#boom 3 days have passed and i have all those pages finish

[ivelte]

At first it was just a sketch but then i black out and end up with 4 finished comic pages. So uh enjoy this little comic with Azulin and Flippy (plus Gordi and Flaky at the end)

#unicorn wars #azulin #gordi #unicorn wars azulin #unicorn wars gordi #happy tree friends #htf #flippy #htf flippy #flaky #htf flaky #flipqy #htf fliqpy #comic #i don't know how it happened i swear i was just drawing and then #boom 3 days have passed and i have all those pages finish #i'm kinda scared ahah #my art

[missymurphy1985]

The Lesson

After breaking up with your long-term boyfriend, you finally found the courage to enrol at university, studying Modern Theatre. Your life now taking an unexpected detour to its original plan of marriage, babies, settling down. This is going to be an interesting year.

Tag List (message me to be added): @queenshelby @peakyscillian @ntmynouis @margoo0 @cloudofdisney

Warnings - smut / teacher.student relationship

Main Characters - Cillian Murphy (he's 35 and single for the purpose of this fic, no children)

"Hey!!! Over here!!" You heard Sarah, your best friend, shouting from the other side of the hall and made your way over.

"Thank god, I was starting to think I'd gone to the wrong place! This place is huge!!" You laughed as you hugged each other. Your bag slung over your shoulder, you linked arms with Sarah with your other arm as you made your way down to the Lecture Theatre.

"So how are you feeling?" Sarah asked.

"Nervous! I never, in a million years, thought I'd be doing this! I feel so old!" You laughed. At 26, you were easily the oldest student here, but Sarah laughed your worries away.

"Trust me, you're not. Once they revealed who the teacher was going to be this semester, a fair few extra people signed up to do that course y/n!" You looked at her confused.

"What, Mr Allen?? He's about 75 isn't he?" Sarah laughed again and left you at the door to your classroom, making her way to her own Design Studio at the bottom of the corridor to teach her own class.

"You'll see when you get inside!" She called behind her, smiling.

You took your seats near the front of the room, looking behind you you could see a gaggle of ladies in the back corner, all of them easily over the age of 40 with no clear interest at all in the subject at hand. They were all giggling like children.. this was going to be fun, you thought, rolling your eyes. Turning back round, you caught a glimpse of a dark haired man making his way through the door at the back of the room. As he made his way to the desk in the centre of the stage area in front of the students, you couldn't help but gasp a little. Jesus he was cute....

The ladies at the back squealed in delight and the man rolled his eyes.

"Right then, let's make a few things clear from the off shall we folks?" He spoke, his Irish accent booming through the auditorium. Everyone fell silent.

"I have a passion for the arts - I've been involved with them since I was 19. I'm here to teach you all I've learned over the last 16years and I plan on teaching it to like minded, dedicated people. People who want to make a career out of the beauty that is theatre. Those of you here simply to catch a glimpse of anything OTHER than a teacher doing his job, the doors at the back of the room." He stood still, leaning against the desk. The gasp at the back of the room was so loud, you couldn't help but giggle a little. Busted ladies. They all whispered to each other, a few of them glaring in the man's direction as they made their way to the back of the room. Slowly but surely, a few others also left sheepishly, men included, and you couldn't help but notice the man smiling a little underneath his floppy brown hair and round glasses. Who was this man??

"Now that's taken care of, I'm hoping I'm left with students that are here to learn the theatre and nothing else..." He paused, looking round the room. His eyes met yours and he paused for a second, raising his eyebrow slightly. You were now the oldest in the room, and you felt even more out of place. You kept a straight face, and maintained the eye contact with him. He wasn't bullying YOU out of here, you didn't care who he THOUGHT he was.

"Right... Well we'd better get going then!" His demeanour changed, he smiled broadly clapping his hands together. "My name's Cillian Murphy - please for the love of God call me Cillian... Mr Murphy is my Dad and I'm not quite ready for that level of old yet." A few chuckles in the room - that tension was gone. "This isn't the first time I've done a class like this, and I've had to evict people part way through for.. ah.. shall we say inappropriate behaviour. Wanted to nip that in the bud from the offset, so I apologise to you all now for the way the class started. Now, do you all have the textbooks the school sent out last month? Let's start on page 35 shall we?" The class, including you, opened the books in unison to find the chapter on Lighting and Sound. Cillian glanced back over at you, a look of uncertainty on his face. You could feel him staring, but refused to look up at him.

"So how are your classes going y/n?" Your mum walked into your apartment to find you studying, book one side, laptop the other and you making notes in the middle of your desk in the corner of the room. You'd given her a key a month prior so she could let your dog, Juno, out during the day while you were at uni.

"It's hard work! I had no idea there was so much to learn about the theatre, they make it look so easy!!"

Your mum laughed and went to the kitchen to put the kettle on for you both. Kicking back, you allowed yourself a break after 3 hours studying and met your mum at the small breakfast bar.

"I hear you have a new teacher too? Cillian Murphy?"

"Yeah, he's amazing! He's been there and done it all mum, the stories he tells are fascinating!"

"You know who he is, right?" You did know. You'd googled him when you got home after that first lesson. Pretty big hot shot actor, but you weren't bothered. He seemed pretty down to earth and normal to you.

"Yep I know - you'd never think it though, he's so... Normal I guess?"

"Cute too."

"Mother! Behave!" You both giggled. You couldn't deny he was very attractive though - but you could tell he was a professional. No way had he even looked at you that way - in fact you were convinced he thought you were there purely for him, rather than the course, so you were even more determined to pass this semester with flying colours to prove a point.

The following weeks were filled with more information than you could get your head around. You hated to admit it, but you were struggling to keep up. You hated admitting defeat, but you were really starting to wonder if you could carry on at this pace. Your work was starting to slip, and Cillian had noticed it too, much to your dismay. He'd called a 1-2-1 with you this afternoon, and you were convinced he was going to pull you from the course. You knocked on the door of his office, the defeat written all over your face.

"Come in y/n.."

"Hi.." you tried to smile as you sat across from him. He had your latest piece of coursework in front of him on the desk and he was leaning back in the chair, eyeing you through the rims of his round glasses. Standing up, he made his was over to the drinks cabinet in the corner of the room and pulled out a bottle of Irish Whiskey. You watched him, silently, as he put two glasses on the desk.

"Shouldn't be drinking this during the day, but felt the need. Want one?" You smiled, nodding your head.

"Conversation is clearly not going to be a fun one, no?"

"What makes you say that? I'm just lightening the mood y/n, you walked in here looking like you were going to either cry or knock me out!" He laughed, and offered you the glass. You took it, and sat it in your hands. Your fingers connected and you forced down a gasp at the contact. You'd refused to show him any kind of attraction but it was difficult while he was sat so close to you.

"Listen, I know I'm falling behind Cillian, I'll make it up I promise -"

"Stop. It's okay. Yes, your marks are dropping slightly, but not by much, okay? I'm seeing real potential in you. I invited you here to talk to you about some extra classes to help bump you back to where you need to be. What do you say?" He took a sip of the whiskey and so did you. Relief washing through you as the warm liquid fell down your throat. Hopefully it hid the blush in your cheeks.

"Um.. wow... Okay.. yeah! That'd be great, thank you!" He smiled again. God that smile... Stop it y/n.. he's your teacher, stop.. he sat back down at his desk and handed you a book.

"Great! I've put my phone number on the inside cover. Have a read of this, and call me when you're done. I think you'll like it." You took the book and smiled. A history of Modern Theatre. You agreed, definitely an interesting read.

"Is it classed as 'appropriate' for a teacher to give a student his phone number, Cillian?" You smirked, referring to his opening outburst on that first day. He chuckled.

"Maybe not, but I'm not a teacher, I'm an actor helping out the local university for a semester while the actual teacher takes a leave of absence." You'd heard Mr Allen had fallen ill, Cillian was just a temporary stand in for three months. Nothing permanent. "I have a new job starting in January, I'll be done here by Christmas." You couldn't help but feel a bit sad at the thought of him not being around anymore. Without admitting it, you'd looked forward to seeing him every day in class. He stood again, and raised his glass in a toast. You raised yours.

"What are we drinking to?"

"You. We're drinking to you y/n. I'm telling you, I'm seeing some real potential with you - you're going far, just need to focus more on the content, that's all." You blushed again.. was that the reason you were distracted? Him? Maybe. "Meet me back here tonight, around 4:30? Should be done with marking by then, we can make a start?" You agreed, a nervous knot forming in your stomach.

**************************************

You'd been having your 1-2-1 meetings with Cillian for more than a month now, and your marks were certainly improving. You had finished the book he gave you, but you hadn't plucked up the courage to text him yet. Watching TV alone in your apartment one evening, you downed your third glass of wine and picked up your phone. He wouldn't have given you the number if he didn't expect you to use it, come on y/n...

"Hey Cillian? Just letting you know I finished the book. Really good read, thank you! I'll have it back with you in the morning. And thank you for spending time with me helping to improve my marks too, it's really helped. Y/n x" pressing send, you cursed yourself, why the hell did you put a X at the end!!! You cursed again when it was delivered... Then again when its status changed to 'read'... Oh crap... A reply.

"Glad you liked it! It's been a pleasure, you're doing a great job! Cx." He put one on his text too... Come on y/n, you're not a teenager anymore, get a grip of yourself!!! Your phone pinged again.

"Looking forward to seeing you tomorrow xx" 2 kisses? Ping.. "Maybe we can finish more than your coursework.x" What did that mean? Was he flirting with you?

"What did you have in mind? X"

"There's still half a bottle of whiskey in the cupboard, shame to let it go to waste X"

"I don't think you'd be able to keep up with me Cillian 😉" you typed, feeling a bit braver.

"Challenge accepted y/n. I'll see you tomorrow afternoon X" you knew his stint at the university was coming to a close, was he flirting with you?

****************************************

You knocked Cillian's office door at 4:30 sharp, knowing how much of a stickler he was for punctuality. You felt nervous, after your texts last night you didn't know what to expect - was he flirting or were you just overthinking it? The door opened, and he stood aside to welcome you in, a smile on his face as he greeted you.

"Good to see you y/n, come on in!" He walked to the cabinet in the corner. "I never turn down a challenge, you in?" You smiled, nodding, as he poured two glasses.

"Good job I left the car at home this morning," you chuckled as he brought his glass to meet yours. Both of you sinking it down in one, you grimaced as the liquid slipped down your throat and he took the glass from you to pour another.

"We'll take this one a bit slower y/n, what do you say?" His eyes darkened slightly, the alcohol clearly having an effect. You couldn't help the warm feeling running through your groin as he licked his lips to clear them of the whiskey remnants that sat on them.

"Whatever you say sir.." he glanced up at you as you said 'sir', and leaned against the desk.

"Sir? Since when did you call me sir?" He tilted his head back slightly, glass swirling in his hand. You sipped your drink and stood to face him, confidence growing. You could see his attraction towards you, and you decided to go with it.

"Since you decided to try and seduce your student... Sir." He swallowed hard, the game clearly up, watching you take a step towards him. Your bodies inches apart, he brought his hand up to rest on your hip, pulling you that little bit closer.

"Probably shouldn't have put kisses on a text to your teacher, then, should you.."

"Probably shouldn't have given me your phone number then, should you.." the air was hot now, your bodies touching gently, your breathing becoming deeper. You brought your hands to his chest, over his shoulders, and he quickly spun you round so you were now sat on his desk. His lips found yours and he ground his hips against your core, your legs parted allowing him access, skirt hitched up to your waist.

"I've wanted you since that first day... Fuck y/n you're beautiful... Sexy... Smart..." He kissed your neck between each word, breathing becoming hot and heavy. Suddenly stopping, he kissed your lips before making his way to the door, turning the key in the lock, before coming back to finish what you started. Unbuttoning your blouse and opening it, his hand snaked around your breasts, underneath the black lace bra. Groaning slightly, he moved his hands lower, down your abdomen.

"Leave as much on as possible... I'm taking you on this desk, right now.. you okay with that?"

"Like I said sir, I don't know if you'll be able to keep up with me.." your leg pushed him away slightly as you stood up, pushing him against the wall. You sank to your knees, taking his trousers and boxer shorts down with them, his cock springing up, twitching, begging for attention. Gasping, he watched you lick a circle around the swollen head, down the shaft, before taking one of his balls into your mouth and sucking lightly. His hand in your hair now, pulling it gently as he groaned. You continued teasing him with your tongue, before taking the tip of his cock into your mouth, giving it a hard suck, releasing it with a pop, sending his head back against the wall.

"Fuck... Take it y/n.. take it down..." You smiled, before sinking your mouth over his cock, all the way down the back of your throat, groaning into it sending shockwaves through him.

"Lets see how much you can take..." You sucked harder, not giving him time to react. Moving your head quickly up and down his shaft, you felt your core begin to leak, you'd never felt as turned on in your life as you did right now. You felt his legs start to shake...

"Yes.. fuck yes... Feels so good baby... Suck it... Harder.. god fuck yes..." His balls tightened, you could feel him trying to pull back but you held him firm with your hands on his hips, willing him to empty into you. "I'm gonna... You might... Jesus.... Fuck...." He came hard, gripping your hair for support as he came hard, you felt his cum shoot in the back of your throat and swallowed as much as you could, some of it spilling down your chin. You pulled your mouth away, holding your mouth slightly open so he could see his cum on your tongue before swallowing it back down.

"That was... My god... Fuck y/n..."

"Oh you will sir, you definitely will. I'm not done with you yet.." you stood up and sat back on the desk, legs parted again to reveal your core to him, completely bare. He didn't see you remove your underwear while you were sucking him, but he wasn't complaining. Gathering himself, he moved to stand between your legs and pulled your lips to his, kissing you passionately, tasting a little of himself in the process and feeling surprisingly aroused from it. He moved his mouth down to your core, running his tongue along your open slot painfully slowly.

"Cillian... Please... Need to cum...."

"You will, baby, oh you will..." You moved your hands to his soft, floppy hair and pulled his face where you needed it. He loved you taking control and took your clit with his tongue, pressing it, rolling it around his tongue as he felt you begin to shake. You lifted a leg onto the desk to give him better access, and he inserted two fingers inside you, tipping them up to meet your g spot deep inside, emitting a sharp cry from you as you three your head back.

"Yes!!! Oh god yes... Right there... Fuck!!" Your hips were involuntarily rolling against his face now, riding his tongue as he brought you more pleasure than you thought was possible. Within minutes, your orgasm was building, and sensing it, he pumped his fingers harder against that one spot that was making you see stars. Three pumps and you came hard against his face, liquid flowing from you like a waterfall, hitting the floor underneath you as you screamed Cillians name. He leaned back on his ankles, watching you coming undone, smiling. Once you'd caught your breath, your eyes fell onto his his.

"Feeling proud of yourself there Mr Murphy?" You smiled. He stood between your thighs again.

"Extremely. But I'm not done with you yet. Turn around y/n." His blue eyes darker now. Your core throbbed, knowing what was coming. Standing up, turning round, you bent over his desk, his hands parting your legs. Taking a condom from his bag behind him, you heard the packet rip open and you rotated your hips, teasing him. He groaned deeply as he started to push his length into you, inch by inch.

"Ohh... Oh god..." You weren't ready for his size, you legs parting as much as possible. Inch by inch he pushed, allowing you to adjust, before bottoming out, his balls resting near your still throbbing clit.

"I'm gonna fuck you hard against this desk, y/n... You're gonna take every thrust like the good girl you are..." You bucked your hips up and he responded by pulling his cock nearly out, and thrusting back in powerfully enough to make you scream his name. Picking up the pace, he leaned over to grab your hair in his hand, giving it a sharp tug as he thrust into you from behind over and over, relentlessly.

"Harder... Cillian harder!!! Fucking... Oh god yes!!!" Loving the sound of your cries and the feel of your pussy contracting around his cock, he knew you were close to another orgasm.

"Rub yourself... Rub your clit baby, make yourself cum for me..." You reached a hand round to your core and found that bundle of nerves. Circling it hard, your orgasm built up again and you swore you saw stars.

"Good girl.... That's it baby... Let it go, I've got you... Let it go...." That was all you needed to hear. You came hard, and he couldn't hold back once he felt your walls contracting round him. "I'm... Oh y/n yes... Yes!" He stilled, you felt his cock pulsate, filling the condom. Both of you breathless, he fell forwards resting against your back.

He pulled out gently, pulling the condom off and disposing of it in the bin, he chuckled slightly.

"Remind me to empty the bin before we leave... I don't think the cleaner will expect to see that in there in the morning!" You laughed too, standing up to face him.

"That was incredible... Just amazing..." You rested your head against his shoulder as he wrapped his arms around your waist, kissing your hair gently.

"I enjoyed that too y/n.. and I'd really like to see you again, if you'll let me?"

"I'd like that..." You smiled. You'd convinced yourself if anything happened it would probably be a one time thing, I mean he was a famous actor, what would he want with you? You had no illusions going into this.

"My teaching finishes here in 2 weeks - what do you say I take you out for dinner when it's done?"

"Sounds like a plan Cillian. But am I supposed to stay away until then?"

"Definitely not, y/n, we've still got a few 1-2-1 sessions to squeeze in before I leave..." He leaned down to kiss you, pushing you back against the desk again. His erection pressing against your core again. "It would appear I'm able to keep up after all y/n..."

#cillian smut #cillian x fem!reader #cillian teacher x you #cillian murphy #cillian x reader #cillian x smut

[plant-flwrs]

heart of glass // fred weasley

masterlist!

request (from @bitchywhisperswizard <3): Hi! I absolutely LOVE your writing! Could I maybe request where Fred Weasley breaks up with reader before the war and thinks she died? Only to find her a year later in the muggle world like a celebrity performer? I understand if it doesn't make sense. Thank you!

a/n: thank u for the request!! i refuse to believe fred d*ed, but i am a sucker for fred lives au’s. also went a little grunge w this just because i love those pictures of metalhead james and oliver :) (i listened to miley cyrus’s new cover of heart of glass while i wrote this so i just called it that)

summary: Fred broke up with you just before the war, and when he couldn’t find you after the battle cleared he thought you died. You’re alive and well, living as a celebrity among the muggle world. One night reunites you two, and neither of you can deny the feelings that spark.

(2.5k)

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Clutching the white sink beneath your fingers, you barely recognized the person looking back at you in the mirror. Your eyes were sunken and swollen, your lips puffed and red. Your cheeks were hollowed, casting shadows into your face. You lifted a shaky hand, pushing your hair out of your face and revealing a scar on your temple. 

You had barely made it out of the war, and once you did, you had no intentions on going back.

You made a new life in the muggle world, and eventually you were able to do what you had always wanted to do: perform. 

It was about ten minutes before you were due in stage, and your nerves had stopped buzzing a long time ago. You dipped a finger into some black eyeshadow, spreading it haphazardly across your eyes. You looked dead, and it showed what you felt like on the inside.

Not a day passed in which Fred Weasley hadn’t thought of you. Not a day passed in which guilt hadn’t plagued his heart and mind. Every day, for just over a year, the image of tears streaming down your face as he broke up with you was glue to the inside of his eyelids.

George tried to understand but he could never understand the pain. He tried to help his brother when he could. 

“Freddie!” George called to him from across the store, heaving in a huge box.

“Yeah?” Fred replied from behind the counter, pushing heavy buttons on the loud till.

“Look at this,” George quickly removed a hand from under the box, shifting his weight. He handed Fred a flier he found posted in the side of the shop.

It was a black flier, advertising some muggle bar in London. It looked like the sort of crowd the brothers gravitated towards some odd five years ago. Skulls and grunge symbols littered the page, and Fred found himself smiling fondly at it.

“Want to go?’ George asked, setting down the box in its right place, starting to unload the new shipment of chocolate wands.

“Aren’t we a little too old for this, George?” Fred said with a sad smile.

In that moment, George had the feeling he didn’t recognize his brother. His own face, but tormented with worry, sadness, and the unfriendly effects of time. George furrowed his brow, and tried to continue.

“No! It’ll be fun,” George reassured, slapping a hand on his brother’s back.

This was how Fred found himself clung to the bar all night, nursing a beer in his hand. He didn’t like muggle alcohol as much, but he supposed it would do. 

The bar was in the back of the crowded club, but it barely had any people by it. Everyone had rushed to the front of a stage, the entire room filled with enthusiastic screams. George hovered near the back of the crowd, where Fred could still see him, swinging back and forth to the music they played over the speaker.

Fred and George had liked going to concerts after the war. The flashing lights and loud noises were difficult at first, very difficult, but it was one of the things that helped them recover.

Fred looked around over the top of his drink, surveying the crowd. It was mostly made up of people who looked like him five years ago, people who hadn’t been through a war, or lost their ex-girlfriend in that war. People who didn’t feel like crying every second of every day. The crowd didn’t look like you or Fred.

Someone knocked on your door, their words muffled by the ringing in your ears. You shook your head, letting your hair fall naturally in it’s place over your scar. You pulled up the high boots you wore, and fixed the sheer tights that dove into them. Pulling the top of your tank top to cover your chest some more, you felt the cold air hit your slightly exposed stomach. You stood off to the right, backstage, waiting as people poked and prodded at you, fixing wires and handing you things to hold that they would eventually take back from you.

The nerves still didn’t come, but you hadn’t expected them to. Nothing made you nervous anymore, nothing made you feel anything, really.

Someone held the curtain open for you, and at the slightest movement the crowd roared. Fred turned his gaze towards the stage, and George moved forward in the crowd.

You looked out into the sea of people, and you could make out a few faces in the front. You had requested dulled lights for all of your shows, unable to handle the bright lights that often came with performing. A purple light hovered above you, illuminating you with the cool hue.

You cast a smirk out into the audience, moving to your mark at the center of the stage. Your band filed in behind you, and you tugged at the cord for the microphone, giving yourself some slack. The crowd was still just as loud as when you came out, and you started your first song.

You couldn’t hear anything but your own voice ringing through your head, booming through the earpiece tucked behind your hair. 

From the bar, Fred found his glass shattered on the floor beneath him. It hadn’t even made a sound over your powerful voice coming from what felt like every angle. He couldn’t move, his eyes just locked on your almost unrecognizable face. Even though you looked like him, tired and full of regrets, eyes sunken and cheeks hollowed, he would recognize you and your voice from anywhere.

He had heard you sing almost everyday since he met you. You hummed next to him in class, you chorused obnoxiously in the common room, and you sang to him softly while the two of you laid in bed.

Looking at you now, bent at the knees and almost squatting as you nearly screamed the chorus for what he could assume was your own song, he felt like he couldn’t breathe. Everything washed through him, the guilt, the sadness, the worry, the pain.

George was next to him in a second, shaking him by his shoulders. A gleeful smile spread across his face and he just chanted: “She’s alive, she’s actually alive, Freddie!” over and over.

Fred couldn’t believe it, he had always wanted something like this to happen, to replay it all and make sure you hadn’t died, and now that he saw you living and breathing he didn’t know what to do with himself.

Fred ducked into the bathroom, splashing water over his face until he felt like himself again. He fixed his hair, regretting not getting a haircut earlier in the week like he had wanted to. You did always like his hair long, though. He looked down at his buttoned down shirt, the flowy sleeves rolled up halfway up his arms. He tucked it into his jeans, trying to smooth it out some.

George was waiting from him outside the door, biting his nails.

“She’s amazing, mate,” George said. Your voice echoed around the room, and still floated to their ears from the corner they had hidden away in.

“She always was,” Fred mumbled.

“I can’t believe it,” George said, his mouth agape and shaking his head in a disbelieving way.

“Do I look okay?” Fred asked his brother, holding his arms out a little.

George tugged at the sleeves, evening them out and making the rolls more neat.

“Yeah,” he said, pulling Fred with him.

The two sat and listened to you sing until Fred couldn’t take it anymore. The brothers left the venue, moving out onto the chilly London street. They walked around the back, where your crew had parked. They waited.

You finished your show, leaving the stage with the usual rush of adrenaline. You could never sit still inside after a show, and you rushed past your crew and out the back door. The cold air hit your skin, nipping at your sweat covered face and torso. You reached back inside, your hand finding a stool with a pack of cigarettes on them. You came back outside, fiddling with the package. You pulled one out and brought it to your lips, and realized you didn’t have a lighter. These were the moments you wished you still had your wand. It was always easier to smoke when you were a witch.

“Need a light?” someone spoke, coming from out of a shadow.

You immediately felt tears brimming your eyes, looking into the familiar brown eyes and flaming red hair.

“George?” you croaked, voice weak from the singing and the tears threatening to spill over.

George and you took steps towards each other, and he wrapped you in his arms. You cried into his chest, not really knowing why. You supposed you missed him, or maybe it was the fact that he looked strikingly like the boy who had broken your heart.

“Y/n,” another voice, a voice you would know always, called from behind him.

You shrunk from George hesitantly, wiping your eyes. You looked down at your hands, seeing them covered in smeared black makeup. You looked back at George’s shirt and saw a similar mark. You looked up at him apologetically, but he just beamed back at you, waving it off. You watched him pull his wand from his side, and with a simple movement, the stain was gone. You felt yourself crying harder.

You turned back to Fred, who had also started crying. The two of you lunged at each other, a mess of forceful limbs trying to wrap around the other.

“I thought you died,” Fred called out, burying his head into the crook of your neck.

You sobbed in response, your body shaking against Fred’s. He pulled your tighter, like he had regretted ever letting go.

You felt like you could never compose yourself, but you eventually did. Fred’s eyes were red and swollen, and you had wiped the tears off his cheeks. He did the same charm George had done to get the makeup off his shirt.

You led them inside, back into the venue. All of you sniffled as you walked together. You waved to security, telling them they were with you, and ignored your manager as you slipped into your greenroom. 

“You were amazing up there,” George said, taking advantage of the full bar you had in the room.

You took the glass he had made for you, gulping down the harsh alcohol in one swig. George chuckled, ducking into the mini fridge and handing you a soda.

“So your a muggle now?” Fred croaked, his eyes locked on his glass.

“Turned in my wand after the war,” you answered, putting the soda on the table beside you because you couldn’t trust your shaking hands.

“We missed you,” George spoke, sitting next to you on the couch.

You forced a smile on your cracking lips, glancing at him.

“I thought you died,” Fred spoke, finally looking up at you.

Your eyes widened, mouth opening slightly.

“Couldn’t find you after,” George said, forcing himself to remember, “looked almost all night. Lifted every stone we could find.”

Your eyes drifted down, tears filling them again. You swallowed hard, hating yourself immediately for the pain you put them through. You couldn’t even compare it to the pain Fred put you through, because at least you knew he was alive.

“I left,” you mumbled, lip quivering a little, “Just after the dust settled. I flew home and packed everything I owned.”

Fred scoffed across form you, and both you and George’s head shot up to look at him.

“I thought you died,” he repeated, sounding harsh.

“ ‘M sorry,” you mumbled, tasting the warm and salty tears falling into your mouth.

“Why didn’t you say goodbye?” George whispered from beside you, swallowing hard.

“I dunno,” you admitted, wiping your tears with the back of your hand, “I just had to leave. I didn’t think you would have wanted to see me.”

You spoke to Fred, referencing the harsh breakup a month before the war. He looked at you, hurt in his eyes.

“Of course I wanted to see you,” he said, sounding hurt that you could even think that.

“You broke it off with me, Fred, what was I supposed to think?” 

“I only did that to keep you safe!” Fred yelled.

“Well it didn’t keep me safe! It just hurt more!” you shouted back, pulling your hair off your face and behind your ears in a stressful motion.

Fred looked at you, shocked. His eyes fell to your scar, and you covered it with your hair again.

“I’m sorry,” he finally spoke, sounding regretful.

You nodded your head, looking at the ground.

“I’ve missed you, Y/n,” George spoke, his voice soft, “here.”

He slipped a card into your hand, and you looked down at it. It was a business card. Your mouth widened into a smile, and before you could stop yourself, you were laughing.

“Did George Weasley just give me a business card?”

George smiled back at you, chuckling with you. 

You examined the card, reading the gold writing. ‘Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes, Fred and George Weasley’. The card had an address on it.

“Visit the shop some time,” George said, standing, “I’ll meet you at home, Fred?”

Fred looked at George, furrowing his brow. George made a motion for Fred to sit, and Fred sighed. George hugged you and left you with Fred.

You two sat in silence, he nursed his whiskey and you picked at you fingers.

“You really were amazing up there,” Fred finally said, putting his glass on the table.

“Thank you,” you said sheepishly.

“I still love you, you know,” Fred said confidently, looking straight into your eyes.

Your lips parted, hearing the words you had wanted to hear for about a year, and you didn’t know what to say.

“I love you too,” you whispered.

Fred stood from his chair and moved over to you, sitting next to you. His hand found yours, and you sat together. Neither of you had felt anything like this in a long time. The numbness receded into you, allowing space for love and relief to fill you. Fred no longer felt the weight of guilt and worry, all that banished just by a glance at your face.

Your hand still shook in his, and he held it tightly until it stopped. He turned towards you, bringing a hand to your face. He pushed your hair off your face, looking at you scar.

“Is that from-” he trailed off, his thumb tracing the mark.

You nodded, flicking your eyes away from his. He snaked it hand behind your neck, and pulled your face close to his. His lips connected to your scar, and he held you there for a moment. You closed your eyes, melting into his touch.

“I don’t ever want to be apart from you again,” he mumbled into your face.

“Me neither,” you whispered back.

#fred weasley #fred weasley au #fred weasley fanfiction #fred weasley imagine #fred weasely fic #fred #weasley #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley grunge #fred weasley x y/n #fred weasley x you #harry potter

[kiyoshi-02]

Betrayal

Chapter 1

Blood seeped from her body, streams of crimson that flowed freely from her limbs were quickly swallowed up by the wooden surface below her. The relentless thrashing waves continued to carry her battle worn dingy boat away from the sinking galleon behind her. Her breath came out short, her vision blurred as her mind danced a fine line between consciousness and succumbing to her extensive wounds.

Her creased brow deepened as she focused on the shadows gliding above her, high in the sky, as they finally focused on the birds that circled around and around. Their calls haunting, accompanied by the heavy rain and howling winds, as thunder and lightning boomed, the storm completely engulfing her in its chaos.

With one final shuddering breath, she shakily clutched the pendant once strapped around her neck, gritting her teeth and calling to the sliver of blue she could see begin to break through the swirling grey clouds. “I…I won’t die, you hear me!?”

Mere seconds later she lost consciousness and was soon swept away, the grip around her pendant never loosening.

-A Few Days Later-

The sun beamed down on the deck on the Going Merry. Clear blue sky accompanied by the cool sea breeze effectively kept the crew from suffering in the heat. Most of the Strawhat Pirates were enjoying the cold drinks Sanji had whipped up, while Luffy was already begging for seconds.

Nami rolled her eyes but smiled fondly at her captain's antics. She returned to her reading, flipping a page in the newspaper as Robin chuckled beside her when Sanji finally begrudgingly agreed to give him seconds, to which Luffy responded giddily by jumping on the cook’s back.

Sanji then spun around with hearts in his eyes, calling to the two women on board, that he would be sure to make them seconds as well. No doubt hoping to receive some sort of appreciation from the girls. This however only resulted in grabbing the attention of Usopp and Chopper, who both started complaining about the cook’s obvious favouritism, all the while Luffy remained hanging onto the cook, laughing away.

The final blow to Sanji’s patience was the muttering of the swordsman who was currently leaning against the side of the Merry. The second the word “Moron” reached the cook’s ears his mood did a one-eighty and he sent a kick flying towards the swordsman, who blocked said kick with ease and sent the cook back a few steps. Luffy at that point had hopped off of Sanji’s back to join Usopp and Chopper.

With a clenched jaw and pissed off expression the whole scene ended with a swift kick from Sanji to silence the three other crew members that were still complaining, leaving them lined up on deck with large bumps on their heads. Sanji lit his cigarette, taking a frustrated puff. “Shut the hell up already! I’ll go make your damn drinks, geez.” He finished before turning around and making his way back to the galley. Luffy cheered after him, smiling wide as Usopp and Chopper joined him in his clapping and cheering.

Things calmed down after that as the crew returned to their own activities. Robin had since stood up to go and retrieve a different book to read while Nami had almost finished reading the newspaper. Zoro remained where he was but settled down against the Merry and had started to doze off as Usopp was showing Luffy some of the new additions to his ammunition.

Chopper had gone below deck and reappeared with his bag full to the brim of medical supplies. He settled himself down on the opposite side of the Merry to where Zoro was now fast asleep. He got to work on stocking up on Rumble Balls before Sanji finally returned out on deck with the promised second round of drinks.

A short while had passed with not much to report on before suddenly Zoro rose from his slumber with a slight start, grabbing Wado as Chopper’s nose twitched at a familiar scent. The soft ‘thunk’ that had woken Zoro before, repeated a few times as Chopper voiced his thoughts.

“I smell blood.”

That had caught the attention of everyone on board the Merry, aside from Sanji who was currently making dinner preparations. “Blood?” Usopp asked, sniffing the air, “I don’t smell anything,”, followed by Luffy, who took a comical inhale, his nostrils stretching inhumanly large. “I smell it too!” Luffy announced as he stood up, his nostrils in the same position as he followed the smell, heading towards where Chopper was seated.

Chopper followed along with Luffy’s actions, but made a lot more progress in finding the source of the blood. Jumping up, Chopper leaded over the side of the Merry and within the span of three seconds let out a shrill scream. Everyone jumped at the sound, Sanji kicking the door of the galley open, yelling out, “What’s going on?!”

“There’s someone down there!” Chopper called, grabbing his bag and jumping over the side of the Merry. “Chopper wait!” Nami called after the Doctor, a few of the others echoing her calls. The rest of the crew crowded around the side of the Merry, looking overboard to what Chopper was so frantic about.

Stuck to the side of the Going Merry was a small row boat, battered and half submerged in the water. The crashing waves kept it against the larger ship, a young girl it’s only occupant along with a single bag. She was beaten and bloody, skin pale and cheeks sunken, her lips dry and cracked.

Chopper made quick work of checking her over, making a quick assessment of her condition before calling up to the rest of the crew. “She’s hurt really bad guys! Luffy, help me get her up on deck!” Luffy was about to comply, rolling his shoulder and getting ready to stretch his arm down when Zoro’s voice suddenly boomed, “Chopper! Watch out!”

Suddenly there was a blade against the doctor’s neck, he froze in that instant, his back still to the girl who had sat up without warning. “Who are you?” The girl spat out harshly, her voice strained and weak, a murderous glare on her face as she addressed the doctor. Zoro shifted forward, drawing his sword, ready to dive down to Chopper’s aid before being stopped by Luffy.

Wordlessly Zoro leaned back and watched with the rest of the crew as they waited to see how the situation would unfold.

Chopper flinched at her words, gulping before answering, “I-I’m a doctor. You’re hurt and I want to treat your wounds.” His voice grew more serious as he spoke, her determination to treat the others wounds far overpowering his fear of her. The girl simply stared at him, evaluating his words as her breath came out in harsh puffs. Her gaze shifted up towards the others, one look at them and it wasn’t hard to deduce that they were pirates.

Her eyes met with a set of ferocious ones, a clear message of warning and a promise of death vocalised in those striking grey eyes. It was then she noticed the sword that was at the ready by his side. They both narrowed their eyes at each other before the girl noticed another intense stare bore into her. Her gaze shifted to a boy in a straw-hat. His expression was blank and unreadable but calculating.

It wasn’t hard to conclude that she was outnumbered. She looked back to the self proclaimed doctor and took into account the sincerity in his eyes. He clearly did want to help her, she thought to herself before letting out a deep sigh while putting down her weapon.

“Sorry about that then,” she said to the doctor, “I’m just a little on edge, didn’t mean to scare you.” Her expression changed to a much softer one and she sent him a small apologetic smile towards Chopper. The Doctor visibly relaxed at her words, even more so with the absence of a giant knife against his neck.

“So you’ll let me treat you?” He asked hopefully. The girl simply nodded, letting out a short chuckle, “If you really want to, I suppose I wouldn’t mind.” She joked, her shoulders relaxing as Chopper laughed happily. “Great! Let’s get up on board the ship and I’ll treat you right away! That okay with you Luffy?” He said before looking back up towards the ship’s occupants.

After a beat Luffy smiled down at his ship’s Doctor before smiling and letting out a short chuckle. “If that’s what you wanna do Chopper, I’m fine with it!” He spoke before stretching an arm down to help the two on board.

The girl sent an apologetic bow of her head, with a sheepish smile. “Sorry about that!” She called up before being helped up onto the ship, bag and all following behind her. Once her feet met the deck of the Merry, her knees buckled, resulting in her needing to lean back against the railing behind her.

Her vision was a little foggy, the adrenaline that had fuelled her previous actions slowly leaving her body. She looked back up to the group of people that had agreed to help her but all she saw was blotches of colour and fuzzy outlines of what she assumed were people. Only then did she notice that the little Doctor from before was asking her something. That however was soon drowned out by a ringing in her ears.

It didn’t take long before she once again lost consciousness and tumbled forward, expecting to hit the deck hard, the last thing she registered was a welcoming warmth and a firm secure hold around her body as she finally blacked out.

Hello hello, hope you enjoyed so far, please feel free to share any feedback you have and thank you for reading! <3

I will be continuing the Gaara fanfic I started but I just wanted to start something new after coming back to writing after a few months lol

#zoro x reader #zoro x oc #roronoa zoro #one piece #one piece fanfiction #slow burn

[morosemagick]

On Your Lips, Like a Prayer | Sihtric x Reader One Shot

Warning: References to Suicide, Minor Character Death

Words: 4449

Tagged:

@solinarimoon @emilyhufflepufftlk @magravenwrites @obipoelover @thebohemianpenguin @ivarinleatherpants

You remember falling.

Through the sky. Into a river. Drowning. They could’ve been dreams or your imagination or may you’re hell because when you wake up you don’t recognize the place you’ve found yourself in. The first thing you try to do when you wake is reach for your phone... until you remember you didn’t have it. What you had done, you had done with nothing on you. You didn’t want to be found or recognized. The plan was to scrub yourself from the pages of history. Yet from what you are told by the man and his daughter; who found you in the river half dead, it seems you did the far opposite.

Instead of erasing yourself from history, you’ve fallen through it.

And that was six months ago.

They believe you to have amnesia from the accident, but you remember every detail of what happened. It’s the ninth century from what you gathered. From what you remember from taking history in school, King Alfred the Great is the King of Wessex, but you are in Mercia. Who is ruled by Lord Ceowolf? You’re unsure. Everything you’ve known is gone or rather has yet to be. You have no idea how you’ve gotten here and you want out. So in a moment of foolishness, you try to redo what you did to send yourself back but instead you wind up stuck in their beds again for a month with a broken leg. It’s hard to run after you do that, and now you know without a doubt in your mind that you’re stuck. You cry about it for weeks, and the family who found you doesn’t understand why. You can’t tell anyone, because you’re certain they’ll set you on fire if you tell them.

Because you… you are from the future.

————————————<3—————————————

You’ve been here for a year now. Osmund and his daughter, Mildryd, are kind and loving people. They treat you like family, with love and respect. This place becomes your home and they teach you all the skills you’d need to survive these times. You learned about farming, rank etiquette, and all other manners you would need to blend into your surroundings. Soon enough, you embraced this world as your own. Not that you had a choice because every day it became more clear that this was not a dream and you were indeed stuck here.

Also, you had no desire to repeat what you did to get here in the first place… again.

“Lynne? Lynne, where are you?” You can hear Osmund call out to you. Lynne was what they called you here. It meant waterfall, from what you understood.

Which made sense, because that’s where they found you... At the bottom of a waterfall.

You come out from the stables, where you’ve just finished brushing the horses with a smile on your face, “Right here, Osmund. Everything alright?”

“I sent Mildryd into town to get grain but I didn’t realize she didn’t bring water in for the goats,” He tells you as he wipes the sweat from his face with a rag, “I hate to pass on her chores, but you know my daughter-”

“She’ll be flirting with the trader for a while,” You chuckle. Mildryd fancied the boy a lot and hopes he’d ask her father for her hand in marriage soon. She was young and full of life, the opposite of you if you were honest with yourself. You envied her spirit, “I’ll go to the river.”

“Thank you, Lynne,” The older man smiled, “You’re an angel.”

You only smile as a response. They show you so much love and part of you feels like you don't deserve it. Still, you grab your bucks and head down to the river, which is quite a walk away, to fetch some water as requested. It's beautiful here, and perhaps taking a moment to stand there and admire its beauty will be one of the moments you will grow to regret for the rest of your life because by the time you turn back to return to the farm you can see smoke.

You drop both buckets to the ground and run as fast as your post-broken leg body can take you, but you're too late.

A sob breaks from your lips as you walk through the ruins of Osmund's home. His body lays blood and lifeless on the floor, the sword he carries still in its sheath. You take the weapon from him, belt and all, and tie it around your waist. Leaving the house, you head into the rest of the small village you call yours in search of the man's daughter.

The rest of the village is no better than Osmund's home. Everyone is dead, from what you can tell, and your expectations for finding Mildryd are lowering by the second.

When you find her, she's holding on to her final breath, and her body covered by the trader she loved so much.

"Mildryd," You call to her with tears in her eyes, "Mildryd… who did this to you?"

"It… it was the Danes," She coughs and blood comes up, tears flowing down her cheeks, "Is.. my father-"

She dies before she can finish the sentence, and you sob over her dead body.

The time you get to mourn is cut short by a voice calling out from behind you, “Lord! A survivor!”

From the accent in his voice, you can tell he must be a Dane, and you ready yourself to face with your hand on the hilt of your sword. It’s heavy, and you haven’t had much practice but the one thing you have plenty of right now is rage. Rising to your feet, you pull out your sword and swing it without care as you turn around but the Dane behind you is quicker. He bobs and weaves his upper half to avoid your aimless swings and pulls out a blade of his own.

It does not take him long to disarm you, your sword dropping to the ground with a clang.

“Just kill me already,” You tell him as you lower your eyes to the ground, trying not to cry in front of him, “Please! Get on with it-”

“I don’t desire to kill you, Lady,” The Dane tells you, his voice softer than anticipated, and you open your eyes to see him put his sword away. He picks up your sword, and then lends out a hand to help you to your feet, “I am sorry to have startled you.”

You are hesitant to take his hand, but you do so anyway.

It’s his eyes; one blue and the other brown, they are mesmerizing and all but command you to trust him.

“Sihtric?” Another man calls out to him, this one also dressed like a Dane but something about him looks Saxon… like the others you’ve grown to know, “Who is this?”

The one you trust, Sihtric, turns to face you and they stare for a moment as they await your name, “I am-” You almost use your real name, but you stop yourself and continue again. Hoping they don’t notice, “I am Lynne, Lord.”

“This is your village?” He asks you.

“Was,” You replied looking back at Mildryd’s dead body behind you, “They killed my family…”

“Did you see the raiders who attacked this place?” The man asked and you shook your head no.

“My… my sister, she told me it was the Danes,” You glance between the two men, watching for their reactions, “That was all she said before she died.”

“Lord?” Another voice calls out, this one with an Irish accent, and from the side, another man appears followed by one much taller than he is, “There is no one else. If they had survivors, they must have taken them.”

The Lord sighs, and puts away his weapon, “Do you have somewhere to go, Lynne? Family somewhere else in Mercia, perhaps?”

You look between the men who surround you and shake your head no, “This was my only family, Lord. I have no one.”

“We can take her with us to Coccham, Uhtred,” The Irishman starts to say, but you are quick to jump in.

“I am not a slave!” You snap as you reach for your sword, forgetting you no longer have it.

“Nor do we wish you to be, Lady,” The one named Uhtred replies, “You will be safe in Coccham, should you choose to follow us. I am the Ealdorman there, we shall find someone to take you in.”

You nod okay, knowing you don’t have any other choice, “Thank you.”

Uhtred and his men start to walk away, and when you step to follow them your bad leg gives in and you start to fall. Luckily, Sihtric is there to catch you.

“Are you hurt, Lady?” He asks you as you wince.

He helps you straighten yourself upright, and you take a deep breath, “I broke it, six months ago,” You explain to Sihtric as he tries to help you walk, “It still feels weak some days. Just… give me a moment.”

“Should I carry you?” He asks and you blush as you furiously shake your head no.

“No, no,” You chuckle shyly as you attempt to walk again, “I can walk. I just need to go slow.”

Sihtric smiles lightly, and it brings you peace, “We’ll go your speed then.”

You nod okay, and together you walk slowly out of the village that was once your home.

————————————<3—————————————

Lord Uhtred finds you work as a stable hand in Coccham. The owners of the stable is an older couple whose children have moved away with their own families, and they are more than pleased to let you stay with them. After a few months of being in Coccham, you find yourself growing to like the place. It’s a booming town, and the people who live here all seem to be grateful for their half Dane half Saxon Lord for keeping them safe and prospering. About six months into living here, Lord Uhtred puts you personally in charge of his horse, as well as the horses of the rest of his men. The old couple tells you it’s a privilege for the Ealdorman to hold you in such regard.

You wonder why they seem to like you so much.

When you aren’t working you find yourself in the company of Lord Uthred’s men. There is Finan, his cheeky, Irish right-hand man. He’s a flirt and a tease, but you find him harmless and kind. Then their Clapa, the large bear-like Dane. He’s quiet but courteous. Last, but certainly not least, there is Sihtric. You never expected to like him as much as you do, but he makes you laugh and smile and feel like maybe you survived that fall for a reason. He visits you frequently at the stables and he tells you it’s to make sure you aren’t overworking your leg.

Part of you wonders if there is an ulterior motive for his visits.

Not that he needs one to visit you. You enjoy Sihtric’s visits probably much more than he did. So part of you finds it ironic when those around you weren’t fond of you spending so much time with a Dane. Their Lord was a Dane, too, after all.

“That Dane boy,” The stable owner, Cedric, started to say one day, “Does he bother you?”

You glance his way as you brush Lord Uhtred’s horse, readying all his warriors’ horses for their departure, “Not at all,” You tell Cedric, “Sihtric is kind.”

“You are of marriage age, Lynne,” Cedric tells you as he brings over a saddle for the horse, “Perhaps we should help find you a husband. I know some young eligible men. Hard workers,” he starts to say, and you know what’s about to come out of his mouth next before he can even say it, “Good Christians.”

“I’m not looking for a husband,” You tell him with frustration as you take the saddle from his hands and place it on top of Uhtred’s horse.

“My wife and I are only getting older, Lynne,” The old man tells you, and you keep your eyes away to prevent yourself from making a face, “It is not good for a Lady of your age to be unwed. This is your prime. You should be having children, starting a family.”

Part of you is ready to tell the old man off, but before you can say anything a familiar voice interrupts the conversation, “Cedric, Lynne! How are our horses?”

“Lord Uhtred,” Cedric smiles, and you can’t help but hate how hypocritical he is, “They are almost ready, Lynne ready the other saddles please.”

You nod at the two men and make yourself scarce as you go to prep the other horse. Your first stop is to Finan’s horse; because you know the mare can be fickle some days, and as you reach down to pick her saddle, you don’t see Finan and Sihtric sneak up behind you.

“Lynne!” Finan all but shouts, giving you a fright and making you drop the saddle to the floor.

“I swear to God, Finan, one would think you are the heathen and not Sihtric,” You scold with your hand over your heart as the two men laugh.

“We are only teasing, Lynne, I swear,” Finan tells you as he picks up the saddle you’ve dropped.

Sihtric leans up against a post and nudges you with his elbow, “Cedric does not push you too much, does he?”

“No, he does not,” You tell Sihtric as you go to ready his horse, but he stops you, carefully taking the saddle from your hands, “I do not need your help, Sihtric.”

“I want to help,” He tells you with a smile, and you can’t help but smile wider.

“She says she doesn’t need your help, Sihtric,” Finan teases from close by, and you both blush, momentarily forgetting he was there, “Hate to ruin the moment, but we need to get goin’.”

“Where are you riding for?” You ask them as you stand back and let the men finish readying their own horses.

“Mercia,” Sihtric tells you and a small part of you feels anxious, “Dane’s have taken Lundene."

“And King Alfred has decided he does need Uhtred, after all,” Finan chuckles and Sihtric smirks, but both of their calm demeanors don’t make you feel any better, “Don’t you worry, Lynne, we’ll be home before you know it.”

Finan passes by, rubbing your shoulder as he goes, and then leaves you alone with Sihtric. You sigh, folding your arms over your chest, “Be careful out there, okay?”

Sihtric chuckles as he takes a step closer to you, “Will you pray to your God for my return?”

“You know I don’t pray,” You lie with a smirk. You pray every single time Uhtred and his warriors leave, and you do so every night till they return. Reaching into your pocket, you pull out a thin gold cross on a blue, beaded string. It’s the only thing you own, from before, and you hand it to Sihtric with a weak smile on your face, “But just in case.”

He takes it from your hand so slow, the feeling of his fingertips lingering even after they are gone, “I will take good care of it.” Sihtric pulls you closer by the back of your head and kisses your temple as he moves around you.

Your cheeks stay a rosy color even long after he is gone.

————————————<3—————————————

They are back sooner than expected.

Or at least, that is what you hear when the crowd gathers to greet their returning warriors. You overhear the Lady of Coccham, Uhtred’s wife Gisela, make mention of returning too quickly for men holding a city under siege. Lord Uhtred is the first to walk through Coccham’s gates, looking surprisingly clean for a man coming from war, then Finan comes in close behind him… and then-

Wait.

You feel your heart pick up its pace when you realize Sihtric is not with them and for a moment you find it hard to breathe. As the crowd lets its lord through, and Uhtred and his men reach the stables, you rush over as fast as your legs can take you to meet them. You feel your bad leg ready to give up as you reach the stables, but this time Finan is there to catch you.

“Slow down, Lynne, you nearly killed yourself,” Finan tells you as he holds you steady with one hand.

“Where...,” You start speaking but you can't, instead you’re huffing and puffing trying to catch your breath, “Where is Sihtric?”

Finan sighs, wiping at his mouth with his free hand, “You’re not gonna be happy, Lynne.”

You try really hard not to cry as he explains to you what has happened at Lundene and how the King’s daughter has been possibly taken as prisoner. In fact, you do relatively well at holding it all in and keeping yourself together for most of his explanation. That is… until he gets to the part where Lord Uhtred has sent Sihtric and another warrior named Rypere to Beamfleot to spy, and you suddenly forget how to breathe again. You go to reach for your cross in your pocket until you remember you’ve given it to Sihtric for good luck and almost immediately you begin to cry.

“Lynne,” Finan puts his hand on your shoulder as you sob, covering your face with your hands, “Lynne, he’s coming home… okay? Sihtric is good at what he does. The best spy we have, and I know he’s got a good reason to come home in one piece.”

You shake your head okay, and furiously wipe away all your tears away the best you can, “How long do you think he’ll be gone?”

“I cannot say for certain,” Finan shrugs, “But he is coming home, I promise.”

Finan’s words only give you some reassurance and you spend the next few days feeling absolutely miserable. You continue on with your workdays with the best fake smile you can muster, and at night you find yourself at Church. Usually, you pray in your room, partially because you feel like you aren’t really doing it right and you feel too embarrassed to pray in public. You weren’t a very religious person before, but now that you are here in this church, you pray to every God you can think of that Sihtric comes home safely.

“Lady?” A voice from behind you calls, and you jump to your feet in a moment of fear. You weren’t expecting anyone else to come to the Church that night, coming late enough in the night to certainly be alone for as long as you wish, “I am sorry, I did not mean to startle you.”

His words remind you of the first time you met Sihtric, and you can't help but smile.

“It’s okay, I’ve just been… jumpy, lately.” You tell him as you sit back down on the bench, “I haven’t lived in Coccham for long, but I know I don’t recognize your face.”

“Ah, yes,” His smile is kind as he joins you at the bench, “I am Osferth, Lady. May I join you?”

“Of course, Osferth,” You smile back the best you can, but you’re tired and it’s late so it’s hard to put on your usual fake face.

Osferth takes his seat next to you, making sure not to get too close, and keeps his eyes on the altar ahead of you, “What are we praying for?” He asks, glancing your way.

“My-” You paused, not knowing what to call him. Your friend didn’t sound like a good enough way to explain what he meant to you, and you definitely didn’t think of him as a brother. So you go with this, “My family. Someone very important to me has been sent away on a dangerous mission for Lord Uhtred.”

"If he is a warrior for Lord Uhtred, he must be very brave," he tells you, reassuringly

"Only a special kind of warrior is lucky enough to serve a Lord like Uhtred," You agree with him, "And I have been told Sihtric is good at what he does, but I can't help but worry."

"Has prayer helped?" Osferth asks you and you look his way with a chuckle.

"Not at all," You tell him, and you both laugh.

"Sometimes it is hard to have faith in something we don't see," Osferth tells you as he looks forward again, "I try to put my faith in people. Lord Uhtred is a good warrior. So are his men. Having Faith in them… it's much easier."

So that's what you. You put your Faith in Uhtred and all of his men that will do whatever it takes to bring each other home.

————————————<3—————————————

More time has passed.

Rypere eventually returned to Coccham, and with his arrival, Uhtred and his men rode for Winchester to bring his findings to the King. You hear that men are sent to Beamfleot to bargain for the Princesses return. They are gone for a long time, longer than you anticipated. The days that pass make you increasingly more anxious.

You don't want to say your faith in Uhtred and his warriors is wavering but… it hasn't been as strong as you hoped it to be.

Cedric and his wife have been pushing the marriage thing. They aren't your parents so they can't just sell you off, luckily for you, but it's gotten annoying just how many single men they've tried to introduce you to in the last month.

None of them are Sihtric, so you do not care.

You're in the Church again one night, and you've been there longer than you wanted due to your bad leg. It's been aching something fierce in the past few days, and you think maybe you have been overwhelming yourself. You can't help but smile at the idea of Sihtric yelling at you to take it easy, and just as quickly as the memory comes to you so do the tears that start to cloud your eyes.

"You lied to me, Lynne," That familiar voice you've been hearing in your head speaks out loud, and you gasp when you turn around to find Sihtric standing behind you, "You said you do not pray for me."

You chuckle as the tears fall from your face and your lips curl up into a smile, "You're all I pray for." It stings to stand, but you push through the pain anyway and rush to greet him.

Sihtric catches you as you jump into his arms, and the two of you stumble back until he falls to the floor with you in his arms, "You need to be more careful," He smirks as he moves a hand to your cheek, "What would the people say if they see us in the church like this?"

"To hell with people," You laugh as you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him in for a kiss. Sihtrics' free hand pulls your body closer as you sit there on the floor of the church, all but devouring each other with each kiss.

"Let me carry you home," Sihtric tells you when he breaks the kiss, and you nod okay. He moves to stand, taking you in his arms as he rises. Making sure to be careful with your bed leg.

Being like this makes you feel so safe. So loved.

You giggle and kiss his neck as he carries you back to his house, and whispers things in your ear that send shivers down your spine all the way back to his house. Your sure people saw him carry you, and they are more than likely to gossip about you but you don't care.

You've never felt more alive than you do right now.

Sihtric lays you carefully in his bed, his lips reconnecting with yours as he hovers above you. He tastes sweet and your heart is racing in anticipation of what is going to happen next.

That is until you hear him moan out that name.

"Lynne," He starts to say as he breaks the kiss, "Lynne, I-"

"Wait!" You cut Sihtric off with a finger to his lips, "Before you say it, there is something else I've been lying about," Sihtric raises a brow and you take a deep breath, "My name is not Lynne."

You expect a poor reaction, but instead, Sihtric smirks, "That doesn't surprise me."

"Really?"

"Yes," He tells you as he places a kiss on your lips, "The day we met, you stuttered when you told Uhtred your name." You chuckle at the fact that he remembers that, and his smile is soft, "So tell me, what is the real name of the woman who has stolen my heart?"

Your smile is wide when you get to finally speak your real name out loud for the first time in almost two years, "My name is Y/N."

Sihtric smiles, leaning in to kiss you again, "Well, Y/N," another kiss, and then another, "It is nice to truly meet you," one more kiss, and then he leans up a bit and you can see the smirk on his face, "Is it too soon to say that I love you?"

You shake your head no as the tears come back to you, "Not at all."

"Good," Sihtric replies as he leans his forehead against yours, "I love you, Y/N."

Sihtric whispers those words for what feels like a hundred times that night. He whispers it as he strips you out of your clothes and as you remove his. It comes out as a moan when he slips himself inside of you, and it sounds like a prayer on his lips as he chants it in your ear as you reach your climax with your back arched and his lips on your neck. And it's the last thing you hear when Sihtric reminds you one more time before bed.

A few months later on the two year anniversary of you finding yourself here, on this page of history, Sihtric tells you he loves you again when the two of you return to the place where Osmund and Mildryd found you, and you tell him all about what brought you to this world. You can't help but feel this is where you were meant to be when Sihtric tells you he prayed for you, too.

For someone who could love him, more than he could himself.

It seems… you were exactly what the other was looking for.

#sihtric x reader #sihtric #the last kingdom #sihtric kjartansson #fanfiction #fanfic #mcloveproductions #tlk sihtric #tlk

[dailyaudiobiblechronological]

3/23/2022 DAB Chronological Transcription

Joshua 1 - 4

Welcome to Daily Audio Bible Chronological, I am Jill. Today's the 23rd day of March, and I just want to say March, Where'd you go? How did you go so fast? It seems like we just got here. Seems like it always takes half a century to get through January, and then February is just okay. We got our equilibrium back and then March is like, yeah, bye. See you. I feel like that's where we're at. Anyways, today is the 23rd day of March, and we are continuing forward in the Good Book and in our lives as we have turned the page. And we're here reading the Bible in chronological order every day until we get through the word in its entirety in a year. We're starting a brand new book today. We finished Deuteronomy yesterday, and we are starting the book of Joshua, today. We're reading chapters one through four. And this week we are reading God's Word Translation. We'll do a little bit of a rundown, a little bit of an overview at the end of the reading today, Joshua, chapter one.

Commentary

I like to take on commentary about what we've read from the approach of how do I connect some dots if I'm a first time listener? Obviously, Brian is far more advanced and I consider him a theologian, to be honest. So let me start with this today, Joshua, who is now leading the people of Israel with a blessing and transference from Moses under the direct command of God. If we remember, Joshua was one of two men only, out of a group sent under the command of God to Moses to go and scout the land flowing with milk and honey. And all of the other men saw the Giants, came back and declared they could not do it. Joshua is one of the two that said they could. Joshua is now leading the people. And then it's just kind of fun to see that the very beginning. What does Joshua do? He sends spies to Jericho, and then we meet Rahab, who we know from the story is a house prostitute. What I really do love about this is she is an important part of the story and she just sort of shows up in the middle of it today. And yes, she just so happens to be a prostitute. And I think we can read this and know that it is a detail to the story, but it's not the detail to the story where we tend to make those details the detail to someone's story. It's not. It's just a detail to the story. The detail to the story is that God used a prostitute to get the Israelites into the promised land. Boom. Could be the end of the story, but it's not. So the long and short of that is if you've dismissed yourself as too damaged too far gone for God to use you, today would be a really good example of why you should defunct that message that you've lived from or told yourself or believed or however you want to frame it. And then they cross into the Jordan River once again on dry ground. And then finally, I want to jump to the very last passage, the very last verse for today. I love it when I find these little Nuggets that are tucked away in the reading. I think it's okay to admit that sometimes we don't understand what's going on, that we have a really hard time trying to figure out what God was doing, what God was thinking. And we're thinking with the human mind. And God is not human. But if we're paying attention, sometimes we get these little Nuggets of clarification, of hearing the intention. And today is one of those days. The Lord your God dried up the Jordan ahead of you until you had crossed, as he did, to the Red Sea, until we had crossed. The Lord did this so that everyone in the world would know his mighty power and that you would fear the Lord your God every day of your life. If we jump back up to Rahab, Rahab tells the spies we've heard how the Lord dried up the water of the Red Sea in front of you when you left Egypt. We've also heard what you did to Sihon and Og, the two Kings of the Amorites. Now, the whole reason why I state that is because we know she found out because of the stories that are being told that are being passed on. And so then when we hear this again at the very end of the reading, we see the intention. And it's hard to refute facts and truth when people experienced it. And so those people that experience it tell other people those people tell other people until everyone in the world would know his mighty power and that they would fear the Lord every day of their life.

Prayer

Father, we thank you for your word today. Thankful for stories like this woman Rahab, that you used her in the middle of this story so that we could identify our own selves, where we have been tripped up by our past, where we have diminished ourselves or deemed ourselves damaged, diminished our worth, therefore canceled out our own purpose or our own future, thinking that there's no way in the world you would use somebody like us. Thankful, grateful that you use people, especially like us. And I pray for those that are stuck in the shame and the guilt and the brokenness of their past, that you would give them the courage, even this day, to step up, to stand up, to walk out, to step into healing, step into your forgiveness, and to know that there is plenty of life yet to still live. And we can walk out of the shame. We can walk out of the guilt we can walk out of the pain of our past into the land the promised land flowing with milk and honey that your healing is extended, your healing is available, your healing is present even right now we don't have to wait for a Sunday morning we don't have to wait for a Bible study we don't have to wait for a favorite preacher or speaker we can take this moment offered to us right now where healing is available and readily waiting for each and every single one of us we accept that invitation, your invitation and I pray that we would walk boldly unashamedly with our heads held high eyes on you careful to thank you and pray you make your name great, give you the glory, so that we all can tell of your mighty power, and live in the fear of you, the awe of you, the reverence of you, everyday of our lives. And we pray this now, in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, amen.

Song: County Line (Live) Jill Parr

[imnotwolverine]

The Englishman JACK - CHAP 3

< Chap 2 | Chap 3 Cocks And Guns | Chap 4 >

Summary: Jack finds himself in a crossfire between friends, foes and silent admirers. 

Author’s note: To the handful of people reading this: I hope you’ll enjoy this one! Have a good weekend my lovelies. ❤️

Word count: 5.105 (18 min. read)

Disclaimers: NSFW - Strong language, misogyny, lots of cigarettes, alcohol abuse, extortion, WWII PTSD, (gun) violence, mobsters

–

Cocks and Guns

--

The woolen uniform itched and Jack was eager for the night shift to be over. With sweat running down his back, he peered into the darkness that surrounded the makeshift war camp. Everything seemed so calm and quiet; it was near strange to think that a few miles from here the Germans lurked. The enemy.

A few months ago he had seen their faces for the first time, the mood grim in the dead land between bloody trenches. It had rained for weeks on end and Jack could have sworn it had been God himself crying for the travesty that was this war. In that moment he had also wondered if these Germans before him truly wanted to fight. He, for one, surely didn’t. He felt the same dread he saw in them. Cheekbones fallen in, eyes wide.

That day the battlefield had remained calm. And not many days later Jack was reassigned, one general impressed with his good eye for detail and sharp mind. It was why he now was here, belly flat on the earth as he peered out into the distance, eyes sharp and back soaking wet with sweat. Behind him he could hear the occasional male voice or thump of sturdy boots. But before him the land was unreadable. All scraggly bushes, haunting tree shapes and the song of hidden cicadas. Jack felt the sound irked him, even though he couldn’t quite explain to himself why. The creatures were perfectly harmless and he had learned that the locals were terribly fond of them.

At first this new job hadn’t seemed so bad. They got more rest than in the trenches, and the men seemed a tad more cheerful. On the odd occasion they had even slept in real beds, made music, met women. And these women, French women, were utterly divine. Jack had never been outside of English territory, so he was near shocked to find how very different the French were from his usual English birds. In a hash he thought that maybe, if ever he’d get out of here, he’d marry one of those pretty brown eyed mademoiselles. Start a life here in the rural lands that usually harvested wine. What a life that would be. Besides, it wasn’t like he missed England all that much. Especially not when that same England sent him out to fight like this.

Scratching at some sweat that was drying on his jaw, he lost focus for just half a second. And though the cicadas continued to sing and the stars to shine, Jack knew something was amiss straight away. The male voices were no longer solely behind him. They were before him. Hushed and part of the darkness that stared back. Had he imagined it? Swallowing harshly he focused on the black lines of branches and bushes. With the wind quiet, any movement would indicate unfriendly visitors. But none moved. None sighed. Indeed, perhaps he had just imagined it. With a coded click of the tongue he signalled the other scout whom lay a few meters up ahead.

The man shot up disturbed, helmet crooked on his head, followed by a thump of lead hitting flesh. Jack’s heart was racing in an instant, eyes noting his dead fellow scout, shortly followed by then a blitz of stars in the bushes. Bullets were being fired and even ducking low he could swear he would be hit. That this would be it. That he would...

Gasping, Jack shot up from the bed. A sheen of sweat stuck to his brow and it took a good few moments before he realised he was no longer in France. The room surrounding him was dark, but he recognised it well enough. He was at the Maniari’s, having just awoken from a bad dream. Sighing, he let himself fall back on the comfortable mattress. Even years after the war, he was haunted by his days in the army. And he felt it only got worse when he was alone, the cold sheets a cocoon that trapped him in the most frightening of memories. Staring out at the ceiling he waited for his heartbeat to calm and breath to steady. But that was not going to happen.

Gunshots fired in the night outside. And before he even realised it himself, Jack had thrown himself off the bed and onto the floor, arms tiger crawling up to the window sill, eyes peering over the edge. The window was cracked open slightly, letting in the cool nightly Tuscan air to relieve the heat after a sunny day. That same heat still remained in the stone ledge he pressed his cheek into, bewildered eyes finding the cause of all this ruckus: Augusto and his men.

Down on the patio on the far end of the house there stood a group of swaggering, loud men. Thick cigar smoke curled up in the air and from the way they had to steady their every move, it was obvious they were well into their cups. In total there were four, faces hard to discern in the low moonlight. It didn’t however refrain the men from clearing their identities with loud laughter and booming voices. With a shotgun in hand, Augusto stood at the front, a cigar hanging over his lip as he looked over his shoulder, hinting at the other men to watch.

‘Watch and learn!’ He growled, body starting to jerk as he cleared a few shots in the dark. Jack noticed that he wasn’t just shooting at nothing; from a tree hung a white ribbon that stood out just enough for even the drunk men to see. Not knowing whether Augusto hit anything at all, Jack flinched as the men started to cheer even more loudly.

Next up was one of the more slender looking men. Perhaps one of the bodyguards. Holding a handgun he outstretched an arm, aim more pure than that of Augusto. With a Hollywood-esque exaggeration he blew the heat from the gun’s barrel, laughing as one of the other men clapped his back.

Like this the nightly banter outside continued. It felt like hours upon hours, and though Jack had forced himself to lay back down in bed, he could no longer catch any sleep. Staring out at the ceiling he watched and waited, and dozed and mulled on thoughts that mixed reality and dream until finally he saw the first rays of sun crawl over the wooden beams above him. The sheer lace curtains drew pretty patterns there, reminding him of his first acid trip. How relieving that moment had been after months of struggling to deal with his post traumatic shock disorder.

You’ve got it bad boy, Lucia had whispered, brushing away his hair when he would wake bathing in sweat.

She was gone now.

Sighing, Jack pushed himself off the bed, head feeling dazed. He hoped that this wouldn’t occur every night, but something told him that he shouldn’t keep his hopes up. This family was mad and he knew it. Stretching himself out, hands above his head, he cracked a few joints before returning to the window sill, eyes finding that a butler had moved out to the bullet shell covered terrace on his left. The man was placing a whole collection of glasses, half finished liquor bottles and crowded ash trays onto a larger tray, face stern and focused.

Then Jack realised there was another person up and about. Just beneath his window, seated at the long end of a table, chair covered in a black and white striped cotton, sat the only daughter of the Maniari’s. Bunny. She was all dressed up to the nines, hair neatly coiffed and body clad in a blue knee length dress. 

From his position, Jack could see everything perfectly. The way her cigarette smudged with lipstick, the way her eyes sometimes moved to the butler who was cleaning up the mess on the other terrace. And he also noted that her fashion magazine was a bit peculiar; either they had started to include an accounting segment, or Bunny dear was holding a secret. The pages looked off. Reaching a little further, Jack tried to figure out what it was she was hiding, but that move betrayed him. The window creaked and with a hurried scowl Bunny looked up, hand closing her magazine.

‘Good morning,’ Jack chimed, smiling warmly. Bunny sucked on her cigarette and stared up at Jack. A moment passed.

‘If you say so.’ She sighed, pressing the half-finished cigarette into a glass ashtray before walking back inside.

Jack contemplated how he had wronged her, but as his eyes wandered over the curves of the misty hills, his mind bleaked. In the far distance, behind the neatly kept gardens, he could see the vineyards, stretching for miles. Most of it owned by the Maniaris, small houses dotted over the landscape, all rented by locals or used by family members. Today was the day he would meet some of them. He wondered if they would be just as mad.

--

‘Too expensive.’ The old nan flared an aggravated hand in the direction of the suit clad man who had come to gather the rent. Her eyes spoke poison, but also intrigue when she noted Jack. For a short moment her trembling jaw quieted, wrinkly features studying the unknown man before her.

‘YOU, you do something about it!’ Her finger directed back at Big. ‘The protection is shit! Last week one of my goats was shot and look at what you do. NOTHING. No-thing. You scum! You..-’

One of the men pushed Jack outside of the small cottage and closed the door, leaving Jack alone. The sun was starting to sink down and with a quick check on his peculiar sundial watch he noted the time. 4.30, just about. And violence..? He listened and heard the muffled whines of the woman inside. Yes. Biting his tongue he started his way to the end of the small garden that stretched around the cottage. Vegetables were growing in long rows of green. Cabbages, leaks and the like; nothing spectacular. But he also noted feet. Or feet marks to be exact. Dragging in the mud and too large to fit the small woman that lived here, alone. Had she had a visitor? Clicking his tongue he turned heel, hearing the front door re-open, men pouring out.

‘Fucking nuthouse.’ One of the bodyguards muttered, lips glueing to a cigarette that was lit with a bloodied hand. Jack noted that too, but said nothing. It was not why he was here.

‘Found some footsteps over there.’ Jack nodded, and the men looked up.

‘So?’

‘Male. Large male. Old, most likely, or wounded. Hard to see through the red stain of this darn mud.’ Jack pointed at the garden and two of the men stepped in, one of them taking notes and photographs of the measurements and findings. They nearly looked professional - were it not for them to be stinking like a brown pub in the wind.

‘Unlikely to be Alfi.’ Big stepped forward, still distrusting of Jack. Luigi hadn’t come along, though he had offered; it was Jack who had refused. At first the idea of having Luigi with him seemed pleasing, but seeing Luigi’s slightly particular behaviour yesterday made him rethink. Perhaps it was better to find the brother’s motivations and relations one by one; in the end they both had been in Paris at the time of Lucia’s demise.

So far though, the young Maniari mostly just seemed like a spoiled brat, who, unfortunately, wasn’t all that clever. Big scowled at Jack, who smiled a fair laugh.

‘Alfonso can’t get hurt, you say?’

‘It can’t be him because why the fuck would he be in some old hag’s shitty garden? He’d come home if that’d be the case. Pfft.’ Big shook his head in disbelief and regarded one of the men who had walked to a nearby tree to take a leak, hand brushing down the pee on his pants before he let out a relieved sigh.

‘Fwoa. You just keep on pissing from that stuff.’ He laughed.

Big smirked. ‘That’s what you do. Drink like a god? Piss like a god.’

The rest of the men laughed, but Jack didn’t. He turned around, watching the distrustful woman who peaked at him through the lacy veil of her curtains. Perhaps he’d return to her later.

--

The sun was sinking fast, but apparently there was one more job to be done. After a short stop at the villa, a small garrison of three sleek cars drove up the ruby red roads. At the front was Augusto’s car, a silver Mercedes, it’s lacquer shining in the last drops of honey hued sunlight. In the far back was the brandless black beast that carried Jack and four square shouldered men. These men were new to Jack, and for a moment Jack wondered if he was brought along so Augusto could keep an eye on him. Of course he had hoped that he would have been just allowed to lumber around alone, but reality was different. In reality even family friends had to join in on the dirty work. Whatever the dirty work would be right now.

After a short drive the cars halted before a small winery, long rows of vines weaving in patterns behind the tall cypresses that stood at either side of the muddy road. The sun was close to disappearing now, leaving long and tall shadows at the men’s feet. The Maniari crew had nine men in total, which seemed excessive for a visit. But then again; perhaps it wasn’t enough. Jack noticed how they all kept a hand close to the insides of their jackets, buttons undone. He was no fool. There were weapons held disguised, ready to be used at will.

Turning on his heel, Augusto was surrounded by his trusty bodyguard number One - a surprisingly small and slender man - and the four jarheads.

‘No words English. Just watch. I need your eyes alone. No funny business.’

Jack nodded, not sure what was about to happen. With confident strides the men walked up to the near abandoned looking winery, an old tractor parked near the door. The yard was muddy, leaving hundreds of tracks of cars, feet and what looked to be dog paws.

‘Nando!!’ Augusto called at a man who stepped out of the front door. The leather faced man was obviously not eager to see Augusto, eyes skittish and hand holding onto the door knob.

‘Good eve.’ Nando watched the many men that surrounded Augusto, eyes narrowing. ‘I don’t want no trouble sir.’

‘Then there won’t be any trouble.’ Augusto smiled broadly - too broadly, his cheeks drawing menacing shadows in the light of the sinking sun. ‘Just business talk.’

‘Right now? I was just about to eat sup--’

One of Augusto’s men pushed Nando back inside, pushing through the narrow hallway until all men were indoors. It was there where yet more visitors were found. More tough looking men in suits, hands staying nervously close to their pockets.

Jack barely got a chance at properly looking at these other men before the situation escalated. Augusto voice boomed with some insult about ‘crooked investors’ and then all hell broke loose. Or, so it seemed. Being pushed back against the opposing wall of the narrow hallway, Jack lost track of movements. Men were rushing back and forth, commands being yelled. The house was too small and it didn’t help that Jack had hurt his head, his vision swimming.

It was seconds later when the calm returned. Jack found himself leaning into the wall. On the ground in the small living room red stains leaked into the carpet. And watching Augusto, he saw those same red stains on his blouse. Had the mobster been wounded? Gasping in horror, Jack blinked, memories flooding him.

RUN JACK. RUN! Harry’s bloody teeth gulped the words, eyes wide.

The memory faded.

Hold! Hold! Hold for the king! Rain clattered on poorly made helmets, the dark night icy cold. Are you soldiers? Or are you weak? Right there the enemy awaits us, but we are ready. Squadron 2, line 4. Get ready to climb!

Jack felt sick, feet stumbling. The whole hallway seemed to tilt a few degrees, like he were on a ship filled with cute picture frames and handmade doilies.

‘Let’s get outta here.’ Big pushed Jack back out of the door, the rest of the men following.

‘What a fucking mess.’ Augusto growled. He didn’t sound as wounded as he seemed. Jack inhaled sharply, the evening air biting into his lungs. Panic and trauma washed over him and he had to try his best to stay afoot. Around him the other men walked out, reminding him of the soldiers in the trenches. The same mud that slipped beneath his unsteady feet had been there in France. Day in day out. Everything had been so wet, all the freaking time. At some point he hadn’t even known anymore whether it was the rain, blood or both. With blinking eyes Jack focused on his shoes, red splatters climbing up his leather shoes. He knew he wasn’t in France. He knew he wasn’t hurt - yet. And yet the ache in his heart seemed to seep in every corner of his limbs, turning his usually sharp mind to muddle.

‘Such a waste of wine.’ Augusto clicked his teeth. ‘And to you.’ He reared his head and looked at the man who looked at him through the small doorway. Jack didn’t know the man, but he seemed like a boos of sorts. His smug face raised a challenging chin, but said nothing.

‘Shame on your pitiful blood.’ Augusto spat on the ground. ‘This was once my father’s land. And now what?! Look at this! The moment some poor man comes up and tries to rebuild it, you take it from him.’

Jack frowned. Before him he saw the same Augusto that had beaten his daughter and threatened his family with the worst of repercussions. And yet that same man now wanted to protect this poor winemaker. Really? It almost seemed absurd.

‘There’s much waste, old friend. But this? I see potential. You see flaws. You hold onto the old. I embrace..the new!’ The smug looking man laughed. ‘And you see, Nando here.’ He turned and squeezed the terrified looking farmer into the door frame. ‘Has become a very, very good friend of mine. Haven’t you Nando? Hmm?’

The poor man swallowed and nodded quickly. ‘Y-yes sir.’

‘No no. We’re friends. Call me Gio, please.’

‘Yes..Gio.’ The man nodded, terror clear in his eyes.

Augusto sighed dramatically. ‘Well, dear Gio, you ruined my shirt!’

‘Oh curse you old friend. Buy yourself a new one. And kiss your wife for me, will you!’

‘Watch your words!’ Augusto wanted to step in and all men were back to grabbing for their pockets, but Big was there to hush his father.

‘Father, let us deal with this another--’

‘Another time? Would you look at that smug bastard with his..’ Augusto waved his hand in the air with disgust, his pretentiously friendly tone gone.

Gio laughed and waved, his skin lighting up with the last rays of sunshine. ‘Let us have proper wine soon my friend. We’ll discuss business, like the old days!’

Augusto spat on the ground and shot one last poisonous glance at the boisterous man in the doorway. It was obvious the two had a history. And Augusto was pulling the short end of the string tonight. With dragging feet he let himself be guided back to the cars. Even now Jack wasn’t quite sure why they had come with so many. Was it to show off? Or had they really been ready for a war? Still feeling a little wheezy, he walked to the last car and got in, his body soon squeezed in the middle of the bench between the two large men.

--

‘You’re hurt!’ Luigi exclaimed. With hasted feet he worked his way through the men who had started to scatter in the large hallway. Some went to the lounge for a drink, others to their quarters for sleep. None were rueful enough to deal with their boss Augusto right now.

The man groaned. ‘It’s nothing.’

‘Oh why look at you father.’ Luigi tutted, peeling at the winesoaked blouse of his father. His father swatted his hand away.

Luigi hesitated. ‘Ehh.. I must warn you, father.’ Luigi licked his thin lip. ‘Mom has one of her...moments.’

Augusto turned heel, eyes wild. ‘She..what? Why didn’t you do something?!’

Luigi shrugged in defeat and pointed outside. In a flurry of curse words his father ran out, feet thundering on the loud marble floor.

‘You alright?’ Luigi stepped in next to Jack. The other men had dispersed, leaving the two men standing here alone.

Jack nodded quietly. France still ringed in his ears. Or perhaps it was a mild concussion. Either way he could do with some rest and a meal.

‘Quite a day it was.’

‘Indeed. I heard Mrs. Tuscesi got another beating. What a woman. What. A. Woman.’

Jack nodded, allowing Luigi to guide him up the stairs like he had yesterday. Again that fleshy warm hand found his lower back, but Jack didn’t object. Stepping in turn with Luigi, he told his friend about the little situation with Gio. Luigi sighed.

‘My papa never learns.’

They halted amidst the stairs, where a window gave a lookout over the shadowy gardens. Little torch lights cast a mysterious hue over the greens, where the signora danced, a little 3-legged dog by her side. Meanwhile Augusto was storming through the long lane between sky high cypresses, right at her.

‘Didn’t know you had a dog.’ Jack said. He didn’t want to question what was the matter with Luigi’s mother - it seemed a touchy subject, especially now he was living here with the Maniari’s. For a moment they watched as she waved her expressive arms in the air, before throwing a shoe for the dog toe catch. It hobbled awkwardly on its three tiny stilts.

‘My mother has a dog.’ Luigi corrected, then returned his warm hand to Jack’s back. Jack again, didn’t object and followed as they continued their way up the stairs. This time Luigi got a little further before he halted amidst the hallway, feet quiet on the stone floor.

Jack smiled, knowing exactly what Luigi wished to ask. It seemed near inappropriate, but in a way Jack could use some friendly company at the moment. Besides, he still needed to find out what Luigi’s true motivation was in life. He had changed so much since last they met in person. Not only had he grown in size, also his manners had changed. The Luigi he had met in Paris was not quite the man before him. That Luigi had been an oversized boy who liked to play. This was a man who made the game.

Turning on his heel, Jack looked over his shoulder. With a single nod the affirmation was given; join me. And so Luigi joined.

--

With most of the men gone on their nightly mission, the house was left quiet. Bunny peaked through her cracked bedroom door. On either side of the hallway the lights were dimly lit. But no guards were there to keep watch. No brothers were there to call onto her. All she could hear was her mother on the phone and her brother’s record player downstairs. From the looks of it both were preoccupied and so Bunny took her chance, feet slipping out of the door frame.

The heavy creak of her door made her flinch. Fuck. Holding tight onto the door knob she waited. Perhaps there soon would be footsteps, guns cocking, knuckles cracking. But no, there was nobody here.

Continuing her quiet pitter patter, Bunny made her way to one of the doors on the right. Not far from here her mother was babbling into the phone. Or worse yet; crying into the phone. Bunny again halted her steps.

‘But I need you! I..I need you!’

Her mother sounded positively desperate. But then again, so were all women who lived in this household. Her mother would drink herself to death. Bunny would run herself to death. Pick your poison, they say, right?

Gritting her teeth, Bunny turned her attention to one of the doors on her right. It’s where Alfonso’s study was located. A bunch of mystery rooms that she had rarely been allowed to visit. And the attraction to visit became even stronger when Alfi disappeared. The brother’s had looked inside for a bit, but decided there were no clues worth mentioning to the Englishman. All seemed as it should be, they said.

But Bunny didn’t believe it could be that easy. Alfi always had been a weird brother. Being the oldest of the bunch, he had always felt terribly important with his books and administrational work and numbers. He had always been the precise one, the easily ignited one. One thing out of place would send him into fury, and so it was here where Bunny decided to do some of her own research. Here in his study. Where all her brothers seemed too busy with their gun fights and extortion, Bunny knew that it was unlikely to be just a regular kidnapping. There had to be clues. There just had to be.

With a click of the door knob she opened the study room. And it was exactly what she expected to find. A simple desk set amidst ceiling high bookshelves filled with administration and books. It was kept so orderly it was hard to think this may just be the start of a crime scene. But Bunny had read books herself, too. Agatha Christie had taught her one thing: death is in the details. And patterns are always there. The only difference was that this was no oriental train or desolate island, but home. The home she had lived in with people that could very well star in one of Christie’s books. For they were characters, each and every one of them.

Behind her, Bunny could still hear her mother’s wails, followed by a sharp click of the door. Was her mother going out? Oh no. Oh shit. Quickly closing the door behind her, Bunny pressed her ear against the door, listening to the footsteps in the hallway. It was definitely her mother, and from the way her heels tapped the floor in an uneven rhythm, it was clear that she was drunk. Not that this was such a surprise; each time her mother suffered a setback, she’d fall back into the dirty old habit of binge drinking.

‘Zazoooo. BABYYY where are you sweetieeee.’ Her mother’s shrill voice called as she clambered down the stairs, footsteps fading.

Zazoo hadn’t been able to climb the stairs ever since the incident. A shooting incident. And though all said it had been the Luchesse’s, or perhaps even Gio himself, Bunny knew better. She always knew better. And she was sure that it had been one of the family who had shot the dog’s leg during one of the many drinking fests. One night the dog had four legs, the next just three.

Poor dog.

Turning back around, Bunny let out a sigh. Again her eyes fell on the many small details around her. Having learned from her mystery books, she tried to find clues. The burned candles, the disturbed dust on the shelves, the…Hmm. She walked to one of the shelves that had obviously been disturbed quite recently. With a tug she pulled out some of the folders that were tucked tightly together. She wasn’t sure what exactly she was looking for, the numbers all unfamiliar. But there were names here too. Many names, though unfamiliar in most cases. Only the Luchesse named immediately rung a bell, but then the numbers didn’t clarify much either.

Flitting through the pages, Bunny let her eyes slide over the neatly noted numbers. Prices, codes, phone numbers. They could be anything. Continuing her research, her eyes stopped on one page. A blood stain had poured into the thin paper, dark red, though also still slightly slimy. An unusual type of blood stain when at best you’d suspect a paper cut.

Noises in the hallway made her turn on her heel again. More people. Male. Fuck. Hurrying to get the folder closed and back on the shelf, Bunny nearly let it slip from her hands. Her heart was thundering and fingers slippery. She knew that if she was caught red handed now, this would be last day she ever saw daylight. Her father would not have this. He didn’t like unsubordinate little women. He wanted them meek and mild, not curious and self established.

Rushing towards the door, Bunny already tried to find excuses to tell. Perhaps she had heard a faint noise and since she couldn’t find the guards, went to see for it herself. Perhaps she thought she heard Alfi. Perhaps she..

‘My mother has a dog.’ Luigi’s chuckle reverberated up the stairwell. Bunny sighed and relaxed a little. Luigi didn’t give a crap about these administrational books. He cared more about appearances, self pampering and other slightly dubious male activities. Pressing her ear back against the door she listened, but no further words came. It were two pairs of feet, moving in the same direction. Towards the Englishman’s room, or hers. Oh no. Oh no! You can’t be saying they were looking for her!

Making sure the footsteps were far enough away, Bunny unclicked the door and rushed into the hallway. The men were gone. Though their voices returned, chuckling through Jack’s door.

Bunny knew at that moment that she would be better off if she just went back to her room. She was putting her nose in things she didn’t understand. In things she wasn’t supposed to understand.

‘Oh Jack!’ Luigi exclaimed, followed by a bit of laughter. Bunny quietly moved in closer, ears peaking to pick up the sounds. But no more sounds came.

Then Bunny made another mistake. She watched. Women weren’t supposed to see these things. But here she was, bending over and peeking in through the keyhole. Inside the well-lit room stood the two men. Jackets removed, embracing. But it wasn’t the type of embrace she knew. This was..different. Long lasting. Luigi’s hands were on the Englishman’s buttocks. And it lasted too long. This was..this was. Bunny watched in shock and awe through the tiny keyhole. And then Jack’s blue eyes found hers.

Fuck.

--

Chap 4 >

--

General tagsquad: @harrysthiccthighss​ @tumblnewby @magdelen69​ @thereisa8ella​ @darkbooksarwin​ @summersong69​ @madbaddic7ed​ @luclittlepond​ @maroonmolly @just-a-normal-fangirl18​ @hell1129-blog​ @agniavateira​ @tillthelandslide​ @elinesama​ @maddyreads14

#henry cavill fanfiction #henry as jack #the englishman jack #mobster mystery fic #original story #multichap

[fmdjaewonarchive]

► agree.

date(s): july 2020 - february 2021 mentions of: champion members, unity members (samsoo, yul & sunghee mentioned by name but like... blink and you’ll miss it)  word count: +/- 2.3k words (870w lyrics/660 words composition/740 words production) warnings: mentions of anxiety, panic attacks and car accidents details: full lyrics and full composition verification for agree, 3/3 verifications for jaewon’s upcoming album escapism. jaewon doesn’t only know how to write sad boi music, he also writes angry boi music, the only two emotions he’s ever experienced rlly. (a/n: i lost my braincells within the first 100 words and still haven’t retrieved them, read at your own discretion)

the song is born out of frustration, anger blocking up his throat to the point it feels hard to breathe.

it’s the kick-off point of champion’s world tour, a concept that has jaewon disgruntled enough as it is, snatching him away from unity and dropping him in the states like he is supposed to care about this group, like he doesn’t have better things to worry about.

but alas that’s beside his point, as much as he detests the idea behind champion, it’s not his main source of frustration.

traveling out to the states, that part is hell. now jaewon has never been a huge fan of traveling, suffering from a crippling fear of flying ever since predebut that somehow has not gotten any less severe with the sheer amount of flying all over the place unity has been doing. jaewon also absolutely hates airports, they’re too crowded, too hectic and far too stressful to not immediately put him in a godawful mood.

the cameras shoved right into his face both prior to departure and directly after arrival definitely didn't help.

comparatively, champion’s trip to the states this time hadn’t been that bad. jaewon just happens to be in an extra foul mood today but rationally, he has to admit that he’s seen far worse throughout the years.

but maybe that’s exactly the problem, how common these things have become, that getting pushed and pulled at while trying to get on flight was considered to be mild.

jaewon’s frustration isn’t solely aimed at an isolated instance, it’s at the ridiculous standard that’s been set for idols, the things they have to accept like they are normal.

normally he would call soo to complain about whatever was bothering him but with the time difference, jaewon knew his boyfriend was ought to be asleep at this hour and he definitely wasn’t waking him up for something this minor.

he even humors the thought of perhaps finding sunghee or yul to complain to but with most of champion out for the night doing whatever (admittedly, jaewon didn’t listen when they were making plans, he wasn’t gonna tag along anyway) that isn’t really in the cards either. perhaps that’s for the best, jaewon isn’t the biggest fan of actually talking to the younger unity members about what was on his mind.

either way, jaewon is stuck in a hotelroom by himself, no one around to really vent his frustration too so instead, he might just as well write it all down.

and that’s exactly what he does, settling down at the desk in his hotelroom, scribbling on a notepad randomly found laying around.

on the plane the person in the seat next to me that’s not my fan apparently buying info off the airplane company

it’s not entirely relevant to what happened at the airport earlier but jaewon feels angry all over just thinking about it. unity has had it’s fair share of experiences with saesangs, seemingly only increasing the more popular they keep getting. sure, that makes sense but it doesn’t mean it’s okay, contrary to what dimensions seem to believe with how easily the company brushes it off under the pretense of it just being another part of the job.

at the airplane lounge there’s a war between the 200 mm guns privacy, panic disorder, they barter with one another...

in the first place, jaewon’s main concern is unity, it always is. he’s willing to put up with a lot if it means the younger members are left off the hook. but he has to admit, since the panic attacks have started to become more prevalent, it’s a lot harder to take that stance. it’s hard to take care of others when he fails to take care of himself.

jaewon tries not to think about what that means for his position as a leader.

from early morning put on a mask and fight on in short, call it being a puppet...

jaewon knows he’s not an ideal idol, he’s never been and he never will be. maybe in retrospect, he would have done things differently but there is no use in considering those what-ifs now. there is, however, no denying that all of it is just a bigger struggle with him, it will never go as easily as with people who were made to stand in front of the camera’s. why shouldn’t he get to be open and honest about that? he’s not the perfect idol they want him to be, he will never fit that mold.

i know, that’s right that’s right that’s right that’s right that’s right that’s right i know that’s right that’s right that’s right

written out, the chorus feels a bit silly, but jaewon feels justified in his creative choices. not that the song is ever going to be used for anything, it’s just an attest to his frustration. jaewon knows he’s ought to sit down and silently accept whatever is expected of him.

it’s been years since he’s been his own person. these days, he’s dimensions’ property first and that of the general public second, there is no use in fighting that, no space for his voice.

so sure, whatever, he agrees, what else can he do?

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

jaewon forgets about the lyrics he’s written down after that.

in the moment there had been no intention to turn them into a full-fledged song, a haphazard combination of lyrics that in their raw form, probably held very little meaning, too much filler between the few parts that he did properly think through.

so jaewon forgets all about it before he even sets foot back in korea again. unity is busy enough, the release of neo zone lurking around the corner and with multiple schedules of his own, jaewon can’t even think about the song if he wants to.

it only comes drifting back into his consciousness at least a month of two having passed since champion’s american tour dates.

the day in itself isn’t anything special, if there is anything remarkable about it it’s the fact jaewon isn’t working for once. he’s just hanging around his and samsoo’s apartment, scrolling through whatever app on his phone keeps his attention for long enough.

until an article pops up.

it’s a news post about a rookie group he’s never heard of from a company he doesn’t know the name of, it has nothing to do with him, but he finds himself reading through it anyway. apparently, they got into an accident on their way home from schedules as they were being followed by saesangs. no one got injured and truly, it’s not the first time jaewon has read news like this but it does fill him with the same sense of anger as what he had experienced that first day in the states with champion.

because this type of news shouldn’t be common, for how long are people gonna pretend it is?

maybe he should finish that damn song.

wait does he even still have the lyrics?

jaewon vaguely remembers at the very least putting the sheet of paper in his backpack after the concert as he had been packing up to move to the next city of their tour but after that, he can’t say he recalls having seen it lay around.

he’s really ought to get more orderly with his drafts.

luckily for him, jaewon does find the sheet of paper, not in his bag but shoved in between the pages of a notebook and with the draft of his lyrics obtained he makes a beeline for his home studio. normally he’d do this stuff at the company headquarters but truly, that sounds like far too much work in the moment.

obviously, the song is meant to have an angry undertone to it, supposed to convey the same anger and frustration that swallowed jaewon whole as he had written the lyrics.

the deep, resonating boom of low brass sounds for the opening of the song are a no brainer, the sound gives a bombastic, ominous vibe, immediately setting the song off on the right note. it’s supposed to sound grande and honestly a little bit intimidating, a dark feeling creeping around the corners.

of course, the sound is far too theatrical to be underlaying to the entire song so jaewon alternates it with a deep, booming bassline, the brass only reappearing right before the chorus other than in the opening section as if to give off a warning. to fill up the verses and the parts in between, jaewon adds rumbling, deep drums in the background, making them feel less empty.

what really makes the song however is the rapidly-cycling electronic stuttering a rhythmic pattern across almost all parts of the song. it feels a little distracting at first before jaewon decides that really, that’s exactly what he’s going for. the melody feels just a little too fast, uncomfortably so and in a song reflecting so much stress and strain, that only feels fair, reflectives of the way his chest tightens up when he can’t breathe, when his hands tremble and his heart beats so fast it might as well make him sick.

jaewon thinks it conveys his frustrations pretty damn well.

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

it doesn’t seem in the books for the song to ever be released until the process of selecting songs for escapism comes along. while jaewon regains some of his creative freedom, most of it had been under dimensions terms, leaving it up to them to shape the album in a way they prefer over his creative vision.

until somewhere near the end of completing the track list, the head producer asks jaewon if he has any songs laying around that could fit in with the rest of the album.

‘agree’ is the first thing to come to mind.

the head producer seems to like the songs, enough to approve it at least and jaewon can’t help but feel a flare of pride. the producer seems intent on leaving the creative process in his hands, letting him handle the production.

it makes ‘agree’ the first song ever that’s entirely his own that he gets to release, it feels like a milestone to jaewon.

he does get a little list of suggestions, mainly pertaining to the lyrics. the producer leaves a few remarks here and there about where lines could be stronger, what he would do differently but all of it are very loose recommendations, jaewon isn’t actually under an obligation to do anything with them.

in the end, he does anyway, shuffles some lyrics around, dares to be a bit more assertive in his wording, right onto the border of what he would consider too gloat-y for himself. but the producer is right, it gets to pack a punch, it gets to be a little bit self-important. somehow having the external confirmation makes it easier to write those lyrics without feeling like a fraud. it’s still his, his writing, his song.

with the last tweaks done they’re quick to get to recording. they’re still on a time crunch as jaewon’s manager reminds him (jaewon likes the man well enough but dear lord would he never let him forget). it's one of the last songs on the album to be recorded after all and at this point, they are cutting it close.

with everything else he needs done, all jaewon has left to do is fine tune the song, the last tweaks and sounds to be added like missing puzzle pieces now he has the bigger picture pretty much laid out in front of him, polishing and detailing it to elevate the song worth of something to be released on an album.

the instrumental is already pretty hectic, fully intentional of course, but with a proper, clear recording it’s easier to spot the empty gaps, spaces to add the last finishing touches. he adds more brass, less grande and dramatic than the ones in the pre-chorus, curling around the edges of the chorus to round them up neatly and as if to scale down again for the verses, still fast paced but somewhat a breath of fresh air between one chorus and the other.

he delays the part at the opening before the brass and bass kick in, a silence before the storm feels even if the hyperactive stuttering beat is already there, he considers taking that out at first too but the point kind of is that it is more or less omnipresent, it’s always there even when there is nothing else much, like the anxiety that feels permanently stuck to his head.

there is also the addition of an extra melodic line, lingering behind that main, slightly headache inducing electronic synth. it doesn’t really stand out, especially not compared to it’s main competitor but it does remain prevalent in the few parts the main instrumental motif is nowhere to be found, giving it small moments to shine. it serves a clear function, or to jaewon listening ear at least (maybe he’s overanalyzing at this point). the little bounces of the electronic beat all over the place keep up the pace of the song, making sure its explosive nature prevails over the dark dreary undertones of the bassline and brass sections, giving it an overall dynamic feel.

it takes some fiddling, jaewon pulls something close to an all-nighter to finish up the song with the sheer amount of detail he ends up focussing on but by the time he sends it in, he has a good feeling about it at least.

when he presents the final product to the head producer, there are no more suggestions. it’s good, and it’s all his own work.

#fmdverification #*:･ﾟ♛– «filled with all these empty moments» // solos. #«escapism // era.» #//SCREAMS INTO THE VOID #//finally... im freed from verification hell #panic attack tw #anxiety tw #car crash tw

[brain-deadx0]

The Lost Prince ch.3

Summary: The kingdom of Elan had once been at peace. It’s said that so long as the royal family lived the land would flourish with them on the throne. But when an unexpected enemy appeared and took the lives of the royal family many stopped believing in the legend. It was simply a ploy by a former ruler to discourage a coup. But some say that the new king sparred the young prince out of fear of the myth, and that one day the true heir would once again take the throne.

Chapter 1

Previous

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER SUMMARY: They have a plan... it may have been a bad plan.

WARNINGS: imprisonment, forcing someone to perform demeaning acts, injury of a main character, blood, let me know if there’s anything else

As the sun began to set Virgil and Janus huddled together away from the door. As much as they appreciated the open door earlier, while looking at the flora and fauna, it was now letting in the cool evening breeze. Neither dared speak aloud outside of the safety of their room which only made ignoring their growling stomachs harder.

They hadn’t eaten since the night before and they couldn’t exactly bring along the small food stash they kept for emergencies. Virgil was actually starting to miss the stale bread when a pair of robins suddenly flew through the door.

The birds each held a small branch covered in berries as they landed in front of him and Janus. Virgil slowly held his hand out and one of the robins hopped towards him to drop the berries in his palm. Janus did the same with the other bird. The two young men nodded in thanks before the two robins flew away again.

“Didn’t know they did that.” Janus murmured before eating one of the berries.

“Unless one of them could get us the keys I don’t think we’ve needed them to anyway.”

The berries hadn’t been near enough to fill the two up, but it did help to quiet their stomachs. It took some time but eventually the two were able to doze off.

-

King Saul flipped though the pages of the old book while he waited for the servant to get there and translate. He couldn’t read whatever language it was written in, but the illustrations provided some clues. Most of it seemed to have something to do with the royal family and fae.

“Your Majesty, the servant is here to translate.” He heard someone call from outside his tent.

“Send him in then.”

A few moments later the servant walked through the door. “Your Majesty,” he bowed.

”Here,” King Saul said as he passed over the book, “now tell me what I need to know.”

“Of course, your Majesty.”

The servant flipped to the right page and began to translate, “If a time may come when their majesties are unable to have a child of their own volition or-“

“I don’t care for those parts. Just tell me the steps and what we need.”

“Yes, Sir.” The servant said before starting again, “The current head of the family and intended heir must share blood... Any amount will do... They then must join hands at sunset... The family head must willingly pass the bond... And both must say the spell.” He summarized.

“So we prick fingers, hold hands, and say a spell. Sounds easy enough.” King Saul mused, “And the spell?”

“I believe it’s “pactum sanguis densior sit quam ex utero sumus participes per familia necessitudines ita et in terra” your Majesty.”

“If that’s all then you may leave.” King Saul told him as he took the book back.

The servant bowed once more before exiting the kings tent. King Saul managed to locate the words of the spell and proceeded to write them down.

-

‘Perhaps,’ He thought to himself, ‘if the false king were not so self centered he might have realized the differences between me and the man who had originally delivered the book.’

...

By the time the sun rose on the second day, Virgil and Janus were wide awake. When the soldiers not standing guard had started waking up it was hard to ignore. Especially when they started to cook breakfast.

“Bastards...” Janus mumbled, earning a small smile from Virgil, “They could’ve at least done it down wind.”

“Some people aren’t very considerate I’m afraid.” A voice told them.

Both young men jumped and instinctively tried to move away from whoever had spoken.

“Oops, didn’t mean to startle you.” A somewhat willowy man in servants clothing told them.

Janus and Virgil shared a cautious glance at each other as the man reached into the satchel at his side before revealing a small loaf of bread. “Here,” He said as he held it out to them, “you’re probably feeling half starved by now.”

The two shared another look before Janus slowly reached forward to take the bread, “Thank you.”

“No need to thank me,” He told them before whispering, “your Majesty.” He winked.

“... Who are you?” Janus asked cautiously.

“You can call me Emile.” He smiled, “And you two have more people on your side than you think.”

”What?” Virgil asked.

Emile’s only response was a finger to his lips and a wink before turning and walking away.

“Well,” Janus started, “that was...”

“Weird.” Virgil finished, “That was definitely weird, right?”

Janus nodded, “Probably.”

The two of them were wary of the bread at first, but whatever fears they may have had were gone after the first bite. They silently decided the taste was because they hadn’t had fresh bread in years. But neither could remember even the freshest bread tasting so sweet.

Neither mentioned it but both felt full and surprisingly invigorated despite the small amount of food.

...

Within a few hours the camp was packed up, the wagon door was closed, and the group was on the move once again.

The weather wasn’t unpleasant and they even seemed to be making good time. That is until a loud thudding sound broke the silence.

Virgil and Janus had let themselves relax as their minds wandered with the shifting of the wagon. It wasn’t until they were suddenly flung into one corner that they realized something had happened.

“Ah what the fuck?” Virgil hissed.

“Sorry,” Janus told him as he attempted to pull himself away, “You alright?”

“Yeah, you?”

“I’m fine. My landing was a bit softer than yours.”

“Oh ha ha.” Virgil deadpanned.

“What’s going on?!” Saul boomed from somewhere ahead of the wagon, “Why are we stopped?!”

“My apologies, your Majesty, but a wheel has fallen off of the prisoners wagon. It doesn’t appear to be damaged, but we’ll have to stop for a while to fix it.” Someone standing nearby said.

“Well hurry up then!”

Janus and Virgil barely managed to get themselves upright by the time the door was opened. “Don’t get any ideas.” The soldier said as he unlocked the metal door.

“Come on we don’t have all day.” He grumbled when the two hesitated.

They shared a somewhat baffled look before Virgil moved to leave the wagon. His feet had barely touched the ground before he was grabbed by the collar and flung to the side, “Hurry up.” The man spat.

“Virgil!” Janus called when his friend hit the ground.

“I’m good.” He told him as he moved to stand up again. He was halfway up when a different soldier appeared next to him and pulled him to his feet. “The ground isn’t nearly as hard as the floor.” Virgil said when Janus joined him. Janus gave a sad smile in agreement.

While several people worked to put the wheel back, Virgil and Janus took the opportunity to soak in the feeling of the ground beneath their feet. It was so soft! And squishy! Even their bed mat was nothing compared to how comfortable the ground felt.

The soldiers were nearly done when the King road over to them on a large grey stallion. “How much longer?” He asked them.

“Almost done, your Majesty. It should be ready in just a minute.” One of them answered.

Saul nodded before turning his attention to Janus and Virgil.

Janus hated the way he looked at them. Normally it was somewhere between happy that he had taken over the kingdom and pissed that he and Virgil still existed. But now there was a bit of greed there too. By some miracle it managed to make Janus hate him more.

Virgil wished he could wipe that smug look off of Saul’s face. Preferably with a chair. But unfortunately he was not that brave and not that stupid. Also he was severely lacking in the chair department at the moment.

“The wagon is fixed, your Majesty. We are ready to continue when you are.” One of the soldiers informed.

“Good. Throw these two back in and let’s move on.” The king ordered as he turned his horse.

“Wait!” Janus said before Saul could leave.

The King paused to look at him but didn’t respond.

“Please, before we go any farther let Virgil go.”

Saul smirked, “Why would I do that?”

“Please,” Janus begged, “you don’t need him. Let him go, and let him live. I promise I will transfer the magic.”

“Why should I believe that? Besides, that scullery rat is good collateral. Why would I risk letting him go while he’s still useful?”

“I swear I will do whatever you ask. Just let him go free. Please.”

Virgil was sure Saul wasn’t actually considering letting him go. There was nothing to gain after all. He just wanted to toy with Janus. As soon as he started getting bored he’d laugh in their faces and they’d be back in the damn wagon.

Honestly he wasn’t sure whether or not to be relieved by that. On one hand he couldn’t escape, but that meant he wouldn’t have to leave Janus.

Virgil was startled out of his thoughts when Saul dismounted and walked over to them.

“Prove it.”

Janus blinked. What?

“Kneel.” Saul told him.

Janus spared a glance at Virgil who shook his head.

Despite his friends opposition Janus took a breath and dropped to one knee before bowing his head. “Please, your Majesty.” He tried again, “Let him go.”

The King’s lips curled into a cruel grin, “Kiss my boot.” He told him.

“Janus no!”

“Silence!” Saul commanded.

“Janus, don’t. Please.” Virgil begged him.

Janus closed his eyes. He hated him. God he hated Saul. He could live forever and never hate anyone more. But his love for Virgil was worth more than that hate. And his life was worth more than Janus’s own pride.

“Please, your Majesty,” he forced as he shifted to both knees.

“Janus...”

“Let my friend go free.”

Virgil couldn’t bring himself to watch. He closed his eyes and turned his head away. But that didn’t prevent the hushed laughter of the soldiers from reaching his ears.

“Someone grab a rope.” Saul ordered, “I believe we may be able to work something out.”

Virgil tried to ignore everyone and everything around him as he opened his eyes. He kneeled next to Janus and tentatively reached to grab his arm. Janus didn’t look at him.

“You shouldn’t have done that. We would’ve been ok.” Virgil choked before pulling him closer in a poor excuse for a hug.

“Just make it.” Janus told him as he attempted to hug back, “Go find that useless knight of ours and don’t look back. Please, Virgil.”

Virgil clung to him tighter, “I can’t just leave you like that.”

“You can and you will.” Janus told him, “Promise me, Virge.”

He wanted to promise. He did. But he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He couldn’t make that promise. He would stick to his plan and follow them. He couldn’t leave Janus behind. Not after everything.

“Please.” Janus begged.

But before Virgil even had a chance to reconsider he was pulled back by his hair. He attempted to cling to Janus, but was ripped away as if he hadn’t been holding on at all.

“Remove his chains and then tie him to a tree.” Saul ordered.

“What? No! Let him go! Please!” Janus yelled, “I did as you asked!”

“You did,” he agreed, “and I’m releasing him. Perhaps we can come back to check on him once we complete our little errand at the Delego.”

Janus watched as Virgil attempted to fight back against the soldiers trying to tie him up. All of a sudden he was eight-years old again. Being held too tightly by a man twice his size while his best friend fought tooth and nail just for the infinitesimal chance of escape. And once again he was too scared and too useless to do anything but cry and scream at the bad people to let him go.

The second the chains were off Virgil started swinging. He couldn’t let them tie him up. He wouldn’t stand a chance of helping Janus if that happened. He thrashed against the hands and ropes trying to get some sort of opening. He could vaguely hear Janus screaming something as the soldiers continued to close in on him with the rope.

Virgil sensed more than felt himself fall to the ground. He had to fight harder! They were gonna win and then they would take Janus away and he would never see him again.

He couldn’t move his arms anymore. His legs flailed harder, trying in vain to somehow prevent the inevitable. His legs were stuck now. Something was behind him- Wait something is by his face. He hears what sounds like a scream and his mouth fills with blood.

“Motherfucker!” The soldier who had attempted to gag him yelled when Virgil sunk his teeth into their hand. They quickly pulled their hand back and turned it into a fist.

“NO!” Janus screeched when Virgil’s head lolled to the side, “Virgil!”

“Little bastard.” The soldier spit on him as they clutched their injured hand.

“Remember your promise,” Saul said as Janus was pulled to his feet, “and then maybe we can come back and untie him.”

“You lying son of a bitch.” Janus spat.

He felt a blinding pain as the back of Saul’s hand landed against his face.

“We’ve wasted enough time.” Saul announced, “Let’s get moving.”

“Virgil!” Janus yelled as he was dragged back towards the wagon, “I’ll come back for you! I promise!”

The door was slammed shut and the wagon began to move.

~~~~~~NOTES~~~~~~

Good news: Virgil is no longer in immediate danger. Bad news: He’s unconscious and tied to a tree... Also Janus is still in immediate danger.

Y’all. I SWEAR there is going to be happier chapters. But we gotta get some of the bad stuff out of the way first. Next chapter might have some nice stuff but yeah. Don’t hold your breath for fluff.

#The Lost Prince #ts Sides #Sanders Sides #ts Janus #ts Virgil #brain dead writes

[just-another-author-i-guess]

The unholy

Warnings: she/ her pronounced reader, blood, biting, this is vampire au after all, slight nudity, Taehyung still can’t keep it in his pants, the reader is kinda aroused all the time, surprise surprise I didn’t bother to edit it through but what did you really expect at this point

Pairing: bts ot7 x reader, nun! reader, princess! reader, vampire! Jin x reader, hybrid! Namjoon x reader, hybrid! Yoongi x reader, vampire! Hoseok x reader, vampire! Jimin x reader, hybrid! Taehyung x reader, hybrid! Jungkook x reader

Parts: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 -

Author’s note: so I’m back with another chapter of the unholy! Sorry this is kinda short and really poorly written but I hope you can forgive me. Also, I just want to thank y’all for all the positivity I’ve been receiving lately like??? I don’t deserve y’all ??? Thanks?? Anyways, I hope you enjoy, things are about to get steamy. (; (you wont understand it now so it’s not as funny, just wait till it makes sense)

(Updates; every Sunday)

Summary:

The king and queen, your mother and father, rules the southern kingdom. The eastern and the western are ruled by kings and queens alike, but the northern are ruled by the most unholy of creatures. Or so you've been told.

Every citizen in the three kingdoms, have been warned about the creatures of the north, and it is with good reason they're all terrified. All your life, your parents have tried to keep the knowledge of the northern creatures from you, but that just made you more curious. Everyday, you would sneak down to the castle library, and read everything you could about the north, wanting to know the secret behind the unholy land.

That of course didn't go well with your parents, and when they found out they decided to send you to the most holy of places, to forget about everything you've read. One of the biggest church organizations in the south agreed to take you in, to rehabilitate you and learn you that you should never question such things as the northern creatures.

By day, you follow the strict prioress around as she lectures you about the holy and the unholy, and by night, you have to go on patrol alone through the church as a punishment for reading about the unholy. But one night, everything changes, when you find the prioress dead, with bite marks all over her body. Of course, you have read about this, and you know exactly what killed her.

But what happens when that exact creature you've read about, shows up right in front of you?

Taglist:

(to be tagged please dm me or comment on this post)

(i’m so sorry if i forgot someone)

@sweetcrvture @boononx @i-am-supermerwholoked221b @karissassirak @bvblackarmy @queenbianca-7 @someslightobsessions @hazeljrz @thefandomelifeishard

The walk up to Jin’s room was strange, to say at least. A heavy silence loomed over you, and not a single living creature showed up on your way, not even Hoseok or Taehyung who had surely only been a few meters in front of you.

You must admit you were a tad bit disappointed, secretly looking forward to see the faces of the other four, still unknown residents of the house.

The walk was shorter than you remembered, Seokjin racing down hallways with you right behind him, your wrist permanently locked in his tight grip, as he dragged you along. It seemed like the house were getting smaller and smaller with every hallways and corridor you passed, making you quite unsure of what you had seen just a couple minutes ago when you had ventured out by yourself.

But before long, Seokjin promptly stopped infront of what you assumed to be the door to his room, making you stumble a bit, faceplanting into his chest, and quickly, embarrassed stepping back.

Without a word, he unlocked the door, with a little, faded grey key, a satisfying ‘click’ sound echoing through the empty hallway.

Gently, Seokjin pushed you forward into his room, forgetting his own strength for a moment and making you fall forward harder than intended.

Quickly, a delicious smell filled your nostrils, and the sole reason why you walked down into the kitchens to begin with filled your brain; hunger.

In the exact same moment, your tummy grumbled, loudly and proudly, making Seokjin huff in amusement, the ice disappearing from his eyes as he remembered how human you were.

“As I said earlier, there’s a meal waiting for you,”

He mused, making you look up at him with a rather offended look, as he stood there grinning.

So he thought it was funny how hungry you were, after he left you alone for what felt like hours without food?

Angrily, you marched in the direction of the delicious smelling meal prepared by his desk, and slumped down on the chair, as he followed you and sat down besides you without making the slightest sound.

Seokjins room were tightly organized, in fact it was organized so much there almost weren’t any space left. To others, including you, it might have looked like a mess of books, papers and clothes scattered everywhere, but every piece of clothes and every ripped out page had a certain place, that’s how Seokjin liked to organize his hoarders.

In between the many things he had scattered around, you recognized more than a few items, from the castles and and dormitories you had previously lived. Things you were certain, that a vampire would never need, and it puzzled you.

Your eyebrows furrowed, as your eye caught a cooking book laying on his floor. The kitchen looked like it hadn’t been occupied for centuries, but still he had a cooking boom laying on his floor. And it wasn’t just one, you noticed, there were many, ranking from pastries to exquisite meals that would surely be a king worthy.

Seokjin noticed you confusion, and huffed once again in amusement, a quiet, breathy sound that somehow still managed to radiate joy into to the world.

You shrugged, deciding to let it go, when the scent from the delicious looking food found its way back to your nose, and instantly your hunger won the battle, and it wasn’t long before you were stuffing your face with all the goods laid out to you on the table.

Seokjin watched, with a sly smile on his face, as you ate the contents on your plate. Truth be told, his brothers had also been very confused to why he had even bothered to get cooking books, when the condition he was in didn’t allow him to drink anything besides human blood.

But it wasn’t the food itself that fascinated him, it was the human behind the making of the many foods that truly perked his interest. Of course, he wouldn’t admit it to anyone but himself, but he did find humans more than interesting, always trying to gather the information he could find around them, and gathering the thing they used daily as well.

Those were his lucky days, the days were he would find a random doll, a child had dropped, or even better would he find things created by humans, things such as cooking books. He wanted to learn how to cook, he wanted to learn the human way of doing it, not just ordering around a servant to do it for him. He longed to learn the human ways of life, he longed to feel human again.

As a small child, he hadn’t known how lucky he had been, to eat actual food, to need actual sleep, but the more he grew the less he needed the human needs and the more he craved what ran through a humans veins instead.

He sighed, watching you finish off your last bite, a content look on your face as you did so, and turned to look at him with a rather embarrassed expression, blood flooding your cheeks.

“Sorry,,I lost my manners for a moment,”

You gently dapped your moutharea with the cloth laying next to you, as you brushed your hands off in your ruined skirt.

“I..”

He started, but soon trailing off, mouth growing dry as hunger flared up in him again, but he had already taken so much from you, and his brothers had too, he needed to let you rest.

“You need to get your bloodlevels up, take a bath, there’s been a new dress prepared for you outside the bathroom,”

He started, standing up to leave once more, but still keeping eye contact with you, as his Adam’s apple bubled, and the only thing he truly wanted was to sink his fangs deep into your soft skin, draining the color you had just recently gained in your face.

“Someone will come get you later.”

Rather stiffly, he turned around, and disappeared quicker than you could even blink, the only evidence that he had been there being the door shutting soundly a few seconds later.

You picked the black dress up with careful fingers, noticing how much it resembled the one you already wore. Only this one was more detailed, clearly meant for someone with a higher standing than your current one.

You sighed, slinging the black fabric over your arm, entering the bathroom. You noticed how much of a difference it was to Seokjin’s dark room, here, light actually shone through the curtains, enlightening you that it must have been mid afternoon.

The room was fairly big, white marble tiles running up the walls and covering the walls, one big mirror standing a little off to the side, and the big, perhaps the biggest bathtub you had ever seen, standing proudly in the middle.

Carefully, you placed the new dress on the floor, and noticed a little, white underdress being curled up in the otherwise black fabric. With light touches, you let your fingers slide over the bathtub, feeling the smooth stone material beneath them, finally reaching the tap and gently twisting it.

To your luck, warm water came tumbling out almost immediately, the room getting gradually more humid, as you started to discard of your old, ruined dress.

Silently, you stepped into the now high water, small ridges forming as your foot hit the surface, and you shuddered. The water was warm, almost burning, but you couldn’t help but enjoy it, when the warm sensations surrounded you as you sank down.

The wager covered you all the way up to you shoulders, and you quickly leaned back, the water now going to your chin, with a content sigh. You let all the stressful events from the last few days wash away and flood out in the water, dried blood and dirt slowly flooding off of you.

As the warm water hit the bite marks on your neck, a shiver went up your spine, suddenly remembering the encounter with Hoseok and Taehyung in the kitchen. You had been starting to question yourself if it was even real, but when your fingertips lightly glided over the other sets of bitemarks on your wrist, and you remembered Taehyung’s intense hunger, you knew it was real.

Slowly, you let your eyes close, the scene in the kitchen playing on repeat, and your bitemarks were starting to feel hotter than the water itself. The way they had sank their fangs into you, and slowly out again, had you lightly whimpering. But it wasn’t soon, before the events of the last few hours came crashing down on you, forcing you to forget your lust and drift up into a heavy, dreamless sleep.

“Bunny..bunny.. I know you can hear me,”

The sudden voice of Taehyung instantly had your eyes open, and you looked around, wondering how he got in here in the first place. But you couldn’t the anything, the whole bathroom was covered in white, hot steam from your bath, and the only thing you could feel was his presence. He was here, and you wanted oh so desperately to get to him, a full ache starting to make itself present between your legs.

“Bunny,”

Taehyung spoke again, voice as soft and smooth as honey, but at the same time deadly and poisonous.

“Be a good girl for me, get out of the tub,”

You did as you were told, shaky legs hitting the cold tile floor, as you stood completely bare and dripping wet in the middle of the steam cloud.

“Taehyung?”

You called out for him, all too desperate to feel his hands on you, as only were met with your own voice echoing back to you.

“Shh, come here bunny, gotta be quiet,”

Taehyung shushed you, voice now right besides your ear, and you instantly turned around, being met with a rather cocky looking Taehyung, hair wet and curly from the steam.

“T-Taehyung,”

You shuddered, face flushed and red, as his hands began to caress your sides, curling themselves into your warm skin, as he continued to smile at you, a rare, sweet smile

“Here Jin-hyung can’t find us,”

He purred, hands running up and down your back, until they reached the small of your back, curling around your hips were they stopped their journey, and he pulled you flush against him.

He didn’t seem to care that your body was wet, therefore making his shirt damp, as he continued to press closer to you, slowly backing you up against the wall, you back hitting the cold tiles, making chills shoot up your spine.

“Are you gonna be good for me? Letting me take you right against this wall?”

His voice dropped lower, fangs coming out to poke his bottom lip, and you could do nothing but get lost in his brilliant crimson eyes and nod helplessly.

With one finally push, he had you pressed completely against the wall, sandwiching you between him and the cold marble tiles. You couldn’t wait for what was about to come, you couldn’t wait for Taehyung’s tongue in your mouth, you couldn’t wait for his fangs sinking into your skin.

But just as his lips touched yours, a sharp knock on the door made you shoot up, and realize you were still sitting in the bathtub, the warm water had now turned rather cold, and a shiver went through you.

The knock echoed again, before a gruff voice spoke.

“Seokjin sent me to get you. Are you clothed?”

The voice sounded tired and strained, and quickly you stepped out of the tub, wrapping yourself in a fluffy towel, still a little hazy from the all the vivid dream you had just had.

You could have sworn Taehyung was here.

“I-I’m almost done!”

You managed to call out, through hot stuttering, and you heard a tired sigh on the other side.

As quick as you could, you picked up the dress, combing your hair with your fingers, after you had put it on. The white underdress apparently had sleeves as well, making the long black dress look more like a maid dress, than what you had originally thought. it did look an awful lot, like the one the prioress used to wear.

Quickly, you stuck your feet in your shoes as well, and carefully opened the door, letting out steam, careful not to hit whoever was stood on the other side.

In the hallway, a boy smaller than the others, but still way taller than you, stood with an annoyed look on his face.

“Took you long enough,”

He grumbled, and placed a hand on the small of your back, the exact same spot where you could have sworn Taehyung had touched you just a few moments before.

Suddenly, the hand gripped your dress tightly, the boy freezing, looking at you with an expression that wavered between hunger and disgust.

“Why do you smell like Taehyung? Is he hiding somewhere here?”

He accusingly asked, pushing you forward in a more rough manner, closing the doors behind him. You stayed silent, contemplating wether or not you should tell him about your dream.

“You never answered me,”

He pressed, after a long pause of silence, him pushing you forward as you hurried down the many confusing hallways of the house.

“I-“

You started, your brain suddenly feeling just as fuzzy as your body, and all you wanted was for him to stop pushing you so hard. It was as if the memories of the dream quickly fled your brain, making you almost forget where you where for a moment, the world started to almost spin around you.

“I-i can’t remember,”

You muttered, placing your hands around your head, to get the spinning sensations out.

“He’s probably messing with your memory, that little shit,”

The boy grumbled lowly, and for a moment or two you weren’t quite sure who he was talking about. It was almost as if the whole encounter in the bathroom never happened, you could only remember the steam, the steam and someone, most likely Taehyung had been calling out to you.

Instead of pushing you, he now opted for wrapping his arm around your middle, making it easier to follow his quick strides, as he began to almost drag you along like you were nothing more than an old rag doll.

Silently, and more careful that the boy had been with you, did he open a big, dark wooden door, this time gently shoving you inside, instead of harshly pushing you.

Nevertheless, you stumbled inside, still feeling confused and fuzzy, your mind doing it’s best to figure out what exactly had happened in the bathroom, and why exactly you couldn’t remember it.

“Taehyung is in her head, hyung, I think he did something to her while she was bathing,”

The boy, went straight up to Seokjin, leaving you to stand alone in the strange looking room. You eyes wondering the many shelves with strange liquids, the big, messy desk Seokjin was standing over, and the big, comfortable looking bed in the corner, where a very tired looking boy was laying.

He looked like Taehyung and Hoseok had before they fed off of you, he looked hollow and paler than the rest, and a sudden urge to let him feed on you filled your head.

You got the sudden urge to bend over him, letting him sink his teeth into your neck, and drink until his cheeks went chubby and color returned to his face, but before you could even take a step forward, Seokjin shot you a sharp look, and you slightly stepped back, and tried to focus on anything but the boy in the bed.

“Thank you Yoongi, will you help Jeongguk sit up?”

Seokjin spoke, voice tired and strained, as he motioned you to come over, and the boy, Yoongi walked over the boy in the bed, Jeongguk, and with careful, caring hands helped him sit up in the bed.

Slowly, you made your way over to stand besides Seokjin, as he began to write notes down in a old looking journal.

“Do you know why you’re here, bunny?”

Seokjin asked, and you noticed how his voice was softer when he addressed you, instead of the tired, slightly annoyed voice he spoke with, had it been to Taehyung. Pausing a little at his question, you lightly shook your head, looking up to look straight up into his crimson eyes.

“Why can’t I remember anything?”

You shot back, wanting oh so badly to figure out what had went on in the bathroom, and why everyone was worried about Taehyung messing with your brain.

Seokjin paused, letting the pencil he was writing with go, making it land on the wooden table with a little thump.

“What is the last thing you remember?”

He asked, tone slightly worrying but not too much, as he instead grabbed onto to counter, tightening his hand around it.

“I..”

You started, eyebrows furrowing as you thought deeply.

“I remember falling asleep, and there was this steam filling up the bathroom..”

You wondered outloud, definitely noticing the way Seokjin grimaced, angrily letting out a huff of air as he cursed out the younger boy’s name.

“The fuzzy feelings will go away soon, relax, in the meantime I have a favor to ask of you,”

He started, and you skeptically nodded along, happy to know that the weird feeling would soon go away, but very unsatisfied with the answer you got.

“As you can see, Jeongguk is very sick, I- we don’t know what is wrong with him yet, but he has refused to drink any form of animal blood, and even the human blood we had stored away did he refuse to drink-“

“So you’re asking me to let him feed on me?”

You finished Seokjin’s sentence for him, and had it been anyone but you had he surely been annoyed, but he was actually rather impressed with your guessing skills.

“..yes.”

He sank again, Adam’s apple bubbling like it had done in his room, and nervously glancing at the weak Jeongguk who was now sitting up, with the help of Yoongi. You watched in amazement, as Seokjin reached behind him, grabbing one of the strange liquids, and pouring another weirdly colorful liquid into it, before shaking and looking skeptically at it.

“Drink this,”

He handed you the strange, now dark green liquid, and you stired it a little, noticing how it smelled almost metallic.

“Why?”

You questioned, eyeing whatever it was, and questioning to yourself if it was really worth drinking. Seokjin sighed, a long pause went through the room before he spoke.

“It will help with the side effects of Jeongguks venom,”

He sighed, and looked like it was the most normal thing to say after giving someone a strange green liquid, demanding they drink it. Upon noticing your scared expression, he lightly huffed, the same amusement from before briefly returning to his eyes.

“Some vampires have venom stored in their teeth, Jeongguk’s venom can and will cause a fair amount of damage, if you don’t drink the antidote I made you,”

Wearily, you took your first sip of the antidote, reasoning with yourself that surely Seokjin wouldn’t put you in a situation that could actually kill you. And when the venom didn’t taste as bad as expected, you quickly gulped the rest down.

“That’s a good girl,”

Seokjin praised you, making your cheeks turn slightly red, as you handed him the now empty cup back, turning your head, and carefully stealing a glance at Jeongguk. Seokjins hand landed on your back, indicating you should walk over to Jeongguk, and so you did, the strange urge to see him well fed making its presence known again.

“Jeongguk,”

Seokjin said sternly, making you slightly jump, but keeping your focus on the sick Jeongguk.

“Don’t take too much from her, take what you need, I trust you,”

“I know hyung, I won’t,”

The younger boy rasped, and that was the first time you had heard his voice. It was so much more alive than he looked, only sounding a tad bit tired, as his big, brown eyes met yours, and without even realizing it, you stepped forward, already beginning to bow down to him.

“She’s just waiting to be fed on,”

Jeongguk mumbled, voice just above a whisper, as he let his shaking hands lock around your shoulders as he situated you as he wanted you on his bed. You did not complain once, bowing to his will, feeling strangely submissive to the boy, as you let him slump you against him and expose your neck to him.

Both his hyungs were watching with cautious eyes, ready to interfere if anything bad was to happen, and with Jeongguk bad things was always to happen.

Slowly, he began nosing up your neck, a shiver ran up his spine, as he could practically already smell your blood through your skin. Suddenly, his tongue began to lap at the two marks, Hoesok had made earlier.

“Hoseok hyung got to her already?”

Jeongguk questioned, sounding more like a child that had to share his favorite toy.

“It was a mistake, Jeongguk, hurry up,”

Seokjin began tapping his foot, annoyed with the way the younger boy was taking his sweet time to smell you, when he couldn’t help but feel possessive. You were his feeder, he should be drinking from you.

That was all the encouragement Jeongguk needed, before he found his spot right below Hoseok’s, slowly beginning to lick it like a man starved, and you felt his supposedly poisonous fangs poke at your skin.

Suddenly he pierced, without warning, one hand resting on your belly, keeping you as close to him as possible and the other locked around your throat, keeping it in place.

Another shiver went up his spine upon tasting your blood, and instantly he dived deeper, only being spurred on by the way you held the many moans inside you, when you felt his fangs slide into you.

He drank like he was possessed, he drank like he hadn’t fed in days, and he hadn’t, he drank till his cheeks were round and chubby and he had no intentions of stopping.

He grunted and groaned into your neck, the heavenly feelings his feeding sent straight to your core made it hard for you to keep the whines and moans from spilling out, but you did your best, considering the fact that Yoongi and Seokjin were standing right besides you.

Only when the color started to drain from your face, did Seokjin interfere.

“Jeongguk, Jeongguk! You’ve had more than enough,”

He yelled, when the boy still didn’t listen, sucking even more viciously, making purple and blue hickeys appear along with the two bite marks. Only when Yoongi began to pull at him, did he stop, his fangs sliding out of you with a deep satisfied grunt, making you shudder against him.

You felt lightheaded, helplessly falling against Jeongguks chest, as you heard them loudly argue, Seokjin yelling profanities at Jeongguk for taking too much of you blood, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care at this point.

The lightheadedness was making you tired, so tired that the voices turned to mere background noise and you closed you eyes, noticing how comfortable Jeongguks chest felt against your back, how warm he was, how much you needed to sleep. And slowly but surely, your eyes closed, and you drifted off to a deep, almost coma like sleep.

#i hope this is okay #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook x reader #min yoongi x reader #bts fantasy au #bts x reader #bts prince au #bts ot7 x reader #bts ot7 #the unholy #kim namjoon x reader #kim seokjin x reader #kim taehyung x reader #jung hoseok x reader #park jimin x reader #bts vampire au #bangtan #bts

[imagine-loki]

Ragnarok

TITLE: Ragnarok CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter 3: Reunited AUTHOR: traveling-classicist ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine you take care Odin when he was homeless on Midgard (based on the deleted scene from Ragnarok). You take him in and listen his crazy stories about Asgard and Thor thinking he’s just some crazy hobo who needs help. Then one day, Thor and Loki break into your apartment looking for their father. Hela returns in your living room and insanity ensues. RATING: T

AO3 Link: Here

NOTES/WARNINGS: Wow this came out as a big Ragnarok fix-it chapter. These things happen, I suppose. Enjoy, if it’s something that you need. I know some of us feel it.

Also, head to AO3 and please, read the endnote. If you don’t use AO3, I’ll summarize here.

Someone has stolen my material (including this story and my other story, Loki’s Daughter) and every single AO3 authors material and is profiting off of it by marketing an unofficial mobile app called the Fanfic Pocket Library Archive (Unofficial) App. This thing’s been around for several years but as I’m a little new to writing, this is the first I’ve heard of it. I do this for free and receive zero (0) dollars from it. I do it for fun but it’s my intellectual property and no one deserves to make money off of it, especially without my permission.

Please, if you use this app, stop, leave a one star review, report it as inappropriate on whatever store you use (it’s on all the popular ones), and then delete it. This person is hurting fanfic authors like me and many others on this blog! I don’t (and never) encourage sending hate mail to this individual and I don’t recommend you try to contact them directly, please. I don’t know if they know that they’re hurting us but we need to make sure that this app gets taken down.

————————————————————————————————–

Several weeks had passed since Odin had come to live with Theo. They had finally settled into a workable routine. Theo was thankful she could finally work in peace for a full day without Odin bursting into her room yelling about frost giants or the helicopter he thought was an attacking dragon or whatever other mundane event triggered his dementia.

            He was content, most days, with reading in the living room. Theo had gotten him a library card and they went to the library several times a week to keep him set up with books. Theo thought about getting him involved in book clubs or other social events but thought he might need a little more time before he could be with other people again.

            He no longer spoke about the crazy doctor and he did not bring up the incident that Theo had had with him. For which, she was grateful. All in all, he was a good roommate and Theo enjoyed listening to his stories about Asgard and the battles in the Nine Realms. She was concerned by his comments about the Avenger Thor being his son, but she was not sure what to do about them.

She had asked him how long he had been in New York and he could remember being there for about four years. She assumed he had been upset and displaced during the Battle of New York, like herself and so many others had been. She thought, perhaps, this is where his fantasies about Thor and the Avengers had come from. A lot of people had had psychotic breaks after the aliens attacked. New Yorkers could come back from a lot: freak storms, floods, train wrecks, fires, terrorists, spies. But aliens and super heroes proved to be just a little too much for some.

Her attempts to get him to see a real doctor had all come up short. She did not want to force Odin to do something he did not want to do. She still wanted him to have the dignity of being his own person. He was healthy, for the most part, though she had noticed a bit of bodily weakness as of late. She had just chalked it up to the cold weather and old age. She was slowly working on his alcohol habit. He was down to only a few drinks a week now, instead of one a day. She did have to start hiding the booze in her room, though, after she caught him pinching some beer in the middle of the night one night.

She hoped that with a little more time together, he would come to trust her enough to go to a doctor to address his mental state but for now, as he wasn’t hurting himself or anyone else, she was content with him just being content. She enjoyed living with him. She didn’t feel like it was a chore to take care of him. She loved cooking for him and introducing him to new food.

She learned he had something of a sweet tooth so she kept a jar stocked with cookies or brownies or tarts or whatever recipe she could find. He even began checking out cookbooks from the library that had photos of food he thought looked good or familiar.

“Oh, these look like the apple tarts that Idunn used to make for us. Do you think you could make these? Of course, you don’t have golden apples but I’m sure you could find a decent substitute,” he would say.

“Sure! They look easy enough,” Theo would reply. “Check this one out and we’ll drop by the grocery store and pick up the ingredients.”

When they arrived back at her apartment, she unpacked the groceries. To her surprise, Odin came to her side and helped her. He took out the milk and cheese and a few other things and placed them in the refrigerator. She smiled. She’d have to remove the cereal and oatmeal he put in there later but at least he was trying to help.

He placed her cookbook on the island in the kitchen and took the rest of his books to the living room to read. She put on some coffee for him. She had found that he did enjoy a cup of coffee while he read. She set down a mug for him and he thanked her as he pulled out one of his newest books, a book about modern American politics. He went through books very quickly, so he often checked out ten or more books in a single visit. Among them this time were books about the Afghan wars, the Iraqi war, the American revolution, the Civil War, the civil rights movement, another Norse mythology book, and a book about Nordic style knitting.

She returned to the kitchen and started on the recipe for the apple tarts. She started on the dough and made up the apple and cinnamon mixture. She glanced up at Odin and caught him watching her from over the top of her book. When she caught his eye, he quickly looked down at his book again. She smiled and placed the tart crusts in to bake. When they were done, she pulled them out and added the apple mixture on the tarts. When she was finished, she put the tarts back in the oven.

“Okay, those need a little more time and then we can try them out,” Theo said.

“They already smell delightful,” Odin said.

Theo smiled. She enjoyed how happy he had been recently. It was good to see someone who had been so spiteful and angry and confused, be content and happy with life. Even though, he was still rather confused most of the time.

“Nordic Style Knitting?” Theo read, as she picked up one of Odin’s books from the pile on the coffee table.

“Knitting?” he said, taking a closer look. “I thought that said, ‘knighting’. I must be losing my sight.”

“Aw, I thought you were going to pick up a new hobby,” Theo said, a little disappointed. “Knighting? It has a picture of a woman with a knitted sweater on it looking longingly into mid-distance. How did you think this was about knights?”

“Well, you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover. That’s what the librarian lady always says,” Odin said.

Theo nodded. “Well, I guess that’s true. But if there’s anything about knights in here, be sure to tell me because that would be the plot twist of the century.”

“Hmph, a king does not have time for knitting,” he said.

            “Right, well you’re not much of a King of a the Dumpsters now, are you?” Theo said, smiling.

            “Well, I suppose I’m not king anymore,” he muttered.

            “Are you happy?” she asked. He looked up at her and smiled. His eye shimmered a bit in the light.

            “Most of the time,” he said.

            She laughed. “Well, that’s the goal, isn’t it?” She leaned over the couch and kissed his cheek. “I’ll be in my room for a bit. I’ll be out when the oven beeps.”

            She walked down the hallway to her room and flopped onto her bed, playing on her phone. The apartment filled with the smell of apple tarts. It made her stomach growl in anticipation. She rolled over on her back, phone raised over her face, playing Candy Crush. She completely lost track of time and before long the timer started beeping in the kitchen.

            “What is that! Who’s there?” Odin shouted at the oven.

            The beeping and Odin’s booming voice made her jump. The phone slipped from her hands and landed like a brick on her face. “Ow,” she groaned as she slumped off her bed to get Odin away from the oven again before he started beating it with her rolling pin.

            “Odin, it’s just the timer, remember? Our tarts are done!” she said, removing the rolling pin gently from his hands. She pulled on her oven mits and pulled out the tray. Odin’s hand went straight for one, but Theo smacked it away. He recoiled holding his hand and giving her a sour look.

            “Not now, you crazy! They just came out! They’re still hot,” she said.

            He frowned at her and grumbled as he stalked to the living room and plopped down on the couch again. She smiled and shook her head. She waited for them to cool before plating a few for him and some for herself and walking into the living room to join him. She set the plate down in front of him. When she looked down at him, he had his hands on his head again like he did when he was upset and frustrated. A book was open in his lap.

            “Odin? Are you alright? What’s wrong?” she asked, setting the plate down on the table.

            “Asgard is not a place, I know that, but I have to remember,” he said, hitting his head with his palms.

            “No, no, we don’t do that, Odin,” Theo said, stopping him. “Just take a deep breath, come on.” She picked up the book from his lap. It was the Norse mythology book. He grabbed it from her and pointed to the page he was on.

            “Look, look at her, I know her,” he said, pointing to an illustration of a woman on the page. Theo read the caption, ‘The Goddess of Death, Hela’. She looked up at Odin again. He was clearly in distress.

            “It’s alright, Odin, here have a tart, remember? We were excited about these. They smell really good,” she prompted him with the plate, but he shook his head. He was really distressed if food would not bring him out of this.

            “They’ve got it all wrong. They’ve got it all wrong! Stupid Midgardians. Not you, Theo! Them!” he said, pointing at the book and fidgeting. “She’ll come back. I do not know when, but it feels soon. Very soon. She will kill me.”

            “Odin, no one is going to kill you,” Theo said, coolly, trying to keep a calm tone.

            “No, no, she will. It’s been foretold that she will,” he panted.

            “Odin, those are just stories. No one is going to kill you. Did you see that guard dog of a landlord I have downstairs? He’s not going to let anyone in that doesn’t live here. I promise, no one is going to kill you.”

            “I must speak with my sons. I must speak with them now! I must warn them immediately!” he said. “Asgard is not a place!” He pounded on his head again. “Why won’t they listen! Why can’t I remember!”

            “Odin, please, stop! Don’t hurt yourself!” Theo grabbed both his hands and held them. He stared at her. Beads of sweat had appeared on his forehead. His eye was bloodshot and glistened with welling tears. Theo sighed.

            “Listen. Let me help you. Please,” she pleaded with him, holding his hands. “Take a deep breath.”

            “Theo—”

            “Shut it! Do as I say,” she snapped.

            He sighed and took a deep breath.

            “Alright, now let it out.” He did so. “Again,” Theo said, softening her tone now that he was listening to her. She made him take several deep breaths in and out until he was calm. She held his hands so that he could not hit himself.

            “Okay, I want you to close your eye and focus on your breathing and make all the other little Odin voices stop talking in your head. Frigga too, if she’s in there,” Theo said. “Sorry, Frigga,” she added, quietly.

            “This is silly,” Odin said.

            “It’s not silly, just trust me, okay. Rule number seven, remember?” she said. He opened his eye and looked at her.

            “Fine,” he grumbled, closing his eye again.

            “Good. Sometimes this takes a while. It takes me a while sometimes so just tell me when you have them all shut up.”

            She waited for several minutes when finally, Odin said, “Alright.”

            “Okay, now let’s think about how this started. You were reading your book and you got to this page about Hela,” Theo said.

            “I know her,” he said, quickly.

            “Okay, how do you know her? Is she your friend?”

            “No, no, no, they have it all wrong here,” he said pointing to the book.

            “Alright, alright, well how do you know her? Take a deep breath and think hard about it. Don’t let any of the other voices think over you.”

            He closed his eye and scrunched his brow, clearly concentrating hard on this task.

            “She… She… is my… daughter,” he whispered. “She is my daughter.” A tear slipped from his eye. Theo looked at him, squeezing his hands. He started breathing hard. His eye flicked around and then up at Theo. “She’s my daughter and I forgot about her. I forgot about her!”

            “Oh, Odin,” she said, squeezing his hands. “Don’t blame yourself. It’s not your fault,” Theo said, rising up to sit next to him on the couch. She put her arm around him.

            He put his face in his hands. His body shook with silent sobs. “I’m a terrible father,” he whispered. “To all my children.”

            “Odin, I’m sure that’s not true.”

            “It is. I’ve done nothing but push them away and lock them up, punish them for who they are, for who I made them to be. They all hate me. They all think I’m mad and foolish. And I am. I’ve been blind to them.” He collapsed into his hands again.

            Theo couldn’t help her own tears at seeing him cry. She rubbed his back and squeezed his arm, trying to think of something to help him feel better. She knew that sometimes, when people broke down like this – which many of her former roommates had on this couch – it was often helpful for her just to sit with them and listen.

            “I’m sorry, Odin,” she said, softly. “I can’t imagine how hard this is for you, but the fact that you realize that you’ve made mistakes may mean that there’s still time for you to fix your relationship with your children; that you can ask for their forgiveness.”

            “You don’t understand, girl,” he said, shaking his head. “What I’ve done to Hela, to Loki…the eons of torture and brutality I’ve put them through… there is no conversation that can fix.”

            Theo was a little scared by what he was saying now. She wanted to be optimistic for him and supportive, but she had a gut feeling there was something more going on here that Odin was not telling her.

            “Well,” she said, her voice a little shaky. “We can only try. For right now, let’s just have a few tarts and try to calm down. Maybe, you can think about what you would want to say to your kids if they were here.”

            He sighed. “I would want to tell them I love them,” he said. He wiped away the tears from his face and took a tart.

Theo looked at him sympathetically. She tried not to cry herself as she took a tart too. She took a bite. She was impressed with her baking. They tasted really good, immediately improving her mood.

            “Mmm,” Odin muttered. “My sons would love these. Frigga, too. They loved Idunn’s apple tarts.”

            “Do I do them any justice? Even without the golden apples?” she said, bumping his shoulder with hers.

            “They’ll do,” he said with a little smile. He looked up at her. “Thank you, Theo.”

            “Oh, you’re welcome,” she said, standing to get a drink from the kitchen. As she walked, there was a sudden pounding on the door. “Now, who’s that?”

            She walked back towards the door, but the pounding got louder. “Hang on! I’m coming!” she said, shoving the rest of the apple tart in her mouth and swallowing it in one bite. She could hear muffled voices outside. There was a loud bang on the door that made Theo jump.

            “Hey!” she shouted. “Knock it off!”

            There was another bang and the door heaved inwards. Theo jumped back and reached for the coatrack. The door gave one last shudder before shattering into a million pieces across her entryway floor. Theo slammed against the wall beside the coatrack, as two men casually walked into her apartment: Thor, the Avenger and Loki, the alien that attacked New York. She reached into her coat pocket on the coatrack and pulled out a handgun, pointing it at Loki’s head.

            “Do not come any closer. What the hell are you doing in my house?” she shouted at them.

            “Father!” Thor said, stepping over the broken pieces of door to Odin who was standing by the coffee table.

            “Thor! My son!” Odin said, putting his hand on Thor’s cheek. “Oh, my sons! I love you!”

            Theo did not take her eyes off Loki, nor the sights of her gun. Her hand was steady, though her heart was racing. He was looking at Odin with brows raised in shock at his adoptive father’s admonition upon their arrival. He looked back at the Theo with her gun pointed at his head. He raised his hands slowly and gave her a gentle look.

            “I apologize for my brother murdering your front door,” he said, slowly. “Please, allow me to fix it.”

He waved his hand and the splinters of the door began to reform on the broken hinges. Theo felt a wriggling sensation under her foot. She looked down to see a large chunk of the door wiggling to get free as if pulled by a magnet towards its comrades. She lifted its foot and it replaced itself, making the door whole again.

            Loki stepped over to it and tested it, swinging it open and shut. “There, good as new,” he said. Theo still had the gun trained on him. He turned back to her. “Please, put that down. We’re just here for him.” He pointed to Odin with his thumb.

            “He… He was telling the truth… All this time? And I thought he was crazy…” Theo said.

            “Well, you’re probably not completely wrong. I’m pretty sure he’s crazy,” Loki said.

            Odin ran over to them and grabbed Theo’s arm, lowering her gun.

            “Theo! You’re breaking rule number five, young lady,” he scolded her. “No weapons!”

            “It’s my house. They’re my rules. And I get to break them when GIGANTIC ALIEN MEN COME TEARING DOWN MY DOOR!” she shouted, pointing at the brothers.

            “I do suppose that’s fair,” Loki said, looking at his brother.

            “No weapons?” Thor said. “What kind of house is this?”

            “Thor, don’t be rude,” Loki muttered.

            “A safe one!” Theo snapped. “Now, explain yourselves right now!”

            “My name is Thor, and this is Loki—”

            “I know damn well who you are! Why on earth would you leave your father here to become homeless? Why would you say you would come for him and then just leave him here with no way to contact you?”

            “That’s a good question,” Thor smiled at Theo. “You want to answer that one, Loki?” he growled at Loki.

            “Homeless?” Loki said. “I didn’t leave him homeless here. I left him in a home. For old people. A retirement home. Where he could play bingo and mingle with old Midgardians and tell war stories and be cared for day and night their healer nurse-doctor people or whatever.”

            “And that retirement home went out of business,” Theo said, standing on her tip toes to be eye level with him. “I guess they don’t have a mailing address for Asgard, do they!”

            “So, what, they just turned him out on the street?” Loki asked.

            “Yes! They had nowhere else to put him!”

            “What kind of place is this? Just throwing your elders out like trash?”

            “Welcome to America, sweetie. You don’t have the money to pay for yourself, you go out on the street.”

            “Thor, this is not what I intended,” Loki said, addressing his brother. “All I did was strip him of his memories so he wouldn’t rouse the Midgardians’ suspicions, but I did not do this.”

            Thor shook his head at him and rolled his eyes and turned to Odin. “I’m sorry that this happened father—”

            “No, I am sorry, to both of you,” Odin said.

            “What?” both the brothers said in unison. Loki stared at him with surprise, thinking he had heard him wrong. Odin turned his attention to him.

            “I am sorry for how I’ve treated you, Loki. For the lies I’ve told you. For blaming you, when I should have blamed myself. Your lawless nature, these storms inside you; you inherited from me. And I would never wish that on another soul,” Odin said, tears in his eyes. “You are my son. I just hope that you can forgive me now after all that I have done.”

            Loki stared at him, taken aback by his words. He had no words of his own. He looked at Thor and then to Theo. She crossed her arms, gun still in hand. He stared blankly at Odin, unsure of what to do or say or even what to think.

Thor too was in shock. He looked back and forth between his father and his brother.

            “Father, I think you broke him,” he said, chuckling a little, putting his hand on Loki’s shoulder.

            “I… I…I do not know what to say,” Loki said.

            “That’s alright,” Odin said, putting up his hand. “I don’t expect forgiveness right away. Now, Thor, I must speak with you too.”

            Thor wiped his nose with the back of his hand, trying to disguise his man-tears. Theo scoffed. Loki was still searching the room for something that could help him respond. He stepped closer to Theo while Odin spoke with Thor.

            “What’s in those tarts?” he asked, suspiciously.

            Theo turned her head slowly to glare at him, shooting daggers. “Apples,” she said, feigning hospitality. “And a bit of cinnamon and brown sugar. You’re welcome to one if you want,” she said, though a bit scornful. “And you didn’t answer my question. Why did you leave him here?”

            Loki looked uncomfortable. “It’s a long story.”

            “Start talking,” Theo said.

            “I was not expecting this apologetic Odin. He’s never been this way before. Several years ago, Asgard was dealing with an unexpected war with the dark elves. My brother abdicated his right to the throne and Odin was, well, unfit to rule after our mother died. He was willing to sacrifice every Asgardian warrior we had to defeat the elves just uphold some old family grudge. So, I did what needed to be done and removed Odin from power.”

            “Jesus,” Theo said, rolling her eyes.

            “I brought him here so he would be safe. I removed his memories with a spell so as to disguise his existence. To keep him safe not only from Midgardians but other powers in the universe that might want him dead. I wasn’t expecting them to throw him out on the street!”

            Theo shook her head, not meeting Loki’s eyes.

            “But I am grateful to you, Theo, for taking him in. Thor is too, though he may forget to say so.”

            “Mmm,” Theo grunted. “How did you even know where to find us?”

            “Pfft, that crazy second-rate magician that lives on this island too.”

            “Oh no, not him,” Theo whined, as a sparkling portal began to appear in her living room behind Loki. Doctor Strange and Wong stepped through.

            “I know, right,” Loki continued. “What a knob. He made me fall through one of his stupid portals for thirty minutes while he tried to figure out where you two were. Man’s not a sorcerer. His magic’s more suitable for children than… he’s right behind me…”

            “Hello again, Loki. Theo,” the doctor greeted them. Theo cocked the gun in her hand.

#Loki #Lover #God of Mischief #Submitted fic #submission #ragnorok #traveling-classicist #chapter 3

[greensaplinggrace]

Hello! This is kind of out there but I was wondering if you could do a post apocolypse au? With tons of Barret but not very shippy. With lots of found family though! Thanks

“I know you didn't list Barret as one of the character you write, but you also said that the list was only a sort of guideline and not actually hard rules. If that's the case could you maybe do a prompt for some Dad!Barret and Marlene fluff? Thank you 💞💕” - Anon

Filling two prompts at once here, so I hope this fits the bill for both! Also I got really into this prompt so I’m honestly probably going to continue it? If so, it’ll on ao3, but here’s what I’ve written so far. Sort of the start of the fic/a prologue. A five + 1 type premise, beginning with Tifa XD

-UPDATE! The fic is now finished - PART 2 - PART 3 - ALL PARTS ON AO3

-If you want to send in a prompt, the guidelines are HERE and HERE!

------

His daughter makes him a crown of dead flowers.

Barricaded inside of some long abandoned home, the only pieces of nature still visible are the wilted remains of a bouquet once gathered neatly in a vase. They’re faded, of course. Neglected and passed over for more urgent necessities; victims to the cruel fate of the merciless virus. Just as humans had been.

Just like every other living thing on the planet.

Yet Marlene doesn’t seem to mind. As soon as they’re both settled in for the night she takes the flowers up, small fingers clutching ever so delicately at the crumbling stems, and weaves him a crown. Kicking her feet on an old dusty couch and humming away, she even appears almost happy and content, though he knows she’s not.

He knows she’s afraid. Sees it every day in her frightened tears and hears it every night in the tiny, terrified whimpers of her nightmares.

These things - these small, innocuous pieces of joy she seems to find at the strangest of moments, are the only pieces of innocence she has left. Her only protection from the monsters inside of her head. 

Barret can’t rob her of that; he never could. Even if the flowers she plays with are dead and the couch she sits on once belonged to someone else. So when she looks up at him with wide brown eyes and that big, loving smile, presenting his crown like the glittering tiara she imagines it is, he can’t do anything else but kneel to accept it.

Can’t do anything else but return the smile and play pretend, heart aching with the loss of something he knows she’ll never get back.

Sometimes, he thinks of what his life would be like without her. Thinks of the kids out on the streets and the parents he’s met along the roads. Shell shocked, blank faced victims, waiting for the infected to end it all, and he knows he’s lucky. Lucky to have her at all in this destructive world, and the loss of her innocence isn’t so horrifying in the face of her simply being here with him. Safe and cared for and alive.

Because Marlene is the only thing he has left in the world - she’s the only one who matters - and he knows he’d do just about anything to keep her safe.

More importantly, though. More than anything else. He’d do anything to keep her happy.

So he plays pretend.

He wears the crown made from dead people’s things and cooks in their kitchen. Ignores the plundered and violated remains of their home to search through his own bag for some food, and hopes that his little girl doesn’t go looking upstairs to see the empty baby’s nursery.

Dinner is small again. It’s been beans and carrots for the past week, and it’ll be beans and carrots again today. Considering their circumstances, it isn’t exactly surprising. Watching over Marlene means making certain sacrifices, and raiding the bigger places for better supplies is simply too difficult with a child in tow.

Impossibly difficult. 

But it may soon be necessary, if things keep going the way they are. The thought that he might have to expose Marlene to the atrocities of their new world doesn’t sit well with him, but he might have to start doing so if he wants to keep them both alive and fed. Especially if he wants any tools of a high enough quality to maintain his arm.

Right now it works, but the thing is too slow to be useful for anything except shooting, and he relegates it to hanging limp and useless beside him on most days. Though even when his arm had been working at it’s finest, it was never useful for cooking.

Mechanized gun arms tend to be like that.

“Daddy?”

He hums, pots and pans banging, relieved when the stove starts without problem. “Yes, honey?”

“Where do you think the people who lived here moved away to?”

That warrants a glance backwards, and Barret turns to see Marlene still on the couch. She’s got a large photo album opened up on her lap now, flipping through it with a childlike curiosity. Her feet are still kicking off the edge of her seat, and after a beat of silence she looks up at him questioningly.

He pushes back the urge to snatch the book away from her - to protect her from the darkness only he can see hiding between the pages. 

Alive or dead, those are happy photos. Moments of a better life and a better time, and Marlene’s touch can only make them brighter. So he leaves her to it and returns to his cooking.

“They could be anywhere,” he still tells her, hoping to give her whatever small shred of hope he can, “maybe they’re hiding somewhere safer.”

“Like a Camp?”

“Maybe.” The nearest Camp isn’t for miles, but he knows the army and fast formed neighborhood watches had been evacuating people to safe sites. A lot of those had been transformed into Camps or eventually transferred to other Camps. For anybody living near the city, it isn’t exactly a stretch to imagine.

More of a stretch than Barret can muster, though.

“What if they Clustered?” Marlene asks after a moment of thought.

Barret isn’t at all expecting the words, and he barely manages to bite back an unsavory comment upon hearing them. What Marlene refers to as Clusters, most call Mobs, and he’d rather jump off a damn cliff than ever even look at one again. He doesn’t want to scare her, though. So instead he clears his throat and focuses on making their plates to distract himself, lips tightening. 

“Then at least they’d be safe,” he offers mildly.

“Well then why aren’t we in one? If it’s safe, I mean.”

“Because it’s only safe for certain people, baby.” When she opens her mouth he cuts her off, raising the plates in an apology. “You just have to trust me, okay? Let’s talk about something else.”

At her huff of reluctant acceptance he moves back to the couch, sitting close and pulling away the photo album.

He closes it and tosses it aside immediately, but in the half second his gaze finds the photos, he notices they’re all of a happy old couple. Thin and frail and paler than porcelain from a distinct lack of sun.

Dead, he realizes. 

There’s no way they would have made it.

“Daddy? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, baby, I’m fine. Let’s eat, huh? We gotta finish up soon if we want you in bed on time.”

Marlene pouts at that, suitably distracted, and they both dig into their food with gusto.

Speculating about strangers will get in him nowhere, he knows. Especially when it comes to the dead ones. 

There’ll be time for mourning later.

Much, much later. 

So he sits and he eats and talks about ponies and princesses, the crown still adorning his head, and he doesn’t think about anything except his daughter.

Doesn’t think about a thing except how he’s going to keep her alive.

They finish their meal in record time. Soon enough, Barret is tucking a fussy Marlene into bed. She’s curled up in her cot near the living room heater, bundled beneath some extra blankets he found in the linen closet, and she’s out like a light as soon as her head hits the pillow.

Barret sits and keeps watch while she sleeps. Through the slivers of space between boards, he watches dusk pass peacefully by. The infected begin to meander away once his and Marlene’s disturbance becomes old news to them, and a silence befalls their cozy sanctuary as the sky gradually darkens.

Then shit goes horribly, explosively sideways.

It happens in the middle of the night: a deafening boom that rocks the world and instantly has Barret on high alert. The air around them erupts in a blaze of fire and screams, upper level catching like dry tinder before he can so much as blink. 

Barret jumps to his feet with a yell, turning to grab Marlene as the ceiling crumbles around them. She’s glossy eyed and confused, but he doesn’t have the time to explain it to her. Doesn’t have the time to do a thing as beams pop around them, tires screeching in the near distance. Then the sound of shattering windows rends the silence of the night, a sadistic chorus of hoots and hollers following right at its heels. 

The approaching thunder of footsteps is what pushes Barret into motion. Quickly, with the rise of voices goading him to move faster than he ever has before, Barret pulls their bags onto one shoulder, hefting his little girl over the other, and races to the crooked backdoor. He kicks it down amidst a cascade of red hot cinders, ducking underneath the doorway without hesitation, and looks up to see dewy grass stretching out cold and exposed before them.

Another explosion sounds out from the house, the footsteps beginning to get closer as the war cries rise, and he has no time to waste anymore - no time for second thoughts.

Barret takes Marlene and he runs.

------

After that night, their situation only gets worse. The Mob isn’t tracking Barret down, but it’s clear they’ve set up shop in the surrounding buildings and aren’t planning to move anytime soon.

As a result, Barret gives the city a wide berth. Skirting past the outermost houses and heading into the open fields, he eventually leads them into the surrounding forests. He’s hoping for some modicum of safety within the boughs, but greenery is scarce and the leaves are falling. Winter’s chill becomes more prominent with every passing night to exacerbate the issue, and it drives home their need for four walls and a roof like nothing else ever could.

Yet for now, it’s better than nothing. Better than being left so vulnerable again, defenseless in another family’s home.

The added protection of the trees brings other problems, however. They’re isolated from civilization and traders out here, with no friendly faces to be seen for miles, and the subsequent dip in their supplies is severe. 

By the end of their first week camping out in the forests, Barret finds himself staring at his and Marlene’s very last can of beans, and knows without a doubt that they’ve finally hit the breaking point. 

They’re going to have to go looting again if they want some food.

And it is that thought that finds Barret and Marlene outside the remains of an empty, half hidden store just a few too many paces off the main road. With not a single infected in sight, it looks like the perfect mark.

Marlene huffs into the chill beside him, breath fogging. “What if there are monsters inside?” 

“Daddy will take care of them! Don’t you worry a bit about that.”

Marlene shuffles her feet and ducks her head. She has a death grip on his fingers, body closed off and fearful, and he already regrets making the decision to come out here. All around them, the silence of the abandoned store echoes with a warning.

“I’m scared,” she whispers at the ground, and Barret squeezes her hand lightly in reassurance.

“It’ll be real quick, baby, I promise,” he says, voice strong even as he eyes the flickering store lights with trepidation, “we’ve just gotta run in and out. Grab all the food we can carry and haul ass, huh?”

“But I can’t carry lots,” Marlene replies mournfully.

“That’s no problem! I’ll do most of the carrying. Your job is just to stay on my shoulder and make me feel better.”

“Like a cheerleader?”

“Exactly like a cheerleader. You’re my hype crew!”

Her giggle lights up the dark parking lot, and he kneels to give her a gentle hug. When her small hands come up to wrap around his neck he gets an arm under her, lifting her up with exaggerated force until she’s clutching at his fingers and giggling wildy.

Shifting her to his shoulder is almost easy after that. She’s distracted and pleased, beginning to hum her little happy song again as she kicks her legs in the air, and Barret hates himself for having to make it go away.

“Now you gotta hold on real tight, remember? Cause I need both hands free for this.” He looks up to see her nod and frown seriously, heart aching at the maturity in her expression. 

“Okay,” she whispers, “I’ll be quiet, too.”

“Good. Just like we practiced.”

“Mhm!”

Then it’s go time.

They move towards the store slowly and enter with care. Barret’s desperate but he’s not going to act the fool. There could be any number of threats inside, and he isn’t going to risk his daughter because he acted rashly - made too much noise or stepped too loudly. Isn’t going to give the infected the satisfaction of seeing him fall.

Marlene is careful, too. She’s got a death grip on his shoulder and his hair the entire time he walks. Yet the pain is nothing compared to knowing she’s safe, so he stays silent as they creep past the threshold. 

As soon as he steps foot in the building he sees the checkout. It’s right beside the door, as he’d known it would be, but it’s holding way more registers and lanes than he’d planned on seeing. Immediately, Barret takes a longer look at the aisles spreading out a fair distance in front of them, and realizes with dread that this store is a lot bigger than he’d given it credit for.

The CVS sign in the far corner blares accusingly from its place above another, smaller checkout.

Medicine is his first thought - his only thought - for a long time after seeing it. And of course it is. Medicine is indescribably valuable during catastrophes such as this. It’s priceless.

And he’s staring at a whole roomful of it.

This store hasn’t been looted, he realizes blankly, and that’s when the second thought hits. Harsh and brutal as if he’s been hit by a truck.

Threat, his mind blares, and he’s instantly tensing as he readies for a battle or a confrontation - anything.

This is no longer a simple search for remaining loot. Any Mob or Camp worth a damn would be on this shit in seconds if they knew it was here, and they wouldn’t shy away from using any means necessary to obtain the supplies.

Hell, if a Syndicate finds this place they might as well give up on life right now.

His heart skips a beat, hand coming up for just a brief moment to squeeze tightly at his little girl’s leg, and she hugs him from above. She doesn’t say anything, though. Merely patting the top of his head in an attempt at comfort.

Smart girl, he thinks, moving to grab one of the shopping carts lying about. It’s completely intact, and even the mere presence of a fully functioning shopping cart at the entrance of the store lets him know nobody has set foot in this place since shit hit the fan.

They’re loud but they’re handy, and Barret plans on filling the entire thing to brimming. With this whole basket full they’ll be able to eat well for weeks.

An insistent hand tugs at his hair. “Daddy?”

“Yeah, honey.” He begins to wheel the cart around, but Marlene’s next words stop him dead.

“Do you hear that?”

“Hear what?” He demands, but he’s already tensing, gun charged up and free hand coming to steady his little girl. 

He whirls around to face the back rooms just as she yells out a “that!”, and as if on cue a crash rings out, several voices rising in the sounds of a fight. Barret barely has the time to raise his gun and take a step back before the doors are bursting open, a long haired woman flying through to skid painfully across the white tiles.

Marlene gasps. “Daddy, it’s a girl!”

“Marlene baby, don’t-”

Then the doors burst open a second time with a reverberating thud. It’s loud enough to wake any infected in the nearby vicinity, and though Barret doesn’t hear any cries rise up from the surrounding forest, he knows it’s only a matter of time before some creature comes looking.

“Hey!” He snaps at the people coming through the doors. They’re all white men, though two are big and burly while the other is slighter, only coming up to their shoulders. 

All three look pissed as hell. 

“Who the hell is that?” One of them hisses, gesturing with a bloodied wooden bat in Barret’s direction, and Barret wastes no time in directing his gun straight at the man’s ugly mug.

“I’m your worst damn nightmare unless you back the fuck down, boy!” He growls menacingly, and though his chest tightens at Marlene’s fearful whimper, he doesn’t let the stony facade fade.

The smaller man scoffs. “You and what army? The seven year old on your shoulder? I hate to break it to you big guy, but that we could take you both down within seconds.” The cocky shit brandishes a pistol as he speaks, finger pressed so tightly to the trigger Barret’s half afraid he’ll fire wide without meaning to. 

Subtly, he tightens his hold of Marlene, about to speak again when the woman on the ground coughs and rises to her hands and knees. 

“No!” She protests loudly, to both Barret and the smaller man’s surprise. Her voice is scratchy yet strong with heated conviction, eyes burning a brilliant red as they come up to glare accusingly at the other. “She’s only a little girl, don’t-”

“Any fool stupid enough to carry around a brat during the apocalypse deserves to have her ripped from his fingers.” It’s one of the larger man that speaks this time around, and Barret has to grit his teeth through the rush of anger that sears through his veins, seconds away from putting thirty fucking bullets through the man’s worthless smirking face.

“What the hell did you just say?!” He demands.

“I said we’re going to kill you and your little brat, and then after that we’re going to kill this stupid whore for thinking she could steal from us!”

“No!” Barret’s heart almost stops at Marlene’s shout. The way every eye in the room is drawn to her. The way the gun points straight at her head - “You can’t hurt her! She’s ours, now. Tell them, Daddy!”

Barret turns to break the gunman’s line of sight, but surprisingly it’s the woman who speaks again, shaking her head wildly as she struggles to get to her feet. “Please! Please don’t get involved. I don’t want anybody else to get hurt.”

Stunned, all Barret can do for a moment is stand frozen, staring down at her. Her face is bruised and swollen, lip split and bleeding where she’s biting it aggressively to fight back the pain, and her arm curls around her ribs in a way that indicates they’re at least bruised, if not broken. Yet still she tries to rise up in their defense - in his daughter’s defense - despite her injured and unarmed state.

“Daddy-”

“I know, honey.” He can’t risk Marlene but he can’t just stand idly by as someone else gets hurt.

Before he knows it and before anybody can do a thing to react, he’s stepping forward and placing himself firmly between the woman and the three twitchy men. They all buck back like frightened horses at his rapid approach, making harsh, surprised noises that instantly tell Barret what he needs to know.

So he grins and bars his teeth, massive gun swinging around to aim at each of them for a second. Lingering until every last one is skittering uncomfortably, shifty eyed and sweating.

“I ain’t gon’ let you touch this girl and I am sure as hell not gonna let you so much as look or think about my daughter again! Now scram!” Bullets ring through the air, battering the concrete by the group’s heads and making them scream with terror, scattering like ants. Even the gunman forgets his own weapon and fragile bravado to turn tail and flee right behind his friends.

Then, as quickly as they’d appeared, the men are gone; glass doors sliding closed behind them as they stumble and stagger their way through the entire length of the parking lot and disappear into the trees.

Barret doubts they’ll last long with the infected in their current states, so he doesn’t bother chasing them. Instead, heart racing and mouth dry, he falls to his knees beside the woman. Though he pays her no heed as he sweeps his daughter from his shoulders and tucks her close to his chest.

“Are you alright?” He gasps into her hair. “Are you okay? Did they-did they-”

Marlene giggles, squirming against his hold until he’s forced to let her go. She twists her dirty pink shoes against the floor and holds her hands behind her back, smiling up at him so widely her eyes crease with the force of it. “I’m fine, Daddy!”

He sighs and checks her over with his eyes. Nobody had attacked them, of course, but he just can’t shake the fear that she could have died. One stray bullet or unfortunate ricochet. If the men had been any braver or the woman any more willing to use her proximity against them. If…

“You promise?”

“I promise!”

He gives her another quick hug, because she’s his daughter and she’s alive and he can, and then pulls away again to take a look at the woman behind them. 

She’s dead to the world, eyes closed and completely limp. So still that if it wasn’t for her breathing, Barret would be hard pressed to think she was dead.

“Is she our friend now?” Marlene asks, going to her tip-toes to peer around his large bulk curiously.

Barret snorts. “What did I tell you about strangers?”

“To never talk to them or trust them and to always stay away from them!” Marlene recites proudly.

“That’s right! That’s very good, Marlene. If you meet a stranger you come straight to me, okay?” 

He pats her on the head, but that doesn’t stop her from huffing with agitation and clenching her hands into fists, glaring up at him stubbornly. “But you are here. And she helped us!”

“I know-” Barret begins, but Marlene cuts him off.

“We can’t leave her behind, Daddy. She’s hurt and it’s our duty to help people. You always say that.”

“No, it’s my duty to always help people. It’s your duty to stay out of danger so Daddy doesn’t worry about you.”

She doesn’t respond this time around, bringing out the full force of her puppy dog eyes as she pouts, and Barret shakes his head, circling the woman’s battered form. Her breathing is heavy and steady, so at least she doesn’t seem to have a lung problem, and when he runs his fingers along her ribs he’s relieved to note that they’re only bruised and not broken. Painful but manageable. She should be up and about soon.

If they take her back.

Barret sighs, glancing over to Marlene’s wide, pleading eyes. “Who the hell am I kidding?” he grumbles to himself, moving the woman to a more secure position. 

“So we’re keeping her?” Marlene asks, solemnity instantly turning to excitement at whatever she’s gleaned from his actions.

“Only until she’s better.”

“Okay!” Marlene squeals. She holds her arms up expectantly until Barret leans down and scoops her onto his shoulder. “We can bring her back with us!”

“After we get the food, sweetheart. You know we need the supplies.”

“‘Kay. Supplies first, then her, then home!”

“Yeah...home.”

And that’s how it begins. With one person - one chance encounter - and in a second their family has grown.

Tifa Lockhart, she later tells them her name is, while still laid up in the cot they’d prepared for her beneath the swaying boughs of the tallest tree.

She won’t stay for long, is all Barret can think in response, watching his chipper daughter chatter happily into her ear. She’ll leave before the night is out, and we’ll never see her again.

And only later - five more people and two years later - will he realize that he was gloriously, beautifully wrong.

#asks and answers #promptfills #barret wallace #ffvii remake #ff7 #tifa lockhart #dad barret #marlene wallace #barret & marlene #fluff #soft barret #fanfiction #bamf tifa #barret & tifa #ff7 remake #final fantasy 7 #team as family #avalanche team #protective barret #apocolypse au

[lgcmax]

𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐋 𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐎 ! i’m coming to you with a very late intro, i know, but i swear i’m not usually this unprepared !! anyways, my name is jada, and this is my chaotic baby maxwell “ MAX ” choi ! i love him to death already and can’t wait to start writing with him ! i was here long ago with the short-lived yet beloved zhao chenglei, but life got in the way ! the two are very different, yet i’m even more stoked to be here the second time around & get things going ! i did create him kind of spontaneously, so his plots & bio page is still wip, but you can find his profile here, and some trivia & plot bunnies below ! oh, and LIKE THIS if you’d like to plot, maybe ? i’ll stop talking now, but i hope to hear from you soon !

𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘 !

first generation canadian who hails from toronto, canada ! a snow baby forever and always, he loved living there and has nothing but good memories there !

he was born maxwell choi, and he’s still called that by family and some old friends, but once he got to middle school he felt the name was too fancy and wasn’t fitting so dropped the “well” and just became MAX !

though he’s canadian, he’s never really felt he was lacking in terms of his korean identity ! both his parents were born and raised there, korean is actually his first language, and he was taught english through school. since he was two he’s been going to korea for the summer to visit his family, too,  so he’s always felt really connected to his culture !

his dad’s a car salesman at his own dealerhsip, and his mom’s an attorney, so he’s lived a really comfortable life. it’s easy to see where his charisma comes from, too ! growing up his dad was more involved in his upbringing, while his mom was on the colder side, so he’s closer to him as he’s the one who was the most loving toward him then and now !

he was expected to take over his dad’s position at the dealership when he was older, but as he grew up he noticed his absolute lack of passion for the career. he thought it fit his dad well, yet couldn’t see him doing something like that !

but during his teenage years he discovered his love for rap ! he always loved listening to it, but when he started rapping along he discovered his true passion.

he didn’t really know what to do with that, however, as it wasn’t a very stable career ! it wasn’t until 2016 when he met someone online through a video game & they became friends that things changed ! they would talk a lot & eventually they introduced him to the world of kpop and ... boom ! everything changed for him. when he realized it wasn’t all girls in frilly skirts ( which hey, wasn’t too bad either ) he found himself being engulfed in this entirely new music genre !

fast forward all the way to 2019, when he auditioned for the company ! it was in january, and there was no way he thought he was gonna make it. they were giving out cds to those who auditioned, and he really just wanted to hear some haru, but it was quite literally the biggest surprise of his life when he got accepted !

his mom was enitrely, and i mean e n t i r e l y, against the idea. she thought a career in the idol industry was fleeting and not profitable and thought it was an embarrassment for him to be apart of. while his father wasn’t thrilled and still has hopes for him to inherit the dealership, he was content seeing his son happy and hoped for his success.

so off max went, to the big city of seoul !! unlike some foreign trainees it wasn’t some great transition for him, in fact he adjusted pretty well ! he had the benefit of being well-travelled and having visited the country often, as well as being comfortable in his korean.

it wasn’t all peaches and roses, however, and he did have some difficulty ! it was the first time he was coming to stay, so he had a tendency to get homestick, and despite everything, he still stuck out. he had a lot of mannerisms, style choices, and just obvious indicators he was a foreigner. he also had to finish off the last semester of his senior year in korea, and he was bummed he missed out on those senior year experiences like graduation, senior parties, and just being with the people he’d grown up with !

whenever he was having trouble, he couldn’t really call home either, since he knew they doubted him and didn’t want to give them any more reason to ! he’s not really the type to share when he’s feeling down, so he really internalized a lot of his emotions at the time, and the bit that he didn’t he confided in with his few friends he’d made by then. definitely a bit of a rough patch for him !

he also may have had some trouble getting along with trainees ! he has a very blunt & extroverted personality, which didn’t really fit with typical korean social norms !

 aside from that, max was a LOT more chill than some of these people. he was passionate about rapping, but some trainees were “debut-or-die” level and he just wasn’t that far ! he’d just kind of look at them like .... why are you making this such a big deal ? i’m just here to have fun ?? so he had a tendency to slack off a lot during the first few months of training and try to bend the rules as much as he could behind the trainer’s backs without getting caught ! which i can imagine would get on some trainee’s nerves.

he does go to university, a condition by his parents for letting him go to korea. he’s a music production major and marketing minor at the moment, but he’s changed his mind quite a few times ! honestly, he’s not all that interested in attending school, but doesn’t have much of a choice and knows it’s an important backup should this whole idol thing not work ! he does enjoy the social life he gets from it, though, because he would’ve had a much harder time adjusting and meeting friends had he not been in school.

now, he’s still pretty sluggish, but after a few company punishments, he’s shaping up and learning how to work harder. he just passed his year anniversary training with the company, and though he has a lot to learn he’s showed promise in his time there !

𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘 !

very extroverted !!! and he always has been. he feels really comfortable and large environments and is the main reason he thrives as an idol ! can and will pick up a conversation with just about anyone, particularly those who aren’t like him but rather on the more introverted spectrum !

like stated before, he doesn’t really like talking about his emotions if they’re personal / negative. it makes him uncomfortable & awkward and thinks it makes everyone else feel that way too, so avoids it like the plague. if he’s emotional with you ... you’re a keeper !

tends to make light out of every scenario, due to his optimistic nature. he has the mentality that life’s too short to be stressed, so does his best to avoid it whenever he gets the chance ! it can be appropriate at times, and sometimes people perceive it as him not taking things seriously, but really he’s trying to make things better !

a little cocky, considering his lack of experience. he kind of thinks he’s the s***, and he honestly could use a little more humility ! but he’s used to being held on this sort of pedestal, and because of it has a looot of confidence a lot of the time !

very loyal, once you befriend him he’s yours for life ! he values trust and longevity in a friendship, so does his all to give it to you. on the other hand, if you lose his trust, things .... get a little disastrous. he isn’t one to forgive something like that and will quite literally block someone out his life if they do break his trust.

on that note ... he’s also very stubborn !! he likes things the way he wants them, and can hold a grudge for years if he wants to. this is one of the exceptions to his “ hakuna matata ” mentality lmao, but he’s working on it ! he used to have trouble accepting criticism from trainers if he didn’t agree with them, but is slowly getting better at listening to feedback in order to improve.

tends to be a little manipulative ! he doesn’t mean to use it maliciously, but it does sometimes go like that. like i said, he’s got that desire to win other’s over to get what he wants like his parents, so ... that can translate into a little deception !

loves loves loves video games !!! will talk about them all day, if you ask. he’s been hooked ever since the first time he got a controller in his hand and is always looking for some new gaming buddies !

has a secret tiktok account that he can’t really publicize but people have to know ?? he just renegades too good not to have some practice folks

he compulsively says “ let’s get it ” and “ boom ” like the joke he is and it’s a problem, really !! someone please call him out or just .... stop him

also !! he is entirely too CLUMSY for his good. he trips over people, trips over his own limbs, trips over a i r !! there’s just no telling with this guy. he’s so stupid when it comes to coordination, i swear, i almost worry he needs to see a doctor lmao !! but thank god for his clumsiness coming in handy at the exact moment he needs to have a little humility.

𝐏𝐋𝐎𝐓𝐒 !

the friend he played video games with who introduced him to kpop ( see above ) !! they’ve been friends for roughly 3 years now and they’re the reason he even considered pursuing a career as an idol, so i imagine they’ve grown pretty close ! since they played online, this person doesn’t have to be from canada, and really any muse that knew korean or english well enough to communicate back then ! 

are there any canadian muses ?? i’m not sure ! if there is, i’d love to have some childhood friends who he grew up with ! give me all the angst, softness, or romance that you can muster up !! i love a good backstory.

some friends who he spent the summers in korea with ! he visited june through august of every year, and sometimes spent other holiday breaks there. so there’s definitely a chance for them to grow close ! maybe even a short-lived romance where they hadn’t expected to meet again ??

a senior / older trainee who showed max the ropes ! while he knew a good deal about korea he didn’t have a clue about being a trainee, so definitely could’ve used a bit of help there !! unintentionally this person became a sort of parental figure to max, even if they didn’t mean to or if they’re not significantly older ! either way, they were his first real source of support since the move, and nowadays he’s still very close to them and looks to them for any sort of help or advice he needs !

pleeeeease give him a little crush !! he goes out his way to impress those that he likes, and turns into a true softie !! on the other hand, a bitter exes plot or even exes on good terms could be fun too ! can you tell i’m a romantic yet ? 😥

someone who’s entirely put off by the thought of max ! someone who, unlike him, is planned, logical, or very cutthroat and passionate about becoming an idol ! give me someone to nitpick him for his lifestyle, and someone for him to bicker with and just create a little drama !! 

video game buddies !! he doesn’t have the whole setup like he used to back home, but he does nearly always have his switch on him if your muse is in the mood for a little friendly competition !! fair warning .... he does get competitive !

male dorm h and male rookie evening trainee group gang, let’s go !! that’s a lot to say, but in simple terms, if your muse trains or dorms with him let’s get something going ! max is still a new trainee and needs some friends to spend the long days with, he promises to  make it worth their while !! max has the power of making nearly every scenario entertaining, after all !

#lgc:intro #this is so late i'm sorry :c #but i filled this to the brim with content !! #also tysm for the cute welcomes !! i've heard my notifs going off & am getting to everything asap !! #also i'll rb this tomm !!

[elusive---ivory]

The Woman In Velvet pt 14

Oof, second to last chapter, boys. We all knew this was coming. A shoutout to @princessgeekface for being my editor through this process. You are wonderful 💕💕💕

PARING: Arthur Fleck x Oc

WARNING: Violence

Masterlist

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9

Part 10

Part 11

Part 12

Part 13

Part 14

Taglist (I love you all so so much 💕💕):

@jaylovesbats @memory-mortis @gloomyladyy @mijachula @princessgeekface @radio-hoo-ha @lolacolaempath

"I'm not sure my wife would like that. Maybe my next wife." Murray's voice boomed on the stage.

Roaring of laughter came from the audience.

"You should see our next guest coming up. I'm pretty sure this guy could use a doctor." Murray commented.

"Oh? Does he have sexual problems?" Dr. Sally asked.

"I think he's got a lot of problems. Let's show that clip one last time." Murray said.

Arthur's clip played.

The audience ate it up, listening to Arthur's laughter in the clip.

Sandy rolled her eyes, looking over at Arthur, who was staring intently at the curtains.

Sandy stood back from the curtains, carefully watching Arthur's movements. The tech guys next to Arthur looked uncomfortable, and tried shuffling away.

"You might've seen that clip of our next guest. Now, before he comes out, I just wanted to say that we're all heartbroken about what's going on in the city tonight, but this is how he wanted to come out. I honestly believe we could all use a good laugh. So, please welcome Joker."

As the jazz band started, the curtains fell back, revealing Arthur. Arthur came onstage, dancing and twirling around.

Sandy watched from backstage. She looked over by the curtain, seeing Arthur's still lit cigarette. Sandy picked it up, taking a small puff, before distinguishing it.

Arthur shook Murray's hand, then headed over to Dr. Sally, who was just expecting a hug. He cupped Dr. Sally cheeks and kissed her passionately.

Sandy rolled her eyes, crossing her arms backstage.

Whistles and ahhs came from the audience.

Dr. Sally had a very shocked look on her face, as she sat back down.

"That was quite the entrance." Murray commented.

Arthur looked around at the scenery of it all.

Murray looked at Arthur, raising a comedic eyebrow. "You ok?"

"Yeah, this is exactly how I imagined it." Arthur replied.

"Well, that makes one of us." Murray joked.

Laughter and applause came from the audience.

Sandy continued watching from a small television backstage.

"So, could you tell us about this look? You said when we spoke earlier that this wasn't a political statement." Murray said, pointing out his makeup.

"That's right, Murray. I'm not political. I'm just trying to make people laugh." Arthur looked over to the audience, not one of them chuckling.

Sandy cracked a smile backstage.

"And how's that going for you?" Murray commented, again.

The audience once again roared with laughter.

Sandy's cracked smile turned into an angry frown.

Arthur mocked the audience's laughter with his own demented cackle.

"Tell us about your lady friend backstage. She's also dressed as apart of your act. Do you two got a thing going on?" Murray asked.

Sandy paused. Her eyebrows furrowed at the TV. She crossed her arms

Arthur smirked. "It's a little more than 'a thing'. She's my sweetheart. My dear, Sandy."

Awws and oohs came from the audience.

Murray laughed. "Ha. I've heard that one before."

The audience howled with laughter.

Sandy glared hard at the television. She wasn't laughing one bit. All of Murray's jokes were stale and just blatantly mean to Arthur.

"So you tell us you're a comedian. Got any new material? Wanna tell us a joke?" Murray asked, not sounding too pleasant.

The audience applauded.

"Yeah? Okay." Arthur took out his joke book.

"He's gotta book full of jokes." Murray commented.

Arthur flipped a few pages into his notebook.

Arthur paused for a second.

"Take your time. You got all night." Murray laughed.

"Okay, okay. Here's one, knock knock." Arthur said.

"And you had to look that up." Murray commented.

The audience laughed.

Sandy couldn't take the stress. She bit her thumb. She wanted to bash Murray's skull in, see if he was still joking about that.

"I wanna get it right." Arthur's voice was somber.

Sandy couldn't look. She turned her head away from the television.

"Knock, knock." Arthur repeated.

"Who's there?" Murray replied.

"It's the police, ma'am. Your son's been hit by a drunk driver. He's dead." Arthur chuckled.

A loud groan came from the audience.

Sandy laughed at Arthur's edgy joke. Two of the tech guys stared strangely at her. She smiled, watching the television.

"No, no, no. We do not joke about that." Dr. Sally scolded.

"Yeah, that's not funny, Arthur." Murray said.

Arthur chuckled, looking down. "Yeah, I'm sorry. It's just been a rough few weeks. Ever since I..."

Arthur trailed off. His eyes wandered over the audience.

"Ever since I killed those three wallstreet guys." Arthur said, quietly.

Murray looked around at the audience. "Okay, I'm waiting for the the punchline."

"There is no punchline. It's not a joke." Arthur's voice was monotonous. His eyes swelled up with sadness.

A loud gasp washed over the audience.

Sandy closed her eyes, taking a deep sigh. She couldn't help, but feel remorse in this moment. Remorse for Arthur. The tech guys stared at the TV in shock.

Murray gave Arthur a disgusted glare. "You're serious, aren't you? You're telling us you killed those three young men on the subway?"

"Mmhmm." Arthur mumbled.

Murray raised his eyebrow. "And why should we believe you?"

Arthur smirked, shrugging. "Got nothing left to lose. Nothing can hurt me anymore."

Arthur paused for a moment, before chuckling. "My life is nothing but a comedy."

Loud booes came from the audience.

Sandy smirked.

Murray shook his head. "So let me get this straight. You think killing those guys is funny?"

Arthur smacked his lips. "I do, and I'm tired of pretending it's not. Comedy is subjective, Murray. Isn't that what they say? All of you, the system that knows so much. You decide what's right or wrong. The same way you what's funny or not."

More booes and groans came from the audience.

Murray stuttered. "I think I might understand that you did this to start a movement, to become a symbol."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Come on, MurRay. Do I look like the kind of clown that could start a movement? I killed those guys because they were awful. Everybody is awful these days. It's enough to make anyone crazy."

Murray leaned back in his chair. "So, that's it you're crazy? That's your defense for killing three young men."

Arthur smirked, widely. "No. They couldn't carry a tomb to save their lives."

Sandy laughed loudly from backstage. The two tech guys were glued to the screen, cautious of the lady in front of them.

Arthur smiled, hearing Sandy's laughter from backstage.

More booes and groans followed the audience.

Arthur dramatically rolled his eyes. "Oh, why are people so upset about these guys? If it was me dying on the sidewalk, you'd walk all over me. I PASS you every day, and you DON'T notice me. Oh, but these guys, because Thomas Wayne went and cried about them on TV."

Sandy could hear the pain and tension in his voice. Arthur was at his breaking point. Seeing him like this broke Sandy's heart. A black tear ran down her face. She cracked a smile, holding it all together.

Murray continued pushing his questions. "So, you've got a problem with Thomas Wayne?"

Arthur nodded his head, vigorously. "Yes, I do."

Arthur turned his head towards Murray.

"Have you seen what it's like out there, MurRay? Do you ever actually leave the studio? Everybody just yells and screams at each other. Nobody's civil ANYMORE! Nobody THINKS what it's like to be the other guy. You think men like Thomas Wayne ever think about what it's like to be someone like me. To be somebody, but themselves. They DON'T. They think we'll just sit there and take it like GOOD LITTLE BOYS and we won't WEREWOLF and go WILD."

Sandy's eyes widened, as she covered her mouth to silent her laughing sobs. She never seen this much pain coming from just one man. The techs seemed to get invested with Arthur's big speech.

Murray his head. "Are you finished? There's so much self pity, Arthur. It's almost like you're making excuses for killing those three men. What about your sweetheart, huh, Sandy? She's not awful, right? Not everyone, and I'll tell you this, not everyone is awful."

Arthur glared at Murray. "You're awful, Murray."

"Me? I'm awful? How am I awful?" Murray said, defensively.

Arthur's green ocean eyes glared menacingly at Murray. "Playing my video. Inviting me on the show. You just wanted to make fun of me. You're just like the rest of them."

Murray scoffed. "You don't know the first thing about me, pal. Look what happened because of what you did. What it led to. Two officers are in critical condition because of what you did."

Arthur started laughing with a gentle tear rolling down his face.

"And you're laughing. You're laughing. Someone was killed today because of what you did."

Arthur kept nodding and smiling. "I know. How about another joke, MurRay."

Murray shook his head. "No, I think we've had enough of your jokes."

"What do you get when you cross a mentally ill loner with a SOCIETY that ABANDONS him and treats him like TRASH? I'll tell you what you get. YOU GET WHAT YOU FUCKING DESERVE."

Arthur pulled out the gun, shooting Murray in the head.

The audience ran screaming in terror.

Arthur laughed to himself. Getting up, he shot Murray a second time in the chest

Sandy and the techs witnessed the horror firsthand. Sandy ran out onto the stage.

"Arthur." Sandy screamed.

Arthur walked up to the camera.

"Goodnight, and always remember. That's life."

Arthur was promptly tackled by security.

#joker arthur fleck #joker x reader #arthur fleck x reader #arthur fleck x oc #joker x oc #the woman in velvet

[gretaes-blog1]

yup !  i’m nearly the last one to post my intro i think ( ︶⌒︶ ) took five naps.. head going boom boom. but hello!!!!!!!! i’m jay , i’m twenny one and livin breathin the eastern timezone. i am very excited to introduce u my baby greta. my intro will not do her justice but i hope time will. if i haven’t imed u already pleeeeeeeeeeease reach out to me ( even if u are stuck on plots ) we’ll brainstorm something really good. i’ll be switching between ims and my discord ๑•ૅㅁ•๑#4035 for convenience. i promise to get to everything as soon as i can. ill say the end cause i never know how to end those byeeee

𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠  here  and  do  i  have  the  tea  for  you  .  greta  is  back  on  campus  ,  which  is  surprising  considering  the  threatening  note  i  left  them  .  yes  ,  i  know  all  about how she hides her sexuality to maintain a relationship with her conservative family because  of  their  greed  .  imagine  the  tabloids  and  how  the  navarro  family  would  feel  for  such  information  to  come  out  ,  not  to  mention  the  reputation  of  kappa  because  of  their  actions  .  at  this  rate  , she  is  better  off  staying  put  in  palo alto  ,  california  and  living  off  that 7.9b  family  net  worth  .  what’s  the  point  in  studying  pharmaceutical  science with  plans  to  create  accessible  healthcare  ,  is  it  worth  it  with  what  i  know  ?  anyways  ,  they  may  want  to  continue  to  be  ambitious  &  reliable  because  the  domineering  & sarcastic  attributes  make  me  want  to  spill  .  (  alexa demie  ,  j  ,  est  )  .

family ties 

the name navarro has definitely been painted gold for a while. greta is the child bruno navarro who was passed down his fortune of nava pharmaceuticals - an internationally recognized healthcare company which deals with pharmaceutical merchandise and diagnostics 

she has two brothers which would’ve undeniably been first in line to take their father’s place if they played their cards right

her mother was an ambassador for the company but her voice always meant very little. she never complained though.. being ambassador meant long business trips to places she would never get a chance to visit and live a lavish life without being too burdened 

greta was awfully competitive though and never let herself be thrown to the side. the female roles instilled in her brain seemed like a waste of time and she wanted to be the best , especially in things that others told her she wouldn’t be 

when she was little, it was about the adrenaline of proving everyone wrong but when she got older, she realised her need to succeed and be seen was more deep rooted than that. it wasn’t unusual for greta to feel alien to her parents but seeing as all her private school friends could relate, it didn’t bother her too much. it was the values instilled in her family that were a harder pill to swallow

at the dinner table, greta had to listen to slurs thrown left and right at people who didn’t fit into their conservative agenda. she had to sit through an hour of her father chanting about gender roles and sickening politics that put everyone , except his own empire , at the bottom of the food chain. they knew their power and the only goal was unwavering cash flow

and that is about the only thing greta and her family had in common. her GREED. although her morals didn’t align with the values of her father , her eyes were set on the price. breaking the tradition of men owning their biggest investment and becoming the chief officer of nava pharmaceuticals. and if biting her tongue and faking a smile meant knocking the king over from the top of the food chain then.... CHEck MATE Bitch <3 

but obviously, its not easy living under pressure. especially when the reality is so far from the mask u wear to get what u want

meet greta

under that mask is a greta that is the complete opposite of what her father painted her out to be. she is independent, sometimes even selfish . she is strong and brilliant. she’s determined and ambitious . she challenges herself , she’s eager to excel, to be more than the best. she wants to surprise people with the extend of what she’s capable of. i honestly don’t think greta has even dreamed of what she wants to achieve yet ????? but she knows she has a deep yearning for it. the feeling of bliss and a peace of mind when you’ve gotten everything u worked so hard for.

unfortunately, it’s important to take time and recenter urself from time to time in the chaos of striving for perfection. greta has lost that ability and often impulsively runs off the tracks. u won’t ever see her tripping over her feet at the party but u will probably catch her lying about the amount of alcohol she had if u are sober enough to notice. she’ll let u unbutton her shirt, only if u promise not to tell. she’ll tell u she’s okay and she thinks she is even if she really isn’t 

greta was good in everything except in love. it was hard for her to entertain one night stands unless she had steam to blow off , she always had something more productive to do. she’d lie in bed and battle those thoughts, wondering if she’s only making excuses .... after all , she’s a pretty girl. but those who got to taste her cherry lips were always left with the memory they were told not to share with anyone. she would always find excuses, letting good things pass her by. she didn’t know then what was causing her scattered affection. but it was often because in order to know what u want, u can’t censor thoughts and treat them as distractions. greta has always treated romance as a distraction and consequently, she never let herself reflect on what makes her happy for too long. but, of course , sleepless nights would often lead to her having to face herself. truly. she would think about the people she considers her friends and how she hopes she doesn’t lose them in the process, she daydreams about the future and freedom to speak her mind even when the voice in her head tells her not to. and she thinks about girls..... a lot 

greta hasn’t thought about it enough to put her sexuality on a spectrum. she knows she’s dated boys and she liked it. but, it’s also the only thing she’s known. having her family instil in her brain that being attracted to the same sex is not right and knowing that she needs to play her cards right to be considered worthy of the fortune, it was settled. she would dig a hole in the ground and bury those thoughts deep down under. knowing that if her family finds out she’s been with girls or even felt attracted to them????? her dreams would be crushed and she would be lucky to still sit at the dinner table. 

she battles those thoughts and often gets caught up in them. kissing girls in places where nobody sees and keeping it a secret or turning to lying, saying they’re pathetic for falling for it. basically being a shitty person because she knows there is no way she could ever get away with it??? safe to say, having to feel guilty for the things u cannot change, doesn’t make her the happiest kid on the playground and with knowing how word travels fast, it makes her paranoid to even consider risking her future for that. she continues to strive for perfection instead of wholeness :/

on a lighter note.... she obviously studies pharmaceutical sciences. she sees a future for the company that her father fails to acknowledge. her father doesn’t know it but she aims to take the empathic route and use her fortune for a better cause.. to help make healthcare accessible for all. she’s got the fattttttest heart i tell u and believes in good karma. 

i said this in the app and ill say it again........... Loves cheese bread. honestly bribe her with cheesy bread i dare u. it will work (  almost always )

runs track.... Just as good at this one as she is in running away from all her problems. Stellar performance

reads those motivational books.. ( yup. those ) 

studies hard. really will study all night and fall asleep with a notepad on her face and highlighter stain on her forehead. again, anywhere where she has to compete for first place, she will do anything to get that first place. and if she doesnt ???????? shes a thunderstorm. angry music plays in the background. she storms off. lips pursed. and takes days to recover 

really loves mysteries. and crosswords. the process of figuring out how to get from point a to point b... thats greta. 

and if she doesnt focus and set boundaries in her head, she doesnt know where to finish. she is the most Opinionated bitch. like she has a strong opinion about everything. even whether tomato is a fruit or vegetable. like she knows its a vegetable. Ok? 

she’s the biggest know it all!!!!!! she won’t ever shake on anything and if it comes to it, she will stand by her words until she’s thought about it in her bed for days ( even made a list of rights and wrongs to weigh out how truly “””””’wrong””””” she is ) it’s hard for her to back down. of course.... she definitely is wrong sometimes even if she claims otherwise </3 

basically always a spitfire... always thinks shes right. and to be fair , she kind of always is. greta is stubborn and sarcastic. her facial expressions are transparent ( almost to a fault ) and she has an unwavering determination to be the best....at everything. she wants to be in control of everything in her life, unfortunately thats not always possible and that’s when greta finds herself feeling tense, paranoid and anxious. but she’s got a good head on her shoulders... she’s curious and easy to feel comfortable around even though she is bad tempered 

kind of stupid extras

neat freak..... bacteria be gone!!!!!!!!!!

always called her parents by their name

doesn’t really have a relationship with her brothers but its because they treat her as less and she will not have that so again keeps contact to a minimum and bites her tongue when need be 

pays attention to her nails.... really likes when theyre painted pretty 

has a butterfly necklace.. its a symbol she can relate to :)

here’s the pinterest !!

and the playlist !!!!!

and stats but theyre so bad. ill fix them later </3

       beep me reach me for the wanted connections page weeeeeeee 

#holling:intro

[uchuuryokou]

The one in which X narrates the coffee shop getting a new employee (with puppets)

Right, so how should we begin?

In the middle of nowhere, there is a small theatre. If we were to set the scene it would go like this: a street at night in a big city; wind whips around gathering the clouds above in preparation for, well a storm. You could almost say that the night was, dark and stormy. That’s where two of our marionettes begin their journey.  The first one, we should call him X (it’s a coincidence, I promise) is talking to the other one that, for his own personal safety, shall remain nameless.

“So, Jasper,” X says “how’s the job been?”

“You know how it’s been,” the other puppet answers “You’ve been there. You bothered me the entire time.”

X waves his little puppet-y hands in outrage. “You hurt me. I am hurt. I came to support you, as a good friend should and that’s how you repay me?”

The other puppet puts his face in his hands. “You ordered 7 lattes before discovering that you have no money to pay for them, X. I spent forever preparing them.”

“At least you could practice!”

“I’ve been working there for at least 3 years. I don’t need practice.” Little puppet wiggles around in its black hoodie. “I’ve got enough problems of my own without you trying to help.”

“Is it the new girl?”

“It’s the new girl.”

“She seemed nice,” The X puppet mentions “She gave me a coffee.”

The night grows even stormier when the rain starts; tiny little drops of water hit the sidewalk, the passerby’s and the puppets. We can see umbrellas being opened, as everyone rushed to get to their exponentially dryer homes.

“She shouldn’t have. We don’t just hand out coffee to people who don’t have any money, you know that?”

The hoodie puppet seems irritated. X slowly and awkwardly pats it on the back, perhaps not understanding his friends problem, but at least trying to sympathize with it. He was always so empathetic, X. (Not that I know him, of course. He just seems like a good guy, you know?)

The scene changes as we travel back in time, to this morning. The city folds away, and instead we see the interior of a coffee shop.  It’s a pretty cosy place overall; decorated in warm colours it had a welcoming atmosphere. In the shop there are a few customers; a woman in a white dress is sitting close to the window, sipping on a cup of herbal tea, next to the counter another woman with streaks of blue in her hair was chatting to Jasper; a few more sat in the back.

(Obviously, they are all puppets, but I don’t need to remind you of that, do I? Good.)

X enters the shop several seconds before the commotion starts and makes his order; not long after that we see another two enter the shop and one of them is Jasper’s boss, Nelli. Now, she and Jasper don’t really like each other; they don’t see eye to eye on a lot of issues but she is not the only owner of the shop- Victor is just away for business reasons at the moment. The two of them try to make their work interactions as painless as possible; although they’ve butted heads more than a few times.

“Annabelle, this is Jasper. Jasper, this is Annabelle, your new co-worker. Be nice.” Nelli says, and Jasper sights. He knew that his bosses were looking for someone new since their last hire left pretty quickly.

Annabelle has a shirt that says “Eat the Rich” and looks somewhat nervous. There is a hushed exchange between the three of them (that X, unfortunately could not hear; the little puppet makes his way over to the counter and tries his best, but all we can hear are murmurs) and Annabelle is ushered quickly in the back, while Jasper finishes preparing the orders.

Another few minutes and Annabelle appears again, this time wearing a worker’s uniform, similar to Jasper’s. Another thing that Nelli took care of; if it came to Victor, he would probably just buy some shirts and be done with it, but those clothes were designed by her especially for this specific purpose. Even Jasper begrudgingly gives her credit for it- they are easy to work in and the material is nice. Also it’s mostly black, which suits Jasper’s general aesthetic quite nicely.

Noticing that Nelli is no longer inside (she doesn’t understand X’s artistic expression, she never did), X moves his way towards the counter.

“Hi! You’re Annabelle?”

“Yeah! Who are you?”

“That’s X,” Jasper interjects, the puppet leaning across the counter ominously. “Who is either leaving or paying for his order.”

“Oh come on, don’t be like that!” X laughs.

“Yeah!” Annabelle agrees. “I mean, he’s not doing anything wrong, is he?”

“That’s right! I like her, Jasper, you could take a page out of her book!” X puts his hands on his hips and Annabelle laughs.  

“Get out, before Nelli sees you. Ok, here is one order for table 3. Can you handle this?”

“Of course I can! I was a waiter before! Which table is 3 again?”

“The one by the… statue thingy.” Jasper points and hands her the order. X knows he believes in learning through practice, so the guidance Annabelle is going to receive is probably going to be a lot like this. Poor thing. Poor, poor thing.

She passes Jasper’s little test with flying colours, and by the time she returns, he looks a little less grumpy than usual.

“Ok, now show me how to use this.” She makes her way over to the Coffee Machine™. The thing about the Coffee Machine™ was the fact that it’s pretty finicky old thing, and the fact that Jasper could actually work with it was 50% experience and 50% a pure miracle. Victor has promised them a new Coffee Machine™ a year ago, but he seemed to be a little sentimental when it came to this one. It was the first thing he bought for the shop after all.

“Maybe you shouldn’t touch that… yet.” Jasper quickly makes his way over to it, trying to stop Annabelle from touching it.

“Why?”

“It breaks easily. We should’ve replaced it a while ago, really.”

“Well, if I’m going to work here, I need to learn how to do it, right?” Jasper tried his best, but Annabelle is, in fact, correct. Befriending Coffee Machine™ was the only way to keep the job. They all knew it. So Jasper sighs and slowly shows all the necessary steps.

The new employee nods and then asks a few questions and then nods again.

“Alright. Your turn.”

X could see the anxiety seeping off Jasper as Annabelle tries to repeat the process. It’s going along quite nicely, and then, all of the sudden…

BOOM!

Well no, it didn’t really blow up. It was more of a very loud crack, which turned all of the heads in the store.

Next, the sequence of events is as follows:

Jasper immediately rushes forwards to try and stop any leakage that might happen, just as Annabelle tries to step back. They of course bump into each other, and when they’re trying to not lose the fight with gravity, Nelli runs out of the backroom.

(And X steals a biscuit. Maybe. Well it’s not stealing, really, more like charity. He can’t afford it after all. He’s sure Jasper would give him one anyways if he asked really nicely.)

“What is going on here?!” Nelli gasps. “Jasper!”

While they get into a very quiet argument about whose fault it was  (no need to further disturb the customers after all) Annabelle turns to X and gives him all of the coffee the Coffee Machine™ managed to made before it broke.

“You think they’re gonna fire me?” she asks, a little bit worried.

“Naaah, that happens every… well I wanted to say every week but more like every two days. You’re fiiine. As Victor likes to say, everything’s fiiiine.”

“Victor?”

“Yeah, Victor Temple, your other boss?”

“Oh yeah, wait his name is… Temple? You sure?”

“Absolutely sure.”

The horror falls on Annabelle’s face. “Oh, no,” she whispers.

 The theatre’s curtain slowly falls, and the puppets go to their little homes to lay down in their little puppet beds for the night.

Later, perhaps, there’ll be another story.

#la by night #jasper #annabelle #nelli #x #coffee shop au