#c: wonder woman black and gold

[onlymingyus]

Like We Just Met

pairing; yoon jeonghan x jeon wonwoo x f reader

genre; smut (minors dni)

warnings; friends to lovers, reunited friends, mild dom!jeonghan, mild mlm, flashbacks to high school, threesome, unprotected sex, oral (f & m receiving), fingering, temperature play, wonwoo is able to lift the reader, pet names/nicknames, cameos from other members -- as always if i have left anything out and its glaring let me know.

w/c; 9.8k

a/n; thank you to @onlyseokmins for proofreading for me! 

before continuing remember reblogs are incredibly important and please read how to support me here

The lobby of the Eleva was impressive and caused you to take a deep breath. You had been inside nice hotels before but none of them seemed up to par now as you looked up at the ornate ceiling. 

You had moved to the city a few years ago after getting a job as an intern for Artistaire and just a few months ago you had been moved into the position of editor. You were on a fast track to becoming assistant editor-in-chief if you did well with what you had been tasked with starting today. 

You could hear your boss’ voice in your head as your heels clicked over the marble, making your way towards the receptionist's desk. The conversation was so fresh in your mind that your fingers were trembling around the leather strap of your bag, held tightly against your shoulder. 

“It’s the most important article of the year for Artistaire. I’m trusting you to meet with both of them and find out everything about them. I want every detail. Don’t stick to the script, Y/N.” 

The article was for Artistaire’s most influential of the year. It was not only a great honor to be picked and interviewed for the article but also to be the interviewer. It could make or break someone’s career. 

Your biggest problem was that you were given very little detail about the men you were interviewing. It could be anyone. The entire point of the interview was to go in blind with no preconceived notions about who you were going to meet. You weren’t supposed to do any research and to get everything in the article from the interview so that it reads “raw and fresh” for the audience. 

“Get the dirty truth for me. I want to know everything, from what they eat in a day to who they are fucking.” René had smiled at you when you let out a breath at her crude wording before she added. “I know how much you like the corner office with the view, darling.” 

“Do it for the corner office with the view." You mutter to yourself as you step up to the desk and give a bright smile to the pretty receptionist, who looked a bit bored with you before you even spoke. “Hello, I’m Y/N Y/L/N, from Artistaire.” 

Pursing her lips, the woman sighs, glancing at the screen in front of her, before her lips turn into a slight smirk and she meets your eyes, reaching for something out of your view. 

“Take the elevator to the 100th floor. You’ll need this, and from there you’ll be escorted to the penthouse, Miss Y/L/N. Enjoy your Eleva experience.” 

Furrowing your brows at her wording, you take the black card from her fingers, glancing over the gold engraved lettering before glancing towards where she had directed you to go. Whispering a soft thank you, you turn towards the elevator, feeling the knot in your stomach only getting tighter. Who the fuck were you interviewing?

Stepping into the elevator, you glance around the mirrored walls before looking at the buttons that run from B1 to 100. You knew Eleva was a tall building but the idea of being in the penthouse on the 100th floor was one that you had never thought you’d get to experience. You couldn’t help but bite at your lip to suppress a smile, wondering what the view of the city would look like from that high as you tapped the card against the reader and pressed 100, listening to a soft chime as the doors shut. 

As the elevator rises and the minutes pass, you lean towards the mirrored door in front of you to check your appearance. You had tried to look good, especially not knowing who it could be that you were interviewing. The only thing that you knew was that it was two influential men. That was a broad term with an even broader range of candidates. 

Politicians, actors, affluent businessmen, influencers, authors... You had spent hours trying to go over names but the list was so long with people that you felt that their actions and accomplishments could merit the interview. 

Hearing one last soft chime, you take a single step back from the elevator door and let out a breath to calm your nerves as the elevator comes to a stop on the 100th floor. With the doors opening, you meet the brown eyes of a handsome man who smiles at you, giving you a quick once over. 

“Welcome to Eleva, Miss..." 

He didn’t know your name. Furrowing your brows, you step forward and clear your throat as you offer the man your hand, letting him take it gently into his. 

“Y/L/N.”

Your voice is meeker than you intended, but it was a bit daunting to see the long hallway with a single ornate door that seemed to loom in the distance. Was this the man who you were interviewing? 

“Miss Y/L/N. I apologize; when Artistaire set this up, they didn’t give many details. It seems like that’s part of the interview process. I’m Hansol, the personal assistant of Mr. Yo–”  

The name was hanging on the tip of Hansol’s lips when he smiled and tilted his head, thinking better of it. 

“Supposed to be a surprise, isn’t it?” 

He was charming but obviously not who you were interviewing. You smile at Hansol taking back your hand as he walks beside you towards the penthouse door. 

“Yes, it’s a silly premise, honestly but it’s supposed to provide a “real” interview experience. The idea that my editor came up with was that this creates tension that the reader can feel through words.” 

Hansol smiles, glancing over at you once again and giving you a quick appraising look before reaching for the door in front of him with a sigh. 

“Seems like it works out. The articles are always interesting. May I take your keycard?” 

You look confused for a split second until you remember the black and gold card in your fingers and lift it, handing it over to the man in front of you. With another grin, Hansol taps the card against a reader on the door and pushes it open for you, letting you go inside first. 

“Mr. Y–” Laughing and once again catching himself, Hansol lifts his free hand to rub at the back of his neck before correcting his words. “My employer and the other gentleman you will be interviewing are right this way. Follow me, Miss Y/L/N. Also, if you need anything during your visit with us at Eleva, just ask for me personally, alright?” 

Offering him a nod, you follow, lowering your eyes to your bag, ready to take out your things as you enter a large living area and your breath is taken away by not only the aesthetic of the place but also the floor and the ceiling windows, offering you the view you had imagined in the elevator. 

“It’s stunning, right?” 

A familiar voice causes your brows to furrow even as you take a step towards the windows. Why did that man sound so familiar? 

Jeonghan tilts his head, looking at you from behind as you look out the window at the view. He could tell you were gorgeous even from where he was standing but he hadn’t seen your face just yet. You seemed to have been startled by his voice; that hadn’t been his intention but he did have that effect on people occasionally. 

“My apologies; I didn’t mean to startle you. I’m Yoon Jeon—” 

“Jeonghan?” 

Turning towards him, your eyes widening, you stare at him as if you had just seen a ghost. Swallowing hard, Hansol takes a step back towards Jeonghan, pursing his lips before offering him the penthouse key. 

“If you need me, sir – “

“Then I’ll call you. You can go, Hansol.” 

A smile pulls at Jeonghan’s lips as he steps towards you, putting the keycard into his suit jacket pocket. Dark eyes move over your face and body before the man you have known for years is within arms reach and he laughs in disbelief. 

“No way…Kitten?” 

Your eyes were searching Jeonghan so closely to make sure he was real that you hadn’t realized that another man had moved into the room. Hearing the nickname that you had once been called in high school by your two best friends, you glance to your right, only to take a step back in shock to see Wonwoo smiling at you. 

“I– no one has called me that in a long time.” 

Grinning, Jeonghan reaches out to take your hand, as you seem to almost stumble in surprise at seeing ghosts from your past. He wasn’t worried about the glass behind you breaking but he was concerned about you getting hurt from falling down, as unstable as you seemed on your feet. 

“Well, no one but us called you that anyway. 

It had been around a decade since you had seen either of your friends in person after the three of you had made promises to stay in touch. Graduation had come and gone and the promise became harder and harder to keep as each of you went in different directions. 

You knew they were successful. Jeonghan’s family had always been successful so it was a clear path for him into business. Wonwoo, you had seen him as the face of many brands and the star of many dramas and movies. Meanwhile, your road to success had taken a bit longer and you were still climbing. Now your climb was looking like a shear cliff face as you looked at the two men in front of you with expectant looks in their eyes. 

“Holy shit, you look great, Kitten.” 

Wonwoo’s voice was quiet but warm, just as you remembered it. He had always been a comfort in your life when you were younger and you had found yourself cheering him on with each award he had received over his years of blooming into a renowned actor. 

“Wonwoo… thanks.” 

Jeonghan squeezes your fingers with a light chuckle slipping from his lips as you start to come back down to earth. It was like you were waking up from a dream and he could see the realization starting to register in your eyes. Your fingers pull back from his as you clear your throat, your eyes dropping to the floor with a quick shake of your head. You were trying to put on a confident facade. 

“I, this is a surprise. Clearly, as the interview states, none of us knew who would be interviewed.  So this would be a biased article.” 

You were so fucked. In so many ways, you were so fucked. Your fast track to the corner office with the view was going into the lap of Karina and you could see her too pretty smile now. You could picture her crossing her legs and flirting with Jeonghan and Wonwoo the entire interview; it was making your stomach turn, but you couldn’t do this now. 

“What do you mean? Are you refusing to do the interview?” 

Lifting your gaze to meet Jeonghan’s eyes, you press your lips together, shifting in place as you try to figure out how best to phrase what you need to say. 

"I'm not refusing; I just don’t think it’s how the interview is supposed to go. The entire point is to be unbiased and raw. I’m supposed to ask you questions as if I’ve just met you, but clearly." 

Smirking, Wonwoo shakes his head, moving closer to you. There was so much about you that hadn’t changed. He had beat himself up for years for losing contact with you and Jeonghan but luck changed a few years ago when he stayed at one of Jeonghan’s hotels and now here you are standing in front of him. You were always talking in circles and you needed someone to sit you down and get you to stop spinning your wheels. 

“It kinda is like we just met, well again... High school was a long time ago, Y/N.” 

– 10 years ago – 

Jeonghan grins at you as he leans against his locker, watching as you struggle to get your textbook back in its proper place. He knew he could help you but it was cute to listen to your tiny whines. You were nervous about exams and about university acceptance letters, while he was doing his best not to let it show that he was nervous about other things. 

“Why do they make them so small?” 

“So that teachers can write tardy notes, Kitten.” 

Wonwoo smirks as he steps in behind you to take your book, lifting the organizer with ease to slip the book under as you glance over your shoulder at him. Things had changed between you and your best friends over the last year of high school but none of you were ready to talk about it. 

Each of the boys had started wanting to spend more time with you. They had started standing closer to you, touching you more, and there was always something left unsaid. 

“Thanks, Woo… Jeonghan was just watching me struggle. At least I can count on one of you.” 

Laughing, Jeonghan reaches over to pinch your cheek, causing you to pout your lips and pull back from his touch and teasing. 

“Well, you show your claws when you get whiny, Kitten. It’s cute…” 

Your cheeks burning, you glance up towards the bell as it rings and becomes your saving grace. Both of the boys watch as you clear your throat, brushing your hands over the front of your outfit, before you look up at them with a nod. 

“Anyway… I will not be tardy. See you after school.” 

Watching you walk quickly away, Wonwoo leans against your locker, giving a glance towards Jeonghan, who lets out a breath as his eyes move over your frame. They were thinking the same things, but maybe it was just teenage hormones getting to them. But maybe it was something more. 

– Present – 

Letting out a breath, you step away from Jeonghan as he speaks, only for Wonwoo to move in and take your arm, leading you towards the sofa. The feeling of being back in high school, either of the men on either side of you, made it feel like the air was water. 

“Jeonghan’s right. Why are you so worried about it anyway? It’ll be a great article. I’ve read your stuff. You’re a great writer, your editor has nothing to worry about. I know I’m not worried.” 

Shrugging as a way to agree with Wonwoo, Jeonghan sits down on the other side of you, crossing his leg over his knee, his arm draped over the back of the sofa behind you. 

“You can ask me anything. I’ll answer if I don’t think I’ve ever lied to you, Kitten.” When you and Wonwoo look at him Jeonghan grins and tilts his head, adding, “I’ve skimmed around the truth.” 

Shaking your head, you look down at your bag, now resting on your lap. Maybe they were right. Maybe you could still do this; maybe this was a good thing. It could give you an edge. When you nod, your brows furrowing, Jeonghan grins at Wonwoo, lifting his brows. 

“Yeah? Not so freaked out by us anymore? Still pretty much the same people you went to school with.” 

That made you laugh, both men watching as you cleared your throat to cover it, leaning down to put your bag on the floor, taking out an iPad to take notes on before crossing your legs. Wonwoo can’t help but watch how the fabric of your skirt stretches around your thighs as Jeonghan sucks at his teeth, letting his eyes run along the buttons of your blouse before you look up to meet his eyes. 

“You aren’t the same. Isn’t that what we just said? Not in high school anymore. You are... what do you do, Jeonghan?” 

You had known Jeonghan was a chaebol but that was such an umbrella term in the business world. He could own a multitude of things and hold many titles. His lips pull up into a smile as his eyes follow your hand, pulling the pen from its holder so you can start taking down your notes. 

“My father put me in charge of all the hotels and resorts.” 

Writing his name, you start to write what he was telling you when the scale of what he had just said hits you. A soft chuckle to your right brings you back to reality as you shake your head and continue where you left off, muttering under your breath. 

“All hotels and the resorts..." 

Swallowing hard, you glance at Jeonghan to find his eyes haven't moved from you at all. It was as if he were trying to stare a hole through you or, worse, undress you with his eyes. Quickly looking away, you continue your train of thought into a question. 

“In all countries?”

“All hotels and resorts are mine. We own 15 in the United States alone. I plan to open five in Europe over the next three years. There’s a scoop for you, Kitten. Make sure you jot it down.” 

Your hand was shaking, and you could see the nerves in your handwriting as you tried to take your notes. It isn't until Jeonghan leans in a bit closer to you to look at what you are writing that you press your lips together and pause. 

“Just…Y/N, I think would be better.” 

Pursing his lips, Jeonghan meets your eyes once again before giving you a playful smile and leaning back, lifting his hand from his thigh as if he were submitting. 

“Whatever you want, Y/N. Kitten is just a hard habit to break.” 

Both watch as you flex your fingers and go back to your task, writing a few more notes before looking up to Wonwoo, who is turned more to the side to face you, his legs crossed towards you. He was breath taking, they both were but after years of seeing him on a big screen or a billboard, it was startling to see him so close once again. 

“Have a question for me?” 

Wonwoo watches you nod, your eyes dropping back to your tablet, before you take a breath and are finally able to remember how to speak. 

“Your last movie, First Snow, was a hit.” Watching Wonwoo smile, you can’t help but do the same. You knew he had been nominated for several awards and was likely being cast from the hit. “You seemed to have great onscreen chemistry with your co-star…anything blossoming from that?” 

You watch as the man in front of you laughs and shifts on the sofa to brush his hand over his mouth. With a quick shake of his head, Wonwoo’s eyes lift back to meet yours, making you feel shy once again. 

“She’s sweet, incredibly so, but no. I do hope I get to work with her in the future but as for my personal life...  Things haven’t changed much from when you knew me before.” 

That you very much doubted, your brows furrowing as you scoff, jotting down a few more words on the iPad on your lap. 

– 11 years ago – 

“Just ask her.” 

Wonwoo shook his head as he watched you smile at the tall boy with perfect teeth. He might be friends with Mingyu but that didn’t make him want to punch him any less as he and Jeonghan watched him flirt with you and worse, you flirted back. 

“She doesn’t know how you feel and that you want her to go with you to the dance if you don’t ask her.” 

Groaning, Wonwoo looked at Jeonghan, who had his arms crossed and his tongue pressed into his cheek after saying his own peace when he really had nothing he could say. 

“So does that mean you are going to do the same?” 

Shooting a look at his friend, Jeonghan rolls his eyes and turns away from the scene in front of him as Mingyu dares to let his fingers brush over yours. He wanted to do more than punch the boy. He wanted to pay him to move to a different school at this point. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. You’re the one pining like a love sick puppy.” 

“Says the dude who just looked like he was going to go in swinging just now.” 

Sighing, Jeonghan turns towards his locker, using his fist to open it rather than a normal civil way, before shrugging. 

“Whatever. She can do what she wants and so can you. One more year of this hell hole and I’m out of here and on to bigger fish.” 

You look up at the sound of Jeonghan’s fist hitting his locker, along with Mingyu's hand dropping from yours, when you mutter your best friend’s name. Everyone knew you were pretty much off limits but every once in a while someone got gutsy and tried. Mingyu had been feeling confident but he hadn’t realized how close Jeonghan and Wonwoo had been. 

“I–shit. Can we talk about the dance later, Y/N?” 

Watching you frown, barely nodding, Mingyu sighed, knowing his chances were slim to none now as you walked towards the two men who took up most of your time. 

“Jeonghan, what the hell are you doing? Did you hurt your hand?” 

Your voice pulls Wonwoo and Jeonghan from their conversation and back to reality, where you were standing right in front of them. Starting to speak, Jeonghan tries to come up with an excuse when you grab his hand, bringing it close to you to look over his knuckles to inspect the damage. 

Wonwoo just stays quiet for a moment, watching how gentle you are, blowing softly on the rough skin before placing a kiss over his knuckles and lifting your head with furrowed brows. You looked confused. It wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t like you knew how Jeonghan felt or how Wonwoo felt. 

“I’m okay, Kitten. I just couldn’t get the door open, so I got mad.” 

Glancing at Wonwoo, you wait for him to tell you the truth but he just sighs and nods along with what Jeonghan says, though you can tell Jeonghan is telling you a half truth. He was good at those and Wonwoo was good at following the leader. 

Reaching over to the locker, you pull up on the latch and watch it swing open easily, much to Jeonghan’s dismay. With a sigh, the boy pushes it back closed before leaning his shoulder against it, looking over yours towards Mingyu, who was pouting and watching you while talking to another tall boy named Seokmin.

“Minkyu is waiting for you.” 

Sighing, you glance over your shoulder towards him, offering the handsome boy a smile and getting one in return before you cause his to fall instantly when you turn away. 

“Mingyu, Jeonghan…  but you know that. Why are you so mean to him? He’s nice. He likes you. Wants to be as cool as you.” 

Rolling his eyes, Jeonghan lets out a scoff before wrapping his arm around your shoulder and pulling you towards the doors that would lead towards your next class but not his. Wonwoo just shakes his head, following in tow, his hands shoved into his pockets. 

“He wishes.” 

– Present –

“He’s not lying. I’ve probably dated more than him.” 

Lifting your head back towards Jeonghan, you feel your stomach tighten at his words. You shouldn’t care if either of them were dating. You were doing your job. This was something that your readers cared about. They didn’t really care about what their jobs were or what they entailed; they wanted to know who they were sleeping with. 

“Oh? Currently? On your way to finding Mrs. Yoon?” 

Jeonghan’s lips turn up in a smirk before a full grin spreads across his face. He can’t help but see the look on your face when you ask the question. Did you really want an answer to that question? 

“No, not even close. Hasn’t been a steady girl in my life since you, Kit–mm, sorry, Y/N.” 

Swallowing hard, you push your tongue against your cheek and hum as if that is a normal answer to your question. You write down part of it but omit anything about yourself, which causes Wonwoo to chuckle as he runs his fingers along the back of the sofa. 

“Giving the readers hope?” 

Jeonghan leans forward at Wonwoo’s comment to read what you have written down. You scoff at his smirk, pulling the tablet back from them both, feeling even more like you were back in high school with them both. 

“I–sort of. It’s my job. I’m supposed to give them a raw interview with two fascinating people. I’m supposed to show them the most intimate parts of those people and if there are facts like that, omitting parts that they don’t need to know could be misunderstood –" 

You suck in your breath when you feel Jeonghan’s fingers up your arm towards your shoulder as he shakes his head. A soft sigh falls from his lips as he meets your eyes and you try to finish your thought only to lose it midsentence. 

“I get it; I do. Your readers are horny. They look at successful people and dream about what it would be like to fuck them. But no matter what you omit, there is still the elephant in the room.” 

There was no elephant in the room. The room was clear of any elephants. Shaking your head, you try to ignore his fingers as Jeonghan walks them along your shoulder blade. 

“They do like that sort of thing. It sells magazines. So I will omit it. I mean, looking at this objectively, you are both ideal. Incredibly attractive, wealthy, and single.” 

Grinning at your reaction and your attempt to ignore him, Jeonghan glances over to Wonwoo, who had been watching you both like a hawk. It was getting interesting. 

“That’s kind of you to say, Kitten.” 

Blowing out a breath, you shift from Jeonghan’s wandering fingers to shoot a look at Wonwoo when he calls you the nickname. Now they were both teasing you. You were struggling to keep this professional and they knew it. This wasn’t some game like they thought it was. This was your job on the line. 

“Not my name, Wonwoo.” 

“Is to me, but my apologies, Y/N. Keep going with your questions. What’s next on your list?” 

Focus. The word is repeating in your head like a prayer. You look back down at your iPad and lick your lips as you listen to Jeonghan laugh softly next to you. God, he was the same and yet worse in many ways. He was still unbearably confident and cocky but now he was a grown man. 

Lifting his hand to rest his thumb against his teeth, Wonwoo watches your eyes narrow at Jeonghan’s reaction. He could tell you were getting annoyed. This was better than high school because he wasn’t that kid who lacked confidence.

"It's... tell me about an important event in your life that led you to where you are today.” 

Jeonghan’s brows furrow as Wonwoo tilts his head toward the question. That was a loaded topic. Pursing his lips, you watch as Wonwoo reaches up to push his glasses up the bridge of his nose before he meets your eyes once more. 

“Do you remember when you pushed me to try out for that play senior year?” 

Your smile causes Wonwoo to mirror you. Of course you remembered it. Wonwoo had been showing interest in acting and it might have been a high school play but he had been too nervous to try it out at first. You could remember going over lines with him for hours before the audition, before you and Jeonghan sat in the auditorium in awe as he took the stage and looked like he had been born to act. 

“Really? That’s what led you to this? Playing Tony in West Side Story?” 

Still smiling, Wonwoo nods, leaning to rest his head on his palm as his elbow pushes into the back cushion of the sofa. He remembered looking down at you from the stage opening night and finding confidence when his voice wavered. You were more important to him than you would ever know. 

“Yeah… Trust me, I don’t put it on my resume.” 

A short chuckle from Jeonghan draws your eyes back over to him as he leans his head back, remembering the play and how much you had wanted Wonwoo to do it. You had been good at pushing them to be great; now he was wishing they had done the same for you. 

“I can’t imagine why, Wonwoo. Couldn’t be because I still have a shitty copy of you butchering Something’s Coming from opening night.” 

Reaching behind you, Wonwoo smacks his best friend, causing the other man to laugh and for you to lean forward, a laugh of your own, slipping from your lips. You could feel your heart tightening in your chest. You had missed Jeonghan and Wonwoo more than you could even admit to yourself. 

“You said you deleted it.” 

"Yeah, well, I lied. It makes great blackmail for when we are old and decrepit.” 

Sitting back up when the men have gone back to their "corners", you just shake your head, putting your pen back on your tablet, and trying to word Wonwoo’s answer in the best way you could without inserting yourself into it. 

“What about you, Jeonghan? What led you here?” 

Sighing, Jeonghan rolls his eyes—not at you but more at the answer he came up with—before pouting his lips a bit and looking up at the tall celiing. 

“I mean, the obvious answer is my father. My family led me here directly but honestly," 

You watch Jeonghan’s face soften, your eyes moving over his sharp jaw as you chew on your lips, until he looks back at you and scoffs again but this time it’s like he has made a discovery. 

“You.” 

Looking behind you at Wonwoo, you give him a confused look before he shrugs and gestures back at you, sending you back towards Jeonghan, who just smiles fondly. 

“I’m serious. Graduation day.” 

– 10 years ago – 

You watch as Jeonghan flicks the tassel on his graduate cap from one side to the other as he leans back in his chair. Most of the other students had left with their families apart from you, Wonwoo, and Jeonghan. Wonwoo had promised his mom to come home soon but after she saw the look on Jeonghan’s face, she told him to take his time. 

“I’m sure there was a reason he wasn’t here, Hannie…” 

Rarely did you call Jeonghan anything other than his full name but today called for all the best tactics. Today should be one of the best days of your lives and your best friend was sad. He had been so proud of the honor sash around his shoulders and the speech he was giving but the moment he stepped out on the stage and started to speak, he noticed the space reserved for his father was noticeably empty. 

“Sure, Kitten. You don’t have to try so hard to make it better. You didn’t do it.” 

He was right. It hadn’t been your fault but there was something you could do to make him smile. Leaning towards Jeonghan, catch his eye before you press a soft kiss to his cheek and hold on to his arm. As much as he denied it, you knew how much he loved skinship when it came from you or Wonwoo. 

A sigh falls from Jeonghan’s lips but his lips do pull up at the sides and Wonwoo’s do the same, knowing you were succeeding in what you were trying to do. He hated to see his best friend like this. It wasn’t fair. Jeonghan had worked his ass off to be the perfect son and he deserved so much better today. 

“Stop slobbering on me.” 

You just laugh, pressing more kisses on his warm cheek. Jeonghan groans, grabbing your arm and turning his head away from you, only for you to turn it back a bit too far, letting your lips catch his briefly. Clearing your throat, you stop instantly and drop your hands, feeling heat rising in your neck and cheeks as you look away. 

"Sorry, uh, but no, anyway... We should go get dinner before we all go home. We are fucking graduates. Full ass adults who will be going to university soon.” 

Wonwoo just stares at Jeonghan as he sits in shock from feeling your lips on his, even as you try to make everyone forget it had happened. Reaching up to touch his lips, Jeonghan watches you do a cute little dance in your chair before shaking his head and furrowing his brows. 

“I gotta get home, Kitten. I’m sure my dad is at home. I need to tell him to shove something up his ass. You know, like his legacy.” 

Calming down from your accidental kiss, you shake your head and reach for Jeonghan’s arm as he tries to stand up to leave. You knew he would regret his decisions later. Wonwoo follows your lead, shaking his head and coaxing Jeonghan back into the chair, muttering for the other to calm down. 

“I know you are upset, Jeonghan. You have every right to be, but... listen to me, okay? Seriously, look at me.” 

You wait until Jeonghan sighs, rolling his eyes to look at you, his face softening as he does, knowing he can’t stay annoyed as he looks at your pretty face. 

“If you really don’t want to work for your dad and do the business stuff, then don’t but it’s all you’ve ever talked about. So don’t throw it away because of his selfishness. Use this to fuel yourself to work harder and get what you want. Be the Yoon Jeonghan I know. 

– Present – 

“I ran off spite for a few years but eventually I got my own space and now I am doing shit on my own. He gave me my own slice, like you said he would. I worked harder every day remembering what you said.” 

Jeonghan smiles while watching your lips form into a bit of a pout. He could tell you were remembering the conversation and graduation. He remembered it just as fondly, maybe for other reasons but he also remembered dinner afterwards with you and Wonwoo. He remembered sneaking off with drinks and the promises that all three had failed to keep. 

"Anyway, that and a kiss led me here.” 

Writing down Jeonghan’s answer, you stop midsentence to scoff and glance up at him, letting out a breath, only to scoff a second time in disbelief. He surely wasn’t talking about the accidental kiss on graduation day. 

“Not a real kiss.” 

Biting his lip, Jeonghan tilts his head and narrows his eyes as Wonwoo laughs and puts his hands up when you shoot him another look. 

“I’m just…  listen, Y/N… The kiss was just that—a kiss. And an 18 year old Jeonghan... He talked about it for a while. Trust me.” 

That confession from Wonwoo made you look back at Jeonghan, who was narrowing his eyes at his best friend, only to soften them when they met yours. Lifting his hands, Jeonghan sighs once, trying to speak, before sighing again and laughing. 

“I did talk about it for a bit. I mean, clearly, I remember it well. I mean, come on, Kitten, you had to know how we felt about you.” 

Shaking your head, you sit up straighter on the sofa, looking from Jeonghan to Wonwoo for clarification as if a bomb had just gone off in the room. You knew how you felt about them and that they had teased you about it but never in a million years had you thought they had felt anything for you. 

“No, no, no, I didn’t. What? What do you mean by how you felt about me? “We?” Clarify, Yoon Jeonghan.” 

Jeonghan laughs when you use his full name and your thoughts start to spin in circles. The interview is the last thing on your mind now. Taking a breath, he reaches forward, taking your iPad from your hands and leaning to put it on the coffee table so he can have your full attention. But that only causes you to flex your fingers and then play with the end of your skirt out of nerves as you wait. 

“We went to the same school for four years, Y/N. We saw you every single day and from day one, we latched on to you. At first, it was just because you were this cute frisky girl with a sassy mouth that could keep up but then it was more about the fact that you were ours.” Glancing down at your fingers as you tug at the end of your skirt, Jeonghan reaches to wrap his fingers around your wrist to make you stop as he speaks. “Did you really not see it? How we’d chase off anyone else or get pissed off if you’d give any of them a chance?” 

Wonwoo shifts beside you, his breath closer than you had remembered it being when you feel it almost against your ear as his deeper voice chimes in to add to Jeonghan’s point.

“The stupidest thing we did was not keep our promises to keep in touch during university. Letting life get in the way... You feel him smile into his words with how close his lips are to your ear. “But I guess life has a way of correcting mistakes.” 

You glance over your shoulder, brows furrowed, ready to ask him what he means when you find Wonwoo as close as you had pictured. If you hadn’t stopped yourself, you would have found yourself in a similar situation that you had on graduation day a decade earlier, as you stopped your lips just in time, taking a breath before they could brush over Wonwoo’s. 

“I don’t know. This isn't—I could lose my job.” 

It’s Jeonghan’s hand that slides over your thigh, gripping it just hard enough to make you want to spread them, which causes you to lose your resolve and causes a breathy, soft moan to slip from between your lips and into the air. Wonwoo smiles just a few centimeters from your lips as he shakes his head and furrows his brows. 

“Fuck the job, fuck the interview. If you want it that bad, you can ask the questions afterwards. If you lose the job, they didn’t deserve you, and we will take care of you or get you whatever job you want, Kitten.” 

He wanted you to say yes or take that final step. Wonwoo wasn’t going to do it but he was giving you all the right answers. Whining, you try to quickly weigh the pros and cons, a lifetime of regrets washing over you before they fade away when you close your eyes and press your lips against Wonwoo’s with purpose. 

Jeonghan furrows his brows and bites his bottom lip hard. He wasn’t upset that it was Wonwoo you had kissed first this time. It didn’t matter to him; all that mattered was that it was happening. All that mattered was that you were here and back in their lives by some random chance and he wasn’t letting you go again. 

Pressing his fingers into your soft skin, Jeonghan groans softly against your hair as your tongue glides along Wonwoo’s and you finally let him coax your legs apart. He could feel the warmth of your pussy under your skirt and he was dying to get his hands on you, even if it was just for a moment. 

"Baby, you are so fucking pretty. You always have been but now, God, you're stunning. Never letting you out of my sight again, you understand?” 

Reaching up to turn your head from Wonwoo, Jeonghan listens to your whimpers and soft complaints but he wants your answer. When you meet his eyes, Jeonghan runs his thumb along your bottom lip and smiles at your reaction—the way your mouth parts and your eyes flutter closed for a moment only to open and meet his once again. 

“I said, do you understand?” 

One hand on your chin, the other caresses your thigh up to your panties, where Jeonghan’s fingers tease you, causing your body to jerk with each pass of his fingers. Wonwoo smiles while watching you with Jeonghan, not phased by the other man pulling you away from him. Instead, he turns his attention to your neck as he works a few of the buttons on your blouse open before sliding his hand into your shirt over the top of your bra to squeeze your breast, making you arch against his chest. 

“Answer Jeonghan, Kitten.” 

They expected you to answer a question and think clearly when you were not only living out your teenage wet dreams but also the fantasies of every female that knew either of their names? Pressing your lips together, you furrow your brows and nod, regaining your resolve, before letting out a breath along with your words. 

“I understand.” 

Jeonghan grins, leaning forward to press his lips to yours, finally claiming his prize while also rewarding you for your answer. The kiss is gentle, yet you can feel the desire behind it as his teeth catch your bottom lip, nipping at it before he pulls back with a soft groan. 

“Good, girl. Wonwoo, I want her up where I can see her.” 

You weren’t sure what Jeonghan had meant but apparently Wonwoo did, as you found yourself on your feet before your legs were around the man’s waist so he could carry you where he wanted you. Smirking against your lips, Wonwoo glances behind you, following Jeonghan to the kitchen, stopping to sit you on the counter, where he stays situated between your thighs. 

Hands slide over your thighs, and fingers bunch up your skirt, urging you to lift your hips so the material can be pushed to your waist, granting you a peck on the lips from Wonwoo. You watch as the man groans, glancing down between your legs, his left hand gripping your thigh as his right thumb traces the growing wet spot on the center of your panties. 

“So wet already. Did you ever think about doing this? You can tell me, Kitten. I won’t tell anyone else.” 

The teasing tone in his deep voice makes your breath quicken as Wonwoo steps back and you watch him pull his dress shirt from his pants. His slender fingers move over the buttons with quick precision so he can pull them from his body and toss them to the floor, leaving him shirtless in front of you. 

“I–” 

The words get caught in your throat as you stare at Wonwoo, your eyes moving over his toned abdomen and chest. You had seen him shirtless in school and then in ads and movies but you had never imagined you would see him like this. 

“Words, baby, use them.” 

Jeonghan smirks, running his fingers over your hair as he stands beside you, watching you panic over Wonwoo. He was still fully dressed, though one glance at his dress pants told you he was just as aroused as you and Wonwoo. 

“I did, many times, but I always felt bad.” 

You hear Jeonghan coo, then feel his lips press against your jaw as you lean your head to the side, watching Wonwoo lean over to kiss your thighs. His fingers scratch along your thighs up to your hips before they finally press under the elastic of your pants and start to shimmy them down your legs to your feet. 

“You didn’t have to feel bad. I was doing the same thing and I know Wonwoo was too. We will just make up for lost time, right?” 

Jeonghan whispers the last of his words against your ear and you can only moan out a yes to not only the feeling of his hot breath against the shell of your ear, but also Wonwoo’s tongue running along your slit in one fluid motion. 

Leaning your head back, you gasp out Wonwoo’s name, reaching your hand down to thread your fingers through his wavy hair as Jeonghan smirks against your ear at your reaction. Glancing between your legs to watch, he furrows his brows, feeling his cock throb in his pants, not only to the visual of Wonwoo eating you out but also to the sounds coming out of your mouth and the wet sound of Wonwoo’s mouth on your pussy. 

“Fuck… He’s right; you are wet. Can I feel too?” 

Slipping his fingers between your folds and Wonwoo’s mouth, Jeonghan is surprised that your thighs jerk to his touch. That wasn't your reaction to Wonwoo. Lifting his head, Wonwoo holds your legs and takes a breath as Jeonghan’s fingers circle your clit, only for you to moan and slide your hips back from his touch shyly. 

“Your fingers are so cold." 

Jeonghan smiles, tilting his head and pulling his fingers back to rub them together, feeling your slick between them. He knew his hands were cold but he hadn’t expected you to have such a reaction to them. Glancing down at Wonwoo, Jeonghan just winks, turning from you both towards the cabinet to take down a glass and moving to the fridge to get ice and water as Wonwoo’s lips press to your thighs, making you split your attention between the two. 

“What are you doing, Jeonghan?” 

“Having fun, Kitten. What are you doing?” 

Your eyes follow Jeonghan as he sits the glass down beside you before dipping two of his fingers into the ice water. His eyes meet yours as a darker smirk takes over his pretty lips and you whine, feeling Wonwoo’s mouth back on your pussy, his fingers digging into your hips and pulling you back towards his tongue. 

“I–shit. What if I can’t handle it?” 

Jeonghan bites at his lip, the smile ever present, as he finally takes his fingers from the cold water. 

“Just tell me and I’ll move them, but I’ll make it worth it. I promise… Wonwoo, lean back.” 

Hearing his name, Wonwoo groans a bit frustrated, already feeling drunk off your pussy. He wanted to make you cum on his tongue and with how you had started to moan, he felt like you were getting close. Still, he wasn’t going to argue with Jeonghan so he licks his lips and leans back a few inches to watch Jeonghan touch his ice cold fingers to your clit and your reaction as you try to close your thighs around his head and the fingers. 

“Oh my god!” 

The cold sends a shock through your body that you weren’t fully expecting and when Jeonghan traps your clit between two fingers, squeezing it ever so slightly, you feel like the counter is going to break under your fingers. 

“Jeon—Jeonghan!” 

As quickly as you say his name, Jeonghan moves his fingers and uses his free hand to push Wonwoo’s head back to your waiting pussy. You feel hot breath and a warm tongue running over your now chilled folds. Smiling against your skin at the feeling, Wonwoo can’t help the excitement he feels at working together with Jeonghan. He enjoys making you feel good, especially as you grind against his mouth. 

“See? You liked it, didn’t you?” 

All you can do is nod as you feel your orgasm on the precipice. Jeonghan watches your face and listens to your breath starting to hitch when he tugs at Wonwoo’s hair, pulling him back, and listens to your curses as your orgasm is pulled from you. 

Ice cold fingers slide between your folds and towards your dripping entrance, where Jeonghan works two into you, curling them upwards. Quickly, you forget how upset you are at him as you see stars and your nails dig into his forearm, cum seeping around his fingers as your orgasm takes control of your senses. 

Wonwoo just watches, entranced by what is happening as your thighs start to shake and Jeonghan’s fingers thrust into you. He watches as you roll your hips towards the man’s palm and Jeonghan groans your name like a soft, sweet prayer. 

“Here… I know you want it.” 

Nodding, Wonwoo leans forward, licking the cum from Jeonghan’s fingers before grabbing your hips again and running his tongue along your folds, cleaning you of every last trace of your cum. Your mind spins with what you have just experienced and watched as you find yourself leaning back on the counter, your chest rising and falling quickly. 

It is Jeonghan who pulls Wonwoo from between your thighs as you whimper from overstimulation, tears running from the corners of your eyes. It isn’t even that he’s concerned that you aren’t enjoying it; it is more that he doesn’t want his friend to miss the image. 

Wonwoo just groans, running his palm over his wet mouth and chin before leaning down over you and the counter to capture your lips. His thumb is running along your temple to push away the tears as he mutters against your lips about never leaving you and never losing you again. 

“Mm, see, he shares the sentiment, Kitten. We have to get you to bed or I’m gonna fuck you on the counter.” 

You weren’t against it but it seemed both of the men were. You quickly found yourself moving through rooms and on a large bed, then stripped of your clothing. Jeonghan was the one between your thighs now; his clothes were also discarded with yours somewhere between the kitchen and the bedroom. He let his eyes move over your body in wonder as his hands followed the same path as if he were trying to imprint it on his brain. 

“So perfect… and ours?” 

In truth, your relationship status hadn’t been discussed before any of this started and also Jeonghan hadn’t cared. Now, with you lying on his bed, looking like every dream he had ever had of you, as Wonwoo slid in beside you to press his lips to the top of your breasts, he was starting to wonder if you really would be there at the end of the day. 

“Yours.” 

A single word left Jeonghan breathless. He hadn’t seen any rings on any important fingers but he hadn’t been in your life in a long time. He didn’t know what your life was without him but now, as far as he was concerned, there wouldn’t be a time without you. 

"Fuck, I need you. Can I?” 

You lift your hips as Jeonghan’s hands slide along your inner thighs and along your legs to your hips. You knew what he was asking and there was nothing you wanted more. Nodding, you whine into a moan as Wonwoo sucks at your skin, your fingers once again threading into his hair and tugging at his scalp. 

Lining himself up with you, Jeonghan shakes his head, realizing what was really happening and how lucky he was as he slowly pushes his tip in. With his eyes on your face, Jeonghan watches your lips fall open at the stretch, his fingers digging into your skin as he angles his hips, feeling your soft, warm walls enclose around his cock. 

“Feel good, Kitten?” 

Wonwoo smiles against your skin as he speaks between kisses, working them up your breasts towards your neck. Wonwoo nods along with you, feeling Jeonghan’s hips meet yours as he bottoms out. The stretch is delicious and your brain is a mixture of spinning and empty. While your brain wants to freak out over what's happening, the only thing you can do is just feel and enjoy the drag of Jeonghan’s cock as he starts to thrust into you at an even pace. 

His head falling forward as he pulls your hips up more, bracing your weight with his hands, Jeonghan quickens his pace, feeling your pussy throbbing around his length. You already felt better than he had ever imagined and he had dreamed about it many times before. He had tried to substitute the dream girl in his head before and none of them were living up to this now. There was only you and he could already feel himself tightening up from his stomach to his thighs. 

“God, baby… cum on my cock. Give me that. At least once.” 

Jeonghan had said you were theirs but just in case this was a one time thing, he needed to feel you cum around him at least once in his life. Sliding his right hand between your legs, he uses his thumb to massage your clit in tight circles while watching you throw your head back and your fingers scratch at the bedding. Jeonghan just groans your name as he feels your walls tighten around him and then the warm, slick feeling of your cum makes each of his thrusts all that more delicious. 

A moment later, you feel your ass lowered back to the bed and Jeonghan pulls from you before his warm cum paints your thighs. The sound of his soft grunts and groans dances off the walls like music as your eyes move over his body to his hand. You watch as his fists over his cock hard and fast for a moment longer before he lets out a long, soft breath. Smiling, Jeonghan feels your leg running along the side of his when he opens his eyes to find you and Wonwoo looking at him. 

“I made a mess. I can start the shower…” 

You can only laugh as Jeonghan rolls from the bed, leaving you in Wonwoo’s arms, his lips gently pressing to the side of your neck. Wonwoo’s brows furrow and a groan slips from between his lips as your fingers wrap around his heavy cock, lazily stroking him as the sounds of water drift in from the attached bathroom. 

“I’m too wound up, Y/N… I won’t last long. Shit…” 

Pressing your thumb against his slit, you take your hand away, leaving Wonwoo breathless as you sit up and take his hand, pulling him from the bed. A look of confusion in the man’s eyes, along with a slight pout on his lips from seemingly being denied, is replaced by a smile when you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him down to kiss you as Jeonghan lifts a brow to the scene in front of him. 

With your hand back around Wonwoo’s shaft, you feel him gasp into your mouth as you pull away from him once again and smile at Jeonghan as he opens the shower door for you, letting you and Wonwoo in first before following. 

“You are being mean to Wonwoo, Kitten...  after he cleaned you up so nicely with his mouth?”

“I’ll make it better, promise.” 

Jeonghan starts to speak but is rendered speechless when you move to your knees in the shower in front of Wonwoo, who silently curses, lifting his hand to run it through his hair. With the water running along his back, Wonwoo leans his head back into the stream of water with a long, deep groan when you wrap your lips around his head and take him into your warm mouth. 

He had wanted to fuck you but this would work too. Unlike Jeonghan, he was almost certain this wasn’t a one time thing. He was going to make sure of it, especially now as your pretty hand stroked his cock under your mouth as you moaned around him. He had told you he was wound up and he hadn’t been lying. 

“Shit… shit! Too good… babe. Gonna cum. Slow down.” 

You had no intention of slowing down. You wanted Wonwoo to cum. Just as much as he wanted to taste you, you wanted to taste him. So when he told you to slow down, instead you moved your hand and took him as deep in your mouth as you could, letting his tip nearly graze your throat. The action pushes Wonwoo over the edge, his hands gripping for whatever is closest, one being your hair and the other being Jeonghan’s arm, as he cums hard into your mouth. 

Closing your eyes, you moan around Wonwoo as you pull back to just his tip, letting the last of his cum drip into your mouth before you sit back on your feet and swallow most of it, just a bit seeping from the corner of your lips. Jeonghan stares at Wonwoo for a moment longer before looking down at you and groaning, feeling blood start to work its way back to his cock when he seems cum dripping down to your chin. 

Tugging his hand free from Wonwoo’s grasp, Jeonghan takes a deep breath, reaching down to swipe his thumb over your chin, collecting the cum, before pushing it back into your mouth and letting you suck it clean. Willing himself to not get hard becomes even harder as he curses under his breath and smiles at you in disbelief. You were even more perfect than he had dreamed. 

“Both of us made a mess of you, Kitten. Only fair we clean you up, huh?” 

Your cheeks warm as you come down from the high of everything that had happened. You look at both of the men as Wonwoo helps you back to your feet. His hand runs over your back, spreading body wash, as Jeonghan does the same to your front, paying extra attention to your thighs where his cum still lingered. 

“This is crazy…” 

Jeonghan’s brow shoots up at your soft words like a puppy hearing a new word. You were starting to panic. The shock was setting in. Shaking his head, the man steps closer, running his hands over your arms before leaning in to gently press a kiss on your lips. 

“It’s not. It makes sense. We’ve always made sense. We were just too young and dumb to realize this. We just had to meet again in a different life to see it.” 

Pouting on Jeonghan’s lips, you feel Wonwoo’s body close to yours; neither man is willing to let you run away from them, knowing you too well despite all the years of separation. You wanted to believe this could work. You wanted it to work. Sighing, you lean your head back against Wonwoo’s shoulder, letting Jeonghan look at you with a soft smile on his lips as you speak. 

“I’m so getting fired.” 

Laughing at your words, Jeonghan shrugs, running his hands along your wet arms as Wonwoo smiles, leaning to kiss your cheek and hugging you tighter to him. Lifting his hand, Jeonghan pinches your cheek like he had so many times in high school to tease you, feeling your warm cheek under his touch.  

“I might be biased but I think we are worth it.” 

© onlymingyus - all rights reserved. Reposting/modifying of any fic, or pieces of original writings posted on this blog is not allowed. Translations not allowed

#jeonghan smut #wonwoo smut #seventeen smut #svthub #svt smut #jeonghan x reader #wonwoo x reader #seventeen x reader #svt x reader #jeonghan x wonwoo

[pessimisticpigeonsworld]

I will never understand the "both sides are bad" people. Like, first off, GRRM himself has a clear idea over who is right (hint: it's the team whose line was not wiped out). If the fucking author has decided who is right and who is wrong, then why do people think they know better?

Second, one way to know if one team is as bad as the other is knowing the motivations of both sides. TB wants to reclaim the throne for the woman whom the past king declared heir and her descendants. TG wants to usurp the declared heir and ensure women aren't allowed to inherit the throne. These are the basic motivations of both sides. Wow, I wonder which team we should root for if we're not misogynists?

Let's also look at the actions of both teams. Now, we know that in the book and the show, the Greens declared war first; Alicent demanding Rhaenyra be disinherited after Aegon's birth/the green dress at the anniversary feast in the books and Alicent's green dress at Rhaenyra's wedding. We also know that in the book and show, Alicent spent her children's childhoods, particularly Aegon and Aemond's, teaching them that Rhaenyra and her children were inferior. Lucerys did cut Aemond's eye, but that was only after Aemond was threatening potentially lethal harm to his brother(s).

Now we're not even going to go into how the greens ran KL, but I will fast forward to the actual usurpation. The Greens were the ones who usurped the rightful heir, Rhaenyra. There was no law concerning inheritance, and women inherited the seats of both the Great and lesser houses. So the Greens did commit treason. And to top off this treason, the Greens also drew first blood when Aemond killed Lucerys.

During the Dance itself, the Greens sent an assassin (Arryk Cargyll) after Rhaenyra and/or her children, executed any lords who didn't declare for them, sacked Duskendale, barred the smallfolk from fleeing KL, burned the Riverlands through Aemond, massacred Tumbleton through Daeron, were hated by the smallfolk (Aegon and Aemond), wasted or stole the gold from the Crown's treasury, invited the Triarchy into Westeros causing the sack of Spicetown, planned to have Aegon the Younger castrated, and Aegon was murdered by his own supporters.

The Blacks sent B&C to assassinate Jaehaerys (without Rhaenyra's say-so), took KL and employed a harsh tax, sought out and executed green supporters, allied with Dalton Greyjoy who pillaged the coasts, declared Addam Velaryon a traitor, ordered Nettles' execution, and continued fighting after Rhaenyra's death.

For the sake of time, I've only listed the war crimes/atrocities/unpopular choices done by the teams. But anyway, let's look at these lists, who exactly caused the most harm and actively sought to start this war? The answer is the Greens, end of story.

So no, there is no actual grounds for "both sides are equally bad". Disliking the feudal system and the harm it does to the common people is one of the points of F&B. However, you can dislike and not support feudalism while acknowledging that the one of the teams (the Greens) was more in the wrong and more of a danger to the realm than the other. Being "team smallfolk" doesn't work when you're refusing to acknowledge that one team was actually better for the smallfolk than the other. The Blacks were not only better liked by the smallfolk, but they also committed far less atrocities that destroyed the lives of thousands and didn't start the fucking war in the first place.

#team black #anti team green #rhaenyra targaryen #anti alicent hightower #asoiaf #house of the dragon #anti alicent stans #smallfolk #the teams are not both evil #stfu #anti aegon ii targaryen #anti aemond targaryen

[silentium-symphony]

Work of Art Modern AU (Link x Reader) I

(a/n) AAAHH I'M SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG!! i've reached that point in the semester where i've got either a project or an exam due every week, and i haven't had any time to write :( but i'm here now with a brand new fic for you! so thank you for waiting :)

parts will be linked and will also be available on my masterlist when they're available!

cw: link experiences unwanted sexual advances in the beginning (nothing too explicit) so please proceed with caution, afab!reader, swearing, zelda and link are besties :}, breathless conversations in a stairwell, you and link are just some awkward goobers

wc: 2.3k

♤♢ ~~ ♡♧

"And this one-of-a-kind masterpiece depicts the moments leading up to the Hero's decisive victory over the Demon King. For just a moment, let's draw our eyes toward the finer details the artist has decided to depict. Look with me now at the use of light in this scene, and how it starkly contrasts..."

Is that a new crack?

Blue eyes absently traced the thin line that fractured the pillar's marble surface. A wisp of gold tickled the tips of his lashes and he huffed, coursing his fingers through his hair in a bid to keep it in place. He kept his eyes trained on the small, black fissure that coursed through the white stone.

Definitely a new crack.

Taut fingers absently fumbled the ring of keys latched to his belt while the other hand thumbed the baton's cold metal. Link's eyes fluttered shut and he let out a soft sigh, adjusting his feet to abate the blood pooling in his heels.

"--Ahem."

His broad shoulders twitched and ocean blues met irritated meadow greens, which juxtaposed the seemingly sweet smile Zelda flashed him. Link dropped his hands immediately, causing the metal nuisance to sing a dying song against his thighs; a quiet chorus of giggles served as the encore.

"Thank you," his best friend cleared her throat, "as I was saying--"

Hylia, he was so bored. He rocked on his heels and watched Zelda motion to the large, newly restored painting before them. He knew how hard she had worked on restoring the old thing, and he was proud of her for sure, but if he had to listen to her spiel about the painting's history one more time--

"Hands off the rope please." He uttered softly to the woman dangling off the red velvet. She scoffed, but her look of disdain eventually softened into something... heavier. A sultry smirk snaked its way onto her lips and her eyes turned lidded.

"Sorry, sir. I just couldn't get my eyes off such a gorgeous masterpiece. It's a work of art, y'know?"

"I understand ma'am," his knuckles tersed. "But please refrain from touching the rope."

"Oh, I'm sorry..." She dragged out. "Can I make it up to you with some coffee?"

"No thank you. I suggest you turn your attention back to the presentation. That is why you came, right?"

"Well, what if I told you I actually came for something--or in this case... someone else?"

A shudder wriggled down his spine; she continued before he had time to draft his next sentence.

"I know you've seen me around... Why do you think I visit this dump of a museum so often? To stare at the same paintings day-in-day-out?"

Her fingertip traced the velvet rope, nails softly scuffing the luxuriously-textured barricade. He kept his eyes focused on the little strands of hair peeping out of the mole on her forehead, his throat constricting and drying at the waft of cheap perfume.

"C'mon... After the museum closes, let's grab some food and head over to my place, yeah?"

"He said 'no,' ma'am." A soft voice deadpanned behind the both of them. A pair of bewildered eyes locked with calm, unblinking (E/C)s. "No means no."

"Excuse me?"

"Stop harassing him." You spat, cold venom honeying your tone. "No. Means. No. Do I need to scream to get that through your fucking head? That would draw the crowd's attention to you, don't you think? I wonder how they'd feel watching you harass someone in broad daylight...”

“Tch… Worthless piece of shit.” Red heels clicked right past you as she side-bodied your smaller frame, sending you back a step or two. Your eyes followed the storming figure as she dipped past the grand marble staircase.

“--And with that, I would like to extend my most heartfelt gratitude on behalf of all our curators here. Without your support, our work in restoring these priceless historical pieces would not be possible. So from the bottom of my heart--“

“--Thank you.” He mumbled, his pulse quickening.

You flashed him a soft smile.

"No problem. I'm sorry you had to go through that.

"It’s okay. This... Isn't the first time."

"What, she tried pulling this shit on you in the past?"

"Oh, no, I mean..." He sighed. "It's not the first time someone's done something like this. I never really knew what to say, so I just... didn't say anything, so… Thank you."

"Well, I'm glad I could help." Your smiling eyes averted towards your buzzing phone. “Oh, fuck... Sorry officer, I gotta run! Have a good night!”

"W-Wait, can I ask for--"

--your name?

You raced down the same path his unwanted suitor went a few minutes prior, back disappearing past the staircase. The warmth of gratitude in his chest chilled into a growing, aching hole. Gods, if only he had gotten your name!

"Soooo... who was that?" Zelda snickered, saddling up to the flustered man. Link's cheeks reddened and a small pout bloomed on his lips.

"No one."

"Really? So 'no one's got you all hot and bothered?"

"'Hot and--?' Nah.."

"Uh-huh, whatever you say." She slinked an arm onto his shoulder and dangled off his steady frame, watching the thoughtful wander of the museum's patrons. The air about her turned somber, and her voice dipped to a volume only the blonde could hear. "... Did someone bother you again?"

Link's lips curled into a soft smile--a rare sight, even for his lifelong friend. Confusion ticked Zelda's features as she saw this new reaction.

"Well, the one who ran off helped me with another 'admirer.'" A dreamy sigh. "I was just thanking her."

A soft, contrite smile graced the curator's lips.

"I'm happy to hear that... I'm sorry this is such a regular thing for you. I wish there was some way to know what kind of person we're selling our tickets to..."

Link waved off her concerns and shrugged her off, throwing his arms above his head and feeling the sweet, satisfying pops in his joints. His neck craned from side to side, filling the air with a chorus of crackles; Zelda visibly grimaced.

"Stop doing that! You're gonna snap your own neck one day."

"If I do, does that mean I get a day off?"

"Of course not." She retorted mirthfully.

"Man..."

♤♢ ~~ ♡♧

Of course the elevator was broken.

Link heaved open the heavy metal door which led to the winding staircase unused by most tenants.

And of course he lived on the 6th floor.

With a huff, he lifted his foot on the cement step blackened from gunk and other dubious substances. He tried to pay little mind to how his shoes grew stickier with each step, or how the flickering light's buzzing drilled a dull ache through his temples. He rounded the first of many corners and kept an even pace, already beginning to feel a bit spent.

Hands fiddled around his hoodie's pocket, feeling for the familiar roundness of his earbud's case and the soft edges of his phone. As he popped his earbuds in, his eyes glazed over the dozens of unorganized playlists that littered his screen, eventually resting on the simply named 'workout' playlist. His music's volume amped up to an almost painful level in a futile effort to blend his rapidly beating heart with songs from his chosen playlist.

"ᴼ⁻ᴼᶠᶠᶦᶜᵉʳˀ"

He stopped to respond to a meme Zelda sent and texted an equally unhinged one back. The greasy scent of takeout wafted to his nostrils and he looked up, slightly confused.

"ᴼᶠᶠᶦᶜᵉʳ, ᶦˢ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ʸᵒᵘˀ"

A body filled his peripheral; pure fear coursed through his veins as his overactive imagination transmogrified a very real and alive person into eldritch nightmares unutterable by man. His phone leaped for safety, clattering down the flight of stairs for what felt like an eternity before rolling into its final resting place by the suspicious goop in the corner.

A moment of shock-spawned stillness blanketed the two persons--before Link was racing down the staircase.

"Hylia! Are you okay?!" A familiar voice called out. He stopped, fingers hovering a few hairs away from his phone as he slowly careened his face behind him.

There you were--gorgeous, gorgeous you--donned in sweats, a hoodie, Crocs with Socks™, and a steaming bag of takeout. The harsh fluorescent light softened your silhouette, casting an almost ethereal aura about you. Link gabbled an... exclamation of sorts as he grabbed his phone. He slinked the grimy thing into his pocket as he cooly made his way up the steps, shame and a newfound desire to drink lava inapparent on his blank face.

"Yes, thank you." He rubbed his (clean) hand against the back of his reddening neck. "Fancy meeting you here."

"I can say the same to you!" You laughed, shifting the takeout from one hand to the other. "How was the rest of your shift?"

"It was uneventful, thankfully. I'd like to thank you again for helping me out earlier... I really appreciated it."

"Aww... Of course. I'm really glad I could help you out back there."

Gods, how could a smile both ease and excite him all at once?

You both started up the steps once more, silently thanking and cursing your luck. After such a hasty exit you thought you'd never see the man again, but here you were, walking side-by-side up a neverending staircase. You looked down at your food, making sure the handles weren't gonna snap or anything, and happened to catch a faint mustard stain right by your heart. If only you didn't look so... grimy.

"S-So," you started, praying he didn't catch your stutter for air, "uh, what were you listening to?"

"Um..." He panicked slightly, "Just... workout music."

"Yeah? What song?"

"Something that... always gets me pumped." He cleared his throat. "What'd you order?"

"Oh, just some poultry pilaf from the Gerudo restaurant that opened up recently!"

"The one by 3rd Street?"

"Yeah, that one! Have you tried it yet?"

"Nah. But let me know how it tastes."

"For sure!"

A much-needed silence filled the air, both of you desperately trying to hide the fact that you were fighting for your next breath. A bright red '4' filled your vision and you groaned, throwing your head back.

"Gods, these stairs go on forever."

"Tell me about it." He hissed shakily. His eyes wandered to your slightly trembling arm holding your dinner. "Do you want me to hold that?"

"Oh, no, I'm okay." You subtly wiped the sweat beading your brow. "My floor's coming up. Thank you though."

"What floor do you live on? If you don't mind me asking."

"The 6th!"

6th...?

"Me too."

"Really? I'm surprised I never saw you around though. I’d definitely remember someone as cu—“ You coughed suddenly, rubbing a fist into your chest. "C-Cool as you!"

That... wasn't much better.

As you proceeded to curse the day you were born, furled golds and narrowed blues widened in disbelief before softening into a bashful smile.

"T-Thank y--

"Oh look, our floor!"

With a hop, skip, and a step, you bounded up the last flight of stairs and swung the hefty metal door, your frame teetering on the loose door handle.

"After you." You gestured grandly, giggles flitting between the two of you. He raced up the last of the steps and grabbed the edge of the door a little ways past your head, pulling it gently from your grasp.

"No, after you."

"Why, thank you, um..."

"Oh! Link." He stuck his hand out, a boyish grin splitting his lips. "My name is Link."

"Link?" You took his hand. “It's nice to meet you. I'm (F/N)."

"(F/N)..." You hated how your heart swooned just now. "What a cute name."

You canned the need to scream into the void as you slinked through the threshold, laughter alight. You waltzed to the crossroad leading to the separate wings on your floor. “I’m going this way. What about you?”

“I'm heading that way too.”

"O-Oh, okay!"

He strode to your side and you descended down the long hallway, the silence stiffening your throat. It felt... kinda weird knowing where he lived or vice versa; your eyes flitted to the wall's yellowed moulding, a path your eyes had taken hundreds of times.

You rounded a corner; so did he. You trailed along the gentle bend in the hallway; he did as well. Your heart started to race. A prickle of doubt heated your chest as you approached your door. He wasn't following you... was he?

When's he gonna turn when's he gonna turn when's he gonna turn when's he gonna

"You're my neighbor?!" Heads whipped around to catch the other's surprised gaze. A stiff laugh cracked between the two of you and you creaked your gazes away.

"W-Well." You coughed out. "Um, goodnight..."

"N-Night.."

Your bodies slipped past your respective thresholds and softly clicked the door shut. You sunk your body into the door; the thick metal drew the extra heat from your back, but it did little to remedy the red in your cheeks. Knees wobbling, your frame slid down, down, down onto your doormat as you cradled your face in your hands, heart thundering in your ears.

It was almost loud enough to drown out what was undoubtedly tapping on the wall.

You clambered to your feet, plopped your nearly forgotten dinner on your countertop, and skated to the source of the sound, pressing your ear against the drywall with bated breath.

There it was again!

You returned his taps with the same level of enthusiasm. If you listened past your drumming heart, you could trick yourself into thinking you heard a laugh. You giggled as well, heart fluttering at your newfound, totally-platonic-and-definitely-not-love-laced relationship you managed to foster all in one night. A tight knot ached your sides and your belly protested loudly.

Oh right! Your pilaf!

#link #link x you #link x reader #legend of zelda #loz #link legend of zelda #legend of zelda x reader #legend of zelda fanfiction #legend of zelda fandom #loz link x reader

[kyohaku-kannen]

˗ˏˋ 𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐂𝐀𝐓 'ˎ˗

𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐋𝐘 𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐃 through the city in search for a specific teen. His gold eyes scanned across the area while he jumped from building to building. Faltering he came to a stop on top of a roof and looked down into the alleyway bellow. Leaning on the walls of the alleyway was a woman with h/c hair. Raising an eyebrow he slowly sunk into his shadow.

"Ahah..I should have been paying attention..." The woman muttered out as she held her side before letting out a small laborer breath. Her e/c eyes glanced around and took notice of a black cat sitting not too far from her. Raising an eyebrow she tilted her head before holding out her hand slowly. The cat walked over and brushed itself against her hand. Smiling slightly she winced as she forced herself to stand.

"It's...it's not that bad.." The woman sighed out then struggled to make her way through the alleyway. She was nearly home anyhow and normally at this time at night no one would be wondering the area she lived in.

'And my phone is dead...'

Finally she made it to her home and unlocked her front door. As she stumbled into her home she noticed the same black cat from the alleyway. Smiling softly she let the cat inside and locked her front door.

"Heh..aren't you adorable..." She muttered looked down at the cat. Glancing away from the cat she made her way to her bathroom. Heaving out a small sigh she managed to get her first aid kid and sit herself on the toilet. The cat rested near her legs, gently pawing at her leg.

"Hmm I'll just need a moment.." The woman muttered as she tried to get what she needed to clean her wound. Black spots began to fill her vision and this caused her to frown.

"After a little nap..."

'Hm blood lost...thought the red stuff was suppose to stay inside.'

"What attacked her...?" He muttered out as he finished cleaning and bandaging the h/c haired woman's wounds. Once the woman had passed out he was quick to work on the woman's wounds in order for her not to die. Thankfully the wound wasn't bad enough that he'd need to take her to the hospital.

Meaning she'd live.

'Better question would be why am I helping this random woman.'

He grumbled then picked the woman up from the toilet seat. Walking out of the bathroom he looked around the house. He wasn't sure where the woman's bedroom was but he did need to lie the unconscious woman down.

'If Wukong ever heard of this he probably wouldn't shut up about it.'

Stopping near an opened room door he realized that it was the woman's bedroom. Walking into the room he made his way over to the woman's bed. Gently he lied her onto the bed then pulled the blankets over her.

'Although I'm sure Mk would be happy..too happy.'

Shaking his head, he was quick to leave the room and head back towards the bathroom. Stepping into the bathroom he briefly glanced around the bathroom before he began to put up the first aid kit.

Though he wouldn't mind messing with the woman, it seemed like some good entertainment.

✦

"Hmm.." Y/n hummed as she tilted her head to the side, with her arms crossed. The black cat that sat on her counter simply looked at her before also tilting their head.

"I don't..remember getting you." She stated and watched as the cat simply tried to paw at her arms. Shaking her head she simply decided to keep the cat, she'd been meaning to get one anyhow. Although the issue she had now was not having cat food. That and possibly needing to go the the hospital for her injury. Her gaze shifted from the cat and to her clock that hung above her calendar.

"Oh shit I'm late for work!" With this she quicky -as quick as she could with her injury, got ready for work. Before she could really rush out her front door she felt something land in her shoulder getting a startled yelp from her. Looking over she could see the black cat resting in her shoulder. She wanted to leave the cat but the look the cat gave her.

'Damn you cat and your all might adorableness!'

Giving in she simply made her way out the door with the cat lazily lying on her shoulders. The walk on the way to work was eventful to say the least. The nice old couple she had for neighbors greeted her and happily gave her new cat friend a snack on their way.

"I should name you.." Y/n muttered to herself then she frown in thought.

'I should probably ask someone else for naming this very well distinguished cat..before I name him Sir Butler-'

Slipping her way inside of her work building she quickly went to go clock in for work. Clocking in she flinched having heard someone suddenly say her name.

"Hey Y/n you got a new scar- is that a cat?" Y/n looked over her shoulder to see her close friend. There stood a woman with amber skin and black curly hair that past her shoulders and dark brown eyes. She wore a simple white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up, black dress pants along white socks and black flats.

"Yep I kinda woke up and they were in my house and they wanted to, come with me I guess." Y/n shrugged and this earned a hit to the face with the black cats tail. Y/n gave the cat an offended stare and Y/n's friend spoke up once more.

"Hm well I guess your lucky we're allowed to bring pets in." Her friend shrugged before she then stood next to Y/n patting the black cats head.

"Yes because our boss is awesome." Y/n grinned before making her way to the break room.

She needed some coffee.

"Oh Li weren't you suppose to be leaving today to go visit your parents?" Y/n asked as she began to make some coffee. She was so thankful that everyone at her job was so kind. The break room was often filled with many snacks for everyone to take.

"Yeah but turns out they kinda wanted to surprise me with a visit. I ended up making them stay with me instead of them staying at the hotel they had booked." Li said with a bright grin. Y/n continued to happily chat with her friend as they both made their way to their desks.

'She acts like nothing happened yesterday...or does she not remember much?'

"Gah-" Y/n was wacked in the face with the black cats tail once more.

"Sir Butler!"

"Sir Butler?"

✦

It was surprisingly easy to sneak away from Y/n and go visit Mk and Bai He. Macaque looked around the park that Y/n had decided to wonder off to. He was actually having fun messing with Y/n and being around her, mostly for the free food he'd get. He practically almost always went with Y/n to work and it was very entertaining to also mess with Y/n's co-workers. Mostly bothering Li, it seemed like she could just tell whenever he was going to cause trouble.

"Don't you dare." Li said as she glared at Macaque who happily sat on the counter. Looking down at Li's coffee cup he glanced back at Li. Staring directly at Li he used his tail to swipe the cup off the counter and Li tried her best to catch tbe cup.

The best part is Y/n never believing that 'Sir Butler would do something so terrible'. Or at least that was for the first week before he started lying directly on her keyboard when she was working or massacring her coffee cups.

"Please give that back." Macaque perked up at the familiar voice and hit Y/n's face with his tail to get her attention. Y/n moved her head away from Macaque's tail and was about to protest at the others actions before she heard the sound of someone in distress.

"Please just give it back-" Y/n frowned and quickly turned to follow the voice. As she got closer she could hear the sound of laughter. Finally she made it to the laughter and could see some kids holding up a black plush cat.

"Please give it back-" A little with black hair that reached her shoulder with bangs. She wore a beige jacket over a white shirt and a pink skirt along with white shoes and a pink hairband. The girl looked close to cry at this point and this made Y/n frown further.

'Hell no.'

"What are you going to do cr-" Suddenly one of the three kids bothering the little kid stopped mid sentence. The plush was no longer in his hand making all four of them glanced over to where it could have gone. Y/n now stood behind the three kids with a stern glare and the plush in her hands. Before she could say much the kids were quick to run off.

"Here." Y/n spoke with a soft smile as she handed the girl her black plush cat. The girl wiped away her tears and happily took her plush cat back.

"Thank you." The little girl smiled and Y/n wondered rather or not she should leave now.

'hell no, I'm not leaving this little girl here alone-!'

"Do you want to go get some ice ream?" Y/n asked as she crouched down in front of the girl with a warm smile. The little girl gave a small nod.

✦

"How did you meet Macaque?" The little girl; Bai He asked as she tilted her head lightly. Both Y/n and Bai He sat on a park bench with ice cream in hand. Macaque sat in between the too having Bai He gently pat his head. Macaque perked up at Bai He's question with brief panic, he really should not have been surprised the little girl recognized her.

"Oh well he kinda just popped up one day, although it's nice to know he has a name." Y/n said with a smile as she looked down at Macaque.

"Does he belong to you?" Bai He tilted her head in confusion before it dawned on her.

'She doesn't know he's not actually a cat.'

"No, he just drops by often." Bai He spoke, giving a half lie. Y/n nodded with a small smile and Macaque sat wondering if he should soon actually tell Y/n himself. Even so he silently thanked Bai He, rubbing his head against her hand.

-✧-

Y/n waved off Bai He with a smile as she left the others house. There was no way she was going to let the little girl go home alone. That being said she made sure that Bai He got home safely. Amazingly enough though it seemed like Bai He's mother worked at her job as well. They had conversed for a while after that, before she had actually left.

Looking up at the sky she noted how the sun had practically all but left the sky.

"Macaque.. you have a unique name, I guess Sir Butler is gonna have to be a nickname now." Y/n smiled over to Macaque who lazily laid on her shoulders. As she walked past an alleyway she went to look ahead once more but in front of her was a hand. Her eyes widened and she let out a muffled yelp, as she was pulled into the alleyway the hand over her mouth.

"Fuck!" Y/n grunted as she was thrown against the ground. Macaque had fell off her shoulders at the sudden force and Y/n was quick to take him into her arms. Looking up her eyes widened at who was in front of her. She went to speak but her eyes caught something that shined in her assaulters hand.

"Hold on buddy." Y/n said to Macaque as she quickly got up and began to run down the alleyway in order to get away from the other.

'Why is he attacking me...we were friends right-!'

Her assaulter..was another close co-worker friend of hers. But she couldn't think of any reason as to why the other would suddenly attack her. Turning a corner she halted as she realized it was a dead end.

"Ah-!" She yelped as she was suddenly pushed forward and onto the ground. When she hit the ground she accidentally dropped Macaque. Y/n went to grab him but suddenly shouted in pain as she'd been suddenly stabbed in her side.

"This will be easier if you quiet down whore.." Emerald green eyes looked down at her. Y/n looked up at her 'friend' in fear, the other looked down at her so coldly. Grunting she quickly punched the other in the face. This caused him to stumbled away from her taking his knife with him. Y/n placed her hand over her wound and quickly glanced around the alleyway looking for any sort of weapon.

Perking up she took notice of a thick iron pole on the ground. Rushing over she grabbed the iron pole and could hear the other running behind her. With one swift swing she turned to hit the other only for him to duck then punch her in the stomach.

"Not a good idea bud." Y/n and her co-worker looked over and they barely could see anything before a loud crash could be heard. Sitting up quickly Y/n glanced over and saw her Co-worker unconscious and on the ground.

"Wh-What.." Y/n muttered before her legs suddenly gave out.

'I nearly died-holy crap!'

Macaque looked at Y/n who slowly turned to look at him. This time he was no longer a cat and that seemed to have startled her. Although what surprised him was that she didn't seem to fear him.

"Thank you.." Y/n muttered out and Macaque simply grinned.

"Don't thank me, it would be a real shame if my favorite owner suddenly died." Macaque began as he walked over to Y/n before crouching in front of her.

"I wouldn't get to mess with you any longer~" Macaque hummed out and he watched Y/n stare at him with confusion before her eyes suddenly widened. Moving back she pointed at him and shouted-

"Sir Butler!?" Macaque chuckled at this then picked up Y/n, earning a startled yelp from her.

"The one and only~"

"I cant believe it, you under stood me with entire time! Do you know how many coffee mugs I lost because of you!" Y/n shouted out as she hit at Macaque's chest although not putting much effort into her hits.

"I know, your expression every time was hilarious~"

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Random one-shot idea I had and I might make another part to this. Thought it would be funny if Macaque found Y/n injured instead of Y/n finding him injured. :D

#macaque x reader #lmk #lego monkie kid #lego macaque #x reader #six eared macaque #six eared macaque x reader #lmk six eared macaque

[that-one-pretty-bitch]

(A/N : Reader is an arrogant woman because of her looks and skills, she isn’t little miss perfect, she will seduce and use Dion to her twisted wishes )

A bit Limey so 13+

Her heart pounded against her chest, her breaths were heavy. She was thrown onto her knees by a guard and forced to not look up. She could only see leather shoes, these shoes were different, they were not akin to those of the men that had captured her, they seemed grander. Black leader shoes carved in gold with the Agriche symbol on it, Agriche symbol…

That could only mean that the man that is standing by her is an Agriche resident. She felt sick knowing that she was in the presence of one of these monsters. 

Her head was brought up only for E/c eyes to meet Crimson ones. He was an average looking boy, it was quite unusual considering that all kids of the Agriche Ancestry are bent with bewitching looks. With a face like that, she was sure he was unloved by his mother, all women in this heritage are quite demanding when it comes to looks. He looked like a half-heartedly carved out doll, there was a glimpse of something in his eyes, something that you couldn’t quite wrap your head around, however the rest of his expression was simply bored and unfazed. 

She heard the sound of footsteps, was her luck so awful that she would encounter more of these freaks?

He was seemingly much older than the boy that was standing beside her genuflect figure. Unlike the younger boy she could make out his expression, his eyes held a certain amount of insanity within them. Watching as the man smirked down at her, she knew she was doomed.

“This is the woman you wish to marry, Dion? A wonderful choice, she is heavenly as expected of you son,” That man spoke, Ah so the boy’s name was Dion.

The older man tugged at the ropes that were binding her onto the floor and handed them to Dion, she were being treated like a dog, that was simply no way to treat a woman like herself.

As she were forced up she noticed that Dion wasn’t the only Agriche in the room, as if her life wasn’t already hanging by a silk thread she would now have more of these inhuman creatures to deal with.

How many hell spawns did that old man have anyway?

Noticing special brooches on each of them, it didn’t take long for her to recognize that each of these children present were upper ranked children. The most terrifying of the bunch, she felt her bottom lip quiver at the sight of them but remembered that Agriches feed off fear so she must remain calm at all times. Taking a deep breath in, she observed her surroundings more precisely.

Everyone seemed to have their own contradictory reactions to her unexpected presence. However, they all had one thing in common, Y/n was quick to notice, vague interest. 

It was time she kissed her freedom goodbye, having four Agriches show interest in her wasn’t something that could be simply brushed off.

“You are coming with me,” Dion said, his voice was a deep tone, it felt bone chilling yet so pleasant. 

Y/n couldn’t help but glare, how could that man simply order her around? She was no object!

That was a wrong move, like one were playing a game of chess absentmindedly and realized that they would lose no matter what. She wanted to cry, to scream but her throat refused to heed to her call. She couldn’t voice her thoughts as her mind got louder and louder. Insults were being thrown at her, flashbacks of memories with her family, hurt, pain and guilt. She was caught in a storm of memories, however she needed to avoid crying at all costs. She knew that in this household people that showed any weakness were devoured whole. Taking deep breaths, she calmed her mind down and looked up at Dion who had not started walking. He was staring at her, undressing her with his eyes. 

To think, someone so hideous would fancy her, she deserved much better but perhaps if he liked her she could find a way to escape this hellhole and destroy it once and for all. It's settled then, she would slowly seduce Dion and use him to destroy his family with the payment of her own body.

As Dion was about to walk off, another man with a scarred face started to argue about Dion keeping the ‘beauty’ that she assumed was her for himself. One sharp glare from Dion was enough to shut this man up, was this man truly that terrifying? In those eyes of his she saw vulnerability, she may have been the sheep to a wolf but the roles would reverse themselves soon. She was sure of it.

She realized that her feet were shambled, walking had become difficult, each step she took felt sharp and painful. It seemed that she had sprained her ankle and the metal chains were not going easy on her injury. Each step only strengthened the fury of her pain, Dion took notice of her limping and smirked. For once, he showed some emotion.

Her walking became slow and soon after her feet gave up on her, tumbling towards the floor. Oh, how humiliating this was for her. As she prepared herself for the harsh impact of the floor she felt muscular arms wrapped around her waist. Dion had caught her, her heart sped up as she looked him in his eyes, she had never been this close to him. Everything about him terrified her, his arms could break every single bone in her body one by one. He could destroy her mind and body easily but knowing so simply excited her. For once a man wouldn’t be easy, she would have to work hard to get Dion Agriche on her side and then she would use him. Unlike the others he would not just fall in a trance for her beauty, she would have to take time and seduce him.

She felt excitement gleaming in her eyes, oh this would surely be fun, she was afraid but fear should always be used as fuel for power and Y/n would settle for no less.

Scanning the hallways, Y/n manages to memorize each and every door. The mansion was surely a maze but Y/n wasn’t all beauty. She was an intelligent woman who excelled in her academics. 

The Agriches had quite the taste when it came to the interior of their mansion, Y/n wondered if they made their hallways so perplexed so that prisoners, like her, wouldn’t escape…

Their floor and walls were lavishly decorated with a darker color palette, perhaps this was to hide blood stains, after all blood stains are much easier to clean up on darker surfaces.

Y/n didn’t know if she was overthinking this or the Agriche knew from the very start that they would want to be cold hearted murderers. That's why their interior supports their dirty work.

Her train of thoughts came to an abrupt stop as the man carrying her stopped at a door, despite the fact that the Agriche estate was dark, this room door was even darker, it was a pitch black decorated in mesmerizing gold. 

As he took her inside and placed her on a couch, removing the shackles she noticed that this room was quite plain. Much to her distaste, it was a well maintained room but it lacked the feeling of a room, it seemed more like a lavish prison than a room. There were knives displayed on the wall, and simple furniture in its righteous place.

Y/n tenses up as the lock of the door clicks behind her and Dion comes closer, part of her wished she could run, which would have been futile and another part thought that she should use this situation to her advantage.

His blood eyes landed on her face, such a delicate face, dazzling features, he rubbed his thumb against her lips. His intentions were clear, he seemed to have taken an interest in Y/n and wanted to make her his wife. Her breath hitches as his hand is brought to her jawline, he carcasses her face but to Y/n it seemed that he could snap her skull anytime he pleased. It was like her life was in his hands and this displeased her greatly.

She attempted to control her breathing as she remembered that she was in the hands of a monster who fed off her pain only for her unfaithful body to give in and shiver at his cold touch. His touch is gentle, far too human to come from the likes of him.

Y/n may not have known Dion Agriche too well but she knew he was not one to talk. It seemed as if she would have to start the conversation, this man couldn’t even bother to offer her a drink! Her throat was incredibly dry and scorching she needed water right away

“May I have drinking water?” Y/n asks, her voice seductive, oh how she hoped he would just fall for it and give her a glass.

Dion seemingly ignored her and moved his hands to her hair, twirling it in his fingers.

It was quite frustrating that Dion’s persona didn’t falter in the least, she couldn’t tell what he was thinking at all.

“Why?” He asked, like a woman couldn’t simply feel dehydrated.

Plastering the fakest smile she could manage and speaking through gritted teeth she finally managed to utter

“Because my throat is dry and I would like some water”

She was pinned down to the sofa, crimson eyes gazing into hers, he gripped her bruised arm only to earn a pained hiss and sharp glare.

He rather liked seeing her so vulnerable, he pushed onto her bruised arm once again only to see a pain filled expression. That's when she noticed Dion seemed interested, perhaps this is her chance.

“Is that any way to treat a woman?” Y/n asked doe eyes filled with hatred

Dion seems to take notice in the sudden change of expressions and grips onto her waist examining her clothed body closely. Before his eyes she felt naked. Her body felt hotter by the minute, her breath was slow and both of them felt aroused. He leaned down for a kiss, sucking on her tongue while twirling a strand of hair within his fingers.

As he brought his body closer to her Y/n felt a sharp pain on her right thigh, the blade in Dion’s pocket slipped out and cut her thigh slightly. Dion watched as Y/n winced in pain, her expressions were so breathtaking, he had never seen such anger before. He broke from the kiss and licked the blood off Y/n’s thigh. He picked up the dagger and deepened the bruise, cutting deeper this time. 

Y/n had enough, this man was far too much trouble, of course she would need him to simply use as a toy but he was going too far. She pulled on his hair tightly, only to be met with no response.

Did he really feel no pain?

This action of hers amused Dion, she attempted to hurt an Agriche what a bold woman she truly was.

He switched places with Y/n, pulling the woman from underneath him and placing her in a w-sitting position on top of his as he lay down. He pulled the woman that was now on top of him to kiss him once more, smashing plump lips on thin chapped ones, leaning down Y/n lost her balance and slipped a knee between Dion’s legs only for his body to heat up. His pants felt tighter by the second…

Tonight, she would seduce him

She would use him to her pleasure

She would make him destroy himself and his family

Breaking his mind and then his body, she may be weaker physically but she was no saint

#agriche #twtptflob #dion agriche #dion agrece #dion agriche x reader #yandere dion agriche x reader #manwaha x reader #idk #lant agriche #agriche family

[potofstewie]

Der Engel miener Träume

Title Translation: The Angel of my dreams.

The lowdown: A frequent dream that Eren Jeager cannot get enough of.

The things to know: Reader is EXPLICITLY black, uses she/her pronouns, Fluff, Yearning, middle of the timeskip Eren (idk how else to describe him but like- a few months after he kissed Historia's hand)

W/C: 1.4k

A/N: Hey hey, this one is one of those spur of the moment ideas that I decided to expand upon GREATLY. One thing that helped inspire this fic was my fellow black fanfic readers and writers. I wanted this to basically be an ode to my black (aot) fandom members. I should probably start posing these to my AO3 but idkk yet. ANYWAY ENJOY MWUAH

It’s that dream again. 

Moonlight washed over the soldier’s bed, a thin line of light resting on his eyes. Sweat coated his face, chocolate brown strands sticking to his forehead. Wide, emerald eyes adorned his face, an agape mouth present. A hand clutching his muscular chest that heaved as he laid there in a whirlwind of emotions. It was a routine at this point. 

Ever since the day he kissed the hand of his dear friend, the dream has been visiting him. It started off with once or twice a month, to a couple of times a week, to nearly every night. That damned dream. That dream that, no matter how confusing it was, he’d yearn for it once he awoke. 

It would always start with him waking up in a dense forest, morning dew kissing the green blades of grass. Dandelions speckled the forest ground, still holding onto their white fluff seeds. He’d sit up carefully, eyeing his surroundings as if it was a new place for him. The trees, despite bearing crisp fruit and lush leaves, contained no life. No sound was created in that mysterious forest but the sound of Eren’s steady heartbeat. As usual, Eren would quietly walk throughout the forest. To anyone else, it would be an aimless walk with no destination in mind, but for Eren, he already knew which turns to take, which exposed roots to walk over and which tree to run his hand against. 

He would “wander” upon a clearing that held a shallow pond, the water clear enough to see all the smooth rocks that formed the bottom. The serene pond held no wildlife in it, mirroring the forest it inhabited. Moss covered rocks decorated parts of the pond rim, few reeds sprouting in between them. Vibrate green lily pads sprinkled the surface of the water. In all of the dreams it would always contain the same amount of lily pads and reeds. 

One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven.

 Eren would always sit by the bank of the pond, taking off his boots and rolling up his pants and watch the small ripples in the water be created by the gentle breeze that would always appear as soon as he sat down. Right after the breeze, right on time as per every dream, he’d turn his head and gaze upon what he firmly believes to be an angel sitting next to him. 

Although he could never hear her arrive at the pond, he always found it comforting when she appeared. A loose off shoulder white dress would be adorned on her body, a gold chain hugging her waist. A silk white sash was loosely wrapped on her arms, the long fabric haphazardly covering the clearing around the two bodies. Tight, dark brown curls that reached to the heavens would always framed her face, the hair reminding him of the clouds that he would watch. White flowers poked out of her celestial hair and if he focused hard enough on them, they would appear to breathe. 

Inhale. 

A small smile sat upon the woman’s plush lips, the body part carrying two colors that made Eren melt inside. She looked at him with all-knowing eyes in both wonder and love. Eren always had the urge to reach out and caress her cheek, to gently touch her mouth with his own and simply explode at her warm touch. But the dream wouldn’t allow him. Instead, all he could do was sit and silently observe how her skin seemed to drink in the bright sunlight that seeped through the canopy. 

Exhale. 

She would always bat her dark eyelashes at him. Once. Twice. On the third blink, Eren could feel his body lower itself to the ground, his head finding refuge on her soft and plump thighs. A delicate finger would graze his forehead, moving strands of hair from his face as he looked up at the heavenly creature. A giggle would always escape her delectable lips although no joke was uttered. As if on cue, the cheerful noise would cause his heartbeat to skip and drum ten times faster. 

Eren’s eyes would blink slowly as she plucked one of the living flowers from her hair, tickling his nose gently before placing it in his hand, the sweet scent of it filling the air around them. She’d gently glide her hand on his collarbone to the base of his neck, brown fingers tickling him. They’d travel up his neck to his jawline before stopping at his cheek, a thumb gently caressing it. Once her delicate hand found refuge on his face, her mouth would open ever so slightly. Eren’s breath would always hitch in his throat at this part. 

“Hello, you.” 

Oh, her voice.

Her voice rivaled the calmness that soft spring rain would contain. Her voice that the cool summer breeze would proudly carry throughout the land. A voice that could garner the attention of even the busiest bees. A voice that could quell the cries of newborns and the bloodthirsty chants of war. The melodious voice that would be the inspiration for the symphonies conductors would create in the middle of the night. Even though just two small words fell from her tantalizing lips, her voice made Eren feel so lucky that it was calling out to him, and only him. 

He could never respond to her, no matter how hard he tried his mouth was fixed in a permanent soft smile. But she never minded his silence though, his forced body language spoke for him. They’d sit in silence, staring at each other for what felt like eons to the young man. 

As another gentle breeze traveled through the area causing the stilled pond to stir once more, her other hand would cup his lonely and cold cheek. She’d bend down over his head, her hair encircling both of their faces, providing privacy within the empty forest. She’d bring her lips mere centimeters from his, her scent filling Eren with both drowsiness and dopamine. Eren absolutely hated this moment the most. 

He hated it because he knew that he’d never get rewarded with her affection. Every time, he’d try to will his body to move. To gently reach up and grab the back of her head, to push her down so he could finally taste her lips. To feel his rough fingers get entangled and sink into the endless abyss of soft curls. To move his lips to deepen the intimate act, to explore her mouth and clash with her tongue. But that never happened. That would never happen.

Instead, she’d close her eyes, preparing to grace him with a token of her love and before he could savor her taste, he’d feel himself doze off; the touch of the Angel’s lips not meeting his with the warmth and bliss he had craved. And just like that, he’d wake up to his cold room, the soft snores of his friend filling the deafening silence. 

Every time, it would end like that. And although he knew what would happen, Eren could never get used to the abrupt and depressive ending of his dream. He’d always stay up for a while after waking up, trying his damnedest to piece together the meaning behind the one thing that gave him bliss and peace of mind in the unforgiving world he occupied. A part of him wanted to figure out if it was just another memory or something else from paths, but another part of him was wholly content in remaining in the dark about his little angel. As long as he got to see her, he didn’t care about the hows or whys. 

His little angel.

A small smile formed on Eren’s face as he turned to his side, emerald eyes resting on the cold wall. She was his little angel, his secret. He daren’t tell any of his friends about it, the fear of sharing his angel consuming his mind. No, this would be his personal shard of happiness. Of love. Of peace. Heavy eyelids started to cover the burning irises of the young man, dust particles dancing in the still air of the room. As the moon continued to coat the soldier in its divine light, he wished with all his might that even though change was rapidly happening around him, his little dream would never leave him. He wished that the angel would greet him once it was his turn to traverse into the land of the dead, regardless of where his spirit would end up. 

As long as she would be there to greet him, to hold his hand, to kiss him just once, he’d be fine. 

He would be 

Okay.

ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴛʀᴀɴꜱʟᴀᴛᴇ, ꜱᴛᴇᴀʟ, ʙɪɴᴅ ᴏʀ ʀᴇᴘᴏꜱᴛ ᴀꜱ ʏᴏᴜʀꜱ. ᴀʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛꜱ ɢᴏ ᴛᴏ ᴘᴏᴛᴏꜰꜱᴛᴇᴡɪᴇ™ 2022

#eren x black reader #eren x black fem!reader #eren x black y/n #eren x black reader fluff #eren x black yn fluff #ethereal black reader #lowkey a love letter to my fellow black fandom folks #eren x reader #original stew

[lily-drake]

[Bio!dad Dick] when Dick had amnesia and became 'Ric Grayson' He hooked up with a traveling Sabine. He later discovers when looking into his old things when he was Ric he had been contacted by Sabine who told him he has a daughter named Marinette (maybe 5 years old now?idk), during his time as Batman (with Bruce 'dead', Tim missing, and Damian being well Damian) Dick makes the hard choice to stay out of his daughter's life to keep her safe from the world he lives in, but watches from a distance when he can. Before he knows it more years pass and he wants nothing more than to meet her but feels like it's to late. However everything changes when he goes down for patrol and finds one of his brothers at the batcom with a file of Marinette open, and the words 'Master Fu, ex-guardian' 'Mutlimouse, Known' 'New Guardian?'. And files on a Ladybug hero who bares a striking resemblance of his daughter.

Ric Rolled

Note, Ric/Dick is 21 at the beginning of the story while Sabine is 23.

Ric Grayson liked his job as a taxi driver.  He learned a lot about the people in his city and even people from outside of it.  But he always felt like he could be doing, or rather was meant for something more.  Ever since he had left the hospital once the bullet wound was healed, he felt like he was missing something important from his life.  It was his 21st birthday, and he decided to celebrate it at one of the nicer bars in his city.  

“Hello, is this seat taken?”

A gentle voice spoke from beside him.  Ric slowly turned his head and saw a beautiful woman with charcoal black hair, silver eyes, her makeup was done naturally, and her dress was a beautiful red and gold knee length qipao.  

“No, you can sit here.”

He replied, gesturing toward the seat on his right side.  

“My name is Sabine.”

She spoke as she gestured for the bartender.  He didn’t respond, just took a sip from his glass.

“So what’s brought you here tonight?”

Sabine asked in a honeyed voice.  Ric thought about whether or not he should answer that question, his already addled brain found nothing wrong with it though.

“It’s my birthday.”

“I see.  You celebrating with anyone else?”

“Afraid not ma’am.”

“I see.”

Her voice was like that of a siren.  Enchanting and full of life.

“Let me buy you a drink, whatever you want.”

Ric smiled at the lady and nodded.

“Thanks.”

“Of course.  No one should spend their birthday by themselves.”

One drink led to another, which led to another, which led to a night that Ric hadn’t imagined he would have.  When he awoke, he was alone, only a note.

Thanks for last night.  Hope we can meet again one day, Ric.

~Sabine

Ric let out a groan, his head pounding up a storm.  He wasn’t going to be able to work today.

_________

3 years later

Dick Grayson stared at the screen in front of him in shock.  He remembered bits and pieces of his time as Ric Grayson, but he liked to pretend that those three years of his life never existed.  But as he stared at the information in front of him, he wasn’t so sure he could ignore it for much longer.  Turns out he had a daughter, and it had to be his because “Ric Grayson” was listed as the father on the copy of the birth certificate that he had been sent and the girl–his daughter– was just barely 2 years old.  

Sabine had sent him a letter, but he had never seen it before as he had moved on from being Ric by that time.  It was pure luck he even stumbled upon the letter in the first place when he was cleaning up the rundown apartment that he had stayed in.  The overwhelming feeling of need that he felt at the thought of meeting the little girl, Marinette, was so overwhelming he couldn't think of anything else.  Even breathing felt like a chore.  He imagined being a real father, teaching her to read, watching her color, listening to her stories, he could even teach her gymnastics.  It was a wonderful fantasy.  But that was it, a fantasy.  One that came crashing down with the sound of a katana slicing through a training dummy.  

He shook his head as reality came crashing in around him.  Bruce was dead, Tim was missing and probably hated him, Jason left the city, and he needed to make sure that Damian was being taken care of, he needed to be Batman and protect Gotham.  He took a single minute to mourn what could have been before he stole himself and closed the files.  She would be safer and happier without him.  From what he saw Sabine was in a relationship with another man in Paris.  He could watch after her from a distance, but it would be better if he was as far away from her as possible.  It seemed everyone he loved got hurt in some way, and he would make sure that nothing would happen to her by keeping his distance.

_________

8 years later

Dick stared at his phone.  There was a picture of a young girl at a sewing machine with the brightest smile.  She had hair as black as Sabine’s and his eyes.  She was growing up so fast and now that everything was working out he desperately wanted to meet her.  But it has already been so long, it was probably too late now.  She had Tom as her dad now.  He had another daughter now, he and Kori had finally tied the knot, and now they had little Mari’.  It wasn’t intentional, in fact it was Starfire that had named her that.  It made his heart hurt when he thought of his other daughter.  He often wondered if his girls would get along with each other if they ever met.  

He sighed as he set down his phone and looked around the cave.  He was in Gotham for the weekend just visiting his family—which was finally happy (well, as happy as they could be) together— with his wife and daughter.  Star would be down soon, she was just putting Mari’ to bed.  Star knew about Marinette and often encouraged him to reach out, and though he was thankful for her support, he was still too scared to approach her.  

He could hear the fast click clacking of the Batcomputer’s keyboard, and as Bruce was upstairs he knew that it had to be Tim.  Slowly he walked down the stairs to make sure that his brother hadn’t been down here for a consecutive 56 hours again.  He had been getting a bit better at taking care of himself, but he knew Tim and which meant that if Tim found something overly important all of Tim’s own needs would be put aside until he was sure that he had finished everything.  

“Tim, how long have you been down here?”

He asked as he carefully approached his baby brother from behind.  Tim didn’t answer, he just kept clicking and moving things around on the screen.  There was strike one, Tim may not always answer, but his shoulders would often either scrunch up or relax.  And as neither of those reactions happened he may not have heard him showing how tired he was as Tim was one of the most aware and attentive one out of all of them.

Dick got closer to the screen and looked up to see what was so important to Tim.  There files upon files of absolute chaos and destruction filling the screen.  It looked horrifying and Dick couldn’t believe that it was real as if this was anywhere on Earth or even in space they would have heard about it by now.  On the top and bottom right monitors there were files of three different people open at the moment.  On the top there was an image of a girl with strikingly familiar blue eyes, dark raven hair, and a face he was staring at only a few minutes before.

Marinette Lenoire Dupain-Cheng

Identity (Known): Multi-Mouse (First)

New Guardian?

Pupil of ex-Grand Guardian: Wang Fu

Age: 11

Ethnicity: Asian-American

Location: Paris, France

Mother: Sabine Cheng

Birth Father: Ric Grayson

Step-father: Tom Dupain

Dick gulped as he read through the data.  He hadn’t told his family about Marinette, but now they would know.  He had told Starfire before they had gotten Married, and he was so relieved when she still accepted him, still loved him despite his mistake and cowardness.  But he kept reading.  He would have to process that his daughter was a hero, a hero at the same age he was.  That his efforts to keep her out of this type of life were all in vain and that it didn’t matter now.  That he was a failure.  He started reading again.  

Wang Fu

Identity (Known): Ex-Grand Guardian

Belonged to “The Order of the Guardians”1

Age: Unknown

Ethnicity: Unknown

Mother: Unknown

Father: Unknown

Needs to be further investigated

Then there was the final one.

Ladybug

Identity: Unknown

Age: Unknown

Origin: Unknown

Father: Unknown

Mother: Unknown

Relatives: Unknown

Source of power: Earrings

Power: Creation and restoration

Danger level, high.  Need more data.

Tim studied the girl before him.  He didn’t like what he saw.  He looked at the picture of Ladybug, then the picture of his daughter, then the picture of his daughter in a mouse themed suit, then back to Ladybug.  Dick was going to be sick, he was going to pass out, he was going to have a panic attack.  He should have just been part of her life.  Maybe if he had been in it she wouldn’t have had to become a hero.  Maybe it was because he stayed out of her life that she unintentionally followed in his footsteps.  He was a terrible father, how would he tell them, how would he tell her?  What was he going to do now?  

“Dick!  Dick, you need to breathe!  Come on Dick, please breathe with me.”

There was a distant voice talking to him, but it was so hard to hear over the raging voices in his head.  What was he supposed to do now?  It was too late for him to just insert himself in her life.

“No it’s not Dick.  It’ll be okay.  I won’t tell anyone, it’s your news to share.”

That was a nice thought, but there was no way that the others wouldn’t figure it out now.

“That may be true, but they’ll respect your boundaries and wait until you feel comfortable enough to talk about it.”

The voice said.  Dick tried to breathe, he could feel his hand against something hard yet soft, and he clutched onto it.  He could feel a gentle beating against his hand and slowly he began to even out his breathing all while the voice seemed to rattle on, saying things that he couldn’t seem to process as he focussed all of his efforts into simply breathing.  How pathetic, he couldn’t even breathe right.

“You’re doing so go.  That’s right, deep breath in, then a slow long breath out.”

Dick leaned forward until his forehead was resting against Tim’s shoulder, silent tears that he hadn’t even realized were falling leaking onto the boy's shirt.  He could feel Tim’s arms slowly wrap around him as they both sat on the floor, silent except for the chittering of the bats and the light drip of water from the ceiling.  

“What am I supposed to do?  It’s too late to meet her, and now she’s in danger, she’s like us.  I stayed away to keep her away from this life and it was all useless.  It didn’t matter, I could have been in her life all this time but I didn’t and now-”

Dick let out a shuddering sob, unable to finish the sentence.  Tim was frozen; he didn't know what to do.  He could count on one hand how many times he had actually seen Dick cry.  It was always so strange and foreign and he never really knew what to do.  So he held Dick even tighter, rubbing his older brother’s back as he cried.  He could feel someone’s gaze on them from above and slowly looked up to see Jason and Bruce, eyes wide in shock at the scene.  Bruce snapped out of it first, racing down the stairs until he was at Dick’s side only a few moments later.

“Report.”

He barked panickedly, unsure of exactly what to do to help his oldest son.

“Dick found something out and he’s in distress.  I’m not allowed to say what about as it’s his business to tell.”

Tim replied automatically, but he never let go of his brother though he glanced over to the Batcomputer.

Bruce looked over the data on the screen and nearly short circuited when he stumbled across the name of the father for Marinette/Multi-Mouse before he glanced down at his son.  He understood the distress of his son when he had just discovered that he in fact had a child.  Not knowing about Damian until he was ten because Talia had hidden his existence from him had been heartbreaking.  He could only imagine what it felt like for Dick who loved those he was close with and trusted with all of his being.

Slowly Bruce bent down glancing at Tim who slowly nodded and backed away a little, but Dick only held on tighter with a slight whimper.  Tim looked like he was in pain himself.

“It’s okay Dick, Bruce wants to give you a hug too.”

But Dick didn’t let go of his little brother.  The little brother he nearly lost to Ra’s, to The Widower, to Lady Shiva, to the Joker, to so many people.  He clung onto the boy even tighter, he didn’t want to lose anyone else.

“Okay, okay, I’ll stay here with you.”

Tim whispered softly, pulling Dick closer.

“You’re going to have to pick both of us up B, he’s not letting go, and I think bad things will happen if I try to move away again.”

Bruce grunted in his ‘I understand and I’m really worried’ way and carefully picked up both of his sons, moving them towards the upstairs family den.  Jason had already left to get Alfred, worried about his big brother, but unwilling to admit it.

“We’ll figure everything out, you’ll get to meet her.  I think that she’d love to meet you.  You could just take Star with you, we could watch Mari’ for you.  I’m sure everything will work out, don’t give up.  It’s never too late Dick.”

Dick didn’t know how much he believed those words, but Tim was right.  He needed to go visit her, he needed to make things right.  But until then, he would hold onto the family he had now, because they loved him and he loved them.  He loved the daughter that probably didn’t even know existed, and he protected the people he loved.  So he would need to protect her, and in order to do that, he would need to finally meet her.  He would never give her up, he would never let her down, and never again would he desert her.

Taglist:

@aespades @adrestar @astrynyx @doll246 @queenz-z @toodaloo-kangaroo @crazylittlemunchkin @seraphichana @miraculous-ninja @dorkus-minimus @mysticsoulgirl @ritacrow-blog @snow-leopard-777 @fidget-eep @sometandomstuff333 @lady-phoenix-of-tardis @shreeing @achaoticmess1 @miraculous-ninjabird @liquid-luck-00 @buginetye @stainedglassm @prettylittlebutterflie @laurcad123 @iloontjeboontje @heartsong18 @raeuberprinzessin @when-no-wings-do-broomsticks @jennifer-rose123 @moon5608 @corporeal-terrestrial @skitarii-alpha-c6-555 @saltysugarysembei @phantom120 @kking13 @depressed-bitchy-demon @a-slytherinish-gryffindor

#You #just #got #Ric Rolled #maribat #mlb x batman #marinette dupain cheng #dick grayson #sabine cheng #tim drake #bruce wayne #ric grayson #amnesia #sabine c dick grayson #starfire x nightwing #bio!daddickgrayson #marinette grayson #hurt/comfort #angst #dick grayson needs a hug #dick grayson gets a hug

[sakuraaachan]

Just Gold - Izuku M - Part 1

☆.｡.:*"𝓐𝓷𝓭 𝔀𝓱𝓮𝓷 𝓼𝓱𝓮 𝓬𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓭, 𝓱𝓮𝓻 𝓽𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓼 𝔀𝓮𝓻𝓮 𝓹𝓾𝓻𝓮 𝓰𝓸𝓵𝓭." ･ﾟﾟ･｡ Y/n L/n loved the sparkle of a jewel, the reflection of gold, and the icy feeling of heavy diamonds on her neck. She always wore gloves, black silky gloves that comforted her hands perfectly. With her sexy body and ruby red lips, she could have any man she wants. With just a few flirty looks, and a couple of sly words, the gloves slide off easily once they make it to the hotel room, and once her bare hand touches the man's chest…he'll freeze and become gold. 𝓙𝓾𝓼𝓽 𝓰𝓸𝓵𝓭. ｡･ﾟﾟ･

Izuku Midoriya x Reader

Rating: mature, abuse, criminal activities, some sexual mentions

Wanna submit a request? Click here

This is part one!

Chapter One

The L/n Family

One thing about the (L/n) family is that they were greedy. Sada L/n was a man greedy for power, he would do anything to feel above. Isa Misaki was a woman who was greedy for a family, she longed to have a child of her own. But you can only greed so much in life before nothing will satisfy you, and when Sada (L/n) reached that point, he took it out on the people around him. His family. Isa Misaki would never get what she longed for, and she was extremely desperate to get it too.

It was pathetic. She was pathetic.

“Please..don’t hurt me!” Isa wailed. Her husband stood above her, smacking her into absolute submission. These days the abuse never stopped, it would only get worse. Y/n could hear it from the living room, Isa’s agonizing cries were louder than her cartoon. Screams turned into spaced out whimpers and the beating finally stops, but only for a brief second as Sada finishes his beer.

Y/n would always watch, though she wasn’t supposed to. Sada had no mercy towards his wife or his kid, Y/n would be next if she made her presence known. But despite her best to stay invisible, Sada notices Y/n stare and he walks over to the living room.

“No!” Isa screams, “No not my baby! Anything but that.” Foolishly, she grabs onto his boot. Her begs would do nothing but cause more trouble. Sada throws the beer bottle on the floor, and it shatters upon impact with the rickety wooden floor.

“Shut the fuck up!” He shouts, kicking off Isa weak hold on his shoe. Y/n cowards on the couch, bringing her body as close to itself as she could, each of her father’s heavy footsteps sinking her heart into her chest further and further. Y/n was afraid.

Sada stands in front of his child, rolling his neck before he crouches down to Y/n’s level. She was struck with an uneasy feeling, the pressure from his gaze enough to make her want to melt. 

“Daddy?” Y/n says. Sada’s hands grab her head and force her to look at Isa, she was injured from the glass, her blood flowing out her hand and onto the floor. Y/n would probably end up having to clean that later.

“Look at that,” Sada says, “look at your pathetic excuse of a mother.” Y/n knew better than to cry, so she clenched her jaw. “That is exactly what happens when you fail to satisfy a man,” Sada turns Y/n’s head back to him. “You know I love you right?”

Y/n doesn’t move, and Sada presses his hands into her head harder. “You know I love you right?” He repeats with more pressure, “I love you and your mother, Daddy’s just teaching you both a lesson.”

He’d always say that. The words became all too familiar to Y/n, she thinks to herself. If this is love, then I don’t ever wanna be loved. But responds to her father, “yes Daddy, I love you too.”

Sada lets go of her head, and walks to his bedroom down the hallway. The slam of the door shakes the house. Y/n walks over to her Isa, she’s on the ground whimpering pathetically.

As much as Y/n hated her father, she hated her mother just as much. Isa looks up at Y/n, a tear rolling down her bruised cheek. “Be careful darling, there’s glass, I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

She scoots closer and pets Y/n hair, smoothing over her (H/c) locks and smiling. “My beautiful baby girl, you are so wonderful.”

Y/n stared at her mother with a blank face. The pity had worn off years ago. Y/n could only look at her mother and feel nothing. “All I’ve ever wanted was a child of my own to love,”  a couple tears fall from Isa's eyes, she laughs pitifully. “And you look at me with such hatred.”

The bedroom door down the hallway slams open, and Sada enters the kitchen with a cigarette in his mouth. He looks down at Isa and grins, and the woman’s expression drops.

She shouted, “No, no, no.” But Sada never listened, he just grabbed her foot and dragged her down the hallway to the bedroom. Isa screams are louder than they were before, but the agony is muffled when Sada slams the bedroom door shut.

The sound of their metal bed squeaking was nothing new to Y/n. Sometimes the girl would wish a hero would come and take her father away. She’d only heard about heroes from the news channel Sada would watch every Sunday morning. They were supposed to keep people safe, and save them from evil people.

Y/n walked back into the living room and grabbed her toy, one of the only gifts she had managed to keep out of sight from her father. Sada had the habit of throwing away her toys.

“Here I am!” Y/n whispers, mimicking what she imagined a hero’s voice would sound like. “Sorry I took so long, but everything is going to be okay!”

She imagined the hero flying over houses and landing right at their front door. They’d kick the door down and take you and your mother away to a better life. Something lavish with rubies and gold. It was a foolish fantasy, that would never happen.

Y/n jumps when the bedroom door opens, and her father enters the kitchen again. He’s shirtless, giving sight to the bruises and scratches on his body. He opens the fridge and grabs a beer, and before Y/n could sneak away, he catches her.

“What did I tell you about playing in the kitchen?” His loud booms throughout Y/n entire body, she hated when he focused on her. His attention was the most unsettling.

Y/n turns to him and lowers her head. “I’m sorry Daddy,” she said.

Sada pops open his beer, taking a swig before he speaks. “No respect. I need to teach you some respect.” He always had the ability to make others feel small, and just staring at his timid scared daughter fed Sada’s ego. “When Daddy sets a rule down, you follow it or there will be consequences.”

He puts the beer down on the counter and rubs his mustache. He’s thinking, a sign that Y/n’s punishment would be worse than usual. She tightens her hold on her bear, and Kada notices it.

“Give me the bear,” he demands, his hand stretched out.

Y/n shook her head, her knees almost giving in from the fear inside her gut. Kada clicks his tongue, he didn’t appreciate a disobedient girl. “Give me the fucking bear!” He shouts again, “when a man tells you to do something, you do it!”

He didn’t like having to ask three times and grabs the belt he had beaten Isa with earlier. Y/n stared at the ground as Kaba folded the belt in preparation to hit his daughter. He mutters, “you’re just like your fucking mother.”

It was common for Y/n to space out during beatings, she’d imagine what her life would be like if she had been born in a different family, or maybe if she hadn’t been born at all. Y/n awaited the first strike, but instead her ear rings from the loud sound of a gun fire.

When Y/n opened her eyes, it was like everything was in slow motion. The way her father’s expression changes, the belt dropping to the floor as well as Kaba’s body. It makes a loud thump that echoes under the floorboards.

Y/n looked down the hallway, her mother stood there with a pistol. It was the only time Y/n had seen her mother look so determined and confident. “Mommy?” Y/n whispers. She could hear her mothers heavy breaths over the cartoons still playing in the living room.

Isa doesn’t speak a word, turning the gun around to her chin. A second fire is heard and another thump echoes in the floorboard. Y/n walks over to her mother’s fallen body, her steps imprinted on the floor by her father’s blood.

“Mommy?” Y/n repeats. Her teddy bear falling into the pool of blood around her mom, the cotton soaking the liquid up. The girl falls to her knees, and she calls for her mother again as she shakes her. “Wake up.” She knew her pleads would go unanswered, and that her mother would not be waking up anytime soon. Probably for the best that she didn’t. Yet the little girl still calls out for her mother, “please wake up.”

Though the windows were covered by curtains the vibrant blue and red lights of a police car flashed over the two bodies. There were some footsteps before the busted doorbell rang through the house.

“Mufasa Police Station, open up!”

©LuvloveUni

#izuku mydoria #izuku x reader #izuku x you #midoriya izuku #anime #izuku x y/n #izuku midoria x reader #mha #villian #villian izuku #vigilante izuku #mha izuku #izuku midoriya x reader

[the-sweet-madame]

ꜰʀɪᴠᴏʟᴏᴜꜱ ʙᴀɴᴛᴇʀ (𝘚𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘮𝘰𝘶𝘤𝘩𝘦 𝘹 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳)

So, this has been in my drafts for like a year. It's kind of a mix of my old-ish writing and my new writing so it's not very good but my friend said to post it so here I am. Please go easy on this one, I'm aware that it's not very well written.

Female reader! Happy reading :)

Warning: Murder, swearing and a very OOC Scaramouche ahahaha kill me.

Summary: The Balladeer is assigned another mission to retrieve information. Although, he is partnered with a very flirtatious woman.. :).

"You requested of my presence, your majesty?" Footsteps with occasional jingling entered the room, a male with purple hair and matching violet eyes came into sight before the throne.

His orbs were like violet grass, its colour gentle like a breeze on a dandelion. How could a person with such calming eyes have such ruthless hidden rage within them? Brutality only reflected off them, his strides until he reached the throne were with confidence. The golden patterns of his attire shined as if it had taken some of his confidence.

The Tsaritsa sat on the throne, her eyes were cold and sharpened like the tip of an iceberg. It was hard to believe such a cruel soul like hers was the archon of love as her heart was empty.

"Yes, you have a new mission to acquire information that is vital for future plans." She made a hand motion for someone to come forward, "Though, for this mission, you must go with one of my trusted allies. She has created fake identities for the both of you to get into the ball. Her name is [Y/N]."

A [H/C] haired female walked in the room, wearing a foreign type of attire, but she seemed laidback. She wore a black crop top, lace adorning the collar and the veil that fell down her shoulder, the lines of gold stitched multiple unique patterns that matched with her skirt. Her skirt having the same golden designs as her crop top, a slit on the side of her skirt showed off her lace-on boots as it just barely brushed against the cold floor.

Her lips tugged upwards into a smirk when she made eye-contact with him, giving him a small wave. Her [E/C] eyes flickered with amusement when she saw him narrow his eyes.

"So, I have to be working with this pretty boy?" She laughed, placing one hand on her hip, "Consider this mission done, Your Majesty or whatever they call you."

Her [E/c] seemed to have represent the definition of chaos, her tinkling laughter filled with what the normal person would identify as insanity. An inaudible sigh left the Cryo Archon, wondering if she did the right thing by letting [Y/N] accompany the easily angered Fatui Harbinger.

"You two may be dismissed." The Tsaritsa flicked her wrist, a gesture for them to leave immediately. Her eyes were trained on them, her voice monotonous and heartless. "Do not fail me."

"Ah, but of course." [Y/N] smiled at the Tsaritsa but something about it was off, a certain glint in her eyes made the Fatui Harbinger go dead silent. "You know I cannot afford to fail."

"Anyways, Balladeer, run along. We cannot let this mission wait." She began to walk back out the door, lifting her hand to crook two fingers at him to follow her without looking back. The heels of her boots clicked with each step, her veil by her shoulder fluttered with each movement.

"The fuck? Does she think I'm some sort of low life?" He grumbled under his breath, quickly walking beside her. Well, she seems close to the Tsaritsa, especially if she could talk to Her Highness in a casual manner. Obviously, she must exile in these fields. Though, is she an intellectual or fighter with exceptional skills? Or perhaps both?

"No, you're just overthinking too much." His breathing hitched when she heard him, not expecting a reply, "Don't hurt your pretty little head by worrying about nonsense when you've barely gotten any room to fit in anything in there."

"Are you assuming I lack intelligence? Because I can assure you that you're misplacing yourself with me," He smirked when he saw her face flinch in surprise for a split second before she quickly hid it away with rolling her eyes.

"Ha? Replace a pretty face like yours? Impossible." Her laughter echoed through the halls, her [E/C] orbs glimmering with mirth as she spoke.

"Taking part in your frivolous chats is bothersome. Do you ever shut up?" Scaramouche pressed two fingers to his temple, contemplating on whether he should choke himself or the female beside him.

"Why would I miss an opportunity to talk to a pretty boy like you?" She hummed, taking joy in how red the male's cheeks were.

"Don't call me pretty," He hissed, fixating a glare at her before his facial features shifted into a smirk. "The role suits you better."

"Ah, well. We're here now." She gestured towards the door, "I kept all the stuff we need for the mission here. Including the outfits, I've gotten for the fancy ball thing or whatever they call it." She twisted the doorknob open.

The room had white paint adorning the walls, gold patterning scattered across it. A circular rich brown rug in the centre of the room with a matching-coloured coffee table on top of it, both having the same gold patterning as the walls. Two smaller rooms on the left, with golden doorknobs.

It wasn't a room to awe over but he didn't complain, entering the room after her.

"Your clothes are in that bag along with your ID," She pointed to the bag on top of the table with a special designer symbol on it, "Also, I didn't know what fashion taste you had so I just picked what I thought suited you."

He only hummed in response, taking the bag into hand, and picking up the card that was on top of the clothes.

"Kaji Gushiken?" He questioned, reading the name out loud on the card.

"You're a rich guy that donates to orphanages and you're my husband," she said, picking up her own bag. "Well, until the mission ends anyways."

"So, I'm now the Mr. Nice guy," His face crinkled in disgust as he tossed the card back into the bag, "Weird name for a guy that's nice."

"True, considering how his first name literally means blaze," [Y/N] chuckled. "The name doesn't suit your face but your personality."

Ignoring her, he inquired. "So how are we going to get the information? I'm assuming it has to do with the identities."

"Catching on fast, love." She smiled at him, full of mischief. "Basically, since we cannot attract much attention during this mission. I've come up with a plan. Our target with the information has connections with these people but have never met as they've only communicated through letters, they were planning to meet soon for a fundraiser so why not give him a little surprise?"

"As in him finding out we stole back the information?" He raised his brows slightly, quite impressed.

"Of course," She hummed. "You seem impressed."

"Not that much, it's not much of a good plan anyway."

Before she could reply, he asked another question.

"What happened to the people whose identities we stole?" He asked, despite knowing the answer.

"Oh, them? I got rid of them."

"As expected," He spoke, his focus on the electricity dancing between his fingers although his gaze held little to no interest. Snapping out of whatever trance he was, he turned towards one of the changing rooms and picked up his bag of designer clothes, "I'm going to get ready, and you should as well."

Not waiting for a response, he shut the door behind him. The room was confined, plain white walls. On the wall, on the right there was a hook and in front, there was a tall mirror. He placed his hat on the hook, the bells jingling as he did so.

"Don't take too long, darling," [Y/N] said before entering the room next to his, "We must hurry and get this mission over and done with, regardless of how much I'd love to spend more time with you."

He bit back a laugh. "For once, we can agree on something, but remove the part of cherishing our time together. I'd rather bicker with Childe and work with him than go out with you, darling," The pet-name rolled off his tongue, lathered in poison with such ease. She could hear the sadistic smirk in his voice as he spoke.

"To get along? This is a mission; we are only tied by work not by your petty friendship."

"Friendship? You think I want to befriend you?" Another one of her laughs reached his eardrums with the same tinge of amusement. "My sweet, sweet Balladeer. I do not want to form such an acquainted bond with you, I would like to win over your heart."

Ha? Win over his heart? What a strange request, he thought. One half of him told him to ignore her but the other half of him was intrigued. It wouldn't hurt to have a little fun, would it?

"Win over my heart, you say? Why not. Give me your worst, doll."

This time he had no verbal response, a soft chuckle heard from the female, followed by the crinkling of plastic. Right, he should probably get dressed as well.

He took out the clothes out from the bag, cringing when the paper bag crinkled at his actions. The fabric was silky and soft to the touch, it almost slithered from his fingers.

Slipping out of his clothes, his nimble fingers had quickly dressed himself after, finally pulling on the gloves. The clothing was not too tight or too loose, how did she know of his size? Well, she was a designer of some sort. He turned to the mirror, adjusting the bottom of his suit as he did so. The collar of his suit was a deep purple that matched his gloves, the tie hanging off by the black gem in the middle of his neck, was a lighter shade of purple but not too light. By his shoulder blades were gold linings that shimmered even in the dim light of the room. The overall colour of his suit was a dark violet, with the occasional gold gem-like shapes stitched onto the fabric. Underneath his suit was a pitch-black bodysuit, the material thin yet comfortable. By the torso was golden patterns etched onto the fabric, leading up to the chest. The black leather boots had streaks of purple at the ends and were an exact fit. Everything was an exact fit. Did someone provide her with the measurements while she was designing? He thought, shaking his head. He didn't have time to ponder.

Well, at least she had good taste in clothing.

"Balladeer?" [Y/N] knocked on his door. "We must hurry so that I can tell you about the plan along the way."

Wordlessly, he pushed open the door.

He would be lying if he said she didn't look good because she looked very attractive. She wore the same colours as him. Her dress was pitch black with the casual streaks of purple, forming the occasional pattern on her abdomen. The hem of her dress would be brushing against her ankles if it weren't for the black leathered boots. The region by her shoulders and neck was graced with lace. By both sides of her hips was a layer of violet fabric, falling until the hem of the dress. Her gloves matched the violet fabric, the material seemed smooth and silky. Her hair fell freely down her shoulders, framing her face perfectly. At the side of her head was a flower pin a light purple with spirals of black complimenting it, similar to the charm on her necklace that hung by her neck.

"Someone's dressed up," His tone was teasing, a smirk crossing his face.

"You're not too bad yourself, pretty boy." She returned his smirk before waving her hand. A map of teleport waypoints hovered above her hand as she studied it, her eyes flickering from one waypoint to another.

"This one is closer."

He pointed towards one of the waypoint symbols while pressing his body against her back. It was slight, but the contact was there.

"Agreed, it is an easier path as well." She nodded, "Are you ready to go, darling?"

"Unfortunately."

Two fingers were snapped, and they stood upon a hill. Their shoes would have sunk into the snow if it weren't such a thin layer. The cool breeze caressed his face, as if a whisper of murder by his ears. The taste of death lingering on the tip of his tongue. It was ironic, all those years ago when he was abandoned by his master and was left to fend on his own. He knew nothing of the world back then, he was forced to learn it the hard way. So fragile and delicate, as if he were glasswork compared to his ruthlessness now. It was truly ironic that the thought of it made him swallow a dry laugh.

The Fatui organisation wasn't easy to be a part of. The first life taken away by your own hands is a memory that stays engraved into your head, every sound, every movement, and every detail. The Fatui required you to be utterly ruthless. To take life as if it were taking candy from a child. The scars from battles are etched onto your skin, a reminder of your reckless mistakes.

A tap on his shoulder brought him back to reality with another breeze of the wind.

"Pay attention, dear. We can't have you zoning out during the mission, can we now?" [Y/N] held a subtle smirk on her face as she spoke though, the teasing lilt to her voice made it obvious.

He shot her a glare and flicked her temple, prompting a noise of surprise from her as a soft pink tinted his cheeks subtly. It was subtle but [Y/N]'s eyes were sharp, immediately catching it.

"You're going to give me a headache, shut up."

"Flustered already, are we? What happened to all that talk earlier?" She caught his wrist before it returned to his side, in a tight hold, stepping closer until their chests were just barely touching. "Was that all bark and no bite? I'm quite disappointed, I was expecting more from you, Balladeer."

He held her chin, pulling her closer but her expression didn't differ, it only widened her smirk. Seconds felt like it was stretched to hours as they had the same glint in their eyes, waiting for a move from one another. As if they were in a game of chess, playing against each other. Tied, they were, trying to anticipate each other's next move.

"The mission isn't over, doll. I never thought you were the type to give up so easily," His chuckle full of mischief as their noses brushed against each other, his eyes like violet stones up close.

"I'm not a patient person. Don't keep me waiting, love."

"Oh? And what if I do?" He raised his eyebrow, mischief laced in his tone. "What will you do, doll?"

"Would you like to find out?"

Her smirk quickly faded as she pulled his wrist to duck behind the hill. To her surprise, he didn't argue. Waiting for a reply.

"By the pathway of behind the house there's 4 guards. Two to the left and two to the right." [Y/N] summoned her spear, spinning it with ease between her fingers. "Which side would you like to take, darling?"

"I really don't give a shit, doll."

"Wonderful attitude, dear. I'll be taking the left. Meet me in the stock room, I'll be the one retrieving the information."

She didn't wait for a reply, sprinting past him and off to the guards. She took in a short breath, electricity rushing through her veins as her spear swirled with anemo, a deep forest-like green coming to life.

"Hey, stop right-" The man fell to the ground, the tip of her spear intruding his ribcage and to his heart, leaving as fast as it came.

"How dare you!" The other guard spoke, thrusting his sword forward.

She stepped back to dodge his strike, grabbing his wrist to flip him over.

"Now, now, don't squirm otherwise it will be more painful." She placed her foot on his back as his body was sprawled on the floor, wrist in her hand. "If you value your life, inform me of where the owner of this household has kept information about the Tsaritsa."

"Never!"

"Oh? You're the stubborn type I see," She hummed as if she were thinking, twisting his wrist further. "It seems that I will have to take your life, hm?"

"N-no! Stop! Please! I-I'll tell you!" He begged, his tone annoyingly desperate.

[Y/N] clicked her tongue in satisfaction, loosening her grip. "Go on."

"A-at the second floor, the room furthest down the hall on the right." He blurted out, "From what I h-have heard, there is information about the Cryo Archon in one of the locked drawers of his desk. I-I don't know if it's exactly true, but please! Spare me! I gave you what you wanted!"

She hummed, helping the man up singlehandedly while smiling, "Thank you."

"Though, don't take this too personally, just doing my job." She lunged her spear into his chest without summoning her winds before the man could react. She narrowed her eyes as she watched him fall to the ground, her weapon dispersing into small gold glimmers until nothing was there. A sigh of disappointment left her, "How pathetic, at least I didn't dirty my dress. That would be a shame."

"The worst part of this job aside from the paperwork is hiding evidence, I swear." She muttered, grabbing a leg from each man to begin dragging.

"It's not like I have to deal with the aftermath, so it won't bother me if they find out after the event, hm?" Pausing for a moment, she spotted bushes near a tree, a little far from the house. "Aha, bingo."

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

"It seems that you took your time, love." She spoke, leaning against one of the crates of the stock room as Scaramouche climbed through the window.

"I literally just saw you coming through the window a few seconds before."

"Still earlier."

"Sure, doll." He narrowed his eyes, dusting off imaginary dust from his suit as he walked towards the door, "Shall we?"

"Oh? So, he does have manners?" She laughed before reaching up to him, "We shall."

She pressed her ear to the door while placing a finger on her lips, motioning him to stay silent. Hearing nothing, she twisted the doorknob to open the door a little, seeing through the small crack. Seeing no one, she gestured for him to come through while stepping out.

"Be ready to attack," She whispered. "There will be shit tons of guards, maybe."

"I don't think so," He whispered back. "This man is dumb enough to put only two fucking guards behind his house."

"Fair," She shrugged. "Let us find out."

Step by step as they proceeded down the hall, the chatter of guests began to get louder and louder. She put a hand to his chest, halting both of their movements before they went through the second hall.

"We can't take the short cut to the stairs here; there's guards and we cannot fight against them with the of risk of so many civilians watching." She said, speaking in a hushed tone.

Scaramouche peeked to see all the guests, spotting a staircase near the corner.

"We can go through the guests and through those stairs?" He whispered back. "But how will we get through when there's two guards right there down that hall?"

"People are stupid, don't worry. Come." She stepped forward, "We've to act like a couple though."

Narrowing his eyes, he offered her his elbow in which she gladly slid her arm around it.

Walking down the second hallway, the two guards quickly turned their heads at the noise of heels clicking rather loudly against the floor.

"Hey! What are you doing here?" One of them stepped forward, readying his own weapon.

"O-oh, sorry! I didn't mean to cause such a misunderstanding, sir." [Y/N] spoke hesitantly, displaying her now teary eyes as she gripped on Scaramouche's arm harder. "I just couldn't find the restroom is all."

As Scaramouche could neither curse at [Y/N] at the moment nor roll his eyes at her, he did it inside his head as he began to speak, going on with her little show.

"Don't apologise, darling. It's their fault for intimidating you and speaking in such a manner to you." He placed a soft kiss on her forehead before glaring at the guard, "Speak to my wife with respect, do you understand?"

"My apologies, sir." The guard bowed his head, shaken by the authority in Scaramouche's voice. "The restroom is near the refreshments table, miss."

"Thank you, good sir. We'll be off then." [Y/N] chirped with a smile, going pass them with Scaramouche.

"See? Told you they're total dumbasses." She laughed once they were by the crowd. "And you did a good job at being my husband, don't you think?"

He almost didn't reply, too busy scanning his surroundings. The walls were painted gold with black linings, a crystal-clear chandelier hanging from above. It glimmered as if it were made from diamonds, and it probably was. The tabletops were made out of pure marble, even a fool could tell. People were scattered everywhere, the smell of rich perfume wafting through the air.

"Whatever you say," He narrowed his eyes. "Where to next?"

She cocked her head towards the staircase, opposite of them in the right corner.

"Well, why not have a little fun before all the serious stuff, hm?" He asked, stepping in front of her.

"Fun?" She inquired with a perplexed face.

"May I have this dance, doll?" A familiar teasing smirk had made its way onto his face as he held out his gloved hand.

Her eyes widened a little, quite surprised at his actions. But who was she to complain?

"Of course, although, I must ask for something in return." She slipped her hand into his as he led her to where everyone was dancing, one hand on her waist while the other held hers.

"And what may that be?" He asked as she placed her hand on his shoulder, following his steps.

"Your heart."

"And what if I deny your request?"

A short chortle slipped by her as he spun her around then pulled her close to his chest.

"That surely would be a shame but," She leaned in closer, his face a breath away from hers. "Who said I'll give up?"

"I expected so from you." He chuckled, "After all, where's the fun without a little game?"

She hummed in response, locking gazes with him. She smiled; it wasn't a mischievous one. It was a genuine, sweet smile. One that he couldn't help but return, the corners of his lips quirking upwards ever so slightly. Their eyes full of mirth as they waltzed around, in their own little word, her dress flowing with grace with each spin. This time, neither spoke, blocking out the excited chatter of others and the clinking of wine glasses. Silence enveloping them, seconds stretching into hours.

"I hate to ruin the moment but," She sighed, once they were near the staircase. "We have a mission to finish."

This time, 3 guards stood there. Their faces stoic with black suits, hands behind their back.

The pair of criminals glanced at each other, matching smirks adorning their faces as he gave her one last spin.

"Ready to rack havoc, darling?" Dipping her slowly, his grip on her waist loosening teasingly.

"Sure," She chuckled, rising rather quickly. "Let us get this done fast, love. I do not take pleasure in slacking off."

"Of course."

Without another word, they built up their fake facades while nearing the guards. Chaos surely trailing after their footsteps.

#scaramouche x reader #genshin #genshin impact #fluff #mihoyo #hoyoverse #genshinimpact #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #ooc scara #scara x reader

[solitaryearthperson]

Your Name

Summary: At another of the Mikaelsons' balls, Freya notices a mysterious woman and gets to know her.

(The reader is 18+ and uses she/her pronouns. The ethnicity/race is any.)

(Y/N) = Your Name

(Y/H) = Your Height

(H/C) = Hair Color

(B/T) = Body Type

(E/C) = Eye Color

(Any words in Italics are Freya’s thoughts.)

Another of these, Freya grumbled, looking around the room. She wondered what shenanigans were going to ensure during this ball. This time her younger siblings didn't inform her on their plans, so like all the other guests here, she'll be shocked (but, not really) when something does happen.

The theme for this ball was gothic midnight. All the factions of supernatural community in New Orleans, including their leaders, attended at Klaus’ request. They all were wearing some variation of fancy, black clothing and it all looked expensive. Even though they were civil and held good conversation, most of them kept to their own kind and stayed in certain sections of the room. Some vampires, werewolves, and witches talked politely to each other, but made sure to not stray too far out of their section.

Standing in the section for the witches was Freya. She wore a sparkling, black, off the shoulder dress that stopped just above of her knees. She was holding a glass of expensive champagne, and was looking around the room boredly.

Her eyes scanned the room, looking for any sign of trouble that might be related to her siblings when she spotted her.

Standing in the section full of vampires, a (Y/H) woman with (H/C) hair that was styled beautifully. She wore a black pantsuit and had gold hoop earrings hanging from her ears. She wasn't talking to anyone. She was just standing there, sipping from her glass, looking around the room as well. Despite being mesmerized by the woman's beauty, Freya felt her suspicion grow at the sight of her.

I don't recognize her, Freya realized. And judging by her solitariness, no else knows her either.

Looking away for a second, she took a small sip of her champagne. When she looked back, the woman was gone.

Shit, Freya thought, quickly scanning the room again, her eyes trying to pick out the woman's (B/T) figure.

"What 're you looking for," A voice asked from behind her, and she turned around to see the woman. She had a small smile on her face that made Freya even more suspicious of her.

"Nothing," Freya answered, trying to keep a calm composure. "Nothing that concerns you anyway."

The woman raised an eyebrow at that and her smile grew wider. "Well, excuse me, Miss Mikaelson, I was just wondering if there were any danger that we the guest had to worry about."

"No, there's nothing-" It took Freya a second to realize what the woman said. "How did you know I was a Mikaelson?" Not that many people, especially the supernatural, of New Orleans knew of her yet. Her siblings were more famous than her at the moment.

"You Mikaelsons have a certain look about yourselves. It's very easy to recognize you all."

Her words made Freya even more suspicious of her.

"I didn't see you talking to anyone here. Are you new to the Quarter?"

"Maybe," the woman replied, taking a sip of her drink and looking at Freya with obvious amusement.

She's teasing me, Freya noticed. "You haven't told me your name."

"No, I haven't." Her amused smile quickly turned into a smirk. "Do you want to know it?"

"Yes," Freya sighed, letting her irritation with the woman's suspicious behavior show.

"Okay," the woman finished her drink, tipping her head back to swallow it all, before tipping her head back forward to look at Freya with what looked like intrigue. "I'll tell you if you come with me."

"Come with you?"

The woman nodded, her smile dazzling and tempting Freya.

"Where?"

"Somewhere, that's not this fucking ball. What do you think?"

She's trying to trick me into something. She knows my name, already and my siblings. Maybe I can get something out of her.

"Okay."

A certain twinkle was in the woman's eyes and Freya tried her best to ignore it.

"Well...where do you wanna go?"

~

"I always loved the music of the Quarter," the woman told Freya as they walked through the streets, listening to the smooth melody of a trumpet being played by a street performer. “The city’s already a magical place, the music makes it even more magical.”

Freya nodded her head, not wanting to voice her agreement with the woman, plus she was too mesmerized by the woman’s movement to voice anything.

The woman was walking a couple steps ahead of Freya, gently swaying her hips side to side to the trumpet playing and her eyes were closed. 

Don’t get distracted, Freya told herself, trying to not look at the woman's backside. She’s up to something, I have to figure it out.

“This is the ‘somewhere’ you were talking about? Just walking in the Quarter. We’ve could’ve stayed at the ball.”

A scoff came from the woman before she turned around and looked at Freya with a playful look. “You were bored as hell at that ball, Freya. You’re glad to be out here instead. Admit it.”

Freya didn’t want to admit it, but the woman was right. She has quickly grown tired of her siblings' (specifically Klaus') shenanigans.

"Doesn't it feel good to not be around your brother's dumb schemes?"

Freya ignored the woman's question and how correct it was and instead said, "You still haven't told me your name."

"I'll tell you when I know you can trust me and I can trust you. Which means stop thinking I'm up to something."

"How'd you know that's what I was thinking?"

"It's written all on your face. You Mikaelsons are some paranoid people."

Am I that obvious, Freya began wondering.

"I like you, Freya. A lot. I want to tell you my name, but only if I know I can trust you." The woman walked up to her and looked into Freya's blue eyes. The woman's (E/C) eyes captivated Freya and she found herself leaning close to her, there noses almost touching.

"What are you?"

"What am I?"

"A vampire, werewolf,... witch? You were standing with the other vampires, but you didn't talk to any of them and they didn't talk to you. You didn't seem right there. You didn't belong."

"What do you want me to be?"

Before Freya could answer, a loud scream was heard coming from the direction of the compound, and they both turned to see a crowd rushing out, some people having blood splattered on their clothing.

"Shit," Freya hissed.

"Go help your family, Freya. I'll see you around."

Not wanting to end their conversation, Freya turned around, ready to tell the woman to stay, only to see her already gone.

#The Originals #The Originals imagine #TO imagine #The Originals x reader #Freya Mikaelson x reader #freya mikaelson #Freya Mikaelson x female!reader #Freya Mikaelson x Black!Reader #Freya Mikaelson x Asian!Reader #Freya Mikaelson x Latina!Reader #Freya Mikaelson x Muslim!Reader #Freya Mikaelson x Bisexual!Reader #Freya Mikaelson x Sapphic!Reader #Freya Mikaelson x WOC!Reader #Freya Mikaelson imagine

[suckerpunchfemale]

Chapter Seventeen Below!!

Also available on AO3 HERE

"Are you okay? You've been lost in your thoughts for a while now." Cin peered over the giant rose-carved throne between them. "Don't tell me this throne somehow reminded you that I'm a peasant compared to you."

"Don't be silly," Tamlin muttered, they were the first words he'd said all day. Tamlin exhaled slowly then took a step off the dais and tilted his head from side to side. He was weighing his choices then sighed, coming to a decision, "I have to face my people. They've suffered and lost so much while I cowered away."

"Is this because of the Saorsa Festival?" Cin put the scrub brush down in the water bucket and dried her hands. She knew he'd eventually open up about it, he would have to be callous not to.

"Yeah," He scratched his forehead, then lifted his gaze to meet hers, "Cin, I know it's a lot to ask but I'd like you to be there, at my side when I do. I'll feel better knowing that there'll be at least one person in attendance that doesn't hate me."

"Is that all I'm good for these days? Not hating you?" She barked a laugh. Her joke was a way to settle him and when he shook his head, half rolling his eyes to cover the amused expression on his face, she said, "Yes, I'll be there. You should start with Calla. Not only are they in need of gold but their repairs are taking longer than the other villages, they don't have enough able-bodied men and women to keep the village functioning. The other villages have sent who they to help, but it's barely keeping Calla above the poverty line."

Cin knew all about Calla. They'd sent every fighting able man, woman, and child to fight in the wars. The elderly and children stayed behind to fend for themselves and when no one returned, Calla had fallen. In her own effort to help, if Cin needed out-of-town supplies, she sent the merry men to Calla to trade, always ensuring they gave more than they took.

Cin considered the ruination of the Manor and glanced around the Great Hall, the best-looking room in the entire Manor, "Well, I suppose you could help with the rebuilding efforts. I don't think you have any gold to spare."

"What makes you think I don't have money?" Tamlin's head snaps back. Rather than answering, Cin gestures to the Hall, to the Manor around them. There was a gleam in his eyes when he leaped from the dais and gestured that Cin follows him.

Her padded shoes made a soft patter on the newly cleaned and polished checkered floor of the foyer, the black and white tiles contrasting the sweeping stone staircase and the ornate round glass table between them.

They passed through the foyer and walked under the first alabaster staircase and into an almost hidden hallway. No, it had been hidden, when the foyer had been overrun with vines. The three holes over the small entrance had to be where they'd hung portraits to obscure the entrance. "Is this where you hide the bodies of the people who have wronged you?"

"No," Tamlin said over his shoulder, "Just...keep an open mind." He led her down the dimly lit shallow steps, barely wide enough to fit two people walking side-by-side. There was a light streaming in from a small window straight up ahead. With no lanterns lining the walls, or torches to light the steps, Cin wondered what could possibly be hidden there.

Cin noticed the numbers painted on the walls, on both sides of the stairs, every few steps. Some numbers were far apart, while others were right next to each other. Eventually, Tamlin stops in front of the number '25'. He raises a clenched fist and knocked hard on the wall until they both heard a soft echo.

"Step back." He peered up at Cin and waited until she'd climbed a dozen steps back up. Tamlin took a steadying breath, pulled his arm back, and punched his fist through the wall.

Cin coughed as a small plume of dust clouded around him. She covered her nose and mouth with her apron as he pulled his arm back and struck the wall again and again. He kept at it until there was enough space for him to pull chunks of the wall down. Tamlin tossed two or three chunks to the bottom of the stairs and the rest, he threw into the hole that grew bigger with every chunk he tore down.

With the hole big enough for him to slip through, he glanced back up at Cin, "You okay?"

"Oh, yeah. Just peachy. Is this where you hide the bodies of your enemies?"

Tamlin rolled his eyes and then extended a hand to her. Cin walked the steps again, grasped his hand, and let him help her in through the hole. Cin was careful not to step on any of the wall chunks as Tamlin snatched up what looked like two metal plates, then stepped out of the hole again.

Cin remained motionless, it was too dark to see anything in the room, or cave, or whatever it was. She heard a scratching sound coming from the hallway and then a beam of light shot into the room. The light hit a...mirror. And then bounced to a mirror on the opposite side of the room, then to another on the other end, then another and another and another until the beam from the hallway shone light streams of light against the low ceiling.

It was definitely a room. Cin surveyed the room and the stacks, and stacks of boxes as Tamlin climbed back in through the hole. Tamlin tilted his head slightly and a barmy breeze, from Cauldron knew where, swept across the room and cleaned the musty, dusty air.

Cin pulled the apron from her face and stepped onto the dirty carpet. There weren't any books or furniture, just stacks of boxes and chests.

Tamlin strode across the room and pushed aside stacked boxes to reveal a black chest with a silver crest on it. He picked up the heavy chest and carried it to the center of the room. Cin approached the chest to examine it closer when she saw the crest and recognised it.

"Please tell me that's not what I think it is," She hissed, her head jerked back to look at him. "Please tell me I'm notlooking at Hybern's seal."

Tamlin just stared at the chest and then felt around the top of the chest. He pushed on one of the sigils that popped the lid open to reveal a trove of unmarked gold coins. His posture stiffened when he said, almost monotonously, "Before Amarantha threw that party, back when she was still trying to win my favour, she sent me this box of gold. She probably hoped it would appeal to me because as a High Lord, any gold I received would contribute to the infrastructure of my court. But I wanted nothing to do with her. So Lucien and I buried it here, among the many things my father buried, and pretended that I never got it. My father buried a lot of things that he wanted to forget."

The previous High Lord of the Spring Court has been dead for almost a century. Amarantha had been dead for almost five years. And yet both still haunted him, in different ways. "Amarantha is dead, Tamlin. She can't hurt you."

"She hurts me every time I see my own face, Cin." He sighed. The face he loved because it looked like his mother's. "She hurts me every time I see the state of my court. Because the destruction of my court can be traced back to her seeing my face and liking it. It set everything in motion, Cin. She can definitely still hurt me."

"This gold can and will help Calla." Consequences be damned, Cin reached out and squeezed his hand. Tamlin had to know he wasn't alone. "Amarantha was wrong to do what she did, you were a child. We will use this gold so that something good can finally come from her inappropriate advances on you." Cin grabbed a handful of the gold, "We could use this to save your court, Tamlin."

There were ghosts in his eyes. Cin saw the wall he tried to shove the ghosts behind the array of emotions that flashed across his face. Amarantha had lapped at Tamlin like a dog since he was a child and then taken her anger out on Prythian when he'd routinely rejected her advances. "It was not your fault, Tamlin. None of this is your fault. You were as much a victim of her cruelty as the rest of us."

"I got off easy though, didn't I?" He scoffed, closing the chest and sinking to sit on its closed lid. "Maybe I should have done what Rhysand did. Maybe I should have taken her to bed to protect my people. I chose to protect myself, thinking I could save us, and everyone else paid the price for my choice. No wonder everyone hates me. I would hate me too."

"Hey, look at me." Cin snapped her fingers in front of his face, grabbing his attention, "Amarantha is dead. The King of Hybern is dead, we won the war. You cannot sit here and let them, in their deaths and losses, kill you too. These people did everything they could to destroy you and died for it. Don't let them take you with them."

"I don't know if any of this is worth it, Cin." Tamlin groaned under his breath, "I don't know if I will ever win my court back. Sometimes...I feel like I should just let the next High Lord take over. I'm sure he would do a better job and uniting the Spring Court and bringing it back from this ruination."

"That's a coward's move and you know it. You say it's your fault that everything happened, then it's your responsibility to fix it. You say you don't know if any of this is even worth it, then make it so. You can't keep hiding from the things that happened while the rest of us are trying to find our way. Our court is in shambles because we don't have a High Lord to show us how to move past what happened. If you start shifting the responsibility to the next High Lord, whoever it may be, it'll be generations before the Spring Court recovers." Cin held out her hand, an offering, and a crutch if he needed, "Right now, we need you for guidance and you need us for stability. The Spring Court is strong, but only as strong as its High Lord and I, for one, refuse to be broken by what happened."

Tamlin stared at her hand, at the offer, and for a moment, she thought he might actually turn away from it. But then he inhaled deeply, selfishly taking in all the oxygen his lungs could ever need, removed his gloves, and reached out to grasp her hand.

The contact sent shivers dancing across my skin and his eyes become the colour of spring in full bloom. The sun pouring in from the little window shifted, which shifted the beams that lit the room and it landed on his head. Tamlin wore a sunlit halo like the Mother was blessing them, blessing that moment. As if the Mother too had decided that it was time for Tamlin to become the High Lord again.

#hyacinth: tamlins healing arc #pro tamlin #tamlin acotar #tamlin fanfic #acotar fanfic #tamlin x oc

[nfcomics]

Wonder Woman Black & Gold no. 1 (of 6) variant cover C • Yanick Paquette

#Wonder Woman Black & Gold no. 1 (of 6) #Yanick Paquette #Night Fight Comics #comic mail orders #Comics #Reading #NFComics

[publicdomainbooks]

VIII. DEAD LONDON.

After I had parted from the artilleryman, I went down the hill, and by the High Street across the bridge to Fulham. The red weed was tumultuous at that time, and nearly choked the bridge roadway; but its fronds were already whitened in patches by the spreading disease that presently removed it so swiftly.

At the corner of the lane that runs to Putney Bridge station I found a man lying. He was as black as a sweep with the black dust, alive, but helplessly and speechlessly drunk. I could get nothing from him but curses and furious lunges at my head. I think I should have stayed by him but for the brutal expression of his face.

There was black dust along the roadway from the bridge onwards, and it grew thicker in Fulham. The streets were horribly quiet. I got food—sour, hard, and mouldy, but quite eatable—in a baker’s shop here. Some way towards Walham Green the streets became clear of powder, and I passed a white terrace of houses on fire; the noise of the burning was an absolute relief. Going on towards Brompton, the streets were quiet again.

Here I came once more upon the black powder in the streets and upon dead bodies. I saw altogether about a dozen in the length of the Fulham Road. They had been dead many days, so that I hurried quickly past them. The black powder covered them over, and softened their outlines. One or two had been disturbed by dogs.

Where there was no black powder, it was curiously like a Sunday in the City, with the closed shops, the houses locked up and the blinds drawn, the desertion, and the stillness. In some places plunderers had been at work, but rarely at other than the provision and wine shops. A jeweller’s window had been broken open in one place, but apparently the thief had been disturbed, and a number of gold chains and a watch lay scattered on the pavement. I did not trouble to touch them. Farther on was a tattered woman in a heap on a doorstep; the hand that hung over her knee was gashed and bled down her rusty brown dress, and a smashed magnum of champagne formed a pool across the pavement. She seemed asleep, but she was dead.

The farther I penetrated into London, the profounder grew the stillness. But it was not so much the stillness of death—it was the stillness of suspense, of expectation. At any time the destruction that had already singed the northwestern borders of the metropolis, and had annihilated Ealing and Kilburn, might strike among these houses and leave them smoking ruins. It was a city condemned and derelict. . . .

In South Kensington the streets were clear of dead and of black powder. It was near South Kensington that I first heard the howling. It crept almost imperceptibly upon my senses. It was a sobbing alternation of two notes, “Ulla, ulla, ulla, ulla,” keeping on perpetually. When I passed streets that ran northward it grew in volume, and houses and buildings seemed to deaden and cut it off again. It came in a full tide down Exhibition Road. I stopped, staring towards Kensington Gardens, wondering at this strange, remote wailing. It was as if that mighty desert of houses had found a voice for its fear and solitude.

“Ulla, ulla, ulla, ulla,” wailed that superhuman note—great waves of sound sweeping down the broad, sunlit roadway, between the tall buildings on each side. I turned northwards, marvelling, towards the iron gates of Hyde Park. I had half a mind to break into the Natural History Museum and find my way up to the summits of the towers, in order to see across the park. But I decided to keep to the ground, where quick hiding was possible, and so went on up the Exhibition Road. All the large mansions on each side of the road were empty and still, and my footsteps echoed against the sides of the houses. At the top, near the park gate, I came upon a strange sight—a bus overturned, and the skeleton of a horse picked clean. I puzzled over this for a time, and then went on to the bridge over the Serpentine. The voice grew stronger and stronger, though I could see nothing above the housetops on the north side of the park, save a haze of smoke to the northwest.

“Ulla, ulla, ulla, ulla,” cried the voice, coming, as it seemed to me, from the district about Regent’s Park. The desolating cry worked upon my mind. The mood that had sustained me passed. The wailing took possession of me. I found I was intensely weary, footsore, and now again hungry and thirsty.

It was already past noon. Why was I wandering alone in this city of the dead? Why was I alone when all London was lying in state, and in its black shroud? I felt intolerably lonely. My mind ran on old friends that I had forgotten for years. I thought of the poisons in the chemists’ shops, of the liquors the wine merchants stored; I recalled the two sodden creatures of despair, who so far as I knew, shared the city with myself. . . .

I came into Oxford Street by the Marble Arch, and here again were black powder and several bodies, and an evil, ominous smell from the gratings of the cellars of some of the houses. I grew very thirsty after the heat of my long walk. With infinite trouble I managed to break into a public-house and get food and drink. I was weary after eating, and went into the parlour behind the bar, and slept on a black horsehair sofa I found there.

I awoke to find that dismal howling still in my ears, “Ulla, ulla, ulla, ulla.” It was now dusk, and after I had routed out some biscuits and a cheese in the bar—there was a meat safe, but it contained nothing but maggots—I wandered on through the silent residential squares to Baker Street—Portman Square is the only one I can name—and so came out at last upon Regent’s Park. And as I emerged from the top of Baker Street, I saw far away over the trees in the clearness of the sunset the hood of the Martian giant from which this howling proceeded. I was not terrified. I came upon him as if it were a matter of course. I watched him for some time, but he did not move. He appeared to be standing and yelling, for no reason that I could discover.

I tried to formulate a plan of action. That perpetual sound of “Ulla, ulla, ulla, ulla,” confused my mind. Perhaps I was too tired to be very fearful. Certainly I was more curious to know the reason of this monotonous crying than afraid. I turned back away from the park and struck into Park Road, intending to skirt the park, went along under the shelter of the terraces, and got a view of this stationary, howling Martian from the direction of St. John’s Wood. A couple of hundred yards out of Baker Street I heard a yelping chorus, and saw, first a dog with a piece of putrescent red meat in his jaws coming headlong towards me, and then a pack of starving mongrels in pursuit of him. He made a wide curve to avoid me, as though he feared I might prove a fresh competitor. As the yelping died away down the silent road, the wailing sound of “Ulla, ulla, ulla, ulla,” reasserted itself.

I came upon the wrecked handling-machine halfway to St. John’s Wood station. At first I thought a house had fallen across the road. It was only as I clambered among the ruins that I saw, with a start, this mechanical Samson lying, with its tentacles bent and smashed and twisted, among the ruins it had made. The forepart was shattered. It seemed as if it had driven blindly straight at the house, and had been overwhelmed in its overthrow. It seemed to me then that this might have happened by a handling-machine escaping from the guidance of its Martian. I could not clamber among the ruins to see it, and the twilight was now so far advanced that the blood with which its seat was smeared, and the gnawed gristle of the Martian that the dogs had left, were invisible to me.

Wondering still more at all that I had seen, I pushed on towards Primrose Hill. Far away, through a gap in the trees, I saw a second Martian, as motionless as the first, standing in the park towards the Zoological Gardens, and silent. A little beyond the ruins about the smashed handling-machine I came upon the red weed again, and found the Regent’s Canal, a spongy mass of dark-red vegetation.

As I crossed the bridge, the sound of “Ulla, ulla, ulla, ulla,” ceased. It was, as it were, cut off. The silence came like a thunderclap.

The dusky houses about me stood faint and tall and dim; the trees towards the park were growing black. All about me the red weed clambered among the ruins, writhing to get above me in the dimness. Night, the mother of fear and mystery, was coming upon me. But while that voice sounded the solitude, the desolation, had been endurable; by virtue of it London had still seemed alive, and the sense of life about me had upheld me. Then suddenly a change, the passing of something—I knew not what—and then a stillness that could be felt. Nothing but this gaunt quiet.

London about me gazed at me spectrally. The windows in the white houses were like the eye sockets of skulls. About me my imagination found a thousand noiseless enemies moving. Terror seized me, a horror of my temerity. In front of me the road became pitchy black as though it was tarred, and I saw a contorted shape lying across the pathway. I could not bring myself to go on. I turned down St. John’s Wood Road, and ran headlong from this unendurable stillness towards Kilburn. I hid from the night and the silence, until long after midnight, in a cabmen’s shelter in Harrow Road. But before the dawn my courage returned, and while the stars were still in the sky I turned once more towards Regent’s Park. I missed my way among the streets, and presently saw down a long avenue, in the half-light of the early dawn, the curve of Primrose Hill. On the summit, towering up to the fading stars, was a third Martian, erect and motionless like the others.

An insane resolve possessed me. I would die and end it. And I would save myself even the trouble of killing myself. I marched on recklessly towards this Titan, and then, as I drew nearer and the light grew, I saw that a multitude of black birds was circling and clustering about the hood. At that my heart gave a bound, and I began running along the road.

I hurried through the red weed that choked St. Edmund’s Terrace (I waded breast-high across a torrent of water that was rushing down from the waterworks towards the Albert Road), and emerged upon the grass before the rising of the sun. Great mounds had been heaped about the crest of the hill, making a huge redoubt of it—it was the final and largest place the Martians had made—and from behind these heaps there rose a thin smoke against the sky. Against the sky line an eager dog ran and disappeared. The thought that had flashed into my mind grew real, grew credible. I felt no fear, only a wild, trembling exultation, as I ran up the hill towards the motionless monster. Out of the hood hung lank shreds of brown, at which the hungry birds pecked and tore.

In another moment I had scrambled up the earthen rampart and stood upon its crest, and the interior of the redoubt was below me. A mighty space it was, with gigantic machines here and there within it, huge mounds of material and strange shelter places. And scattered about it, some in their overturned war-machines, some in the now rigid handling-machines, and a dozen of them stark and silent and laid in a row, were the Martians—dead!—slain by the putrefactive and disease bacteria against which their systems were unprepared; slain as the red weed was being slain; slain, after all man’s devices had failed, by the humblest things that God, in his wisdom, has put upon this earth.

For so it had come about, as indeed I and many men might have foreseen had not terror and disaster blinded our minds. These germs of disease have taken toll of humanity since the beginning of things—taken toll of our prehuman ancestors since life began here. But by virtue of this natural selection of our kind we have developed resisting power; to no germs do we succumb without a struggle, and to many—those that cause putrefaction in dead matter, for instance—our living frames are altogether immune. But there are no bacteria in Mars, and directly these invaders arrived, directly they drank and fed, our microscopic allies began to work their overthrow. Already when I watched them they were irrevocably doomed, dying and rotting even as they went to and fro. It was inevitable. By the toll of a billion deaths man has bought his birthright of the earth, and it is his against all comers; it would still be his were the Martians ten times as mighty as they are. For neither do men live nor die in vain.

Here and there they were scattered, nearly fifty altogether, in that great gulf they had made, overtaken by a death that must have seemed to them as incomprehensible as any death could be. To me also at that time this death was incomprehensible. All I knew was that these things that had been alive and so terrible to men were dead. For a moment I believed that the destruction of Sennacherib had been repeated, that God had repented, that the Angel of Death had slain them in the night.

I stood staring into the pit, and my heart lightened gloriously, even as the rising sun struck the world to fire about me with his rays. The pit was still in darkness; the mighty engines, so great and wonderful in their power and complexity, so unearthly in their tortuous forms, rose weird and vague and strange out of the shadows towards the light. A multitude of dogs, I could hear, fought over the bodies that lay darkly in the depth of the pit, far below me. Across the pit on its farther lip, flat and vast and strange, lay the great flying-machine with which they had been experimenting upon our denser atmosphere when decay and death arrested them. Death had come not a day too soon. At the sound of a cawing overhead I looked up at the huge fighting-machine that would fight no more for ever, at the tattered red shreds of flesh that dripped down upon the overturned seats on the summit of Primrose Hill.

I turned and looked down the slope of the hill to where, enhaloed now in birds, stood those other two Martians that I had seen overnight, just as death had overtaken them. The one had died, even as it had been crying to its companions; perhaps it was the last to die, and its voice had gone on perpetually until the force of its machinery was exhausted. They glittered now, harmless tripod towers of shining metal, in the brightness of the rising sun.

All about the pit, and saved as by a miracle from everlasting destruction, stretched the great Mother of Cities. Those who have only seen London veiled in her sombre robes of smoke can scarcely imagine the naked clearness and beauty of the silent wilderness of houses.

Eastward, over the blackened ruins of the Albert Terrace and the splintered spire of the church, the sun blazed dazzling in a clear sky, and here and there some facet in the great wilderness of roofs caught the light and glared with a white intensity.

Northward were Kilburn and Hampsted, blue and crowded with houses; westward the great city was dimmed; and southward, beyond the Martians, the green waves of Regent’s Park, the Langham Hotel, the dome of the Albert Hall, the Imperial Institute, and the giant mansions of the Brompton Road came out clear and little in the sunrise, the jagged ruins of Westminster rising hazily beyond. Far away and blue were the Surrey hills, and the towers of the Crystal Palace glittered like two silver rods. The dome of St. Paul’s was dark against the sunrise, and injured, I saw for the first time, by a huge gaping cavity on its western side.

And as I looked at this wide expanse of houses and factories and churches, silent and abandoned; as I thought of the multitudinous hopes and efforts, the innumerable hosts of lives that had gone to build this human reef, and of the swift and ruthless destruction that had hung over it all; when I realised that the shadow had been rolled back, and that men might still live in the streets, and this dear vast dead city of mine be once more alive and powerful, I felt a wave of emotion that was near akin to tears.

The torment was over. Even that day the healing would begin. The survivors of the people scattered over the country—leaderless, lawless, foodless, like sheep without a shepherd—the thousands who had fled by sea, would begin to return; the pulse of life, growing stronger and stronger, would beat again in the empty streets and pour across the vacant squares. Whatever destruction was done, the hand of the destroyer was stayed. All the gaunt wrecks, the blackened skeletons of houses that stared so dismally at the sunlit grass of the hill, would presently be echoing with the hammers of the restorers and ringing with the tapping of their trowels. At the thought I extended my hands towards the sky and began thanking God. In a year, thought I—in a year. . . .

With overwhelming force came the thought of myself, of my wife, and the old life of hope and tender helpfulness that had ceased for ever.

#war of the worlds #WWChapter

[tilbageidanmark]

Movies I watched this week (Year 4, week 4)

The blue caftan, my first Moroccan drama by Maryam Touzani, and another one starring Lubna Azabal ('Incendies', 'Tel aviv on fire'), this generation's Hiam Abbass. A daring topic about a closeted bisexual tailor who hires a new apprentice while his wife slowly dies. It's extremely slow, and tbh took me a few starts to get into, but eventually it won me over with its beauty, especially the metaphor of the embroidered blue caftan itself which he eventually finishes. 8/10.

*Woman Director

🍿  

“Everyone has their reasons”

First watch: Jean Renoir's The Rules of the Game, a comedy of manners about the haute bourgeoisie in Europe on the eve of World War 2. Banned nearly everywhere for two decades.

As of now, I haven't seen four from the Sight & Sound Greatest 50 films of all time list, ('Beau travail', 'Sunrise', L'Atalante' and 'Wanda'), which I plan on visiting soon.

🍿  

2 with André Dussollier:

🍿 François Ozon's latest film, The Crime is Mine, was an unexpected 1930's-style screwball comedy. A light and fluffy murder bonbon with a lesbian subplot, a feminine message of sort, and Isabelle Huppert as a faded Norma Desmond diva who used to act in the silent movies of “the great Alice Guy”! 7/10.

🍿  Truffaut's worst film, A Gorgeous Girl Like Me, was a chore to finish. No wonder I never heard about it before. An unfunny, unsexy black comedy about a an immoral, horny grifter who was arrested for murder, and the hapless sociologist who fell for her. 1/10.

🍿  

"... Evidently, an Ethiopian in the fuel supply: Seems to me I'm getting the old heave-ho..."

My Little Chickadee, a strange western spoof, with two completely subversive cynics, who really had nothing to do with each other, and yet were thrown here together in a middle of an otherwise-unfunny mix. W C Fields, a boozing, resigned con-man, and Mae West, an eye-rolling, horny sex-pot. How incredible this story 'could' have been, if it was given air to breath, filled completely with one-liners, was not censured, and stripped of all the fake moralities!

🍿  

Now that Jon Stewart is returning to 'The daily show', I discovered that he wrote and directed Irresistible 3 years ago, which came and went without fanfare. It's a mild and old-fashioned political satire about a Democratic consultant, the likes of which were done many times before. But it contained a fantastic twist at the end that made the whole thing absolutely vibrant. Rose Byrne is gorgeous as usual, and Mackenzie Davis felt to fill the moral fulcrum of the movie, and the end showed why. Don't read anything about it beforehand, if you decide to watch it. I saw it twice in the same evening. 8/10.

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Beyond the Bolex is an interesting documentary about a fascinating man, Jacques Bolsey. It is deftly told by a young director who was not aware that the unheralded inventor of the Swiss Bolex camera was her own great-grandfather. The story of this nearly forgotten pioneer is reminiscent of other giants of the arts, forgotten and now re-discovered: Hilma af Klint, Georges Méliès, Alice Guy-Blaché, Vivian Maier, each of them earned a new comprehensive biography.

(Unfortunately in my view, this one was the blandest of the five, due to the narrator's irritating intonation.)

*Woman Director

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"Stay Gold". First watch: Coppola's seminal The outsiders, the first of two coming-of-age adaptations he made of SE Hinton novels in 1983. Teenage gang members in a mid 60's Oklahoma town, born on the wrong side of the tracks, with early performances by a bunch of the "Brat pack" members, including young, red-haired Diane Lane, and cameos by Tom Waits, Melanie Griffith, and Sofia Coppola as a child looking for 15 cents. Now I'm off to see 'Rumble fish'. (Photo Above).

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An Irish Goodbye, a benign trifle about two estranged brothers, one of whom has Down Syndrome, dealing with the death of their mother. Won the 2023 Oscar for live short.

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3 re-watches:

🍿 “Sometimes you do your best work when you got a gun to your head.”

After reading the New Yorker story about $300K/week script doctor Scott Frank, I had to go back to his breakthrough Hollywood satire Get shorty. And indeed, wow, what a brilliant screenplay, economy of dialogue, elegance and balance, and a perfect cast (each of the 10 top billings stars was born to play their roles here). And so appropriate of him to place the emotional 'Touch of Evil' viewing scene at exactly the 45 minute mark, where it serves as the heart of the story. 9/10.

🍿  “This is your Rubicon. Do not cross the Rubicon!”

My second watching of Alexander Payne's absolutely charming The Holdovers (and the adaptation of the 1935 French 'Merlusse', which I saw last month too). 10/10 again for superb soundtrack and writing-directing as well as general kind-hearted wholesomeness.

I haven't seen 'American Fiction' yet, but in my opinion Paul Giamatti and Da'Vine Joy Randolph deserve to win this year's Oscars for best actors. Also that this will quickly become an American Christmas classic.

🍿 Oh, how I didn't like the heavy-handed Paths of Glory on re-watch. Yes, it exhibited a brave anti-military sentiments for Cold War 1957, but the injustice inflicted by the generals on the privates was laughably outdated. In was nice to see young Joe Terkel, in the second of his three Kubrick roles. And at least, it was the only time that Kubrick raised his own private curtain, by directing his (then-new) wife, as she closed the movie with her tearful cabaret singing. 3/10.

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The Constant Gardener, my 3rd by Fernando Meirelles (after 'City of God' and 'The two Popes'). It's an adaptation of a John le Carré's thriller about corrupt British diplomats in Kenya, a corporate conspiracy by multinational drug companies, and a love story (which is the weakest part of the whole thing).

I had a mixed reaction to this, nothing serious, won't go into it. The only lasting memory of this for me will probably be the Kothbiro leitmotif. 6/10.

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Torremolinos 73, a Spanish sex comedy from 2003. A bald, plain-looking man and his loving wife start making explicit home movies in 1973 Spain, after his career in encyclopedia sales ends, and 'become big in Scandinavia'. The premise is somehow promising, but it quickly develops into a ridiculous story about how he becomes interested in legit movies making. He ends up directing one symbolic Bergman-inspired art fart, with none other than young Mads Mikkelsen. 2/10.

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2 short shorts:

🍿 Dollar Pizza - Food porn of the highest quality makes you hungry: Now I want a slice! No judgement! 9/10.

🍿  The sheep and the flower, a real time (2 minutes) animated movie that fits in 8 kilobytes. Decent graphics, animations, direction and camera work, and the matching music… all in 8kB.

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Throw-back to the "Art project”:  

Pizza Adora.

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(My complete movie list is here)

#movies

[hairstyleforteen]

Is Tiffany diamond worth the money?

They grade similarly to other labs in terms of their color, clarity and cut.Tiffany only sells diamonds with Excellent Cut Grades and the cut is the most important.Their diamonds are worth it because of this. Does Tiffany sell real diamonds? Tiffany only accepts 0.04% of the world's gem-grade diamonds.If a diamond does not meet our rigorous quality standards, it is rejected and sold back to the market where it may end up with our competitors. How much is the Tiffany diamond worth? The Tiffany Diamond had an estimated value of $30 million. How much more expensive are Tiffany diamonds? The one-karat ring from Tiffany would have cost more than the one-karat ring from James Allen.The James Allen ring would have been three times more expensive if the New York state sales tax had been included. Does Tiffany have resale value? Tiffany jewelry is a great accessory, but it also holds value.Here is why.Tiffany Jewelry resale value is higher than average due to the reputation of the company and the quality of their pieces. Who has worn the yellow Tiffany diamond? Hepburn wore it in publicity photographs for Breakfast at Tiffany's.Lady Gaga wore a diamond at the Oscars.The first black woman to wear a yellow diamond was Bey in a collaboration campaign with Tiffany. What does 750 mean on Tiffany jewelry? They will hallmark their pieces to indicate the purity of the metal.18K gold, sterling silver, and Platinum will be stamped. Is Black diamond a true story? Hundreds of people came to the small town of Black Diamond, Washington, because of coal mining.This is the true, historical story as told by real old-timers who worked in the dark earth. Who wore yellow Tiffany diamond? Hepburn wore it in publicity photographs for Breakfast at Tiffany's.Lady Gaga wore a diamond at the Oscars. Are Tiffany diamonds blood diamonds? Conflict-free diamonds are offered by Tiffany & Co.We have taken steps to make sure conflict diamonds don't enter our inventory.Tiffany & Co. is a global leader in sustainable luxury. Does Tiffany buy back their diamonds? People are wondering if Tiffany's will buy back their jewelry.Tiffany doesn't buy back diamond jewelry unless it has been less than 30 days since the original sale.You can resell Tiffany & Co. How much can I get for a Tiffany ring? Depending on the Tiffany ring, you will receive between 20% and 40% of the retail price.You will receive a price increase with Tiffany branded items.The second hand value of the item will be affected by the condition of the item. How much is a Tiffany Diamond worth? The Tiffany Diamond had an estimated value of $30 million. What is the largest diamond in the world? 1.There is a diamond.The world's biggest diamond was discovered in South Africa in 1905.The Cullinan Diamond was 3,106 carats in its uncut state and was named for the owner of the mine. What does D mean on jewelry? Either filled or gold plated.It's SOL.Solitaire Diamond is usually followed by some weight.A diamond. Can you stamp fake gold? The stamp should bear a manufacturer's mark if the piece is real gold.A fake gold will not have a manufacturer's mark.If the piece is discolored or green, it's not real gold. Do blood diamonds still exist? It shows that conflict diamonds are still being produced.According to the 2005 Country Reports on Human Right Practices of Africa from the United States, serious human rights issues still exist in Sierra Leone, even though the 11-year civil conflict had officially ended by 2002. What is the rarest color diamond? Red diamonds are some of the most expensive in the world.Fancy Reds come in a variety of shades, from orange-red to brownish red.The Argyle Diamond Mine is located in Australia. How much is a 1 carat diamond worth? A 1 carats diamond can be found for between $1,300 and $16,500.A quality diamond doesn't come down to size.The four c's of diamond quality are always taken into account when assessing diamond value. How much is a half carat diamond worth? A half carats diamond can range in price from $700 to as much as $3,500 for a flawless diamond.Diamond prices can vary greatly.The cost of larger diamonds is usually more than the cost of smaller diamonds. Read the full article

[mathiassen48mccoy]

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