intently Mark is listening to everyone.

“...a lot of our allies then cut ties with them, so now,” King finishes explaining, starting to plate up the food, “they’re looking for revenge.

A small silence falls over the room as Mark takes in everything; it’s a lot more straightforward than he’d expected, but nothing has been like how he’d thought it would here.

“They’ve been quiet for a while though,” Rikky turns off the sauce and brings it over to King, “They’re probably planning something.”

“There was nothing quiet about what they did to Johnny.”

Everyone looks at you. You’re staring down Rikky with such a harshness to your eyes that it makes Mark shiver. No one says anything for a moment, before King hands Ty a pair of plates and tells him to set the table.

“We’re going to have a nice, quiet, dinner to welcome Mark into the family - okay?” King’s voice is stern as he directs it at you; you clench your fists in anger that once again he’s pushing what happened to Johnny under the rug. You feel Mark’s warm hand gently tug onto yours, releasing you fists and pulling you towards the table where you all sit to eat.

It’s awkward to say the least, but not for long. Ty quickly bringing up a lighter conversation to try and dull the tension.

“Can you play FIFA Mark? We play a lot of FIFA here in our down time.”

When Mark shakes his head Rikky, who was sitting next to you, hits your shoulder making a joke that ‘I doubt you could be any worse than Y/N.”

“Actually….I remember Y/N absolutely destroying you the more than enough times Rikky,” King jests along with the group, raising his eyebrows and winking at Mark. Rikky’s incessant whining after that making everyone laugh again, nerves a little lesser.

---

Mark’s been training with you all at the base for the last couple of weeks; alternating between working with Rikky in the shooting range; Ty in the boxing ring and you teaching him other useful tricks. Today Mark was with Ty. The last few hours spent dripping in sweat and throwing punch after punch; quick footwork dodging Ty’s advances around the ring.

The gym was silent, bar from the sound of their heavy breathing and hands making contact. It was getting late but Mark kept going; he’d just started noticing improvements and didn’t want to stop.

The gym door opens with a slow squeak as you poke your head through, “Guys,” you call out, finally gaining their attention, “King’s out so we’re ordering pizza for dinner,”

Breathing heavily, Ty takes off his gloves and gives you a thumbs up, “Cool, We’ll wrap up.”

Shooting Mark a quick smile, you disappear again; leaving Mark staring at the door where you were stood. Ty picked up on Mark’s feelings for you pretty quickly, hell, it was obvious as anything even on the first day; he doesn’t miss the way Mark’s focus is still glued to the door even minutes after you’d gone and he’d started packing up.

“You like her,” he says plainly, as if it wasn’t this big secret Mark had been keeping for weeks.

“W-what, I mean, of course she’s great, she…” he looks adorable, cheeks flushed and stuttering over his words, damn he had it bad.

“No,” Ty interrupts, saving him from digging an even bigger hole, “you like like her.” Teasing Mark had become Ty and Rikky’s new favourite hobby, especially when it came to you. Even more so when you were there because of how it would rile you up too; it was all in love but still Ty worried. He cared deeply for you and didn’t want to see you hurt again.

Mark was just standing there, speechless, in front of Ty. Was he really that obvious?

“Look kid, I can see you care about her,” Seems he was, “but you need to be careful.”

“What do you mean?” Mark asks. You were one of the strongest people he’d ever met so Ty’s warning confused him.

“You’ve heard about Johnny?” Mark nods, “Well, when he died Y/N took it really hard, she was the one who found him,”

Johnny had been gone for a while and you were already running late for the mission, “King I’m going to grab Johnny!” you yell out before running out the door, picking up the discarded umbrella Johnny had left behind, and heading out in the rain.

The tunnels to the city are empty, as they usually are, but something about tonight made you feel on edge. Something was wrong. You didn’t get paranoid; living on the streets had taught you plenty about walking around in the dark; so why were you feeling so off?

The city is just as bad. There’s an eerie silence that makes the hairs of your arms stand up; again, normal, but something was definitely wrong

You start running through the streets, taking a few twists and turns till you get to where the store is; and then you see him.

You weren’t crying. Not yet. Why was he lying in the street? Maybe he fell asleep? He was gaming pretty late last night, yeah, he just fell asleep in the middle of the road in the pouring rain like an idiot. Yeah.

You’re frozen. You don’t want to move any closer, if you stay right here then everything will be fine, then Johnny will just be asleep, everything will be okay. But the rain is getting heavier by the minute and he’s getting wet, why isn’t he waking up if he’s getting soaked?

With slow steps you move forward, vision blurring when you see the ground is stained a deep red. You shake and whimper at the sight. He’s on his back, staring blankly at the sky, letting the rain wash away the blood surrounding him.

You take out your phone and call King.

“K-king,”

“Y/N where are you guys, we missed the….”

“K-king.” You can’t bring yourself to say it, that would make it real. You don’t need to though, just hearing your voice King knows something’s wrong and says he’s coming.

When they get there, you’re sitting on the floor, cradling Johnny’s head in your lap, combing his hair with your fingers and begging for him to wake up.

King, Ty and Rikky stand there, frozen just as you were, watching the scene. It was heart-breaking.

“Y/N,” King’s voice is soft behind you, he reaches for your shoulder but you’re quick to pull away, not wanting to be dragged into reality just yet.

“No!” you yell, “Johnny’s not waking up,” Your trying to keep your voice steady but all that’s coming out are whimpers, “He’s getting wet King, he needs to wake up,”

“Y/N,” Ty repeats, coming to kneel beside you, trying to get you to look at him. Rikky stays back, still in shock, unsure of what to do or how to help. He can’t see Johnny like that.

“Y/N we need to go, it’s not safe here,” Ty reaches for you but you push him back harshly, you can’t just leave him there.

“I said No!”

Ty looks up to King, his own eyes glazing over as well. When King gives him a subtle nod, he wraps his arms around your waist and forcefully pulls you away. He’d hear your screams every day for the rest of his life. Feel the hits and punches you attack him with every day. Remember the look on your face, before he wrapped you around him like a koala and pressed your head into his neck, forever. He carries you passed Rikky, back towards the base, taking you as far as possible so you didn��t have to see anymore.

King reaches down to close Johnny’s eyes, placing a hand on his forehead gently and choking back his own sobs. Rikky finally makes his way over and mutters out an ‘oh god,’ he’d seen plenty of bodies before, many worse off than Johnny’s, but it’s different when it’s your own brother on the ground.

“Let’s get him out of here.” King says blankly, turning to his ‘boss’ persona, keeping his feelings hidden.

“She passed out on the way back here,” Ty explains, “She didn’t wake up for two days; refused to leave her room for another two after that, then when she was finally getting back to herself, she went to Bangtans’.” Ty keeps his head down. It’s hard for him to think about that day, but Mark needed to know, to understand. You weren’t as strong as you seemed.

“Jesus,” Mark whispered, hearing about Johnny’s death for the first time, “They were close then? She always mentions him but never really talks about him too much,”

Ty nods eagerly, “Oh yeah they were each other’s other half's,” he goes on to explain, “they met in a foster home when they were just kids, apparently the place was a real shit show, tons of abuse, so they ran away. Lived on the streets till King found them. They’ve only had each other their whole lives - when Y/N lost Johnny, it was like she lost a part of herself.”

Taking a deep breath, Ty gets up and grabs his stuff, throwing Mark a water bottle in the process. When he’s packing up his gym bag, Mark spots a photo of a girl next to Ty, “Is she on the team too?” he asks curiously, he hadn’t heard any other names being mentioned.

“No uh, that’s Beth,” Ty grabs the photo and hands it over for Mark to get a closer look, “my little sister.” There’s a hint of sadness in his voice as he tells Mark about his sister, the reason he joined the team.

Walt’s is busy today. In the back corner at his usual table, King is waiting for Ty.

“Are you King?” Ty asks nervously, sitting at the table when he’s given a nod in confirmation and handing over a photo. “This is my sister Beth. I heard you could help me find her.”

King takes the photo in his hands and looks at the young girl, Beth, who couldn’t be much younger than you, he already knows he’s going to help but he needs to know more.

“What happened to her?”

With a nervous shuffle, Ty opens up his phone and shows King the messages between him and his sister, “I just got back from the Army and I get these messages, she says she’s coming to N.City with some new ‘friends’, and no ones seen or heard from her since.” King quietly listens, looking at the texts filled with emojis and kisses, swallowing hard when it reminds him of you. “She’s my little sister and she’s in trouble.”

“And why do you think I can help you? There are hundreds of people in the city and they’re not exactly the ‘friendly’ type,” Just as King starts to ask more questions, making Ty a little nervous, the door to the diner chimes open followed by a ‘Hey Uncle Walt!’

You and Johnny spot King at his table and immediately make a b-line to join him.

“Hey King, who’s this?” Johnny asks, shuffling next to Ty in the booth while you sit opposite next to King.

“I’m Ty,” he introduces himself, pocketing his phone feeling more nervous about this meeting than he had when he first walked in here.

“Ty needs our help finding his sister,” King explains, “She came to the city with friends a few weeks ago and hasn’t been seen since.”

“We can help!” Johnny buts in, giving Ty a warm smile, you eagerly doing the same, prodding King with your elbow to get him to speak.

“We’ll help you.”

“We looked for Beth for weeks but found nothing,” Mark almost regrets asking, seeing the look on Ty’s face, “That’s why I’m so protective over Y/N, I can’t lose another sister.”

“I won’t hurt her Ty,” Mark says, looking him in the eye, “I’ll protect her.”

“I know Mark.”

---

It must have been passed midnight when Mark woke up on the couch; training most days with Ty was exhausting him, but he could definitely see the changes it was making too. He forces himself to get up and make his way to his actual bed.

Dragging himself down the hall with heavy steps, Mark passes your room, noticing the door was open. Inside, you’re lying on your side tucked into Ty’s chest. His nose buried in your hair and arm hanging on your waist.

“Don’t worry about that,” Rikky’s voice came from behind him, noticing how Mark was just standing outside of your door looking flustered, “Y/N gets night terrors.” Rikky leans against the doorframe next to Mark, watching silently as you nuzzle further into Ty, searching for warmth.

“Johnny used to sleep in with her; since they went through stuff together on the streets, he could always calm her down. Since he died they’ve been getting worse, so Ty does it” he explains quietly.

Mark looks over at your sleeping figure again and notices the way you keep stirring, then he notices the way Ty holds you tighter each time you do and he can’t hide the slight jealousy that washes over him.

“She’s got it bad for you anyway dude,” Rikky teases, “she gets all googly eyed and mushy, it’s kind of gross,” he makes a disgusted face and they both laugh silently.

---

“Jesus Mark what did you do!?” you yell slightly, seeing Mark hunched over on the couch holding an ice pack to his face.

“I hit the practice dummy too hard and it hit me back,” he laughs at himself, it really was pitiful. Shaking your head your head you grab the first aid supplies and sit next to him, “at least it’s practice for when I really get punched.”

“Don’t make those jokes,” you can’t help but laugh a little with him though, how was he so clumsy? Since he’s been here he’s hurt himself half a dozen times already and that’s not including the training. “I’m sorry,” you whisper after the giggles have died down, taking the ice pack off of him and applying ointment to the bruise, “...for dragging you into this mess I mean, I’m sure this isn’t exactly what you wanted.” As much as you love having Mark around, you couldn’t help feeling incredibly guilty for bringing him into this life, no one chooses to be here, Mark’s only in danger because you were stupid enough to get caught at Bangtan’s, this was your fault.

“Hey,” he grabs your hand to make you stop and focus on him instead of his wounds, “I wasn’t going anywhere in N.City, I didn’t have anything, at least now I have you,” you both stared into each others eyes for a beat, cheeks slowly growing flushed ‘till you can’t help but let your eyes fall to his lips.

“...The team… I mean,” he covers nervously.

“Oh, yeah of course.”

“How exactly did you get involved with this stuff?” Mark asks, trying to talk about something, anything, that would stop his ears from burning.

“There’s this diner in the city called ‘Walt’s’, when Johnny and I were on the streets, the owner would give us free drinks and stuff; then King noticed us and started getting us meals each day…”

“Johnny I don’t want to,” you were pulling on his arm, desperately trying to drag him the opposite direction, “that’s KING, the scary guy from the stories, it’s not safe Johnny!”

He agreed with you, but it had been days since you’d last had proper food and it would be a while yet before you could again.

“It will be okay,” he turns to you and kneels down to your level, holding your hands, “We need food Y/N, he’s Walt’s friend so he can’t be that scary right?” Johnny could always calm you down, it was like his super power, no matter the situation he would always make you feel safe and protected. “Besides, I’ll be with you the entire time, I’ll keep you safe.” Maybe he was just your superhero.

After a few meals with King, you both opened up to him exponentially. Like Johnny had promised, he stayed by your side and you both soon realised King wasn’t even half as scary as what people thought - at least not to you. Truthfully, King had started to see you both as his children; eating dinner together almost every day for years, it became harder and harder for him to watch you walk back into the streets afterwards. For some reason he felt the strong need to protect you both. Maybe he saw the innocence that still lingered somewhere beneath all the trauma and shattered glass. That’s when he decided he was going to take you in.

“...He took us in, gave us beds; clothes; food. He got Johnny the Xbox and taught us how to cook. He’s basically our father,” you smile. King really had done so much for you, sometimes you forget.

“Do you miss Johnny?” ‘Stupid question Mark of course she does’ he thinks as soon as he says it.

You look at him again and nod once, you never really talk about Johnny as him with anyone. Sure you’ve mentioned him in stories, much like the others had, but talking just about Johnny was hard, because it’s just a reminder of how you don’t have him anymore.

“So much,” you decide you won’t cry in front of Mark, he makes you feel safe, “he is my favourite person. He was the ‘rock’ of the team, everyone could go to him with any problem, anything at all, and he’d make it better. He brought us all together.”

This Christmas sucked. You all failed a mission two days before, leaving you all pretty beaten up; King was busy with meetings all day, the fridge was empty and none of you could stand long enough to get anything. Everyone was in a mood; hungry; tired and just over it.

“Right!” Johnny suddenly announces, hobbling up from the couches you were all sprawled across, “FIFA tournament, now! Rikky and Y/N vs Me and Ty, Winners get to choose the movie for movie night for the whole of January!”

Despite the initial reluctance, you all agreed and after a few rounds, it made things better. Suddenly the four of you were full of energy, hyping each other up and having to remember not to jump too quick on your bruised legs when you scored. Laughter, cheers and shouting soon filled the dull room.

“What’s with all the noise?!” King shouts, smiling when he walks in to see all of you huddled together around the tv, “I bought Ramen!” he shouts again, finally gaining your attention.

“...we ate ramen and played games all night that year; Johnny turned one of the worst Christmases in to the best, just by using his stupid football game as a way to make us watch 27 dresses every week for a month,”

Mark puts a hand on yours and rubs circles over your knuckles as you talk, still sitting impossibly close, he could feel you pouring your heart out to him and he was going to catch every piece of it.

“Can I speak to Mark for a moment please Y/N,” King had appeared behind you both and was giving you the look that told you to leave. You give Mark a sad smile before going, missing the warmth of his touch the second it’s gone.

“How are you doing Mark?” King asks, taking your place on the couch, though not sitting nearly as close as you were. “You’ve improved a lot, I’m proud of you.”

There was something to the way King had said it that made Mark feel good, he was proud of himself too, he was truly happy here.

“Thank you King Sir,” King smiles softly at the boy who still can’t seem to stop calling him ’Sir’, but he’d given up trying to correct him, he was starting to get used to it.

“Now Mark, I think you know by now that Y/N is like my daughter, she’s very precious to me,” it felt like he was about to get ‘the talk’ so Mark swallows dryly and nods along in agreement, “Y/N cares deeply for you, that makes you important to me too. I hope you know that whatever happens, you are apart of this family, you will always have a home here, that is a promise.”

Mark felt like he could cry. King was looking at him with such sincerity, opening his arms and welcoming him into his home, into his life - he’d never felt so at home before and it was overwhelming. To be wanted somewhere, to be apart of something.

“T-thank you, I-I, just thank you for everything,” Mark says, holding back the tears and smiling at the man who was giving him a fresh start in life, a life with meaning.

“If you’re thankful, how about helping me make tonight's dinner son, I’ll teach you how to make my famous Risotto,” King stands and gestures for Mark to follow, leaning in and whispering teasingly, “it’s Y/N’s favourite.”

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shireness-says · 6 years

Text

Playing the Part ch. 7: What is this Feeling?

Summary: As a stage manager who's clawed her way up from bottom, Emma Swan can handle just about anything thrown her way. But does that include handsome lead actor Killian Jones? A CS Broadway AU. Rated T. Also on AO3. Prologue Ch. 1 Ch. 2 Ch. 3 Ch. 4 Ch. 5 Ch. 6

A/N: Even more feelings this chapter - starting to seem like a pattern with me, isn’t it? Chapter title taken from Wicked, purely for the feelings reference. You’re welcome.

Thanks once again go to @snidgetsafan, my brilliant beta. Sorry I’m a mess who can’t remember to edit her own chapter, love ya bunches.

Tags: @kmomof4, @winterbaby89, @thejollyroger-writer, @mythologicalmango, @onceuponaprincessworld, @idristardis, @teamhook, @courtorderedcake, @aerica13, @revanmeetra87, @snowbellewells, @searchingwardrobes. If you want to be tagged going forward (or taken off this list - I won’t be insulted!), shoot me a message, and I’ll make it happen.

Enjoy!

He tries to keep Liam’s words in mind; he really does. But while his brother’s encouragements carry Killian through the rest of rehearsals, they’re harder to remember in the minutes before the first preview performance when there’s a crowd full of eager theater-goers filing in, excited and expecting something marvelous.

Killian should feel confident; he knows his lines inside and out, backwards and forwards, and lord knows they’ve run the show start to finish enough times in rehearsal for there to be no concerns about choreography or scene changes anymore. He doesn’t feel confident, however. In fact, if he were forced to name it, he’d say this feeling is somewhat closer to panic - pulse beating frantically, stomach churning like a storm-tossed sea, and a rising conviction that everything is about to go wrong.

Maybe under other circumstances, he’d go find a quiet corner to release his anxiety in - screaming pointlessly seems like a fantastic outlet right about now - but they really, really don’t have time for that at the moment. There’s only 25 minutes until curtain, people are starting to fill the seats, and cast and crew are still scrambling everywhere to complete last-minute prep. Even if Killian were able to find an empty corner to scream into, there’s no way he wouldn’t be heard.

Since that’s not an option, Killian’s just doing his best to keep himself distracted. Luckily - or not, depending on whose shoes you’re standing in - Belle is just as much of a nervous wreck, and Killian is able to divert his attention to comforting her. Not that he’s alone in that effort; Will Scarlet no doubt has other things he should be doing, but is doing his best to buoy Belle’s spirits instead.

“God, I feel sick,” she moans, cradling her head as best she can without messing up her wig or makeup. “Why do I want to do this again?”

“Because you’re a bloody brilliant actress, love,” Will attempts to reassure, though the attempt falls a little flat.

“It doesn’t feel like it at the moment,” she admits. “God, what if this falls apart like last time? I don’t think I can bear it if that happens.”

“Yes, well last time was largely due to the meddling of other people,” Killian reminds her. “His twisted mind has no bearing on your talent, Belle. You’re a natural for this role. Don’t let him do more damage than he already did last time by letting him get in your head.” It’s in moments like these that Killian can see exactly the damage Belle’s ex did to her, undermining her self-confidence and leaving her convinced that disaster is lurking behind every stroke of apparent luck. It sets a small flame of fury burning in his heart, one that keeps chanting that his friend deserves more. It’s as good a reason as any to set aside his own nerves - the need to perform his best not just for himself, but for Belle so that she can piece her career back together.

“He’s right, lass,” Scarlet chimes in, slinging an affectionate arm around her shoulders to draw Belle closer into a comforting embrace. “No sense letting your thoughts dwell on a bitter old bastard. He’s not worth it; you’ve got too much talent for him to touch.”

Belle offers a relieved smile at their words, and Killian can feel the tension marginally lift from the atmosphere. They fit together, he thinks, Belle and Will, like two oddly shaped puzzle pieces that shouldn’t connect but do all the same. Scarlet is all rough edges where Belle is the picture of grace, but their oversized hearts seem to still beat in time - if they’re ever willing to admit it. Killian hopes they will soon; as amusing as this flirtation is, there’s too much chemistry and potential for them not to eventually act on it, hopefully before everyone is awash in their cast-off pheromones. Belle would give Will some needed focus, and Will would in turn grant her more levity while giving her the support she’s so sorely lacked in her past. That might be the real proof of a compatible relationship, Killian thinks; two pieces that complement each other rather than match exactly.

“Now what do you say you help me make the final checks?” he asks her. “Make sure all the glow tape is bright enough for you to find in the dark?”

Belle even manages to chuckle a little, surprising them all. “Alright,” she replies, “I suppose that’s as a good a distraction as any.”

Killian could use the distraction himself, but he senses now is his cue to leave. Though this may have started as a communal attempt to buck Belle up, things seem to be veering towards a more private moment, and he’s willing to let the lovebirds have their space. Approvingly, he watches Scarlet leap to his feet to offer Belle his hand up from their seated positions before quietly slipping away. It’s not his moment to share anymore, and he may as well check in with David anyways.

As Killian begins the somewhat meandering path towards the dressing rooms, his thoughts turn to Emma, as they so often do when left to their own devices. Despite being in the same building, he’s hardly seen her all day, Emma nothing more than a blonde, black-clad blur as she runs around making last minute preparations. Is she as nervous as he is? Emma always seems like a beacon of calm collectedness, but Killian wonders if it’s all a front. Somehow, it’s comforting to think that she might be just as anxious about this performance as he is.

Whatever the case, as the saying says, the show must go on. Before Killian emerges into the well-lit hallway of the dressing rooms, he takes the chance to breathe deeply to try and shake out some of the jitters. It doubtless won’t work as well as he needs, but Liam had a point, back when he visited - actors feed off each other’s energy, and they really don’t need a theater full of fretful, neurotic performers right now. Fake it ‘til you make it, or so the saying goes.

So after a final pause to collect himself, Killian steps out into the hallway to find David and deliver what feels like the performance of a lifetime.

———

Emma’s mind feels like an ever-expanding, frantic to-do list of items both personal and professional. Honestly, she should probably turn off the former; lord knows she’s got enough to worry about with the show alone. But Neal’s been on her about Thanksgiving ever since Henry declared his intention to stay in town for the parade, despite previous agreements that he’d spend the holiday with Neal and his family. When the show first started gathering buzz, the cast had been asked to perform on the parade broadcast, and Henry is ecstatic at the prospect of actually getting good seats to watch it. They’d tried going once, years ago, but the crowds had been thick despite the cold temperatures, and their view had been somewhat obstructed. Emma doesn’t blame Henry for wanting to stick around to see the parade in person instead of on TV - she’d do the same, and Henry’s own declarations on the subject make it impossible for his dad to really argue about how Emma’s keeping him from his son.

(It also has the added bonus of Emma getting her kid on the holiday, which she’s not celebrating internally. Not at all.)

But with less than a week left before the holiday and three days before Henry’s birthday, Neal is on her to give him a weekend Henry can come up on the train for a “real family holiday”. His words. As if the dinners Emma and Henry have been attending for years on Thanksgiving with Ruby and Granny and whatever other stragglers they manage to attract don’t count. Asshole.

That’s a later problem, though, because honestly, Emma’s got more than enough on her plate right now. There’s last minute checks of the cameras streaming to backstage and reassuring Arthur that yes, his name has been spelled correctly in the program (Arthur King, for God’s sake, it’s not even hard to spell), and of course this is the moment that the headsets develop a weird static background noise, which Kristoff really needs to fix before the curtain goes up. It’s chaos, in short. Emma can only hope that she looks on the outside like she’s in control because on the inside, she’s panicking a little at the thought of all that needs doing. They’re ready; consciously, she knows this. But it’s hard to remember that when people are filling into the velvet-covered seats for the first time and the only thoughts left in Emma’s head are about all the things that could possibly go wrong.

When the lights go down, though, all those thoughts disintegrate. As backwards as it sounds, the actual show has always been the easy part for Emma. No matter what happens onstage, what’s done is done. If something goes wrong, all she can do is react and try to mitigate any fallout. There’s an odd comfort to that, the sheer transience of this art form. All Emma can do from her perch is call the cues, and leave it to her assistant stage managers to put out fires as necessary.

Thankfully, there’s been none of that tonight. On the crew side of things, the scene changes are running as smooth as butter. Emma’s trained her crew well; she’ll have to buy them all drinks after opening night if this keeps up.

The same can’t quite be said of the cast, however. There’s always nerves associated with the first few performances; Emma’s always thought it’s part of the reason for previews. Killian is visibly tense, however, at least to Emma. He’s been such an outstanding actor during rehearsals that Emma had kind of forgotten exactly how inexperienced he is. He’d essentially been plucked out of chorus and supporting roles and shoved straight into a leading part, this role undeniably his largest to date. It makes sense that he’d be feeling the pressure of that. Even if Emma can spot his nerves from her perch in the booth, she’s not too concerned about the audience picking up on that same discomfort; if they do, they’ll likely write it off as a Darcy mannerism. The character is supposed to be socially awkward, famously so. It’ll work.

Emma only hopes his nerves won’t manifest in a more visibly obvious way.

———

Killian hadn’t held much hope that getting on stage would help his nerves, and on that front, he’s not disappointed. If he looks half as uncomfortable onstage as he feels, he must be quite the sight. Knowing that Darcy is supposed to look a little out of place is little consolation. The whole while, he can’t help but feel like a fraud, like someone they just plucked off the street, stuffed him into these fancy clothes, and shoved onto the stage. The weeks and months of preparation don’t matter, the conscious knowledge that he’s prepared for this doesn’t matter; suddenly, the crushing weight of his inexperience smashes him right in the face. And it’s terrifying.

He’s making it through, for the most part, reassuring himself the whole while that this will get easier the more he does it. It helps that the first act is much less demanding than the second, with the letter, Pemberley, and all the rest of it occurring after the intermission.

But then, when they hit the Netherfield parlor scene, the worst case scenario happens.

He’s supposed to banter back and forth with Belle about what makes a lady ‘accomplished’, but as soon as he opens his mouth, the words are gone. Missing in action. Not to be retrieved by the means of mortals. He’s practiced these words over and over, rehearsed them on this very stage, practiced them with Henry in his dressing room, but that doesn’t matter. He’s forgotten every single one of them, right here in front of an honest-to-god audience.

Shit.

Killian isn’t really sure how he gets himself out of that mess; he doesn’t have a conscious memory of it. He manages to force out some words, he knows, but he couldn’t tell you what they were. Doubtless the wrong ones. The only thing he’s certain of is that Belle and Regina must have saved his arse back there; he’ll have to send them flowers after he’s inevitably fired for absolute incompetency.

That’s the obvious outcome, he concludes, waiting backstage before his next entrance. Clearly, he can’t handle the barest expectations of his job; the obvious answer is firing. It’s been a nice three months and a performance, now he’ll go live out the rest of his career in shame and obscurity. Maybe find a nice job where he doesn’t ever have to speak in front of people again. Yeah. That sounds nice - not to mention, more appropriate for his obvious lack of public speaking skills.

Somehow, he manages to make it through the rest of the first act without any further snafus - he suspects by sheer fear alone. Even though the applause is suitably loud, he can’t help but feel that it’s not intended for him, and is instead in appreciation of his scene partners or the supporting players. It’s with a heavy heart that he all but slinks offstage during intermission with the full intention to go have a breakdown in the nearest uncluttered corner.

———

Ok, Killian’s little onstage brain fart wasn’t exactly the most convenient thing on Earth. But at the same time, Belle and Regina covered it like the pros they were, and the audience doesn’t seem to have cared. Really, Emma doubts that anyone outside of the production even noticed his goof. Of course, based on her experience with Killian, she also doubts that he knows that, or that it will keep him from beating himself up over it.

Sure enough, they’re barely a minute into intermission - by all accounts, when Emma should get a little break while the rest of the crew sets the stage for the second act - before Mulan calls her over the headset.

“Hey Boss?” she starts, weirdly hesitant. “Jones is off sulking in a corner. He’s not in the way or anything, just… what do you want us to do about him?”

Emma sighs heavily, though she somehow manages to repress the eye roll that’s almost an automatic response by this point in her life. “I’ll be down in a sec to… I don’t know, give him a pep talk or something. Where’s he camped out?”

“In that weird unusable corner backstage left.”

“Ok thanks. Just hold on a moment, and I’ll be right there.”

“Sure thing, Emma.”

She tells herself as she makes her way down the back stairs that it’s all in service of the production, but it’s more personal than that. Killian is her… something. Not paramour or suitor, obviously, but… friend? Maybe? Whatever label he wears, he’s special, and that makes it Emma’s particular duty to build him back up during what is undoubtedly an episode of self-doubt for him.

Sure enough, he’s right where Mulan said he would be, sitting in what looks to be an uncomfortable position on the low brick ledge at the foot of the wall, head cradled in his hands. Frankly, he makes quite the pathetic picture.

“What’s up with you?” she asks bluntly, causing Killian to jerk his head up in wide-eyed surprise, before deflating just as quickly.

“I’m so sorry, Emma,” he apologizes miserably. “I know I’ve gone and messed the whole thing up. Whatever reprimand you’re about to deliver, I completely understand.”

Emma snorts in response to that self-flagellation. It’s apparent that he’s deep into the self-loathing portion of his evening. “Ok, well, you clearly don’t, because this isn’t that big a deal.”

Killian scoffs, clearly skeptical, though in his costume it has more the effect of a kid throwing a fit on Halloween. “Don’t patronize me, Swan,” he warns.

“I’m not!” she insists. “What do you think previews are for?”

“Publicity,” he states with utter certainty, looking at Emma like she’s the one who’s lost her mind.

“Ok, yeah, eventually,” she concedes, “but honestly, they’re mostly about working out the kinks. And your little… incident today is just another kink to iron out.”

“I think that’s selling it short, Swan.”

“I swear, Killian, it’s not. This happens. The beauty of live theater is that what’s done is done - there’s no sense dwelling on it. And honestly, the audience didn’t even notice.”

“You noticed,” he points out obstinately.

“Yeah, but I’ve read the script, like, twenty thousand times. I have started literally running this show in my sleep. I’m supposed to know when you mess up,” she replies. “Look, that’s not the point. The point is, no one out there cares,” Emma emphasizes, sweeping a hand in the general direction of the house. “A lot of shows take previews as a chance to see what does and doesn’t work in the script, and then change the lines before opening night. Some people literally come to the previews so they can see what changed. If anyone comes back later and notices, they’ll just think it was a script change.”

“Really?” Killian asks, looking up with wide eyes in a manner that’s almost childlike, reminding Emma a little of Henry when he was little and just beginning to discover all the wonderful facts the world had to offer.

“Really. They’ll think it’s a cool Easter egg, or whatever the kids call it. Now if you’re ready to stop moping around, we’ve got a show to finish. Liam wouldn’t want you to be sulking back here and fixating on things you can’t change.”

“That’s low, Swan, dragging a man’s brother into this,” he chides, but he’s standing up all the same with the hint of a smile on his face as he attempts to brush the dust off his rear (which Emma does not stare at, thank you very much).

“Yeah, well, I did what I had to,” she retorts before continuing in a softer tone. “You’ll be ok? No need to drag someone over to watch you?”

“I’ll be fine, Swan. Now go, you’ve got a show to run, and don’t have time for my nonsense in the least.”

“If you’re sure,” she says, already heading for the back stairs. He’s right; they’re due to start any minute. But she really does think he’ll be alright - can see it in the determined nod he makes to himself before setting off back towards his dressing room to change coats in record time. She hadn’t seen this side of Killian before, the intense self-doubt, but all her experience with his hardworking and easygoing nature suggests he’ll bounce back.

The show will go on, and Emma thinks she’s even managed to convince Killian of that too.

(She sure hopes so, at least - otherwise, they’re all screwed.)

———

He’s still not fully confident, walking back onstage for the second act, but he does feel slightly better. With Emma’s words in mind, he’s at least able to appreciate that the applause maybe is for him after all - though he’d have to be truly dense to believe the response after his solo was intended for anyone else. Under other circumstances, he might feel guilty that he forgot his brother’s words, or that he instead latched onto the reassurances of his crush, but desperate times had called for desperate measures, and words of wisdom are appreciated from any and every corner.

Killian’s not sure if it’s the change in attitude or just a change in perspective that causes it, but the second act really does feel like it goes better. With Emma’s reassurance that the audience has no idea when things go wrong ringing in his ears, paired with the freshly remembered promise Liam extracted from him to not get too stuck in his own head, Killian is able to reclaim some of the illusion that things are just like in rehearsals, without the pressure of a paying audience. It certainly can’t be called a perfect show, but he likes to think that he and Belle made for an engaging onstage couple and salvaged the mistakes from the first half.

The audience certainly seems to agree, if the curtain call applause is anything to go by. Belle, of course, receives the largest round of applause - deservedly so, if you ask Killian - but he receives his own share of whistles and cheers. The sound of their audience’s response fills Killian with a warm glow of pride in what he’s accomplished, even despite the rough start, and helps him remember why he started on this adventure in the first place.

After everyone’s taken their bows, the cast raises their arms towards the booth in the traditional thanks for the crew’s efforts. It a compulsory gesture, one countless productions have repeated day in and day out, but it’s entirely heartfelt on Killian’s behalf - especially after the reassurance Emma offered him at intermission. He’ll thank her later with his words, but for now, he stares towards the bright lights and the woman he knows is there, even if he can’t see her, and hopes she understands just how deep his thanks truly run.

———

Despite any proverbial rough seas, Emma’s pleased with how the first preview went. Yes, there’s still plenty that needs working on, but this whole thing is intended as a learning curve, and she has faith that by the time the show formally opens, they’ll have smoothed everything out to a seamless final product. She’ll make it happen.

In the meantime, there’s still plenty to do. The stage has already been reset, and the stagehands dismissed for the night (though Emma thinks she caught a glimpse of Will Scarlet hanging around a few minutes ago, likely he’s stuck around for reasons more personal than professional), but Emma likes to double check everything, just in case. Call it a personal habit, one leftover from her own stagehand days. Plus, she likes to take a quick breeze through the dressing rooms to make sure nothing important got left behind - or, god forbid, on the floor, where Ms. Blue will make that clicky noise about how no one is taking proper care of her costumes. Emma would like to avoid that outcome if at all possible - somehow that tiny woman is deceptively intimidating.

She thinks Kristoff might still be around here somewhere, messing with the mics and whatever else he does - some aspects of sound design and tech are still a real mystery to Emma - so she detours to Dorothy’s perch on stage right to grab her wireless headset before wandering back to the dressing rooms. Kristoff mostly managed to fix the static before curtain, but there was still an annoying little buzz the whole time. He probably already knows about it and it’s on his own personal to-do list, but Emma figures that bringing the devices to him wouldn’t hurt. A helping hand and a reminder all in one, if you will. It’s well within her authority anyways.

She never makes it to the podium, however, as Jones suddenly steps out from the hallway to the dressing rooms, dressed once again in his street clothes. As much as she’s ogled him in costume, Emma has to admit - he’s just as good-looking in a henley and plaid. It was just as true before she saw him in costume for the first time, but knowing how well those breeches display his ass just adds another level of appreciation for that same ass in jeans.

“Can I speak with you for a moment, Swan?” he requests.

“Yeah, of course,” she replies. “Is here fine, or…?” There’s no one around, but still, if he wants to have any sort of official, job-related private discussion, they should probably go find a room with a door and no chance of interruptions.

“Oh, yes, here’s just fine,” he smiles, as if he read her mind. “I just wanted to thank you, Swan, for earlier.”

“Oh, that isn’t necessary —” Emma begins, but Killian firmly interrupts her, hand raised in a halting motion.

“It is to me,” he insists. “You may not think you provided much of a service, but to me, your words were...indispensable. Just what I needed in that moment. You may not have noticed, Swan,” he chuckles, “but I was a bit of a mess back there.”

Despite his heavy words to start the sentence, his self-deprecating teasing at the end lends some needed levity to the exchange, allowing Emma to relax ever-so-slightly despite her continuing discomfort with being thanked.

“Yeah, maybe a little bit,” she laughs, causing a wide smile to break out on his face. God, it’s a nice smile. Goes great with those street clothes she was checking out a minute ago.

“Oi, thanks for that,” he teases. “I can say that, you can’t.” An attempt at a wink follows, making Emma laugh in turn. It’s hard not to - his idea of a wink is closer to a facial spasm, both eyes closing instead of one and eyebrows doing the work of mimicking a wink. “My point is, I needed a little kick in the pants. Thank you for doing so kindly and gracefully.”

Emma snorts. “‘Gracefully’? That seems a bit far.”

“Well I don’t know,” he defends. “You were fairly tactful about it. Or at least didn’t directly tell me to pull my head out of my arse. I’d call that a graceful approach.”

Honestly, it’s hard to take his defense seriously when he phrases it like that. The barely suppressed smile, still evident in the creases around his eyes, doesn’t help either. “Still, graceful?” she demands. “That’s, like the last word I’d associate with myself.”

“I don’t know, Swan, I certainly think you live up to your namesake,” Killian responds, far more earnestly than Emma would have expected. Is that really how he sees her? That’s… weird, but there’s something nice about that knowledge too. It’s comforting to know that at least one person who’s not her kid thinks so highly of her.

“Is there anything else you need?” she asks, quickly changing the subject. If Killian’s face falls a little bit at the end of their bantering - because God, that’s what it was, wasn’t it? - then Emma pretends not to notice. Or care.

“Er, no. That’ll do it. Again, thank you.” There’s a moment of empty silence before he nods resolutely. “Have a good evening, Swan.” And just like that, he’s gone again.

Emma’s struck with a small pang of guilt over his sudden departure. They were kind of having a moment, after all, before she abruptly cut it short. But it’s for the best, isn’t it? Keep the professional boundaries, and not get too close?

No, the thing to remember about today is not two emotionally vulnerable conversations with Killian, but how well the show went, and how much the audience liked it. That’s it. End of story.

(Even if those blue eyes are wide enough to get lost in, and his ass really does look great in a variety of pants.)

#cs ff #my writing #Playing the Part #What is this Feeling?#Broadway AU #stage manager!Emma #actor!Killian #and a little bit of panic

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justbwi · 6 years

Text

Race Start

(i just can’t find a relevant gif but i mean...soft jungkook...am i right?)

Word count: 2904

Pairing: jungkook x reader

Genre: fluff / highschool au

Summary: requested by @loudandweird “A fluffy scenario based on this please? <Jungkook x Reader> They both like to go to the arcade a lot and they suddenly change personalities. Both are super aggressive, loud and competitive while playing, like they are enemies, but once they exit the arcade, reader goes back to being loving and affectionate and Jungkook the playful and bashful him.

A/N: it’s been a longgggggggggg wait i’m so sorry my bun ;w; please forgive my piles upon piles of schoolwork and exam papers *bows* hopefully it’s worth the wait~ and I’ve make some changes with your request ;) enjoy ^3^

It is a misty Autumn evening, a time when the leaves turn gold, painting the streets in a shimmering afterglow. The wind gently weaves its fingers through the few loose strands of hair that is shielding your vision away from the school’s courtyard, where a couple of students still linger around even the bell has long rung.

You are warmly nestled on a bench standing under the protection of a maple tree, legs swaying back and forth in sync with the passing seconds. An uneasiness presses on your chest as you heave out a heavy sigh, its source tracing back to the collection of college application forms sitting by your side. You could certainly use some distraction at the moment just to stop yourself from overthinking over the strategies your professors have kindly suggested using. It is not like you already have a clear idea on what career you would like to pursue in the future anyways. Dreams and ambitions have not always been of a great importance to you, not that you have never thought of them since childhood, but it is the surge of helplessness with which they always come along that stops you from pondering over any possibilities. You cannot seem to pinpoint something you are particularly good at from which you can earn a good fortune. Throughout the few years of high school, you just do as you are told no matter you like it or not. You are definitely not sitting among the top academically, but at least you are doing fine and you have never failed a test before unlike someone whom you just so happen to be waiting for and whom you…

“Hey, Y/N,” the slightly high-pitched voice breaks you out of your own reverie. You look up to find a pair of doe-like eyes staring right back at you.

You blink as the boy in front flicks your forehead playfully seeing it takes way too long for you to respond, earning a couple of giggles from his group of friends standing behind him.

“Ah, Jungkook. You are here,” you reply in an almost unamused tone which catches his attention right away.

The group falls silent when they realise the change in atmosphere, waving a friendly goodbye in your direction before excusing themselves as if their presence could have annoyed you. You forcefully put up a smile and return the gesture. You most certainly do not want to rain on the parade of Jungkook’s overly-excited group of friends’ at this moment and you are grateful that they have left before you have the heart to ask them to. In fact, you do not have the mood for Jungkook either. You could have his day ruined n a bit since you cannot help sulking and getting drowned in a sea of thoughts from time to time. But he does not seem affected, not even in the slightest.

Jungkook takes advantage of your troubled state and pinches your cheek once again, knowing that you are not in the mood for retaliation, as he straightens himself before you and chants, “Let’s go!”

And just before you finish collecting yourself to be able to refuse, he is already taking long strides towards the school entrance, leaving trails of his infamous minty scent in its wake.

You follow the boy out, staying on his left almost as a routine. Jungkook does not speak for the rest of the walk and that makes you even more anxious than ever.

“Where are we going?” you giddily ask, the unknown destination stealing part of your attention span away from the trouble earlier on. You set your gaze over to the horizon, where the sun is about to set, its red glamour setting your whole body on fire. Autumn should not be hard to endure with the heat waves long gone, but your chest still feels heavy as if you were forced between two stone walls, slowly pressing in.

Jungkook chuckles in reply. It is surely untypical of him to act mysterious. In this relationship between the two of you, his name shouts nothing like little surprises the way yours will never get in line with the word ‘future’. You avoid thinking about what things will be like tomorrow because you hate to ponder on the unknown which tends to add onto your fear and worries. That also accounts for the fact that you are slightly envious of Jungkook, who seemingly has his future meticulously planned and acted upon. He is a talented musician, a known fact to the whole town ever since he was born a week before you. He has a wonderful voice that never fails to lull you into sleep when he crawls into your bed at thousands of dreary nights. His voice is not too high or too deep, just about right to your liking, like honey dripping your throat. You know that his gifts have to recognised someday, that his voice has to be heard all around the world, but somehow you want to keep this treasure to yourself. This soft and tenderness is encasing you at this moment and you hate to let it go.

“Y/N, we’re here,” Jungkook announces as a matter of fact, putting half of his body weight onto the sets of doors ahead, clearing the entranceway for your entry.

You steal a glance at the banner hanging high up on the wall nearby and five seconds are all it takes for you to figure out what is to ensue. This gaming centre is located right around the corner in the neighbourhood both you and Jungkook reside in. Ever since its grand opening, the two of you have been admiring its glory from afar but never have either of you the courage to take a look from the inside because well…school sucks and second of all, you guys were told that you were underage.

“Do you really think that looking at what I couldn’t have will make me feel better now?” You reply, unamused. Just as you are about to shy away from the unknown once again, the boy tightens his hold at your wrist and guides you to the opposite direction.

"Who says we are just looking at it from afar this time?" Jungkook smirks and swiftly makes you walk ahead, generously letting you have the first taste of freedom and this refreshing scene imprinted in your memory.

You blink hard as you get adjusted to the apparently dimmer lighting inside. The interior is much bigger than the way you have always imagined it to be. Rows upon rows of gaming machines mark the boundary between the counter from where game coins are retrieved and the actual paradise yearning for your touch. The boy is long gone before you notice his absence as if he knew the way in and out here way better than you. He came back with a wide smile, the coins clattering against each other in a small plastic bag which is then nicely transferred to you.

"Up for a race? Best of three. The loser of each game gets to decide which arcade they are going for next," Jungkook suggests playfully.

"What race?" You reply confusedly and fail to figure out the answer yourself in his brown-tinted iris.

"You are clearly struggling with college application. Let's just use that as a bet. If you win, you will have a night's out at Ruby's. My treat." He winks as he inserts a game coin into the dancing machine on his right.

You step onto the panel when the screen goes black, anticipating the start of the song. "What if I lose?"

Jungkook returns with a final game coin slipping through his fingers into the slot, his steps light as compared to the strong base pounding in the background. "I get to choose what you are putting in your college application." And that sounds ridiculous and fair to you at the same time - ridiculous because he could have come up with the craziest idea ever existed and you would have no right to fight your way through; fair because the bet is clearly laid at your odds -you are either going to have your stomach satisfied or your troubles solved. It does not sound terrible at all, does it?

Before you have more time to ponder over it, the music has already begun and as far as you are concerned, you are several beats behind Jungkook. You frantically jump to the corresponding buttons when the arrows pop up on the screen again, stealing glances at the boy from time to time to see if he is doing better than you.

Despite your effort in catching up, the song ends on a note where Jungkook is proudly announced as the winner.

"Dancing king right here, ladies and gentlemen," Jungkook smirks and bows to no one in particular.

You come down from the game panel, panting hard. His infamous smirk seems to make your insides boil, sparking off fury that is threatening to eat you alive. "I am gonna get you," you sputter, the urge to win fuelling every vein of yours.

The brunette chuckles at your change of tone. "Alright. You can choose the next game."

You glance around. The shooting gun looks tempting but you think of how marvellously good Jungkook is at his video games and stop halfway in your tracks to the range, heading for the air hockey instead.

"First to score ten wins," you plainly declare and move to the opposite side of the table.

Jungkook nods and places the puck at the centre, his index fingers gradually sliding off as your body tense up in anticipation.

"Ready, set..." the boy slurs, his gaze steady on the puck. "go."

You eye his quick movement, his right arm outstretched in the hopes of scoring the firsl goal. Instinctively, you move your paddle right in front of the slot on your side of the rail in defence, going left and right to dodge the attack. Once the puck stops within your range, you lift up the paddle to capture it under as you glance up, mimicking Jungkook's smirk. You prepare yourself for a powerful strike, one that will tear Jungkook's tactics apart. He notices your change in posture, his eyes narrow to squint at the puck in movement.

Ding.

"Ten points to Gryffindor. I win," you chant, arms flown high up in the air.

Jungkook chuckles dryly. "Don't tell me that one single score worth ten points, Y/N."

"Well, you did not ask," you reply, not forgetting to shoot a satisfactory wink Jungkook's way just as he did a few mintues ago.

"Where is the fair play we have always stressed on?" The boy argues with his lips pursed, pulling his best act of a poor puppy.

You shrug and take a long stride towards another arcade machine nearby. There is nothing like fairness when it comes to the competition between the two of you. Knowing how ambitious you yourself are, you treat every bet seriously as if it was a matter of life or death. Sometimes, it is not the price of winning the bet that makes you devote all of you to the game but the sheer ounce of pride and satisfaction over the fact that you have defeated the almighty Jeon Jungkook which sound just right at the end of the day.

You notice Jungkook take a quick turn to the left and follow him. "That's a tie for now. I mean I can only imagine you filling in the application form before my eyes. I like the sound of Entomology," the boy smiles, the crinkles at his eyes making the whole idea look less frightening than it should be for a person suffering from insect phobia like you.

You shiver unknowingly. "I can literally taste the perfectly cooked rib eye steak, melting at the tip of my tongue. Shut up and pick your game, Jeon."

"Here we are," Jungkook nudges you lightly, bringing you back to the real competition.

The basketball arcade is the nearest to the entrance. You have certainly greeted it from afar but you long decided that you would never play a game that is at Jungkook's favour. His height, accompanied with his excellent reflexes, have never done you any good in all the ball matches the two of you have engaged in before. Apparently, they are not going to do you any good at this point of speaking either.

Jungkook has finished slipping in five game coins before you can possibly back out. "Shoot at the same time. The one with highest count of goals win," he announces the instant rules and stomps his fist onto the 'start' button.

Hurriedly, you step in between the boy and the machine, blocking his direct access to the basketballs falling behind the rail. You tiptoe and aim for the best shot as the net sways left and right.

"Goal," you quietly wish as you watch another basketball striking in the same direction, swiftly hit yours and go straight for the scoreboard. Your ball springs back and slams against the protection shield instead.

"Better luck next time, kid," Jungkook chuckles. Since you have your tiny figure sandwiched between the machine and him, the angelic laugh of his seems to vibrate against your back, making you hyperaware of the proximity.

You blush, not sure if that is out of shame or the fact that Jungkook's breath is hot against the nape of your neck; the fact that his pants would sound way too sexy as he purposefully kneels down a little bit to grab a basketball, breaking apart your useless blockade. "Stop that!" You protest.

"What exactly do you mean?" Jungkook asks with a smirk visible at the corner of his lips.

You roll your eyes and make good use of this distraction to score more goals. Eventually, you pull off. You are not sure at which point did you start taking the lead in the game despite all Jungkook's advantages, but you did win after all. That's all it would ever matter.

"I win," you say as a matter a fact with the widest smile you could have ever mustered ever since the arrival of those college application forms. You swear you have not been this pleased for a long time.

Jungkook applauds, the same grateful smile reflected on his face. “Congratulations, my queen. Ruby’s waiting at your doorstep but not Entomology, luckily.”

You hum at the mention of Ruby’s and lick your upper lip subconsciously as you picture the smell of the freshly grilled steak, but that is still not ample to calm your nerves when the idea of college pops up in your mind. Now that you have won, you really did lose yourself an excuse on filling in the application. Suddenly, the idea of losing does not sound terrible after all if you could have someone decide your fate.

“Maybe I should just go for Entomology. I mean…I literally have no idea what I should be studying in college,” you sigh, arms thrown in the air in defense.

The sudden change of topic drains the surrounding light atmosphere alongside Jungkook’s smile away. “You know I’m joking right, Y/N,” Jungkook laughs dryly, the sound still came out endearing albeit forced.

“Or I could just follow your trail. I will just go and study music. Yes, I will definitely struggle with playing the right notes but that way I get to see you every day. That’s still a benefit, I suppose,” you reply and nudge the boy for an approval.

Jungkook grimaces. “For the sake of mankind, don’t do music. Save them the risks of being deafen, please.”

Rolling your eyes, you hit his shoulder half-heartedly. “I am serious, Kook.”

Jungkook shifts his body to look at you properly, his right hand on your head, patting you lightly as he replies, “Y/N, just do what you like. You have always been a wonderful painter, right”

“But, no one pursues drawing as a job in the real world…” You fight back weakly, knowing for sure that you will be happy studying Arts despite what the adults say.

Jungkook shakes his head the moment you utter your stance. “Van Gogh, you are way too young to be worrying that much. Y/N, you and I both know that you are a gifted child. You can always make something out of those ‘unrealistic dreams’.” He lowers his hand to caress your rosy cheeks, the corners of his eyes shimmering with something anew. “Or…you can always do what you are good at instead.”

His last reply sends you back to a confused state. You blink. “And that is?”

“Me.”

“You know what?”

“Hm?”

“That’s actually a pretty good idea.”

Jungkook chuckles, his bunny-like smile a little too adorable at the moment that you just cannot resist the urge to kiss it away. You smile into the shallow kiss, slightly aware of the fact that both of you are still in a public area.

“Y/N,” the boy calls softly.

“Hm?” You coos as you weave your fingers through his brown strands the way he has always liked it.

“I can already tell that you are really good at this. I wonder how much you can improve when we get out of here?” His hands slowly glide across your back and down your hips.

“Up for a race?”

“Sounds just about right.”

#bts #bts jungkook #jungkook #jungkook scenario #jungkook fluff #jungkook scenarios #bts scenario #bts scenarios #bts fluff #jeon jungkook #bangtan scenario #bangtan fluff #bangtan scenarios #jungkook fic #jungkook fics #jungkook x oc #jungkook x reader #tiff fics #bts fic

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foolgobi65 · 6 years

Note

Also for the character meme: Kattappa and nayaki! Shivu (Idk if we’re allowed to use AU versions of characters but I’m not mean enough to make you answer about canon Shivu. Unless you want to, I guess.)

kattapa:favorite thing about them: his blatant hate of biju. it goes against so much of what he must have been taught, but that scene where he insinuates that biju has a diseased mind and then blackmails him... perfect. also?? kattapa is a great guy in general ok. least favorite thing about them: anything “bad” about him is the fault of his slavers. favorite line: that part where he yells at baahu for being a ditz and he’s like “YOU COULD HAVE KILLED ME!! YOU DUMBASS I RAISED YOU AND THIS IS HOW YOU TREAT ME??!!!” also every time he over glorifies kumara varma like that whole thread is gold. brOTP: kattapa and devasena in the kuntala part where they’re just fucking with each other over baahu. also kattapa and kumara varma!! OTP: i know BB has sulaiman so them together i suppose that. i know the scene where he doesnt understand romance is funny but i see two options: he’s either given up heterosexual romance because he doesn’t want another kid to be born a slave (i dont think its a thing about can’t because he comes from a lineage which implies its probably in the state’s best interest for him to produce more slave children... disgusting). Or, he doesn’t experience sexual attraction, which again is complicated by how being a slave affects ideas of personhood and the dynamics at play. nOTP: kattapa/sivagami bc i dont think they could ever scale the master/slave dynamic and it just doesnt sit well with me. obv kattapa/bijju is even worserandom headcanon: not a headcanon per se but i really cling to our idea that the original sin of the mahishmati royal family is that it’s a family of slavers, no matter how benign. i also think mahendra frees kattapa immediately. at some point, a young kattapa goes against all his brainwashing and briefly asserts himself by sticking his tongue out behind biju’s back. unpopular opinion: i dont think its fair to hate on kattapa for killing baahu because none of us can really understand what its like to consider yourself a weapon or tool of the state instead of a person. we all assume he’s got free will when ... tbh that’s not a valid assumption to be making bc the core of his identity as we see is that he’s a slave to the throne. we see him, 25 years later only able to wage war against bhalla because mahendra was validated as the rightful king! idk its just such a shitty situationsong i associate with them: don’t really have one, sorry! favorite picture of them: the faces kattapa makes @ kumara varma’s antics in the background or even to his face.

nayaki!shivufavorite thing about them: nayaki! shivu respects ppl and hopefully will make a good king by the end of the story. canon shivu inherently seems more an adventure hero is is illsuited to the throne, but hopefully by cementing avantika as the quest character i’ll be able to give shivu the necessary qualities and outlook that will make him someone who can understand and learn how to run things as opposed to suiting on his throne and shouting weird fascist shit bc he happens to be sivagami devi’s heir. least favorite thing about them: nothing he’s perfect. ok no he isnt but i need to get back into this story, and obv he has to have faults. he’s probably got a little too much of devasena’s hotheadedness. i also think he’s struggling with figuring out who he is (esp re: his super strength) but that isnt my least favorite thing about him as much as its his least favorite thing about himselffavorite line: so far? “We’ll go together, then.” i guess, just him deciding that this “random” woman in a far off land’s oppression matters enough for him to risk his life over. he’s a good boy, and not motivated entirely by his libido or boredom. brOTP: i honestly havent introduced enough characters but probably shivu&kattapa. OTP: well hopefully by the end it’ll be shivu/avantikanOTP: idk . shivu/bhadra? he doesnt have any other love interests random headcanon: he got good at archery because its the only thing he was sure was safe re: his strength. he wrestles solely based on instinct and leverages his strenth, and avantika will teach him how to use a sword, but growing up he was always afraid that he would hurt someone so he stuck to archery. unpopular opinion: all my opinions on nayaki! shivu are unpopular i havent updated in months im the only one with opinions on him (except u maybe but thats just bc i laid out the entire story in your message box at 3 am) song i associate with them: i’ll figure this one out i promise im so bad with songs favorite picture of them: no pictures exist but my favorite moment is when he’s pulling the statue to the chants of his father’s (and his) name.

love u avani!!!!

#avani008

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sherrybaby14 · 7 years

Text

The Viking’s Sannr Ast Part 2

Description: Viking AU, Bucky is the king of the Vikings who come to raid your village. (Also, not the TV show Vikings, the historical kind)

Warnings: THIS IS A NON-CON/RAPE STORY. Please do not read if this offends you. Also it’s just smutty smut, smut, smut.

Word: 4,000

Tags: @thecynicalnerd @marauderice @mac5323@idonthavehusbandsihavelovers @negan–is–god @kellyn1604 @i-am-negan-trash @taintedgenre @xbergiex @bellaballanda @girlyfandomfighter13 @theariel85 @kyleannsmut

Part One

This is part two of a three-part story. Part 3 will be out by Friday.

A hand rubbed your back and started shaking your shoulder. A groan escaped. Your body ached in places you didn’t know possible and all you craved was sleep. You rolled your head to the side and ignored the person trying to wake you.

SMACK! A hand swatted your ass.

Your eyes popped open as the sting exploded over your cheek. The wall in front of you was not the one from your bedroom and the smell of the barn overtook your nostrils.

SLAP! The hand came down on your other cheek.

“Ow!” You sat up and turned to your side.

The Viking was sitting next to you with a huge grin on his face. He was fully clothed and you grabbed the cloak you were laying on, pulling it to your chest.

“It’s time to get up Ast.” He rose from the bale of hay and offered you a hand.

The memories of him inside of you, his lips crashing against yours, the way he was gentle flashed in front of your eyes. Now he looked down at you with pride and an almost playful demeanor. This was not how Vikings were supposed to behave. The raiders were brutes, ones who would make you wish for death before captivity. He should be beating you, dragging you by the hair, sharing you with his men.

You were grateful he wasn’t, but at least if that were his behavior it would make it easier to hate him. But you found yourself ignoring the fact the man had just taken your virginity against your will in a barn after murdering most of your town and setting it on fire. No, all you could think of was the strange kindness he showed you. It was disarming and you dipped your hand into his.

His grin grew as you stood up on shaky legs, his cloak clutched to your chest. He went to grab the garment and you yanked it back, not wanting to be nude in front of the man who had seen more of you than any person.

“We don’t have time for these games.” His grin dropped and he grabbed your wrist, twisting it until you let go of the cloak.

You cried as he fluffed out the fur and brought your hands to your chest to cover yourself.

“I told you I don’t want to hurt you.” He flung the cloak behind you and set it on your shoulders. Then he guided each of your arms to slits at the side before pulling it shut, almost like a robe. “But I will if you make me.”

He leaned forward and kissed your forehead. You looked down at the garment, it covered everything but was at least a meter too long, the excess fabric pooling at your feet. You lifted your arms and looked at the sides. The cuts went down to your waist, if you raised your arms too high anyone next to you would get a side shot of your breasts.

“EEP!” Before you could lower your arms the Viking scooped you up in his.

This time your arms went behind his neck, steadying yourself. He smiled at you.

“I like it when you hold on to me.” He winked.

You started to pull your arms away, but stopped. What if he tried to drop you? What was the harm in being kind to the man who was showing a twisted, demented form of compassion? Your head swam with questions and confusion, but rather than asking you let him carry you out of the barn.

The Vikings had arrived at dawn, but by the look of the sky it was now dusk. Even though it felt like five minutes the raider let you sleep most of the day. You looked out at your village, or what was left of it. Smoke rose from most of the homes. The sounds of screams long gone. You walked down the street, passing empty home after empty home, the doors open with personal belongings strewn about.

Then you saw the body of one of your neighbors, you gasped and turned your head away, burying it in the Viking’s chest.

“It’s alright little one.” His hand moved up and down your back. “The spoils of war are worth the horrors.”

“War?” You looked up at him, making sure not to take in the carnage around you. “We aren’t soldiers. This was not a battle, it was an attack on innocents.”

“You have much to learn.” The Viking laughed.

Your cheeks grew red and you looked down. The feelings of kindness were vanishing when confronted with the facts of reality. No matter how ‘nicely’ he had done the act the man was still a rapist. No matter how he justified it as ‘war’ he was responsible for murder, theft, and the destruction of your poor village. He was not a good person, he was a monster, and right now you were willingly in his arms.

There was no point in trying to wiggle away, there was nowhere to run. He was stronger and faster than you and right now you weren’t even wearing shoes. They burned most of the structures, you assumed they had a campground somewhere nearby. You would have to wait until nightfall when the man was fast asleep and then run for a horse.

It sounded like a solid plan, but something was in the back of your mind. Earlier his men mentioned sharing you? What if the Viking was done and was readying to pass you around to his men? What if this wasn’t the end for you? What if they were going to fuck you to death?

“Why are you breathing so hard?” The Viking asked. “Don’t look Ast, these people weren’t worthy of you.”

“Are you going to share me?” You blurted the question out.

As soon as you asked you wished you could take it back. It was wrong to care more about yourself than the others in the town, both dead and alive. Your Viking gave you a smirk and looked down at you with slanted eyes. It made your heart sink, realizing he was not going to answer your question.

He stopped walking and set you on your feet. You looked up at a horse, dressed in similar armor to your Viking. You cringed at your thought choice. This man was not your anything. He climbed up on the horse and you wondered if he would leave you here in the rubble.

Arms grabbed your waist from behind and you gasped, kicking out behind you. He was going to share you. Your foot made contact with a thigh, but you were in the air already, being transferred back into your Viking’s arms as he seated you sideways on the horse in front of him.

“Looks like you found yourself a fighter.” The man you had kicked rubbed his thigh.

“If you only knew.” Your Viking laughed and kicked the horse.

You started trotting and needed to hold on to him. The saddle wasn’t built for two and visions of slipping off and being trampled came to mind. You strode away from the burning village towards the top of the hill. In the twilight you could still make out the Viking horde at the bottom of the hill. Some of them on horses, some guarding wagon’s filled with your people’s belongings. All in all your people outnumbered them five-to-one at least, but numbers didn’t matter when the skill was so outmatched.

When you reached the front your Viking started yelling in another language.

Cheers came from the crowd. He was addressing his people. The language had to be Norse, but you could comprehend what was being said.

More cheers came after the Viking stopped speaking. He tightened his arm around your waist and pulled you upright, putting his other finger under your chin and tilting your head back to face him.

“MINN SIGR,” he yelled. “Minn Sannr Ast.”

His thumb stroked your cheek. The tribe of Vikings remained quiet, but then his hand slid to the back of your head and crashed his mouth to yours. There was no gentle probing or option this time as his tongue darted against yours. He pulled your head harder against his own. The crowd erupted in their largest applause, screams, chants, and other background noises of approval. Your Viking pulled away from you and raised his fist in the air.

The quick passionate kiss left your lips puffy and sore. You brought your hand to your mouth while the Viking grabbed the reins and started trotting the horse through the pack. You gripped on to him as you bounced passed the cargo, captives, and Vikings. Every person gave a cheers and patted the horse when you moved. Your Viking wore the look of pride well with his head high.

Once he made it through the horse slowed down. There were sounds of people moving behind you. They were done with your village. Part of you felt lucky, you were still alive and relatively unharmed. The other side felt anger and sadness.

Nightfall had almost taken over and it was hard to see the man’s features. Your mind was overflowing with so many questions you couldn’t hold them in any longer.

“What is your name?” You wanted to stop thinking of him as ‘your’ Viking.

“James.” He was quick to answer.

You took this as a good sign and decided to continue asking.

“What does Sannr Ast mean?”

“There is no word in English.” His voice was edgier.

“You have an English name and you speak the language without an accent.” Even in the darkness you thought you saw him twitch. “How are you a Viking?”

“My mother named me.” He hesitated before answering. “And she was my teacher.”

The wheels in your mind started to turn. His people were comfortable with kidnapping women from the mainland. Was that his purpose for you? To be a broad mare? Had it already begun? Your heart raced and you started to squirm.

His right hand gathered the cloak and bunched it to your knee, then he rested his palm on your thigh. His left dropped the reigns on the horse and slid through the cut in the cloak by your left arm, setting under your breast.

“That’s enough questions for now.” James’ had slid up your thigh.

You pressed your legs together but the action only resulted in a chuckle from the man, he let his fingertips trace your legs until he reached the apex, you tried to clench your muscles to block him but the position on the horse made that impossible and his fingers made it to the top of your sex before easing down, sliding along your slit. He started stroking the area while his other hand lazily strummed your breast, making circles around your nipple without touching the tiny bud.

Your arms were still gripping on to him, you wanted to push his hands away, but you were sure that success would mean both of you falling off the horse.

“Please stop.” You looked around, fearing someone was watching the display, but the two of you were at the head of the pack.

He responded by pinching your nipple making you squeal and wiggle against his hand.

“Now why would I do that when you make such wonderful noises?” His finger started sliding easier between your legs and you knew your arousal was growing.

You glanced up to see a smug smile on his face. He went back to teasing your nipple, while his finger spread your wetness. He moved your hair to the side and dipped his head down to your neck. He bit down at the same time his fingers pinched your nipple into a tiny pebble and you couldn’t hold back the moan.

His fingers made a back and forth action, rubbing your trapped bud while he switched to sucking your neck. Then his dewey hand slid up your mound until the pads of his fingers found your clit. He started rubbing, up and down at first and then left to right, pressing down hard against the nerves and moving you closer towards him.

His erection was evident through his pants and you remembered how good and full it felt to have him inside of you, the memory releasing another moan from your body. You bit your lip in hopes of being quiet.

“You know I enjoy hearing you Ast.” James lifted his head from your neck and started rubbing even faster against your clit while opening and closing his fingers on your hard nipple.

The action caused another moan that could not be contained with pressed lips.

“What a good girl.” He dipped his head back to your neck.

The approval made another round of arousal seep out of you onto the cloak and saddle.

“So wet and eager for your king?” He kissed up your neck and stopped at your ear. “Want to wither back and forth as I plow into you?”

His fingertips started working faster and you groaned as his words were pushing you over the edge.

“Want to clamp down on my cock as I spray my seed into your womb?” His teeth grazed your ear lobe. “Want to scream my name while you ride out the ecstasy only I can give you?”

Your hand started gripping the back of his neck, you needed to squeeze on to something as your body tried to rock itself against his hand.

“Cum for me now Angel.” He started rubbing in a circle on your clit. “Come for me NOW!”

Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as you tried your hardest not to make too much noise, but the man had just pushed you off a cliff and you screamed the entire way down. Tingles covered your entire body as his hand disappeared and the cloak dropped down over your legs. Your chest heaved with the need for oxygen. This was so wrong, but everything he did felt so good.

There was fight left in you, you promised yourself that much as your head fell to his shoulder. He picked up the reigns again and rested one arm on your lap and the other behind you. James kissed the top of your head and you felt a strange warmth against him, one that filled you with a sense of safety. Your eyes started to flutter shut and you promised yourself you would fight back next time.

~~~

Sleep never came, it was more like rest as you cuddled up to James’ chest. Hoof beats made you crack your eyes as another Viking appeared next to you on horseback.

“We will arrive at the ships soon,” the new man said. “Are there any additional requirements for your Sannr Ast?”

James answered in his native tongue. The other Viking gave a nod and his horse fell back. Ships? You assumed they had a camp somewhere. If you ended up on a ship that would reduce any chance of escape. Your heart tightened. What would your future be if you boarded? For all you knew Sannr Ast was some form of sacrifice and James was marching you to your death.

It was dark, but you were familiar with the road, if you could figure out a way to get off of his horse maybe you could hide until help came.

“Can we stop please?” You looked up at the Viking king.

“Why?” He moved his eyes towards you without tilting his face.

“I need to relieve myself.” You tried your best to soften your expression. “Please, I haven’t been able to all day. I’ve also not had anything to eat or drink. I am very weak and need a quick break.”

James grunted. You didn’t know if that meant yes or no, but several paces later he raised his arm and stopped the horse. He set you on the ground before climbing off. The same Viking from a moment ago rode up. You glanced down the road and saw there was some distance between the wagons, walkers, and people on horseback.

Foreign words were spoken between the two men and the other galloped off. James held his hand out towards the trees and you entered the forest. He stayed right behind you, his hand resting on your shoulder. You turned to face him.

“Some privacy please?” You dropped your chin to the ground. “I think you have seen enough of my private moments today.”

In the moonlight you could see he was deep in thought.

“Come back right to this spot.” He pointed to his feet. “Do not get any ideas.”

There was no mistaking the warning in his voice. You gave a smile and curtsied before turning into the woods. You were certain that the move was too much and he suspected something. You went twenty paces in, never looking behind you.

This would be it. Your only shot at freedom. There was a large tree that you spun around and leaned your back against. You brought your hand to your mouth and let out a silent scream. This morning felt like years ago and in a way it was since you were now a different person with different choices.

The smart choice was to go back, accept that you could never escape a man as cunning and ruthless as the Viking. But was that even a choice at all? Would you become a slave? Passed around to his men? Would you be a sacrifice to the pagan gods these heathens worshiped? His actions were more like that of a loving husband, but the man barely knew you.

You cursed yourself. He was not a loving husband. He was a dealer in death and deceit. You could not trust him. This was your only chance for escape. Taking a breath, you balled up the bottom of the cloak in your arms and took off running into the forest before you could change your mind.

The branches scratched at your face and the rocks hurt your feet since you darted off trail. If you avoided a straight line it would be more difficult to chase you. It would not take long for him to realize you were gone. Earlier when you ran your lungs were on fire, but at the moment your heart was burning, almost sucking you backwards.

There was movement in front of you as it looked like one of the branches of the trees swung forward. It wrapped around you and you let out a scream as the tree held you tight. You let out a sob, too aware it was no tree at all. You pressed against an armored chest, arms holding both of your sides down.

“I wish you would not have done that.” You recognized James’ voice and started to crumble.

He bent forward and flung you over his shoulder, before walking through the woods. It was a quick walk until you were back where you started. How could you have been so stupid? Tears fell down your face and you did not try to struggle as he walked you back to the trail. The man was a Viking king. You were never alone in the woods. He had watched you from a vantage point and predicted where you would run. There was never a choice.

“I’m sorry.” You sniffled against his shoulder.

He did not respond as you left the forest, still hanging upside down over her shoulder. He went straight for the horse and set you on the saddle. His fingers wrapped around your ankle and he inspected the bottom of your foot for damage. He did the same to the other and you winced as he pulled a twig out.

There was a fury in his eye as he looked at your face. His thumb dragged across a scratch. You were unable to tell if he was wiping away blood or tears.

“I’m sorry.” You wanted the playful look for the evening, or the one of adoration from this morning. As powerful as his other faces were this one was the scariest.

He did not respond and instead climbed on to the horse behind you. The other Viking was next to you, he would not look you in the eye. James spoke in their native tongue.

His arm snaked around your waist and held you tight. This was not a loving embrace as his fingers dug into your side. He kicked the horse and the trot was replaced with a gallop. He gripped the reins and shoved your shoulders down as he leaned over you, giving the horse less wind resistance as you rode through the night.

The speed caused your hip to bounce up and down, landing on the saddle with each step. The movement was causing a welt which would turn into a bruise. You didn’t dare complain, both angry at the man for testing you and yourself for thinking escape was a possibility.

After your hip grew numb the horse slowed down. James sat upright and the scent of the sea was heavy in the air. You sat up to see the impressive fleet of Viking ships in the moonlight. They were huge, and nothing like the small fishing ship the villagers used. The wooden masterpieces almost glowed, their craftsmanship flawless. Before you could take them in any longer James dismounted.

He threw you over his shoulder again and you hung upside down without complaints, not wanting to anger him. You heard footsteps coming towards you. James barked orders in the foreign tongue and you saw the footsteps run to the horse.

You were spun around as he set you down in a row boat. You didn’t move as he grabbed an end and pushed it into the water before jumping in himself. He did not look at you as he rowed out to sea.

“I’m sorry.” You tried again. “I’m confused and scared. Please don’t hurt me.”

Your hip wasn’t the only thing numb as you imagined the worst. James looked over at you. There was the same look of fury on his face and you shifted your gaze to the water. Maybe it would be best to throw yourself over and drown rather than survive what he had in store for you.

“I would only dive in after you.” He spoke each word with a pierce.

Your shoulders slouched and you stared at the bottom of the boat. Before you ran you thought of him as a dealer of death and destruction, but to whom? You lived alone in that village, nobody paid you much attention the five years you had been there. It was your goal to save money and move on.

To you James showed you protection, kindness, and a strange form of love, almost. You repaid him with betrayal. There were no words to apologize with. The row boat docked at one of the ships. You stood up and again James hoisted you over his shoulder.

You wanted to tell him it wasn’t necessary, that you had no interest in escaping, that you would behave for him. But in this state he did not want to hear it. He climbed aboard the ship with ease and you got an upside down view as you walked across the deck.

He took a direct path towards stairs and walked down into the quarters of the ship. The halls were dark, but he had no problems finding his way. You never put up a fight as he opened one of the doors and walked into darkness.

Instead of setting you down he dropped you. You half expected to hit the floor, but bounced on a soft mattress. In the darkness you could not see James, but the sound of fire striking drew your attention towards him as he lit several candles around the room. He dropped the tinderbox and went towards the bed. The fury still in his eyes.

“Why would you do that?” He reached down and grabbed your shoulders. “You could have injured yourself or worse.”

“I’m sorry…I wasn’t thinking.” The flames danced on his face making him look even more terrifying.

“I’ve told you several times I don’t want to hurt you.” His hands went to the top of the cloak and untied the clasp. “But I will if it is for your own good.”

He pushed the cloak off your shoulders. You didn’t lift your hands to cover yourself this time, not wanting to anger him at all.

“Is that what you want?” His hand gripped your chin and made you look him in the eye. “To make me hurt you?”

You shook your head as best you could and tears started to form again. The fury in his eyes was still there as he bore into yours. His chest was heaving up and down. He didn’t look away from you and in a split second you saw the change. It wasn’t fury, it was fear. He let go of your chin and grabbed your head pressing his lips to yours.

There was no hesitation as you parted your lips and let his tongue dance with yours. There was a hard passion, almost an ownership to his kiss. You tilted your head back and did your best to take it. He broke it away and grabbed you by the hips, turning you around so you were on all fours.

He did not underdress, only pulled his cock from his pants and lined up with your pussy. There was still some slickness from your past orgasm, but you weren’t sure it was enough when he started to enter you.

It wasn’t painful, but not quite as easy as the last time. He rested one hand on your shoulder and wrapped the other one in your hair as he filled you with his entirety. You gasped and through your neck back. He slid his hand from your shoulder to the small of your back and then around your hip as he leaned forward, your hair still in his fist.

His fingertip found your clit again and started rubbing as he slammed in and out of you, pulling your hair with each thrust and making you cry out. It was rough, but there was no doubt that your body was responding. You grew damper and he started pumping with ease. His grip on your head more keeping you in line than causing any real pain.

“You are mine.” His teeth grazed your back. “Say it.”

You let out a moan, not caring why you found this treatment so pleasurable. The hand tightened in your hair.

“I said SAY IT!” He tugged harder and slammed himself into you with more force.

His finger pressed harder against your clit and he moved out of sync with his thrusts making it difficult to focus on anything. Then the hand disappeared from your hair. Your head fell forward as his hand wrapped around your neck.

“SAY IT.” He squeezed lightly and you moaned, sure if you brought your hand up you would collapse.

“I am yours.” At that moment you meant it with every fiber of your being.

His cock was ramming into a place that brought you overloads of pleasure and you started squealing, bucking your hips back up against his as he went even deeper inside of you. His mouth came down on your shoulder and his teeth sunk into your skin at the same time a bubble of pleasure exploded inside of you.

“I AM YOURS!” You thought you managed to yell out the words in between the moans and grunts of passion escaping your body.

His hands moved to your hips and he yanked you back against him as his seed filled you up. You gasped for breath, hazy with lust and guilt and other emotions you could not understand. His hands disappeared and you fell forward off of his slick cock, your breathing still irregular.

Your eyes were again heavy with sleep and you moved on to your side, ready for sleep. You expected a dip in the bed, but all you heard were footsteps. You looked over to see James slam the door behind him, the sound of a lock turning from the outside.

The action made your heart hurt as you looked at the empty space next to you. For some reason you wanted to be in his arms more than anything at the moment, regardless of what had transpired between you. You tried to fight back the tears, knowing that it was wrong to shed them for a man like him. Maybe you were wrong, maybe he deserved all your tears. You shook your head and chased away the thoughts, knowing you were too emotional to access logic, but nonetheless still wishing the man was in bed beside you.

#bucky x reader #bucky smut #fanfic #smut #marvel smut #manuswritingchallenge #bucky au

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