#he was supposed to be celebrated. it was supposed to be a joyous event. his family was supposed to be there. he'll never see valiant again

[bangficsx]

PLANNERS

pairing : jungkook x reader insert

word count : 7777 [coincidence ;)]

synopsis : wedding planner hooks up with the bride's cousin

warning : slight dry humping, teasing, blowjob, fingering, cum swallowing, squirting, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex (it's just a fic), a dick pic i don't think there's anything else..

"I already got the number given for how many tables and chairs are to be set up" the man tells you, leaving you in disbelief.

"I think you have a misunderstanding. I'm the event manager. I was supposed to have a meeting with you about it." You try to put forward your argument which gets dismissed again immediately.

"A certain gentleman came two hours before and told me everything in detail" the man answers getting irritated by your insistence about his mistake.

"Now please do not waste my time miss. I've got a lot of other clients." You turn around and roll your eyes, stomping forward murmuring "again".

It wasn't the first time your job got done by your customer. You have never met one like this before in the hundreds of weddings and events you've arranged. Why pay a hefty sum to you if they want to do everything on their own?

You make up your mind and set out on a quest to find the mysterious man who keeps completing the tasks he hired you to perform. And you've already assumed he must be the typical arrogant asshole from your nightmares.

The next morning, you leave for the photographer's studio three hours early. You were supposed to meet them to decide the lighting and type of camera that is to be used. What kind of shots the couple wants.

In your two year long career, you've never had an upset client. You try your best to deliver the exact kind of wedding they must've dreamt of for their whole lives.

The wedding ceremony is one of the most important events of a human's life. The most joyous celebration that unites two individuals and families together.

And you make those dreams come true. It's in your hand to control all that is controllable on that most special day of someone's life.

This wedding is by far the most expensive one you've ever handled. Usually you would manage two or three in a month. But they put a condition asking  you only focus on theirs for the month the wedding's scheduled in.

The groom started his own tech company at just 20 and earned a name for himself. While the bride is the ceo of a pharmaceutical company her dad left to her.

You ask your photographer if they got any emails about your event and when they checked they actually had one. You asked them for the address ensuring them there would be no consequences.

When you search the email address, you find it mentioned on a linked in account. You assume it must be the bride Si-young's cousin as you clearly remember her telling you she doesn't have any siblings of her own.

You find the man has attended a business school abroad and has professional posts about the company. Again you assume, he must work in the company too. Probably hold some influential position and hence, acts like such an asshole.

You also come from a well to do family yet you never understood why rich people spend money on services they don't even use.

You look at the picture of the man carefully. A pretty good looking man for sure. And you smirk when you find him in the car that's driving up the street just like you expected.

You feel stupid that you'd shared the schedule with them to assure everything would be done in time. There was a fair amount of time left yet you were working everyday as it was a big scale event, a grand affair. Two business tycoons coming together along with their souls and hearts.

You walk upto the spot where he parks his car. Resolute to give him an earful about what has been happening for the last week.

You stand with your hands folded waiting for him to ask what you want and to gladly tell him to let you do your job. He walks past you and enters the studio leaving you gasping.

You stomp your feet and follow him. Fuming in anger, you call behind him "excuse me mister what do you think are you doing huh?"

He keeps talking with the photographer showing her samples that you were supposed to show and tells them they want better ones than those.

"Mr Jeon!" You call him again. He finally turns around.

"Can I help you?" He asks as if he's clueless.

"Yes. I think you're aware that Ms Si-young and her fiancé have appointed me as their wedding planner. I'm the one whose supposed to perform the tasks you've been performing. It's my job" You finally release all your pent up frustration.

"It's complicated" he says and turns around to continue his conversation.

"Excuse me sir do you not understand how much inconvenience you've been causing me. I have been wasting my precious time and money to travel miles only to find you've already done the job" you shout unable to believe something like this could ever happen.

"Look it's not my problem. I told Si-young that I would look after every little detail about her wedding. It's not my fault if she paid someone to do it. Just keep the money." He says with an expression that says he wants you to fuck off but you aren't going to give up so easily.

Going away with free money is easy. But you're not gonna do that. It's a large sum of money that you received. And you need to manage this event to enhance your portfolio. Grabbing this opportunity is so far your biggest achievement. If you do this you'd be able to kick all the asses that laughed on your face when you told them your career choice was becoming an event manager.

And your stubbornness resulted into the gentleman bringing you to a café to explain to you why he wants to arrange everything by himself. How much it means to him. What Si-young denies to accept.

"Her dad died when she was nineteen. She was abroad studying when he was on his deathbed. I was by his side through out his sickness. And his dream was to have a perfect wedding for his only daughter. Look she's the only thing he ever had. Her mother died before he could marry her. He meant a lot to me because you see my dad all our fortune drinking and gambling. Uncle took me in and provided me with the best of opportunities and education and in turn it helped me send money to my family. He saved us and now I want to fulfill his last wish and dream. That's why I want to arrange the whole wedding. Ensure everything is absolutely perfect. Si-young likes to flex her money, she thinks just spending lots of money will get her the perfect wedding day. She doesn't understands only someone who deeply cares and loves her would ensure perfection." You feel attacked and he surely knows he's being rude to make you run but you're not going to, not so easily.

You've had enough experience dealing with people who won't trust you. Parents of brides and grooms, brides and grooms themselves, even your own parents.

You quickly pull your tablet put and open your browser which already has a tab open with your website on it.

"Well Sir I'd like to tell you I've been an event manager with an expertise in wedding planning for two years now. I've successfully managed a hundred weddings now and this is my profile. As you can probably see with your own eyes I'm able to put up the best possible events." You tell him proudly because nobody else ever takes pride in you.

"Look I've told you I want to do it and I'm going to do it no matter how much you try to" he says again and you can't bear it anymore.

You lash out "You don't understand how hard I've worked to get here alright. I've worked my ass off the past four years. Two years as an intern where I worked like a dog and then at my own company. I have been able to get here based on sheer hard work and nothing else. I'm not gonna let you snatch it away from me." He watches your nostrils flare, and your skin turn red.

"Alright calm down. Take a deep breath" he says before he sighs.

"Please" You can't believe yourself and takes everything in you to stoop like this but you speak the word out.

It's the way you ask him that he relates to you in some sense. He knows what working hard is like and can tell from your eyes you're speaking the truth.

"Can we do it together then?" He offers.

You roll your eyes at him, contemplate then answer "fine"

"So easy.. you had to make it so hard" he chuckles and you look away trying to hide your smile.

"At least get a black coffee for self respect. You're embarrassing me along with yourself" You point out that you two have been sitting for too long without ordering something.

"Sorry" he mumbles before ordering.

"It's okay" you respond.

"You just wanna... keep... sitting on the same table" he asks fearing another outburst from you.

"People might misinterpret if I suddenly leave and sit somewhere else." You answer. Think it might benefit both of you.

"How so?" He asks. You don't understand if he lacks experience assuming he might have drowned himself in studies first and now work or he's just messing with you and having his own fun in it.

"We looked like we were fighting. They might think we were a couple... and we broke up" you answer clearing all his doubts.

"You're kinda clever you know" he says.

"No doubt" you answer.

Your coffees arrive and you both silently sip from your cups. He keeps glancing at you then at the table. Covers his mouth not known to you, he's covering a foolish grin, a blush because he can't stop looking at you and get reminded of how cute he found you in control of anger. How he adores a smart woman who can take a stand for themselves and don't give up.

"You know complete silence can be misinterpreted in a way too" he leans over the table folding his arms.

"Certainly" you agree. Also you are finding it impossible to resist the urge to talk to him.

A part of you is unable to believe you are having coffee even that you're sitting at the same table with a person who studied from one of the top business schools of the world.

"You want a sandwich or something... lemme compensate you for all the money you spent at least obviously I can't return you the time" he speaks looking around for the waitress. Before you can refuse he has already ordered two. You didn't say anything because you could hear your stomach grumbling in hunger. You hadn't eaten a proper dinner last night too.

"You know I kinda understand her dad and you too" your words grab his attention. He looks at you, fluttering his eyes, without any shame not moving them away.

"Hmm" he finds himself at a lack of words.

"It's pretty important to my dad too... That someday my wedding goes well if it happens. But we aren't really on good terms anymore so I don't really know what's gonna happen when the time comes" you tell him. Mustering the courage to finally open up. You've been in your shell for way too long now. It's been five months since you and your girlfriend broke up.

"What happened" he asks trying to not offend. "If you're comfortable to share" he quickly adds.

Your sandwiches arrive right before you start answering, "He wanted me to be an engineer but I had no interest in that area. So he didn't help me tuition for undergrad or anything at all. Mom is a homemaker so she couldn't help me as such. Then when I started my business even then he didn't give any seed money or anything. So far I've been able to manage on my own so I guess I'll arrange my own wedding by myself too. I've got one life, I'm gonna live it out on my own terms. I don't give a fuck anymore" you bite a huge piece off your sandwich not caring what he thinks.

"I'm proud of you" he mutters.

You are surprised to hear that and make no efforts to hide that, "What... what did you just say?" You ask.

"Oh you heard it. You're strong and self made so..." he scratches his nape nervously.

"Thanks" you tell him.

You take another bite of your sandwich.

"Also my parents don't know that I'm bi" You blurt out, kinda on purpose to see if he's gonna back off because of that but it doesn't budges him. He seems to be absolutely fine with it. And there have been many who have left after you state that fact about yourself.

When you both finish eating you walk outside the café together.

"Sorry for wasting your time like that" you apologise. "You seem like you have a serious job"

"No it's not like that... it's all for Si-young and she means a lot to me, even more than my own siblings." He quickly explains.

"Wine tasting tomorrow 5pm" You remind him although he must already have it pinned on his schedule.

"See ya" he leaves after getting in his car. He wanted to ask you to get in the car and drop you wherever it was you needed to go but he had a meeting in an hour and had to prepare for it.

The next day, you meet again. You feel guilty of the excitement of sorts that you hold in your heart to meet him again.

You thought about him all day long the day before, all night and all morning. He was beautiful and kind. Inspiring and caring. You'd never met a guy like that before.

You skip your usual pants and shirt work outfit and instead wear a dress. With a denim jacket on top and boots to walk in.

The wine seller was not a long distance away from your place. You had a home office setup and were saving for an actual office.

You find that Jungkook has already reached the location and was waiting for you. You feel embarrassed not knowing for how long he's been there.

He walks upto you and greets you and you do the same. You walk inside together.

"We have a booking for a wine tasting" you ask the receptionist who points at an old man sitting in a corner. She asks him to take over.

You and Jungkook sit at a table with glasses placed in front of you. The old man uninterested to work asks you to just tell whichever tastes best after showing you samples from what they offer at weddings. You know that the place has the best wines so you don't object towards the behaviour.

"Should we try this one first?" He asks.

You both try the same wines and wait for a few seconds for the taste to settle in.

"No way" You answer. He chuckles and nods.

"OK, trust me this isn't their best" you tell him quickly not letting him doubt your choice of wine seller.

"You've had the best one before?" He asks.

"Yeah someone gifted me once" you get reminded of your ex who brought it for your anniversary. It brings back all the bitter memories from your breakup. It was the longest, strongest relationship of your life yet it ended in such a bad way. You still haven't completely forgotten her.

"Jungkook" you take his name as if he's a friend of yours.

"Yeah everything alright?" He senses the change in your tone and expressions because he hasn't looked anywhere else.

"Can you... can you please taste these and tell me which one you like best? I'm sure you have a great taste in alcohol." You request him. He looks at you and nods.

He picks up a glass and drinks from it. You're sure he must have a hundred questions rushing through his mind but he's not asking them out of politeness.

"Don't wanna kill you with curiosity it's just because my last ex and to be honest one of the best ones brought the best wine from here for our anniversary so I don't wanna taste it and remember it all again. It was pretty terrible... the break up" you purse your lips.

"I'm not curious about those things" he sips another wine and makes a face furrowing his eyebrows. You don't know what to make of it, it looks like he's gonna get angry at you for bringing you to a place which has not a single good one.

"How are these their bestsellers... like what the fuck is even happening here" you look around to call someone and ask them if they actually arranged you the best samples.

"No wait... fuck.." he takes another sip. "Heaven" a moan escapes his mouth before he presses his lips together.

"You like it? I was worried, thought you were gonna get angry at me" you sigh in relief and he laughs, giggles looking at your face.

"Why would I ever get angry at you?" He shrugs his shoulders.

"I boasted about this particular place so I'm bound to be questioned if it doesn't turns out as per the expectations I have planted in someone else's mind. Part of my job is to have a varied taste because different people like different things and I have to cater to their needs accordingly." You speak and he was mesmerized with you.

"You speak so well... damn. You really are passionate about what you do" hee says.

"Yes I am" you confirm.

"I like people with passion for their jobs" he says. You feel butterflies in your tummy. You know how he's indirectly pointing at you.

"So... should I go sort it out with them?" You ask.

"You know... you could drink some other wine. I don't like getting drunk alone" he says.

"Well if you feel like that" you buy a mid range bottle for yourself and ask for a glass. It's not necessarily a place to sit and drink in, yet you two are the only ones there. And you don't like making people feel lonely so you'd better get a little drunk too. And wine makes you feel kinda cosy, drunk but still like yourself.

You can see that he is tipsy. He buys the wine he liked for himself. Once you're both finished you step outside the store.

"How did you get here?" You ask.

"Took a cab" he answers. "Driving wouldn't have been a smart thing to do if I knew I was gonna drink" he adds.

"Don't you have like drivers" you ask curiously. The alcohol starts to have it's effects with the passage of time.

"Not me" he answers your query.

"Hope you aren't getting late for any plans" he says checking if you haven't forgotten about something.

"Why are you curious now?" You smirk.

"Don't want you to blame me later that I got you drunk"

"I drank out of my own will. Just say you're curious to know if I have a partner. I can sense your intentions very well Jeon" you walk away from him but he giggles and steps closer again. You move away again and he pulls you, gently holding your arm.

"Hey I have no such intentions" he denies.

"I'm not so naive to not notice" you keep walking forward with a straight face.

You are certain of what's going on inside his mind. You were sure of your attraction when you first saw him. You've had enough of crying over your ex and remembering the things she did to you. All you need is someone else to do even better things to you.

"By the way... how old are you?" He asks hesitantly.

"Not a minor for sure" you try to annoy him.

"Real age please ma'am" he rolls his eyes.

"Turning 24 in a couple months" you tell him wondering if he's older than you or if he would be uncomfortable that you're younger than him.

"I'm 26, means I can talk informally with  you" he states without you asking.

You don't know why you keep walking further. Even though you know you should just take a cab and go back home yet it's like you're waiting for something. You want to just get even the glimpse of an opportunity. Even though a part of you knows it's not completely right but that adds to the thrill of it all.

"Are you sure you don't have someone waiting for you?" You ask him indirectly.

You are begging inside your heart to know that he's single.

You can't stop the trail of dirty thoughts that follows as you see his skin shining with the layer of sweat that's covering his face. He flicks his lip ring with his tongue, you see him bite his lip before he looks at you with a hint of lust in his eyes.

"Umm no. I have been single for like two years now. My ex left behind a lot of damage too. Took me a lot of therapy and strength to get through it all. We dated four years, I thought she was the one and only and well..." he pauses. You understand what he means and nod.

"I'm sure your little heart will heal" you pat his chest lightly and he smiles. His hand brushes yours as he shifts to walk closer to you even though you barely had an inch between you two.

The image of him biting his lip replays in your mind. You glance at his lips again which he parts making you avert your gaze before he notices.

He's in a leather jacket, white t-shirt, black skinny jeans. Your eyes travel south and get a quick look at the fabric hugging his toned thighs. You wonder if how many abs he's got under the shirt. Fuck, you can't believe your brain is fantasizing about a man you've only met twice when the sun has just started to set.

"You're curious about so many things right now but you aren't asking isn't it?" You smile looking at him. Try to ease the tension because you can sense it building in him too.

"Oh come what do you think I'm even curious about?" He scoffs.

"We're all curious about things Jungkook" you say. You almost trip over a rock but he holds your hand. He keeps holding it just in case you lose balance again. You both are equally tipsy.

"Well what are you curious about?" He asks after a moment.

"Well you know like what happens after death? What will happen to me if the number of people getting married keeps decreasing? What cock tastes like?" The last one makes him cough and stare you.

"You're so drunk" he says.

"Not so much" you tell him.

"Then repeat what you just said" he says

"Why?" You fold your arms over your chest narrowing your eyes at him.

"Why is that a thing you're the most curious about?" He blurts out.

"You're asking like you have some position open for a blow job giver" you joke.

"Like you'd apply for the job" he adds.

You look around people don't give a fuck they're busy minding their own business. You regret saying what you said but yet you let go.

"Have you been to the wedding venue yet?" You ask changing the topic.

"Just checked it out on the internet" he says.

"Wanna go check it out?" You ask.

"I'm kinda tired what about tomorrow?" He offers.

"We've only walked like 500 metres" you chuckle.

"I'm sure it's more than a thousand" he says.

You reach the bus stand from where you can get a bus to your place. He stands beside you.

"You should get a cab. I'll just get on the bus." You tell him. You sense the disappointment in his eyes, but for some reason he doesn't express his desire.

"Okay. If that's what you want" he takes his phone out from his pocket.

You feel foolish waiting for him to turn around and say something. He keeps tapping his foot on the ground, looking at his phone.

The next day arrives after much anticipation. You get late, losing time in doing makeup.

The blood rushes to your cheeks everytime you think about him. You slept last night dreaming about his face, his lips, his delicate features.

You wait on the road for the cab to arrive. Jungkook texts you that he's on his way.

The banquet's in a hotel where the ceremony will take place.

Last night you both had no other options. You don't think each other's homes would've been a great option and there were no motels in sight either. He didn't even bring his car which could've been a compromise you would've made.

Now being in a hotel means you have the opportunity on hand you just have to catch it.

You give him a tour of the place. You have permission to enter the hotel at any time since they all know you are a wedding planner and you're managing an event there in a month.

As soon as he finds you both in a secluded corner he's quick to make the offer.

"You do know what I'm expecting?"

"What? For me to pay for lunch?" You tease him.

"For your curiosity to die" he answers.

"I don't wanna die so young" you tell him.

"Sure can't before you taste cock" you cringe hearing him phrase your words. You know it's just skin and flesh, it can't have it's own taste. It's not like pussy which you've tasted many times but only your ex's. You were drunk, wanted to be suggestive towards him and hence made that up.

"Well I don't have anyone right now whom I'd like to suck off" you tease him more. Kinda like to watch him get desperate.

"Think again" he says. You almost laugh but like how direct he's acting. He has hope evident in his eyes.

"Thought so hard my head hurts" you answer to play a level further than him.

"You're killing me" he says making you walk backwards and hit your back against the wall. Although he keeps his hand behind you so that you don't get hurt.

"No I'm not" you say.

"I'll buy you pretty things" he says. Keeps his hands beside your head.

"I'm weird I don't like pretty things" you joke, enjoy the way he hisses with frustration.

"Then I'll buy you ugly things. Or whatever you like..."

"Excuse me.. I'm not looking for a sugar daddy" you clarify. He sighs. Gets closer.

"I know you want me and you're fighting it. And I want you so bad... you can't even imagine" you hold to him for support as he stands dangerously close to you, staring into your eyes. You pull him a little closer and with the tip of your tongue lick his lower lip. The metal of his lip ring feels cold as your tongue glides over it.

Before he ends up losing all control, he takes your hand and barges into an open room. You raise your eyebrows finding it very questionable what he just did.

"I already booked it" he smirks before he  sits on the edge of the bed and pulls you above his lap.

You sit on him a bit hesitantly knowing he has a growing erection underneath his pants, causing him to act like this.

"Don't act so innocent" he whispers before pulling you closer with his hands on your hips. His hardness presses to your crotch.

You wrap your legs tighter around him.

He tangles his fingers with your hair. You lean closer to him but he doesn't kisses you. You try to get your lips on his but he keeps moving his face, touching his lips and his nose on your cheeks and neck and behind your ears.

"Don't" you whisper.

"Like you didn't" he puts a peck on your lips then pulls back again before you can fully kiss him. You let out a complaining groan and give up on trying to kiss him. He'll do it on his own because you know he wants it too.

"So desperate aren't you..." he presses his lips near yours. "Yet you were giving me such a hard time"

"You were the one denying your very obvious interest in me... and I was kinda nervous because I've never before hooked up with my clients or anyone related" you tell him. He chuckles.

"That's because you help people plan their weddings silly... it would be really problematic if you hook up with someone who's about to get married" you laugh at his words. The vibrations of your laugh travel to him, as both of your chests remain pressed together.

"And if it's not them it's their parents, that's way worse" you both giggle before he tucks your hair behind your ear and finally kisses you.

You hold his head to not let him go and slowly move your tongue into his mouth. He reciprocates your actions with the same passion you show. He gently grazes his teeth over your lip. You squeeze his nape lightly.

His hands travel down your neck and you look down as he unbuttons your shirt. It's brown to go with your black trousers. Your bra is just a cotton one. You washed your only lace one and it didn't dry in time to wear in the morning.

Jungkook cups your breast as he kisses down your cleavage. You fiddle with his buttons too. You really want to see what's underneath. He's insanely beautiful for a man and you feel jealous of his soft, silky hair. You have to carry out a whole ten step haircare routine through out the week to keep your hair frizz free and prevent dryness.

When he kisses you again, you grind yourself against him a little. He moans into your mouth. It's evident how close to the edge he is.

"You know if you want I can help you with that" you say as you feel wetness seep from your own folds as you stay pressed against his hard cock.

"Oh please... please..." he pulls himself away a little. Palms himself before you move his hand away.

You keep your hand on his chest and make him lie down. You have always liked how bouncy hotel mattresses tend to be. He giggles but quiets down as your hand reaches the button of his jeans.

You grip him from above his clothes and he pushes himself up against your hand. You unbutton his jeans after rubbing him for a few seconds.

Slowly you pull down his boxers too. And adore how pretty and thick he is. Your first man in four years and you're glad to grab a nice one. You feel evil to think of him like this but who cares, you both are just here to fool around, have fun.

You had a boyfriend when you were around nineteen to twenty and since then you only dated women. You did go on a couple dates with guys but none of them worked out.

You pull his jeans down his hips around his thighs. His cock is fully hard, the tip shines with precum. You make him lose his shirt too revealing the tattoo sleeve. You had gotten a glimpse of tattoos sneaking up his sleeve but had no idea that he had a whole hand full of them.

"Pretty tattoos" you remark and he smiles grazing his fingers on his arm.

"Tell me about them after you cum" you say making him chuckle.

"For that you have to start somewhere... I'm dying please" he whines.

You're quick to oblige. Your hands wrap around his dick. You give him a few pumps before licking his length.

You keep moving your hands around the base as you suck the top. He let's out muffled moans as you continue.

Somehow you get lost in the way he moans, knowing it's because of you, that you still can make people feel good. You were skeptical of yourself for a while after your ex labelled sex with you at the end of your relationship as average. You had always had a thrilling sex life with your partners, trying new things, new locations, new positions and techniques yet somehow you grew boring to her.

And here a man lay in front of you, groaning and moaning, definitely not faking it, with the way he was twitching and throbbing inside your mouth.

You keep going without thinking much. You find him responding well and if you keep doing it he'll reach climax and that is what you want for him, to get some release. He's been stressed about his cousin's approaching wedding and you assume his work life must be hectic too.

He grabs your hair in his fist trying his best to not hurt you. His grip loosens as you feel a warm liquid fill your mouth. The taste is a mix of things you can't describe with just one word. Before you swallow the first spurt another gets released out from his tip. Your clit throbs so bad, your heart beats so fast, you feel so wet, you just want to pull your pants down and make yourself cum if nobody's gonna do it for you. You feel an ache in your pussy and an urgent need to relieve yourself from it.

Jungkook lies with his head buried in the pillows. When he looks at you there's a shine to his face, his eyes. He has no care for how he came so much that too in your mouth.

"Either you make me cum right now or I'm making myself" you say pushing your trousers down as you lie beside him. You throw your shirt away too.

"Alright do it then..." he says. "Let's see how hard you can make yourself cum" his words sends another chill down your spine.

"Well then" you sit comfortably on the bed. Then part your legs. He watches carefully. You slowly push your panties to the side. Touch your clit and moan as the touch feels heavenly.

But the way that your pussy is all wet and messy and pretty Jungkook can't resist the temptation.

He sits beside you and slowly trails his hand up your thigh. You continue to rub your clit not caring what he thinks. Why would you do it's not like he means anything to you.

He doesn't removes your finger instead pushes his into your hole. "Fuck" you moan as he tries to find the sweet spot.

You increase your pace of stroking your clit.

With his free hand, he pushes the fabric of your bra down to expose your breasts just enough to get access to your nipples. He circles his thumb around the hardened buds.

As his finger continues to circle on your g-spot, he wraps his mouth around your nipple. His tongue circles around. He sucks trying to take in more of your boob into his mouth. You find it hard to maintain your rhythm of clit rubbing.

Yet as you find yourself too close to the climax, you're motivated to keep going. You just know it's going to be very hard. And with your moans and expressions, he finds his motivation too. He presses the tip of his finger against your walls.

You feel an unbearable pressure build inside you. Desperately trying to get relief. He's amazed how fast your hand starts moving. His eyes don't move away from your cunt neither does his finger pressing on your g-spot.

He takes your tit inside his mouth again. Your moans intensify as it finally snaps. Your thighs shake, you see the stars, think you've died for a second. It travels from your head to toe. You remove your hand but he doesn't.

Through the overstimulation he brings to you another unbearable pressure which turns into a wave of pleasure as you lose all control and squirt, shaking uncontrollably. Jungkook pulls his hand away and watches as you rub yourself again and spray more of the liquid soaking the sheets. You keep rubbing yourself and an orgasm combines with it. The control of your body has gone from you to your orgasm.

Jungkook moans watching you as his hand reaches his own cock thats hard again. He starts to pump himself as you catch your breath, your body still shakes.

"You surely enjoyed that" he says.

"Very much" you answer.

"Can we fuck now?" He asks. It's inevitable. You didn't think you'd come this hard in front of him. You look at his cock hard and ready to fuck you senseless.

Your lingering gaze tells him enough. He takes position above you. And before you know his tip is massaging your insides as he thrusts himself again and again.

Your phone starts suddenly ringing and with the surprise he sits up still holding his shaft. You fumble with the objects inside your handbag and take your phone out.

It was the hotel manager telling you they've arranged a special meal for you and your guest. Jungkook rubs himself against your clit and you almost moan yet he doesn't stops instead smirks.

As soon as you cut the call, he starts to fuck you again this time relentlessly. You both struggle to hold for long and come within minutes. He pulls out at the right moment, makes a mess all over your tummy and you clench around nothing as a short quick orgasm washes over you.

It's hard to speak after what you two did. You decided to take turns to shower. Thankfully you had an emergency pair of panties in your handbag which remains there all the time in case you unexpectedly start your period.

It's a rooftop setting where your food was. You had developed an appetite after the things you did that had tired you out immensely. You hadn't expected this at all, you were firm before entering the room that you'll just make out with him but so is life and it's happenings, one thing leads to another.

You sit across the table from Jungkook.

"It got a little crazy I'm sorry. I just lost..." he interrupts you and you wait for him to speak, "It was so fucking good... don't you dare try and deny that" he gives you a serious look and you chuckle.

"It'd been a while since I had fun like that. Sometimes one needs that right?" He nods, mouth stuffed with food. Would've bought you food regardless the hotel offered it or not.

"Bet you can say Si-young did a good job hiring me?" You joke.

He bites his lip before he laughs lowly.

"We're done with bookings now. I talked over a few things with the hotel. Guess I'm gonna see you for the final checks now" you speak in a low tone.

When you think about it you're gonna miss him even though it isn't a long time that you two spent together. There's just something about him that does something to your heart which you don't understand.

"Actually I have to go on a trip abroad and I don't know how long it's gonna take to wrap up the work although I'll be here for the wedding anyhow" he tells you. His voice is low. You know how much he wants to look after preparations firsthand.

"Hey don't worry. I hope you have some sort of trust on me now. I'll work my ass off to make sure your sister has the perfect wedding. And I'll give you updates every fifteen minutes." You say reach his hand that rests on the table.

"I'm counting on you" he says tightly holding your hand.

"You can" you answer.

Over the next few weeks you try to make contact with him but the time difference makes it impossible for you to have a conversation with him in real time. Mostly you send him updates regarding the wedding which is just work for you.

On a lucky day, you catch him online at an ungodly hour. You find out he's drunk. He keeps mentioning the sex you both had. Explains in detail, the things he liked which is almost everything about it. You're surprised he remembers it in such detail.

He sends you a pic of his erect penis says he's thinking about how you came and he hopes you look at it and make yourself come even harder. Everytime you are playing with yourself, you do remember the way his fingers worked and try to replicate it. The orgasms are strong that way and with his image in your mind even more.

You have no idea how you're gonna get him out of your mind. Although it brings you some peace that you're in his mind too.

He was in another country, he could be fucking anyone. It's not like he has to try too hard to get some. Yet he was thinking about you while jerking off. He liked the parts which others found a mess and a pain in the ass.

It was the nicest feeling to have someone accept you, appreciate you, like the way your body is and the way you are.

Much to your disappointment, he could only arrive on the day of the wedding. Hours before the ceremony starts. You had completely forgotten about his arrival, drowned in work as you were.

You were checking the lighting and flowers all around the place when two hands touched your shoulders. You turn around freaked out. Although it could be a friend from the staff trying to tell you to relax.

When you look at him you can't belive that he made it. He hugs you and presses a kiss on your forehead.

"Thank you so much for looking after everything so well" he thanks you but you shake your head.

"I'm getting paid" you say, then whisper "a big sum" you add. Although money hadn't been the only motivation for you to work hard on this project.

"Look at you" he fixes your hair, "What has become of you? You work hard more than you need to" he lightly pats your cheek before he guides you to a room at the back.

"Now show me the dress you're wearing.  Will wank in advance so I don't get too horny if you're gonna look too hot" he says.

"What... there's no dress I'll just be wearing what I'm already wearing" you glance at yourself in the mirror, you put on a shirt with embellishments to look not too plain. You don't get ready for every wedding that you plan.

"Good I bought you one. I just saw this while walking on the street and thought how good this'll look on you" he opens his bag and takes a packet out. He rips it open and gives you the dress.

"And you're still interested in me? The time was enough to fall in love with someone new" you say as if he had ever been in love with you.

"I'm not so easy" he says.

"Tell someone else" you respond with a smug look on your face. He chuckles.

"Now are you gonna change or..." he begins to undo the buttons of your shirt.

You think of taking over for a moment but then let him do it.

You help him pull the shirt down your arms leaving you in your bra. His hand reaches your back and he unhooks your bra.

"Hey..." you hold his hand to stop him.

"What? The dress is padded" you hadn't really noticed even when he was showing you the dress you were just busy looking at him.

Your bra slips off and his hand wraps around your tits. He squeezes them then sucks your nipples one by one, covers your whole chest with small kisses. You feel the wetness growing, you can't get too distracted. You have to go out or everything will fall apart.

His hand goes down your navel and rests between your thighs. Your breath hitches as he presses his fingers against your pussy.

"Oops made you wet. Don't worry will gladly help you with it..." he smirks and you remain numb as he slips his hand inside your panties.

The tip of his middle finger presses against your clit. You whimper.

"I don't have time" you complain.

"Alright" he starts to rub you. Circles his finger around your clit.

You were so wet, so aroused. You started to grind yourself on his hand and suddenly came, your juices gushing, clit throbbing against his finger, thighs shaking, you hold him for support.

"Told ya" he chuckles then pulls his hand away and hands you the dress to wear.

You like the dress, it was complimenting his outfit when you two stand together.

He stands behind you and holds your hand bringing it to his throbbing hardness. You rub your fingers on him a little bit then turn towards him.

"I need to be out there to make sure you can ensure the perfect wedding for your cousin." You touch his cheeks.

"Wait for me here after the reception is over. I'll get here and then I'll make you make up for it" you nod giggling before you leave.

When you left the room, you had no idea this was the last time you were ever going to talk to him.

This was the last time you were ever going to see him.

You did come to the room and wait like he asked but instead of him a girl came.

Said she was just made his fiancé and was supposed to wait for him there like the bride had told her to.

You knew who the girl was. You knew where she sat. She was from a business family too.

In the end, like always you got proved wrong. Money emerged victorious over human emotions or feelings.

You might plan a thousand weddings after that but he will always remain a distinct memory. A mysterious man who won your heart in a way you could never describe.

#jungkook fanfic #jeon jeongguk #jungkook #jeon jungkook #bts smut #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x reader #jungkook oneshot #bts fanfic #jeongguk #jungkook x you #jungkook imagines #bts jungkook #jungkook angst

[liyawritesss]

ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴀᴛ'ꜱ ʙʀᴏᴋᴇ, ʟᴇᴀᴠᴇ ɪᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ʙʀᴇᴇᴢᴇ

Characters: MCU!Shuri Udaku x!Black!Fem!Reader

Type: Fic

Word Count: 11.8k

Synopsis: It’s your sister’s 25th birthday, and she invited you over for the extravagant birthday bash. However, there’s only one problem. Shuri has never met your family. She also isn’t aware of their past mistreatment of you. So when your parents begin to make jabs at you on what is supposed to be a joyous event, Shuri might have to apologize to your sister for what is to come next.

Warnings: cursing, mentions of verbal + physical abuse, mentions of severe anxiety, a very angry Shuri shuts shit down, shitty parents, dysfunctional family dynamics

A/N: So....this came about after watching a clip of Love & Hip Hop ATL, where in the clip one of the guys on the show was confronting his mother about the mistreatment and neglect he got as a kid and how his mother took all her frustrations out on him when he had nothing to do with what she was going through. That video touched exceptionally close to home so I wanted to writing for such an event but with Shuri, as I think for someone who is quite family oriented (or who appears to be), she would definitely have a few choice words to say to parents like that. Plus, I wanted to provide comfort to those going through similar situations as teenagers and young adults with their own parents. So I hope that this brings comfort to some of you, as it has done to me when writing it.

Song Suggestions: "Naked" & "Everything" by Ella Mai, "Let Me Down Slowly" by Alec Benjamin ft. Alessia Cara, "Let It Go" by James Bay, "Losin' Control" by Russ, "Control" by Zoe Wees, "You're Not Here" by Cynthia Erivo, "You Let Me Down" by Alessia Cara

Tags: @6-noir @playhousedistee @shuririsdefenseattorney @shuriszn @venusdraco @wrendermedone @writingintheshadowsforever @mbakuetshurisprincess @verachii @slytherin-34 @the_lesbian-fangirl @h34rtsformilli @strangefishflapturtle @cuddl3s4shur1 @shuriislut @dejaonline @babyboiboyega @badass-dora-milaje @inmyheadimobsessed @aaliyg @cafehyunji @chunkybabygorl @rosielovesfamily @lulu-network @nichole-224 @niyahwrites @lppriceisright @blacksapphhicmaddonna @pantherheart @marsfunzon22

Note: there are some of you that for some reason tumblr won't let me tag, so I apologize in advance.

Sign Up For My Taglist Here!

The closer you were to pulling up to your sister’s home, the harder it was becoming for you to breathe.

It wasn’t like you were ignorant enough to believe you could escape this.  You’d always known, deep down inside, that one day, you’d have to face them again. Yet, here you were, tucked into the smooth tan leather of Shuri’s car, hiding the fact that you were on the verge of an anxiety attack, and your girlfriend to the left of you filled with positive anticipation to meet your family.

Your sister, Alex, was turning twenty-five today. It is a big celebration for your bloodline, and though much of the original purpose of the celebration had been lost due to oral passing, the general belief was that the lucky lady who’d survive to her twenty-fifth birthday was to be guaranteed a long, fulfilling life.

Of course your sister would have a long, fulfilling life. Alex was a woman of greatness. She’d worked hard in school, got into an amazing college, met a handsome guy who she’d married as soon as she landed her first official big-girl job at some law firm in your home city. There wasn’t a doubt in your mind that Alex was guaranteed for greatness.

Alex was…perfect.

You didn’t want to go. As much as you knew it would have hurt her to not have her sister at her side for her big day, Alex would’ve understood. You never liked the elaborate, extravagant lifestyle. You were a simple girl with simple pleasures, who led a simple life and wanted nothing more than to live simply.

Though, that seems contradictory, since about a year ago, you found yourself gaining the attention and affections of the very Queen of Wakanda. How you managed that feat, you would never know.

It was Shuri who had found the invitation. She was visiting you during an monthly check up at one of the outreach facilities posted in your town, when she had inevitably seen the pretty invitation sitting on your kitchen island. It was all written in cursive, no doubt the product of your sister’s perfect penmanship, and most of all, it was addressed to you and Shuri.

You’d only told Alex of your relationship after the six month mark. You wanted to be certain that such a relationship would last; though, now that you thought back on it, what good would it have done Shuri to play you? Her intentions and integrity were clear the first day she had introduced herself to you. She’d never given you any reason to not trust her, and yet, you had still doubted her. It was a period of time you regretted most, and yet, Shuri still loved you. And in realizing that she would continue to do so, even after seeing the ugly parts of you, you allowed yourself to truly love her back.

Shuri was ecstatic to go. She wanted to meet your sister in person, having only ever seen each other through video calls and communicated through text. And with Shuri’s pretty brown doe-eyes that had always been a weakness to you, you couldn’t say no.

And now, here you were, gripping the door handle tightly as you released tight breathes, wondering if it would have been beneficial to sit Shuri down and tell her the reason why your eyes showed a glimpse of dread when she’d picked up that invitation.

“Darling?” The Queen’s voice cuts through the cloudiness that fogs your brain, grounding you in a way only her honey-laced voice could do. “Are you alright?”

No, you want to say, turn the car around, take me home. I don’t want to go there-

“Yeah, just a bit tired.”

Shuri looks at you quizzingly. You have not been acting as yourself since the day she’d stopped by your apartment. Since, she’d been trying to pinpoint the cause, but to no avail. Even after a year together, she still found you hard to read sometimes. It was endearing to her, a challenge she greatly accepted as part of the packaged deal that came with your relationship. 

However, she couldn’t deny that this time, things felt…different.

There’s a melodic beeping that comes from the vehicle, and the red flashing on the dash panel alerts Shuri that the car is running out of gas. And not a second later, a familiar voice speaks from the surround-sound speakers:

Panther, the vehicle is reaching low fuel. It would be wise to refuel soon. There is a petrol station approximately ten miles ahead. Fuel here is priced at four ninety-seven per gallon.

“Thank you, Griot,” Shuri hums, turning to you, “we shall stop there. Fill up on gas and get some snacks. You haven’t eaten much today, my love.”

Though you fix your lips to protest Shuri’s ever so keen observation, the way her hand slips over your thigh, her open palm meeting your skin through the large hole in your ripped jeans, it’s almost enough to have you relent. “I did eat; at breakfast.”

“Which was eight hours ago,” Shuri reminds you, “almost nine, once we arrive at your sisters. I’m sure there will still be room for the food if you just have one bag of chips to hold you over.”

You hate how well Shuri knows you. It makes it hard to hide things with her keen perception and observation skills. Though, you suppose those traits all come with the territory of being The Black Panther.

A sigh escapes your lips, and the lack of a reply worries Shuri. Yet, she does not push. Instead, her thumb continues to swipe in soothing strokes along the smooth skin of your thigh as she continues to drive to the designated gas station.

All of five minutes pass until it comes into view. When Shuri parks at one of the gas lanes, she fishes into her pocket for her wallet. From it she produces a black card, and hands it to you. “Fifty should bring it back up,” the Queen says, “and a bag of chips for you should do the same.”

“Shuri, I said I’m fine-”

“Darling.” Shuri’s tone is firm, yet gentle, and leaves no room for argument. So all you can do is press a kiss to her cheek - a practice routine of mundane intimacy that brings you both pleasure - before exiting the car and walking towards the entrance of the gas station.

Shuri sits back in her seat, a sigh pushing past her lips. She’s not quite sure what to make of your behavior.

In the year that the two of you have been dating, never once did you bring up the topic of your family. Shuri didn’t even know you had a sister until six months ago. Alex reminded her much of Nakia in some sense - powerful and self made, and in that regard, she was glad that you had some semblance of family you could reach out to.

Your parents, however, were another story. A story you had well avoided, and as of recently as a few months ago, downright refused to talk about. It became quite clear that it was a touchy subject for you, so Shuri didn’t pry. However, she could not deny that part of her grew…heated, at the unpleasant thoughts that plagued her mind when it came to the reason for the non-existent relationship between you and them.

“Griot.”

“Yes, Panther?”

“What were my beloved’s vitals during the ride?”

A beat passes, as Griot computes.

“(Y/N)’s heart rate had been jumping from one hundred forty-five to one hundred seventy beats per minute. Her grip on the door was strong enough to break a thin glass cup. It appears (Y/N) was on the verge of an anxiety attack, but had been fighting it off for the duration of your journey.”

Shuri curses under her breath, more or less to herself at the information that had been relayed to her. 

“She has been on edge all morning,” Shuri says aloud, “I did not ask, for fear of triggering her, but I cannot allow her to feel threatened.”

Shuri knows your triggers like the back of her hand. She’s learned to speak in a level tone to avoid startlement; she’s learned to make her presence known when entering your space; and most importantly, she reassures you, letting you know each and every day how much she loves you, how much she treasure your existence in her life, and how she vows to hold your heart with the utmost care in the world.

Shuri is the smartest person in the world, and yet, she cannot decipher the reason behind her lover’s heightened emotions. If it weren’t for the fact that she was focused on figuring out why you were like this, and how to calm you down, she’d surely find the thought embarrassing.

“Might I speak freely, Panther?”

A hum rumbles from Shuri’s throat as a sign for the artificial intelligence to continue.

“(Y/N)’s vitals have been heighted since one week ago,” Griot points out, “around the same time she had received the invitation to her sister’s birthday party. It would be safe to assume that these two instances have a correlation with one another.”

  “You are insinuating that Alex’s birthday party is somehow the cause of my love’s anxiety spiking?”

“Perhaps not the party, but rather, who will be there, Panther.”

Silence fills the car as Shuri takes in the information given to her. Though, she doesn’t have much to think on it, as she spots your figure exiting the sticker-covered glass door of the gas station, a black plastic bag in hand, of which she hopes holds the snacks she had requested of you to get for yourself. She exits the car and takes hold of the gas nozzle, opening up the tiny door and unscrewing the protection cap, and slots the nozzle into the car to fill with fuel.

A few moments pass before Shuri returns to the car, having placed the nozzle back in it’s place and secured the gas compartment. Her black card rests on the arm rest, which she slips back into her wallet as the corner of her eyes catches you with something in your hand - something that’s not a bag of chips.

“I thought I told you chips, darling?” Shuri asks as she starts up the car again.

“I got chips!” You respond. “I wanted a Twix, too.”

Your free hand fishes into the black plastic back to produce a bottle of water for Shuri, slotting it into the cup holder.

“What is this?” Shuri asks, gesturing to the water bottle.

“You were thirsty,” You point out.

Shuri indeed was thirsty. She can’t help the smile that paints her lips soon after, taking the water bottle into her hand, unscrewing the cap, and taking a swig of the water.

“Are you sure you’re alright, my love?” Shuri asks once more after setting the water back down, preparing to put the car into motion.

To busy chewing on the cookie-chocolate-caramel treat, you opt for nodding your head, a short ‘mhm’ to accompany it.

As much as Shuri wanted to question further, she knew nothing would come of it. So she slips her hand back onto your thigh, presses down on the gas, and rolls out of the gas station, the conversation with Griot filing back into her mind as she drives down the long strip of highway.

“My parents are gonna come.”

You’d said it the second Shuri had parked into the driveway of your sister’s home. With each second that passed on the way there, your chest kept growing tighter and tighter. You thought that maybe if you focused on Shuri’s touch on you, or her low singing voice when Tems starts to flood the car with her hypnotic, warm and swelling voice, that maybe you would be able to calm down and not worry her. It usually worked, but perhaps because this instance was due to the fact that you would be seeing your parents for the first time in years, what was usually the cure for your attacks did very little to help.

Shuri pauses as the words leave your lips, and for a moment, it looks as if she is cross. And while she has every right to be, you hope that it isn’t at you.

You should have told her before the two of you left, as you thought to do. It plagued your mind when you were in the shower, when you were fixing your hair, when you were choosing your outfit. And Shuri had been in the same apartment with you the entire time. You had ample enough time to tell her and yet…you didn’t. You couldn’t.

You know Shuri. She would try to remain calm and collected for you, to not show her anger, because of course she would be angry either way. The car ride would have been in silence, the air thickening with each mile crossed from one city to the other. But you would know that she was upset. She should be upset now because you just dropped this bomb on her and-

“Beloved,” the Queen mutters to you, bringing you from your thoughts once more, “look at me.”

Your head turns to face Shuri. She’s put the car into park, one arm leaning on the arm rest, the other reaching over to soothe your nerves by caressing your outer thigh. She looks at you with a softness that relieves some of the pressure on your chest stunting your breathing. Her gaze tells you that she is not cross with you.

“Hey,” she says, “I am not upset with you.” And the reassurance helps you unclench the fists your hands have balled into.

She doesn’t speak again until she’s certain that your breathing has evened out, as opposed to the harsh and forced inhale-exhale pattern from before. “Is there…anything I should know?”

You tear your eyes away, but Shuri’s gaze remains firm. Consistency is key, she’s learned, when it comes to you confiding in her. Her eyes are your safe space, you will return to them. And you do, after a short moment, trying to gather your mind together.

“They’re not nice people,” you confess, eyes hesitantly returning to hers, “they’ll try and woo you and shit, but don’t fall for it. They ain’t shit.”

“Okay,” Shuri hums, “and…is there anything I can do? For you?”

“Um,” a shaky breath racks through your throat, as you speak, “they’re not here now. Alex texted me that, so I should be fine, but when they get here…j-just, don’t leave me alone.”

“I will not leave you alone.” Shuri assures. Her hand gathers yours into hers, your palms rendered chilly from cold sweat. “I promise.”

Gathering your hands into hers, Shuri brings them to her lips and presses a kiss to them. She then reaches over to press a kiss to your lips, of which you reciprocate gladly.

“Thank you for talking to me about this,” the Queen commends, “and telling me how to best take care of you. I know it is not easy-”

“I hate it-” you correct, which brings a grin to Shuri’s lips and a chuckle from her throat, because yes, she knows you hate it.

“-but you are doing it, and I am very proud of you for it.”

It’s sincere, Shuri’s praise. It’s still not easy for you to digest it, but you know her love is not transactional, conditional. She means what she says, and you know her love for you is unconditional and unyielding. 

She loves you. 

She is proud of you.

The pressure on your chest becomes lighter.

Upon exiting the car, you’re approached by your sister, Alex, who had seen the two of you pull into the driveway and wanted to be the first person you’d engage with. You’re not shocked when you see her eyes glassy looking - it’s been years since you two last saw each other face to face.

Alex is hesitant when approaching you - she wants to envelop you in the most bone-crushing hug she can muster, because she misses you and it has been so long since she’d held her baby sister. Though all it takes is for you to outstretch your arms to her, and Alex embraces you in the way she had been dreaming of.

“Oh, mama,” Alex breathes as she pulls away to get a better look at you. You notice the youthfulness in her face and the life in her eyes. She looks happy, “look at you. All grown up. My baby sissy is all grown ‘nd shit.”

It’s heartfelt, her words, and they make you smile. Alex turns to look at Shuri, who’s chosen to stand to the side to witness the sisterly reunion without interrupting. “And you have a girlfriend? You have to tell me how this happened.”

“By complete accident,” you say, as Shuri steps up. Her hand presses into the small of your back, encouraging you while she holds the other out to greet Alex officially, “but I guess anything can happen when you spill coffee on someone in the middle of a morning rush.”

“It is a pleasure to finally meet you in person, Alex.” Shuri says.

Alex shakes Shuri’s hand, and the Queen notes the hesitance in the older sister's movements. “Well, it’s not every day you meet the queen of a country. Much less, a queen of a country that’s also my sister’s girlfriend.”

“Well, I hope not to bring too much excitement with my titles,” says Shuri, “I am more than alright with being just Shuri.”

She sincerely hoped that she could just remain Shuri. For if a situation arises that she would have to act in the manner of either of her titles - Queen or Black Panther - she could not promise that the birthday celebration would remain a splendor.

An hour passes before either of you know it. You’ve found entertainment amongst the younger cousins who all gawk at your girlfriend, who sits not too far away. Shuri has a cup of punch in hand as she watches you chase the children around the yard, a small smile on her lips. It’s as if you are reliving a part of your childhood you’ve missed, the way you seem so content with the children. It all but warms her heart.

“So,” Alex’s voice interrupts Shuri’s not so discreet admiration of her girlfriend, nearly making the Queen jump, “you and my sister?”

“Ah,” Shuri breathes, looking down into her cup as a rush of heat travels up her dark skin, “me and your sister.”

“I’m not gonna go into the whole interrogation thing, grilling you on if you’re treating her right,” Alex says, “I see how you look at her. If that ain’t the look of someone in love, then I’on know what is.”

Shuri chuckles at that, because she knows that Alex’s observations are true. In fact she has no idea just how correct her observation is.

Shuri leans forward in her seat, elbows propped up on her knees as she finds your figure amidst the mess of kids once again. Her necklace dangles from her neck, the gold contrasting against her black tee that nearly meets the fabric of her ripped blue jeans with her hunched over position.

“(Y/N) is…the ray of sunlight one sees after a long, dark night,” the Queen hums fondly, “and had I known my gods would send me such a woman, I would have prepared myself better.”

Alex smiles warmly. She can tell the strong connection between you and Shuri is pure and unadulterated. It warms her heart beyond comparison.

“Thank you for coming, truly,” Alex says, “I was almost worried she wouldn’t, since our parents would be here and everything.”

And at the mention of them, Shuri finds her jaw tightening just the slightest.

“Your parents?” Shuri is beginning to put two and two together, and she doesn’t like the outcome that is unfolding from her assumptions, however careful they are.

“I…assume she’s told you about them?” Alex implies.

Shuri shakes her head lightly, taking a sip of her semi-forgotten punch. “I find myself piecing the picture together on my own…She does not talk about them.”

“That isn’t a surprise,” Alex says, “given…well, everything.”

Shuri turns her head to look at Alex. Her eyes are firm, inquisitive; Alex’s words have sparked an interest in Shuri.

”She says they aren’t good people. Is that true?”

“Depends on who you ask,” Alex replies, “to the community, their saints. To us they’re just….people.”

Shuri notes the hint of solemness that laces Alex’s voice as she speaks. “They weren’t good to either of us…but they were especially bad to (Y/N).” Alex clarifies. “You know what they say; hurt people, hurt people.”

Not when the person is your child, Shuri thinks, but keeps to herself, taking another sip of her punch. Things are starting to make sense now, and Shuri finds that perhaps she will also have to have you at her side to ground her whenever your parents decide to show up.

“So you mean to tell me you got yourself stuck in a tree, and then got angry because she tried to help you get down?”

“I was not stuck! I was admiring the view.”

“Sure you were…with tears coming down your face.”

“I think this classifies as bullying-”

Shuri had grown quite comfortable as the next hour passed. More of your family had begun to show up, a number of aunts and uncles, nieces and nephews, and cousins wishing Alex a happy birthday as they passed through the foyer of her house and into the backyard. Shuri couldn’t count the amount of gasps she’d heard when their eyes fell upon her, sat comfortably in the outdoor gazebo, her presence obviously a surprise to the many relatives who had come to celebrate the special birthday girl. Much more, the fact that she had you close to her side as she greeted them.

The behavior of your family members irked her. Shuri suspected that Alex had talked to each of the adults to assure that they’d be on their best behavior for the occasion, given the tight smiles and curt greetings between each of them and you. Or perhaps it was because of her own intimidating presence next to you, and the fact that she wasn’t even trying to hide the look in her eyes as she analyzed each adult that seemed to pass through.

“Babe,” you cleared your throat, “stop looking like that, you’re scaring them.”

“Looking like what?”

“Like you’re contemplating murder.”

Would it have been so bad if she was, though?

Shuri sighs as she places the red solo cup she had been nursing for a while onto the table. “Just behave, for Alex-”

“I am behaving for you,” the queen clarifies, “and your sister would say the same.”

Unable to comment any further, you released an exhale through the nose, sinking back into Shuri’s side.

“It’s guilt, y’know.” You try to reason, but Shuri had already considered that route. Perhaps there were a few who did have a guilty conscience. Shuri didn’t find herself caring if that was true or not. “They’re not bad.”

“Beloved-”

“Shuri.”

“-I am merely observing,” she says, “I promise.”

Of course Shuri was only observing. Observing the behavior of each adult family member. How they acted towards you. How very little regard was given to you. How, with the amount of bodies that have accumulated in the backyard, the gazebo area remained relatively desolate, beside the two of you, Alex, and Alex’s black and white spotted cat, who had made a home on the red painted banister.

Sure. Shuri was just observing. Definitely not questioning anything at all. Definitely not formulating words she would say to your parents if they decided to make themselves an issue.

“I’m gonna go get a shot,” you say, before propping yourself up with your hands and lifting from the cushion of the outdoor couch, “you want a refill?”

You take Shuri’s cup before she officially gives you a response. You needed a way out, to move around so that the beating in your chest could quell.

Inside there isn’t much of a party scene - it's practically empty besides a teenage family member fighting their sleep on the couch while watching an infant in the living room. The music from outside is muffled when you enter the house, and you take the time to admire the mahogany walls and deep maroon floors of the home. You could compare it to the childhood home you’ve grown up in, and you think that perhaps this was Alex’s way of healing. Recreating your shared childhood environment in a more peaceful manner.

You find the kitchen quite easily, rounding the kitchen island in pursuit of the adult punch purposefully left inside so that the underaged family members wouldn’t get it confused with the family friendly punch that rested in a big glass bowl on the party table outside. On the counter is an array of liquor choices, from fruit flavored tequila to everyone's favorite, Hennessy. You weren’t a drinker, but this far into the party, you needed some sort of incentive to get you to relax a little bit.

Once you’ve chosen your choice of liquor, you take a red solo cup, pour what you deemed to be a shot's worth, and downed it in one gulp. The burn in your throat definitely woke your senses, of which you were grateful for.

On your way towards the kitchen doorway, Shuri’s refilled solo cup in hand, the sound of familiar voices drifted to your ears from the foyer, and it made you stop dead in your tracks. 

“Happy birthday baby!”

“Happy birthday, babygirl.”

“Oh, look at you, all grown up-”

It took everything in you to not drop the cup in your hand at the sound of your parents making their presence known. You backed into the kitchen again, your back finding a nearby wall to ground yourself with. Your chest began to tighten, a tight lump forming in your throat, and in that moment, your hand fished for your phone in your back pocket to text Shuri.

Kitchen. Now.

There was a light shake in your hands. You hated how just the mere sound of their voices sent you into a spiral; how much of an influence they still had on you after trying so hard to separate yourself from them. Then they had the nerve  to act pleasant.

There was a growing ringing in your ears, accompanied with the muffling of surrounding noise that made you breathe harder as you tried to stabilize yourself from the very apparent anxiety attack that was waiting to crash into you. You couldn’t decipher if it was the same one from before that you had fended off by sheer will, or if this was a new, more powerful one. However, when the smell of patchouli made its way to your nose, the thought of it became seconded.

“Hey,” Shuri whispered, one hand running the length of your arm, the other taking the cup from your hand that was seconds away from meeting the floor, and settling it onto the kitchen island, “hey, I am right here.”

“They’re out there, Shuri.” You breathe out.

Something shifts in Shuri’s eyes, and you can’t quite tell what it was, but the way her grip on you tightens in the ever so slightest way lets you know she’s thinking something.

“We can leave, beloved,” Shuri begins, but you’re quick to cut her off with a shake of your head.

“No,” you say, swallowing thickly, “I can’t leave, it’s Alex’s birthday-”

“Alex will understand, love; would she really want you to risk your own self for her?”

I’ve done it for years, the little girl in you voices tiredly, what’s another evening of it?

Shuri never wants to be forceful with you. She knows you’re your own woman and can make your own decisions, even if they go against her better judgment, even if they hurt you. Which is why, against every logical bone in her body, she proposes a compromise.

“Three chances,” Shuri says, “three chances is all they have. Then we will leave. How does that sound?”

Knowing Shuri, she’ll want to throw hands at the first encounter. It was endearing, really, how hard she went for you. The extent of such craze was never explored, simply because she was always calm, cool and collected. There was a part of you that always wondered  the extent of it as well.

And, in hindsight, you weren’t wrong about her.

Shuri peaks from the kitchen doorway and into the foyer, seeing Alex still entertaining the two adults, their backs turned towards the Queen, which gave her the incentive to leave while the trio were occupied.

She mutters a quick ‘let’s go’ with a gentle smile, and after a few seconds, you nod. Your hand finds her, tightly interlocking your fingers as Shuri pulls you back to the backyard gazebo. Shuri had no idea the depths she was about to breach in the layers of your estranged family, but whatever the case may be, she will not let you face it alone.

It was almost the perfect getaway, too, but apparently Shuri wasn’t fast enough in getting you out of the house. She heard the matured voice of your mother call out to you, asking if it was her other daughter, and Shuri supposed that it wasn’t meant to be taken in a demeaning way, but the queen certainly did. Perhaps it was predisposed biases, perhaps it was intentional. Either way, Shuri would make sure to take as much of the burden off you as she could.

“Mom,” you say, jaws tight, but Shuri stands close behind you, a hand on your waist, and it stabilizes you, “good to see you.”

The older woman, short in stature, with wide hips and thick arms, saw Shuri standing behind you, but whether or not she didn’t address her because she didn’t recognize the queen or because she simply didn’t care couldn’t be deciphered. “Come give me a hug-!”

“I’m good,” you hurriedly said, “just- uh, not feeling well.”

“Don’t be like that,” the deep, bolstering voice of your father chimed in; a large man with an intimidating physique. Shuri was not phased, her arm only snaked it’s way around your waist, “give your mama a hug, lil’ girl-”

“I said I’m good.” You reiterate more firmly, though there was an added incentive to clear your throat shortly afterwards to make your fib more believable. “Really; I know how easy it is for y’all to get sick.”

There was a moment of pause - and exchange of glances and a shift in energy before a light ‘humph’ came from your mother’s throat. “Well, I suppose that makes sense,” she snooted, “and I suppose that’s why your friend there is the exception-?”

“Girlfriend, actually,” Shuri interrupts, though it wasn’t planned, and surely wasn’t expected, “it is one of many perks of being the Black Panther. I do not succumb to normal colds and illnesses as easily.”

The pads of Shuri’s fingers press into your side as she steps beside you; she’s now side to side with you, face your parents with a high chin and a look you were sure she’d only pulled out when in front of important people - or people who she suspected would try to intimidate her, yet she’d still have to play nice for publicity purposes.

“Allow me to introduce myself formally,” Shuri said, holding out her hand for your mother to take; the shorter woman did just so as Shuri spoke again, “I am Queen Shuri to my people, but for tonight's festivities, I would like to remain just Shuri.”

“A queen?” Your mother breathes out in an amused chuckle, though you couldn’t tell if it was in actual amusement or in disbelief. “Well, perhaps we did do something right with her, hm, honey?”

Strike one.

Shuri’s hand then reaches out to your father, who stares at the long, brown arm outstretched before him for a moment, before taking one of his thick, meaty hands, and shaking Shuri’s tinier one. Though, the look on his face when the queen’s grip strengthened around his hand was enough to tell you his surprise and lack of proper judgment on the brown-skinned woman.

“Got a…firm grip for a lil’ lady.” He says.

“Well,” Shuri begins as she slips her hand from your fathers, “my baba and big brother always said a firm hand makes a firm leader.”

“Well, wise men they were.”

There was much to observe in the few words shared between Shuri and your parents. Your father hid very well behind the facade of a pleasant man of few words. Perhaps he was sculpted that way, by your mother or by his own parents; either one didn’t matter, only that the end result was a man with a weaker grip than the elders she held council with, and they were pushing their latter years of nineties and hundreds. Your parents looked to be in their mid-forties.

Your mother…Shuri admits that she wished her own were still alive, for the words she knew Ramonda would have for this short-stack of a woman would be more lethal than any weapon produced by her own hands. Condescension laced in her voice with a familiar tone of jealousy that she’d heard and witnessed many black mothers having towards their own daughters. It wasn’t hard to tell, Shuri thought, but perhaps when enough people ignore such a dangerous thing, the ugly nature becomes a tolerable norm.

“Well, if you will excuse us,” says the queen, “I’m going to take my beloved to sit down. She is in much need of rest.”

Shuri did not give your parents time to react, nor to object to the sudden ending to the conversation. She’d quickly pivoted your body around and walked back outside to the gazebo, a firm hand on your back and a ticking clock in her head for when the next strike would come.

Sure enough, Shuri did not have to wait long for that second strike. 

After getting you back to the gazebo to take a seat, on the verge of hyperventilating from the amount of anxiety the back and forth gave you, despite the fact that you weren’t even the one talking, Alex had come with a look of disdain. Your parents were in tow, as they claimed to want to ‘have a sit down and reconnect’. Of course, Shuri didn’t buy into that bullshit. Neither did Alex. And surely, neither did you.

And yet, neither you nor Alex yet had the courage to send them off, and Shuri, keeping herself in check, had no other choice but to allow them to sit with the three of you. So now you were tucked into Shuri’s side, phone in hand as a distraction, while Alex sat on a beige-cushioned chair to your left, and your parents in a similar-fashioned loveseat to the queen’s right.

Alex was kind enough to hide her discomfort in nervous laughs and meek agreements as your mother and father raved on about your childhoods. Specifically, the accomplishments of Alex, which would have been understandable as it was her birthday, if it didn’t have to include the ‘disappointments’ of yours they had to bring into the light.

“Remember the speech competition your grammar school had, Lexi-Pooh,” your mother chimed, using the youthful nickname Alex very physically cringed over, “you won your first ever trophy then at eight years old! Oh, we were so proud of you-”

“Mom, everyone got a trophy,” Alex reminded, putting emphasis on the word ‘everyone’ as she spared a glance your way, “we were babies, and it was a participation trophy. They just didn’t want us to be left out.”

“Well, still, my baby had the best poem on that stage!”

“Mom, I literally stole that poem off the internet.” Alex reasons.

“Yeah, off DeviantArt no less,” you speak with a chuckle, remembering the nights your sister scoured the internet for a poem to read because she, for the life of her, couldn’t write her own. Which she couldn’t be faulted for, she was in third grade after all.

Alex shares a small laugh as well. “If anyone should have won that competition, it should’ve been (Y/N),” She says. “All the teachers swore up and down she was gonna be the next Lorraine Hansberry or Audre Lorde. I bet you she got some bars hidden somewhere.”

Your mother could only hum in response; “Well, we can’t all be winners, I guess.”

There was a familiar sting that ached your heart. Despite how used you were to such rhetoric coming from your mother, it didn’t make the twang in your heart any less hurtful.

“You never liked that kinda stuff anyway, (Y/N),” your mother says, “so why did you join it-”

“I do like writing,” you say sharply, “and I wanted to be like my sister. Who doesn’t wanna be like their older sister at seven years old?”

You glanced up from your phone to look between the three people sitting before you. Alex shifts in her seat, uncomfortably, slightly shaking her head as she knows what is to come.

“Or were you just so busy with your perfect princess that you ain’t have time to learn me?”

“(Y/N)!” Your mother scolds, and you feel the protective arm of Shuri’s curl around you in defense. “Hush your mouth with them lies, girl!”

Your father remains silent, as he’s always done when your mother gets this way, and Shuri sees this, and takes note of it.

“I swear, I don’t know where we went wrong with you,” your mother huffs, “lost yo’ damn manners and mind talkin’ like that.”

Your mother then turns to Shuri, sporting an apologetic look, though it is not sincere, and merely a coverup for her own outburst. “Now I know your mother taught you well and good, Shuri, about how to talk to people and behave-”

“My mother is dead.” 

There is an inevitable shift in the conversation now, one that brings the eyes to Shuri as a deafening silence befalls the gazebo. Even you rise from your curled position into Shuri’s side to eye her demeanor, checking over her form to note any changes that came with the sudden mention of her mother. Yet, she is calm and collected, her eyes showing no shifts and her demeanor intact. All seemed well…on the surface, at least.

“My mother is dead, may she be at peace with the ancestors,” Shuri says, “and she is incomparable. I do not wish to speak further of her.”

A beat passes. Your hand travels to Shuri’s leg, providing a comforting touch to the woman beside you. You weren’t ignorant to the news of her family’s passing - since her father’s death, you’d had a semblance of understanding the inner turmoil she had endured. With her brother and mother gone, she was virtually alone - save for a sister-like figure and a nephew she’d only told you a little bit about in the past few months or so.

You wanted to say something, but your mother beat you to it - this time, she actually sounded somewhat apologetic for her ignorance.

“My condolences,” the woman mutters softly, clearing her throat, “I only meant that she must have had it easy raising you. You’re so well put together and polite, if only some of that would rub off on (Y/N)!”

Strike two.

“Mom, stop it,” Alex interrupts, voice firm with a scowl on her face, “you doin’ a lil’ too much now.” 

“Now, your mama ain’t said nun’ wrong,” your father suddenly speaks, who had been quite the entire conversation, but suddenly decided to stick up for his woman who was clearly in the wrong, “it’s just ladies spat, y’all know how y’all do.”

“And like I said before y’all got here, I don’t want it in my house.” Alex emphasizes. “If that’s the type of time y’all on, the door is very clearly marked with an obnoxiously pink birthday banner. Period.”

There was a small swell of pride in your chest for Alex as she set her foot down to your parents. She was determined to have them behave; she wanted a classy, friendly party for her birthday celebration. Though, she would know just as well as you that even when being put in place, the audacity of your parent’s always found itself back into trouble.

Your mother mumbled out an apology, along with something along the lines of ‘got me apologizing to my child’ under her breath as well, before you cleared your throat in an attempt to cut through the tension.

“Shuri, baby,” you hummed, “don’t we have something for Alex? In the car?”

Shuri turned to look at you, eyebrows slightly furrowed, before she officially caught on to what you were insinuating.

“Yes,” the queen breathes out with a small smile, “we do have something in the car. For the birthday girl.”

Alex, too, shares the same look Shuri previously sported, with furrowed eyebrows and confusion written on her face. “M-Me? Something for me?”

“Of course!” Shuri answers. “Surely you did not think we would show up empty handed?”

Shuri’s hand rests on your leg, both as a reminder of her very physical presence as a grounding for herself, “How foolish of me to forget. I do not know what I would do without you, my darling.”

Shuri stands, offering her hand to you as well, adding on how she will need your help to retrieve it, before escorting you from the gazebo. While on your way to exit the yard, Shuri can hear Alex giving your parents a further scolding, which makes the queen smile mischievously.

It wasn’t a complete lie for escape, however. Shuri was nice enough to buy a gift for your sister for her birthday, though it wasn’t anything massive, and despite your constant jokes of it, wasn’t a pair of kimoyo earrings (though, from Alex’s birthday outfit, she could tell that she was a jewelry girl, and a pair of earrings probably would have sufficed better).

“I’m starting to understand why you never told me about your parents,” Shuri says in a breathless scoff, pressing a button on her beads to pop open the trunk of her car, “infuriating doesn’t even begin to describe them.”

“Are you okay?” You ask in all seriousness. “The..comment about your mom, I mean.”

How could you be worried of her feelings when she’d just had to watch your mother berate you in front of her? Shuri wonders this as she turns from the open trunk of the car to face you again. Though, she supposes that from that interaction, you were more used to centering others and their emotions than yourself. Although it caused an ache in her heart, the revelation made sense of previous actions between the two of you.

“What I said was true,” the queen replies, “though I admit, perhaps there was a bite in my tongue.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t curse her out.”

“Well…I do have a promise to keep to Alex.” Shuri says in a soft laugh. “I do not want to be the cause of her birthday being ruined. Your parents are making it fairly hard to do that, however.”

Shuri closes the trunk of the car, the tiny bag holding Alex’s gift inside being set on top of it as the queen leans against the sleek black vehicle. She invites you into her embrace, pulling you between her legs and resting her hands on your hips; yours make their way onto her shoulders, a weak smile on your face.

“That’s two strikes by my count.”

“I know.”

“We have yet to even make it to dinner.”

“I know.”

“What do you want to do, beloved?”

I don’t know anymore, you think, this is all just too much.

“Let’s…stay.”

Part of you was reluctant to leave due to wanting to experience your sister’s birthday with her. You’d all but promised that you’d come to enjoy yourself with Shuri, even if your parents made that hard. But there was also an inkling of pettiness inside of you that wanted to show the assholes your parents were to the rest of your family members (who, while had suspicions of their weird behaviors and holier-than-thou rhetoric, would rather not engage in family drama to keep peace amongst the ranks). 

“I’m not letting them get the better of me,” you add on, “today is for Alex. And if they wanna make it a problem, it can be a problem.”

The look on Shuri’s face was a mix of shock and pride; she hadn’t expected you to say that, and if she were being honest with herself, she was secretly anticipating such a moment to occur. Perhaps because it would give her a chance to release the pent up frustrations that had collected within her due to your parents actions; perhaps it was because seeing you stand your ground had always been an attractive sight to her. Regardless, the small smile that spread across her face was a reflection of her hopefulness.

“One more chance, then?”

“Hopefully they make it count.”

Shuri remembers how she used to dislike family dinners.

The prospect of eating with her family irked her at a young age. Though she loved her parents and her brother dearly, her teenage self was far too absorbed in her technological advances to actively partake in the family tradition. She’d taken such a routine for granted, and now, the dinner table in the large palace she called home was barren. She barely ate there anymore, consumed by the regret of not making such precious moments a priority in her youth.

As she sits next to you at the elongated party table with the rest of your family members, she notes the same air of barrenness, but not of presence of people. It is a barrenness of love.

The behavior of certain family members began to change as the night progressed. Despite the lingering glares of your family members, many aunts and uncles approached you again, expressing their joy in seeing your presence. Perhaps it was truly the guilt that you mentioned earlier, how these extended family members were subject to the bystander syndrome, and hadn’t known how to deal with their guilty consciences for whatever reason. Perhaps these people did genuinely want to reconnect with their long lost niece, cousin, auntie. Shuri would never admit it aloud to anyone, but seeing the look of distaste upon your parents face was entertaining to say the least.

“So do you drive a space ship everywhere you go?” One of your many nephews asked the queen out of curiosity, big brown eyes and white bucked-teeth shining with glee, as he’d never seen anyone of her status before.

“Not everywhere,” Shuri answers, “only the far away places.”

“Do you go to other planets? Like Mars? Or Pluto?”

“Hmm,” the queen thinks, “I don’t think I have. I shall put that on my books and tell you about it upon my return. How does that sound, little one?”

“Awesome!”

Seeing Shuri interact with the younger children eased your tense body and racing mind. She was almost a natural with them, it seemed. You leaned into her side, your cheek squishing against her shoulder with a playful huff. “Can I have my girlfriend back, please? You’ve been askin’ her questions since we got to the table.”

“Nu-uh!” Objects the little boy. “Have not!”

“Have too, lil’ boy,” you reject, “now gon’ eat so your mama don’t yell at you.”

“Can we talk about spaceships after dinner then, Auntie Shuri?”

Shuri wasn’t sure if she should adhere to the new term, having only known the child for an hour or so, but to entertain him, she allowed it. “Sure. We can talk about spaceships after dinner.”

Thankfully, the young boy seemed to be satisfied with the compromise, and began to eat his plate of food. Shuri turns to you with an amused grin, eyebrows raised as she asks “Were you jealous of your own nephew?”

“I can be jealous if I want to,” you pout, bottom lip tucked out in protest, “lil’ shit was taking you away from me.”

Shuri laughs at your banter, both glad that you’ve somewhat relaxed, and that the evening seemed to be going well. She hoped that it would stay like this.

The clinking of metal to glass caught her attention, as well as the other partygoers. Looking towards the head of the table, Alex is standing, grasping the attention of everyone in order to speak.

“Now, we all know the reason today is such an important day, aside from the fact that it’s my birthday,” Alex begins, glancing around the table, making eye contact with each individual, “though some of the kids might not know. And since we have a newcomer with us,” she says, gesturing to Shuri, who returns a nod of acknowledgement as she speaks, “I figured now is as good of a time to talk about why we celebrate the twenty-fifth birthday of the girls in our family.”

Alex sets the glass down, clears her throat, and speaks again. “Now the story has never been written down, but anyone who has sat between Nana and Great Nana’s legs to get their hair done will know the story by heart. A generation or so before them, our family had a ‘curse’ on us girls. One of our enslaved ancestors was forced to ‘engage’ with their owner who desired a mixed child. That ancestor cursed our bloodline so that no girls would survive, and slowly our numbers began to dwindle.”

You always loved to hear this story. You were never sure why, but it had always been more than hair braiding entertainment to keep a child's attention. The raw history that your grandmother and great-grandmother passed down your line of lineage always held a special place in your heart.

“Then one thing lead to another, a generation passes, and a girl is born…and she lives old enough to run away with another slave guy she fell in love with. And that ancestor had Great Nana, who had Nana, who had mom and the aunties…who had us.”

You’d been sitting to Alex’s right when she extended her hand to you to hold. You accepted it with a warm smile. She’d done the same to your mother as well.

“Reaching twenty-five is like a right of passage. Guarantees to a long, fulfilling life. And that is what we celebrate tonight.”

There were a series of claps, cheers, whoops and hollers that erupted from the table, coming from the queen herself as well. It was indeed a remarkable retelling, she thought, and she even noticed the way that Alex posed herself as a bridge between you and your mother. She applauded the woman for still trying to reconcile, but knew that there was no hope for such a feat.

As soon as Alex sat down, your mother took a stand. “I’d like to make a toast as well.”

Shuri felt you lean just a little bit closer to her. 

“My baby, oh, what can I even say?” Your mother begins, striking up a face of pride. “You were perfect since the day I first laid eyes on you. I knew you’d be destined for greatness, and I can’t be any more proud of you than I am now. My baby girl is all grown up, and I can’t wait to see more of the outstanding woman you’ve become…”

Another round of applause echoes throughout the backyard, and Shuri breathes. Though she doesn’t trust your mother one bit, the words that came from her mouth seemed very genuine-

“...and you are more than fit to carry on this tradition. My only daughter that can.”

-nevermind.

The distant crickets could be heard as your mother took her seat again, seemingly proud of her little stunt. Perhaps she thought it was something good to say, but neither you, Alex, or Shuri saw the need for the ending.

“That ending wasn’t needed, but thank you.” Alex says through gritted teeth, a sigh leaving her lips. It was much like the older woman to need the last word, and although Alex truly hoped she would behave, her own patience was waning thin with the woman and her antics.

“We have a toast as well!”

Shuri whips her head to you, brows furrowed in confusion as she whispers, “We do?”

The words leave your lips before you can actually think about what you’re about to do. Upstaging your mother had never been something you’d acted upon, although you’d fantasized about shutting her up numerous times with your own words; the courage was just never there. Perhaps it was because now you were older, or perhaps it was because you now knew that Alex was on your side, or perhaps it was because you had Shuri next to you to back you up. Whatever it was, it began surging through your veins that once were riddled and crippled with anxiety.

Nonetheless, you’re standing up, and so is Shuri, so there isn’t any backing down now. All eyes were on you.

“Sister,” you begin, reaching your hand out Alex who stands up again to be eye level with you, “I will make this quick, ‘cuz you know I hate sappy shit.”

Alex laughs a little. Her grip on your hands is comforting, and the way she looks at you is almost in a coaching matter. She hadn’t expected such a burst of confidence either, but wasn’t about to let you face it alone.

“We’ve had our…ups and down,” you say, “and there were ‘things’ happening that I blamed you for, that I pushed you away for. But you’ve always been there. You were..the only person there.”

You feel Shuri’s hand caress the small of your back for support. You feel like crying, and you're not sure the reason for it, but you push it down and continue.

“I am grateful for you, and I’m glad I came to celebrate with you…and I love you.”

The air that was once thick when you started to speak seemed to ease when you said those last three words. And again, claps and praises flew out into the air at the confession. Alex, the much more sappier of one of the two of you, tried to keep her eyes from swelling with tears, but of course it was harder for her to do so.

“Don’t you start crying,” you say playfully through the loudness of the table, “‘cus you know if you do, then I’ma start crying, and we just gon’ be two snotty nosed bitches-”

Yet you didn’t get the chance to finish, because Alex then pulls you into her embrace. It’s tight and full of love, and she gives you no choice but to sink into it. For a second, it seems like the noise drowns out as you bask in the love from your sister, and you hear a faint ‘thank you’ being whispered into your ear right as she pulls away.

“I suppose this means it is my turn,” Shuri says sheepishly, once the embrace has finished and you’ve returned right at her side. She’d been thinking of what to day this entire time, though each scenario that she had run through her head didn’t seem worthy of a quality toast to a quality woman, “I shall try to make this toast worthy of your time, Miss Birthday Girl.”

“Sitting at this table, surrounded by all of you; it reminds me of a similar family routine that I took for granted in my youth.” Shuri’s eyes gaze from person to person as she speaks. “You see, I was too absorbed in my technological advances to truly appreciate the aspects of family dinners. The mundaneness of sitting with one another and being present. I used to want to give anything to be left to my own devices. And now, I sit at the head of the same table, with no one. I am Queen of the most powerful nation in the world, and my entire family is gone.”

Another silence fills the table as everyone looks onto Shuri; her head is held high as she speaks, though, voice unwavering. She breathes when she feels your hand slip into hers.

“Alex, you are a very blessed woman to have your family here with you to celebrate a generational obstacle overcome,” the queen bids, “and for that, I propose a toast to you, and a saying from my people to yours.”

The queen picks up her red cup, and watches as each individual picks up their own, before speaking again. “To Alex, a woman of virtue and genuity. ‘Akukho mntu ngaphandle kwesidenge ophika usapho lwakhe’.”

A round of cheers sounds before everyone downs a gulp of their chosen drinks in unison, applauding Shuri for her heartfelt toast and gratitude. As the both of you sit, and light chatter begins to cover the table, your mother calls out to Shuri with a look of curiosity.

“Such a lovely quote, Shuri,” your mother says, “what does it mean?”

“Oh, the proverb,” Shuri says, “it is one my baba used to say.”

“Did he now?”

“It means ‘No one but a fool denies their family’.”

Hearing this, your gaze shifts from the food in front of you to Shuri, who sports a proud smirk as she watches your mother grow uncomfortable in her seat from the queen’s words. As if she were putting the dots together in her own head.

With Dinner done, your nephew was all too quick to pull the queen aside to continue their conversation about her fancy spaceships. While his eagerness was endearing, Shuri had to put the conversation on hold because of an important phone call that came through. You assumed that it was Ayo, a name you had heard in fleeting conversations, but knew it to be a person of importance to Shuri. A captain of her Queen’s Guard, which Shuri had respectfully asked to fall back on attending the outing with the both of you, since it was a family thing, and Shuri didn’t want Alex’s neighbors questioning why so many bald-headed women were lingering around her house.

She said she would make the call quick, five minutes at most, before stepping into the house for quiet and privacy. The loss of her presence made you slightly anxious, but you maintained your spot in the gazebo, and Alex popped in here and there. She was the host, so she had to engage with the rest of her partygoers, but you were more than grateful that she took the time out to still check in on you, despite it being her day.

You took a sip of your drink - the adult punch that had been put in the kitchen so kids couldn’t get to it - and watched the party goers enjoy themselves from the comfort of your seat. Children running around, chasing each other with sparklers; aunties and uncles dancing to the old school remix; teens making TikTok videos with dances and skits. For a moment, things were content, and everyone was happy. Normal.

For a moment, for the first time in a long time, you felt happy with your family. 

“You’ve found this corner real comfortable, I see.”

The voice of your mother slips through he peaceful silence that previously covered the gazebo, and although you don’t feel it at first, your body begins to tense. She herself sports a red solo cup, though you can’t tell what’s inside of it. 

She doesn’t ask to join you - just takes up a single seat across from you - and even if she were to ask, you aren’t sure if you could even mutter an answer.

“It’s been so long since you’ve left,” your mother says, “since you decided you were grown enough and left your family behind. How has life been for you?”

“Good.” You reply, short and curt, taking a sip from your drink.

“You seem more than good,” she continues, “I assume living with a queen gives you a lot of financial relief-”

“If you came over here to start shit, please don’t.” You quickly cut off. “One; my relationship is of no concern to you, but Shuri doesn’t pay for shit of mine that I have. I was good before I met her, and I’m still going good on my own.”

You weren’t sure where the sudden crossness came from, but you definitely knew it had something to do with your mother’s constant mention of Shuri, as if she held prominent importance tonight and not the other child she’d birthed. “And it’s Alex’s birthday. I’m here for her.”

Your mother scoffs at your words, “-and there you go, twistin’ my words around and making me seem like the enemy. I’m just trying to talk to you!”

“Bullshit,” you spit, rising from your seat in a quick bid to find a quick exit into an area more populated, and more importantly, away from her, “I’m not doing this with you.”

You turn to try and leave, but your mother continues to speak behind you, pushing you further, “you’re so ungrateful; after everything we’ve done for you, you can’t even show an ounce of respect to your own mother.”

In that moment your body froze on the steps of the gazebo. A dull chill awakens within you, spreading through your limbs, your skin nearly rising into goosebumps, before a wave of anger crashes in.

“Fine,” you mutter, “you wanna ‘talk’?”

You turn to face your mother once again, eyes burning holes into her face, which has the audacity to hold a look of shock. “Let’s fucking talk.”

“Oh, but where to begin?” You scoff. “Maybe lets talk about how you can’t seem to ever say one good thing about me. It’s always some backhanded comment that you can’t help to point out how amazing Alex was and how shitty I was in comparison-”

“-that is not true,” your mother tries to interject, “but you were - and still are - a difficult child-”

“-I wasn’t fucking difficult!” You shout, drawing a few pairs of eyes to you and your mother. “I wanted fucking attention that you weren’t giving me! And you thought beating me was the best way to get me to ‘stop acting out’?”

“It was discipline!”

“Oh, but Alex never needed it though, right?” You question. “Alex was just so perfect to yall. She got the best of everything while your little mistake became the punching bag you took your frustrations out on!”

The increasing shouting started to draw attention from the other partygoers, who muttered among themselves, wondering the reason for the altercation, questioning if they should intervene. And it only got worse when the sound of skin slapping skin echoed throughout the backyard, making the music that played from outdoor speakers seem quiet.

Your mother, the pious, religious, righteous woman she claimed to be, just slapped you in front of the rest of your family.

“What’s going on over here?” The voice of your father bellows as he approaches the gazebo, having only made his presence known after a few gasps from seeing your mother hit you.

“I will not be disrespected by you, you ungrateful wench,” your mother seethes, “I was a damn good mother to you, even when we fell on hard times. I raised you!”

“I was a fucking kid!” You yell back. “How does a fucking adult take their anger out on their own kid!?”

“And you,” comes your voice through gritted teeth upon seeing your father coming to console your mother, which seemed to anger you even more, “dear old dad, who never ‘picked a side’. You sat there and watched as she fucked up her own kid.”

Your voice comes out more strained, wavering at the sight of your father. The man you saw treat Alex like a literal princess while you could only ever dream of being treated as such. You knew the next words you’d say were going to push his buttons - perhaps part of you wanted a reaction from him that could show that maybe, somewhere inside of him, he cared when your mother didn’t.

“If anything you’re more of a bitch than her!”

You weren’t sure what scared you more in that moment; the loud grunt and your fathers arms menacingly reaching out towards you, or the flash of black that shot across your vision right before you closed your eyes shut, anticipating something to happen.

The silence was deafening as you felt your legs stumble back into something warm but you were too scared to open your eyes yet. Of all your senses that had been stricken with tension, the first to register with reality once again was your hearing.

“I want you to think carefully about your next actions,” the queen’s voice comes out hardened and unyielding, “because I can assure you, I will not have to think about mine.”

That flash of black that had crossed your vision earlier had been Shuri. And if your eyes had been open, you yourself would have shuddered at the pure rage that was present on her face.

Shuri’s hand, albeit tiny and delicate in most cases, held your father’s wrist in a right grasp, and despite the broader man's struggles to pull free, it was futile. She was not letting him go, and neither was the intensity of her stare that held your mother’s gaze. 

“If you don’t let my husband go-”

“Shut. Up.” And her words were absolute, leaving no room for question. Perhaps it was part of the authoritarian aura that she’d gained from taking on her queenship that shut your mother up, but whatever the case may have been, Shuri admits that she certainly enjoyed the look of surprise on your mother’s face.

“Alex,” Shuri says, and it now becomes clear to you that the thing you had back into was your very sister. It also became clear how tight her grip on you was, as if she were scared to let you go, “take my beloved back to my car. We will be leaving shortly.”

There’s a gentle nudge and a hushed ‘c’mon’ before you feel yourself being moved sideways, then forward, Alex doing as Shuri says and relocating you to the front of her home to get you into a safer, calmer place.

It isn’t until Shuri sees your figure disappear behind the wooden fence that she releases your father’s wrist. The man winces as he regains control of his limb, his wife bringing her hands to soothe the skin where it was beginning to turn purple from just how tight her grasp was.

Shuri turns in a slow circle, eyes scanning each and every one of the individuals who’d stood by and undoubtedly watched the scene unfold, offering no sign of intervention. “This is what your family is?” She calls out. “It is sickening.”

The guilt shines in their eyes but Shuri has none of it. To her, they are all just as guilty as your parents, for they've watched the same scene unfold many times before, and just the same, no one stood up.

The queen turns back to your parents, as she bites the inside of her cheek to control her composure. “I do not know your story,” she says, “nor do I wish to, and now, nor do I care. I only leave you with this as I leave.”

Shuri takes a step forward to your parents, jaw clenched tight and piercing eyes meeting theirs once again. “My (Y/N) will be loved…as it is clearly something neither of you could bestow upon her.”

And in the same flash of black she leaves the party, that had long gone silent, and biting her tongue so hard she thought she’d draw blood.

Exitting the back yard, Shuri comes around the front to see you and Alex sitting on the porch steps. She holds a towel to your cheek, whispering to you with care about holding the cold, wet cloth gently on your cheek to battle the inflammation. It was the first and only thing she could grab without immediately leaving your side, the green garden hose still running into the grass proof of it.

It takes everything in Shuri not to run to you, to pull you into her arms and cradle you into her embrace, to shield you from the cruelness that has surely been brought back to the forefront of your mind. There’s a pit in her stomach that churns with the pain of unease, and it eats at her as she thinks; if she had just been swifter with that call with Ayo, or better yet, not even answered at all, then you wouldn’t have been left alone, and you wouldn’t have gotten hurt.

Shuri grows closer and realizes that the both of you are crying, and her heart tightens in her chest. She bends down to meet you on eye level, resting a soothing hand on your leg. Alex holds her head in one hand, her other still grasped tightly onto your side, holding you close to her. Shuri finally understands what Alex meant when she talked about the varying levels of harm done to the sisters in their youth. You took the physical and verbal brunt, while Alex took the emotional.

“This was not suppose to happen.” Shuri hears Alex mutter, and the queen quickly cuts in before Alex has a chance to even say as such.

“It is not your fault, Alex,” the queen asserts, “you cannot be responsible for the actions of your parents.”

Alex looks up to Shuri, sniffling as their eyes connect. A beat passes before the older sister nods, though her jaw is still tight with tension. There’s a shift in Alex’s eyes, from sadness and regret, to a hardened security.

“I need to get my house in order,” she says, glancing to her side, and reluctantly peeling her arm from around your waist, “party’s officially over.”

Alex stands to do just as she intends, and as she leaves, Shuri grows closer to you. One hand rubs circles into your knee, the other one gently lifts your face up to meet hers. Your eyes are tired, likely due to adrenaline fatigue, but your body still shakes with a light tremble.

“I am taking you home.” She says, leaving no room for argument; even though, in your current state, you couldn’t refuse her if you wanted to. So when Shuri wraps her arms around you and lifts you to your feet, you all but lean into her warmth. 

And the kiss she presses into the crown of your head provides reassurance that even after the events that have unfolded, with Shuri, you will be okay.

If you enjoyed, please leave a like, comment, and reblog for others to see! And don’t be shy to send in a request!

#black reader #black tumblr #black marvel #black mcu #marvel #mcu #marvel x reader #marvel x black!reader #mcu x reader #mcu x black!reader #black panther #black panther 2 #black panther x reader #black panther x black!reader #black panther shuri #shuri black panther #shuri #princess shuri #shuri udaku #shuri x reader #shuri x black!reader #shuri udaku x reader #shuri udaku x black!reader #princess shuri x reader

[swimmingismywholelife]

All I Want (For Christmas)

Summary: The months of arguing finally comes to a head on what was supposed to be the most wonderful time of the year.

Warnings: ANGST, toxic relationship, reader is wine drunk for the beginning, panic attacks, loud arguments, heartbreak, lovers-to-exes, yes he's really doing this on Christmas

WC: 2.3K

A/N: 🎶On the fourth day of Ficmas my writer gave to me, Conor but make it angsty 🎶 Hello I hope you're all enjoying Ficmas so far! ! I don't normally write for Conor but here's a gift from me to all the Conor girlies! I hope I do him justice!

Link For the Song: All I Want (For Christmas)

"If we can make it through December

Maybe we'll make it through forever

'Cause all I want for Christmas

Is you and me to fix this."

~~~

"Are you fucking serious, Conor?!" you screamed, walking into your house and storming into the kitchen.

"I really can't be bothered with this right now, Y/N. You're drunk right now. Let's just wait until the morning before we have this discussion," he said exasperated, slamming the door behind him.

You turned to face him seething. "You knew how important this was for me! And yet, somehow you made this about yourself!"

Conor slammed his hands on the counter. "For fucks sake! I showed up didn't I!? What more do you want from me?!"

"You were so late you might as well have just not come! You completely embarrassed me!" you screamed.

"I told you I had a thing for the team I couldn't skip! I tried, I really did, but I couldn't get out of it! How many times do I have to explain that to you?!" he yelled in reply.

This wasn't the first time you'd fought about this exact issue. It was a recurring disagreement you and your boyfriend constantly had. You had always prided yourself on being flexible and understanding with him and his busy schedule, but these days it felt like you never saw eye to eye.

Tonight was supposed to be a date night to celebrate a promotion at your job. You'd been talking about it for weeks and both of you were excited for it, only for Chelsea to host an event on the same night that Conor unfortunately couldn't skip as one of the vice captains. Conor explained that he would probably be late, but you never expected he would show up almost 3 hours after your reservation. By the time he sat down, you were on your 6th glass of wine seething. Rather than a joyous celebration, your dinner was incredibly tense and awkward.

Cancelled dates weren't a new concept for you. There had been many times, especially once the season started, that something in his schedule prevented you spending time together. Usually it didn't bother you as much, but these days it felt like you weren't important enough for him. Tonight was supposed to be something to celebrate you, but it felt like you always had to sacrifice you for him, but he was never willing to do the same for you. And with alcohol coursing through your veins, the anger was all you could focus on.

"You should've just changed the date to a different one once I told you Chelsea wouldn't let me skip this event!" he said.

"I shouldn't have to!" you screamed back. "All the time, it's me making sacrifices for you! For once, I'm asking you to act like I'm a priority in your life!"

"You're being unreasonable!" he said, exasperated that you weren't listening to him. "I tried to get out of this! I asked Poch, I asked the staff, I even asked my fucking manager if there was any possibility of either changing the date or skipping it altogether so I could celebrate my girlfriend's promotion, but I couldn't. That's how it works! You knew that when you committed to this relationship."

"So now it's burden for me to ask you to celebrate me?!" you asked. "I've been to every fucking one of your events. Every home game, every final, every award ceremony, whether it be for club or country. I'm there whenever you ask me to be. And suddenly, I want the same from you and it's my fault?!"

"You're clearly not listening to me! When did I say you were a burden?" Conor asked. "You know what, why the fuck do I even bother with you? You never listen to anything except what you wanna hear. I'm sorry I was late. I'm sorry this turned out to be such a shitty night. But I'm not apologizing for standing my ground when you're twisting my words and trying to claim I've never done anything for you!"

"If you don't wanna bother, then get the fuck out! See if I care! Maybe someone who actually bothers can come celebrate with me!" you screamed, your words cutting Conor deep.

"And of course, that's the only part of the conversation you hear," he said, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Fine. If that's what you fucking want. Come find me when you're ready to actually talk."

Conor turned around, grabbed his keys and wallet, and stormed out of the house. You leaned your back to the refrigerator and slid down to the ground, tears streaming down your face. You hugged your knees to your chest as loud gasps left you. You felt like you couldn't breathe, like you were drowning in your emotions. You sat there for what felt like hours, your body shaking as your sobs grew more intense.

The moment he walked out, you immediately regretted everything you said and sobered up. You knew you were being unfair to him. You could've changed the date. You could've been more understanding. It wasn't like he planned this on purpose. He never did. Conor was always grateful for your unwavering support and felt horrible whenever he couldn't do the same for you because of his job. Regardless, he always made it up to you and always proved that he cared about you. You let your frustration build up and unfairly took it out on him.

They say drunk words are sober thoughts. And yes, while you did feel all of those thoughts to an extent, you knew that at the end of the day, he was always more than enough for you. And the moments you spent with him made all of those frustrations worth it.

Conor never came home after that. You tried calling him, but he never answered. You tried calling his closest friends, his family, and even his manager about his whereabouts, but none of them gave you an answer. They all refused to at his request. You only knew that he was safe somewhere. They all told you the same thing anyway: that the two of you desperately needed space. But you didn't want space. You just wanted him. You wanted him to know how sorry you were, that you didn't mean any of what you said.

Days turned to weeks. The air grew colder and Conor still wasn't home. Fall flew by as you wallowed in your loneliness, becoming bitter as the holidays approached.  You tried decorating the house to lift your mood, but all you felt was pain. You wanted to hear back from him. You wanted to see him. You wanted him to come home to you. Even the snow outside, one of your favorite things about this time of year, couldn't mend your broken heart.

It was the night before Christmas. You were cleaning the kitchen when you heard the doorknob turn, the sound of keys clinking together stopping you in your tracks. You weren't sure who it is, your hand instinctually grabbing for a knife in case it was an intruder.

"Y/N?" you heard a voice call out.

You let out a sigh of relief and dropped the knife at the sound of your boyfriend.

"In the kitchen!" you called out.

As the footsteps grew louder, so did your heartbeat. Your hands grew sweaty, wiping them on the towel to try and stop them from shaking so much. This was the first time you'd be seeing him in weeks after all.

Your heart stopped when you laid eyes on Conor, taking note of his appearance. He looked more tired than you'd ever seen him, including after long flights for matches he'd taken. In any case, it didn't matter to you. All that mattered was that he was home.

"Hi," you said softly.

"Hey," Conor replied. "Can we talk?"

"Yeah, of course," you said wiping the counter. "Let me just finish up here, okay?"

"I'll wait for you in the living room," he said, turning to walk away.

Your stomach turned as you finished up your cleaning, unsure of what was about to unfold in front of you. Something told you that this wasn't going to be a happy ending. But you tried to be positive. Maybe you were just in your own head. Maybe you were overthinking. Everything was gonna be fine. You'd had been arguments before and you'd worked through them. This was just another one of those.

After enough stalling, you headed into the living room where Conor was waiting for you. You both sat down on the couch a distance away from each other. It was unusual considering you were usually attached at the hip.

'We're already off to a bad start," you thought to yourself.

"How have you been?" Conor asked you politely.

"Losing my mind," you said sarcastically. "I haven't heard from you in weeks! No one would tell me where you were or what you were doing. I tried asking around, but no one was willing to tell me any specifics."

"That’s' because i asked them to," he replied.

"What?" you asked alarmed. "Why?"

"Because we needed space, Y/N," he answered, running his hands through his hair. "And I needed time away where I could really think without me running back to you or vice versa. That's not what either of us needed."

"You're talking about what you needed! What about what I needed?" you asked. "Not knowing where you were drove me mental! You could've at least told me where you were!"

"See, this," he gestured to you, "this is exactly what I'm talking about. You and I both know you would've gone to where I was staying to talk and it would've ended in a bigger argument, or I would've come back here and we would've ignored the problem. And we can't keep trying to ignore this problem."

"We're not ignoring the problem, Conor," you said exasperated.

"Yes, we are," Conor said sternly. "We have been for a while now. And I think you know that too."

Silence fell as the air grew more tense. The bad feeling in your stomach only grew.

"We've been arguing about the same things for months now," he started. "And we've both tried to make changes but obviously something isn't clicking between why we're fighting and how we're trying to change it."

"I mean, we've just gotta keep doing what we're doing right?" You asked. "Keep trying different things until we find the right solution?"

Conor looked at you, tears in his eyes. "Y/N, we can't keep doing this over and over again expecting the result to be different this time."

You were confused. "What do you mean 'this?' We're working through our issues like we always do."

"No, Y/N, we're not. And we haven't been for a while."

"Wh-wh-what are you saying?" you stanmered out. "What does that even mean?"

"Y/N, I love you, you know I do. And I always will. But we can't keep doing this anymore. I can't keep doing this anymore. I can't give you what you're asking for and you can't give me what I'm asking for either. That's where the problem lies," Conor said. "So that's why-"

You cut him off, shutting your eyes as tears began rapidly falling down your face. "Don't fucking say it! Don't you dare fucking say it! We can make this work! We can do something else! We can do anything else except for what you're gonna say next! It doesn't have to resort to that!"

"Y/N, look at me," Conor said, cupping your cheeks. You averted your gaze and tried to pull away, but his grip was strong. You couldn't help but melt into him.

"Y/N. I love you. But this is hurting us more than it's helping," he said, tears forming in his own eyes. "We need to end this. And this is the only way it can end without us hating each other."

"Speak for yourself!" you sobbed. "It's fucking Christmas, Conor, and you have the nerve to fucking dump me?! How could you do this to me?!"

"I know," he said, pulling you in close. You didn't have the heart to push him away, collapsing into his arms. "I know and I'm a fucking dickhead and I'm sorry. But I can't let us keep doing this, pretending to be happy throughout the holidays when we both know we're not happy."

Conor held you as you fell apart, desperately trying not to let the tears fall from his own eyes. He needed to be strong for the both of you. You gripped the collar of his shirt tightly, knowing that the moment you let go, he would be gone. Your body shook and loud wails left you.

"We can f-fix this!" you cried. "We can! We're meant to be together remember? We can get through anything!" Conor kissed the top of your head, trying to savor these very last minutes with you.

You held onto to each other for what seemed like hours, trying to memorize the way your bodies fit together. You wanted to remember his scent, the warmth his body gave you, how safe you felt with him, how these were the moments that made fighting for this relationship worth it. This moment was all you had left with him and you wanted to savor every second of it.

Eventually, Conor pulled away. And you had no choice but to let go of him.

"I'll come 'round sometime to pack my stuff once the new year starts," he said gently. "I think for now we just need to be with our families."

He kissed your forehead before standing up to leave. He reached for the doorknob, turning around to look at you one last time.

"Please stay," you begged. "This doesn't have to be it. We can fix this."

He shook his head in disagreement. "We can't, Y/N."

"Please, Conor," you cried. "I love you."

"I love you too," he said, "more than anything. And that's why I have to go."

Painfully, Conor turned around and opened the door for the last time. And as the door closed behind him, you fell to the ground sobbing, hoping for a Christmas miracle that he would come back to you.

But he never did. And it was too late to fix it this time.

Taglist: @thoseboysinblue @neverinadream @notsoattractivearenti @lovelynikol16 @pulisicsgirl @lizzypotter14 @shadowscorch @nyctophilic0vitnir

#conor gallagher #conor gallagher imagine #conor gallagher au #conor gallagher one shot #conor gallagher x reader #footballer au #footballer imagine #footballer one shot #footballer x reader #swimmingismywholelife

[henrygarcia]

YOU DIDN'T MEAN TO BE CRUEL. THAT DOES NOT MEAN YOU WERE KIND.

Awards After-party, post plot drop

Berkeley Estate

Warnings: Nah 🙂

Thud. Thudthudthud. A pause. Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud.

Henry used their knock so she knew it was him.

Adriana had been with Henry when everyone’s phone suddenly received a video of a man’s horrific death. How quickly their joyous celebration of her engagement going public soured at the torture and violence. In that instant, who that man was or who was behind this grand reveal didn’t matter to Henry. It was meant to send a message, and its intended recipient was unlikely to take it kindly.

The rest of the dominos falling was just a matter of time.

Henry made sure his best friend was safe first. Despite how many directions his mind was being pulled to—his daughter, his partner, his friends—he knew he couldn’t rest if he had left Adriana out hanging. Perhaps the gravity of the situation sunk in for her as well when Adriana did little to protest. Only after securing Adriana in a room did Henry venture off to find everyone else.

He had found Lara next, heart sunk at the sight of her already worse for wear. Where Henry had been so good, so used to compartmentalizing when he was working, seeing her like that pulled the rug out from under him. Was she alright? Was she hurt? Who did this to her? What happened? Questions bled into the forefront of his attention that only instinct got Henry to move Lara to a secure room before his concerns got the best of him.

A different message brought him back to his senses.

I have V. We are safe.

As much as Henry wanted to stay, he had to put his trust in Lara when she said she was okay, his trust in his colleagues to do their job, because he, too, still had work to do. Everyone would ultimately be better off if he did.

We are safe. We are safe. That was what Henry kept reminding himself as he went against every urge and call to find his daughter first. Valentina and Jessica had each other, he knew. Adriana was by herself, safe but alone. Having her stay with Lara made more sense; they both would have company to ride the ensuing chaos, and security can be more concentrated. With intense focus, Henry went straight to his best friend, dodging and avoiding the fights that littered the estate.

Thud. Thudthudthud. A pause. Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud.

Henry blocked most of the way when Adriana finally opened the door, a wave of relief rushed through his system at the sight of her just as he left her. “Lara’s secured. Valentina is with Jess. I’ll get you to Lara’s room first before I get them,” Henry quickly looped Adriana in before he began looking in the vicinity for a clear path. When the coast was clear enough, Henry kept an arm around Adriana, his body both guide and shield as they made their way back to Lara’s room.

“No! Get away from me! You can’t—help!”

The high pitched scream burned Henry’s ears. His heart made him want to approach where it came from. His head told him to avoid that situation entirely because going near would only invite them to trouble they were not supposed to be a part of. Yet, despite having traded blood on his knuckles for money in his bank account, Henry never grew to become indifferent or comfortable around the violence, because ultimately, they were always someone’s parent, child, brother—

“AVIV!”

Henry’s head immediately turned to the direction of the name. The Israeli had tore through the group of men trying to hold on to a small blond woman whom Henry assumed the screams came from. It was almost an amazing sight to see one man fight against a handful of them until the sobering reality hit: Aviv was one man fighting against a handful of Frenchmen.

“AVIV!” Another cry for the man, this time it rang right beside his ear. Adriana, witnessing the same events unfold, called out to her fiancé as she began to storm towards them. She had only made it an arm’s length away before Henry grabbed on to her, pulling her back towards him. Heart and head, often conflicting, were united over the common goal to keep Adriana safe.

The conflict between the French and the Russians had blown up to the point where boundaries grew fewer and became less and less respected as their rivalry continued, giving little regards to those who got burned along the way. Aviv’s reputation unfortunately preceded him, and he had suddenly found himself surrounded by people who could only wish to return the favor. Adriana getting involved would only give the French opportunity—fodder—to hurt Aviv even more.

He couldn’t help but remember Ceren, who had only been in the way for the French to get Jai.

Though Adriana tried to make a run for it, Henry caught up faster, his arm now around her waist to pull her back. And when her sheer force of will insisted on pushing forward, Henry lifted his best friend off her feet and onto his shoulders as he carried her farther and farther away from the scene. Henry swallowed the grunts as he absorbed Adriana’s hits and jabs to try to escape—he let her because he deserved it. For keeping her away from protecting her partner. For leaving Aviv behind. For leaving the woman behind.

None of them may forgive him, but he wouldn’t forgive himself if anything were to happen to Adriana.

#event: mobawards ap 2024. #ft. adriana amaro #ft. aviv kasyanenko

[colourme-feral]

@dribs-and-drabbles' ask to @respectthepetty about gloves being used to represent the love that characters have reminded me in a way of this image that's been sitting in my mind since I first saw it.

While that post is about the use of red to represent celebration and love, mine is about the metaphorical spilling of blood in the name of the ones you love as shown by the costuming in this scene of To Sir, With Love, or Khun Chai.

As someone who almost never picks up on colours, this image of Tian stayed in my mind long after the show was over. There are so many things that contribute to why this costume and scene made such a lasting impression on me.

In this scene, the members of the Five Dragons Association, headed by Song, meet to pay their respects to the dead members of the association. Song makes use of the occasion to announce that Tian will be getting married to Mud and will also inherit the role of leader of the association from Song. As this is supposed to be a celebratory event, many in the scene, are wearing either red, pink or lighter colours. The irony that the choice of red clothing, which is supposed worn in this scene for the joyous occasion, seems to look like blood splattered on Tian's shirt.

Being the successor of Song's position, it makes sense that both Song and Tian are wearing shirts with the same motif of embroidered dragons. The image of the white dragons is clear, against the dark blue of Song's shirt. However, Tian's shirt sports a dragon in red against the darker shade of red, causing the dragon to look almost blood-like, rather than being a clear image. Although Tian does not spill any actual blood, the sacrifices that chooses to make during this scene are represented by the red on his shirt.

Tian's love for his mother results in him making numerous sacrifices for her. He agrees to the engagement with Mud, despite knowing that he loves Jiu, because his family, especially his mother, wants him to be the successor of the association. Aware that his mother has been murdering people in his name, Tian also purposely sets himself us to be seen burying the evidence so that he will be caught and exposed by Chan, whom he knows will not hide her discovery from their family. Tired of carrying his secret, which he knows is the reason that his mother has been killing people, he also chooses to out himself and the relationship that he has with Jiu. His last sacrifice for his mother is choosing to turn himself into the police for her crimes, as he blames himself for being the reason that his mother has felt the need to commit murder in her attempt to prevent the secret of him being gay from being revealed, which would result in him being removed as heir and possibly even disowned by his father.

By choosing to take his secret that he has buried deep within him and making it known to his entire family, Tian understands that he is going down a path of no return. While it would stop his mother from killing for him, he would also be condemned by his father. Having witnessed his father's strong reaction to Zhang being gay, the love that Tian had been receiving from his father may have felt as thought it were dependent on the condition that Tian were not gay. Tian may have tried to be the perfect son to be worthy of that love, but knowing that he was not able to meet that sole requirement would have been a pain and fear that would have kept growing within him.

The secrets, lies, guilt and pain that Tian chooses to carry and take responsibility for become a visual metaphor through the red on his shirt, which is meant to evoke joy and happiness, but is instead representative of the immense pain that Tian chooses put himself to go through for the rest of his family. The irony of this scene is that red is worn to represent celebration of Tian's parents' wishes for him: inheritance of the position as heir and marriage, while Tian is condeming himself to a tragic fate that he has not wanted nor asked for and his pain is visualised as the red across his shirt.

Tagging @lurkingshan because I essentially kept you updated on how this was not going anywhere lol

#to sir with love #to sir with love the series #khun chai #i'm sorry i just will always have a lot of feelings about this entire series #this scene will keep me screaming for a long time

[starsforlupin]

Older Remus Lupin | Fluff | Soulmate au

Words: 3.8k 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Theme song: Lavender Haze by Taylor Swift

Tw: Mention of death, war

-

"Meet me at midnight."

A random note, with an unhurried handwriting, appearing on the wall, out of nowhere.

The gesture could easily perplex someone.

It was a rare occurrence, but out of all the people, you should've known better. You should've guessed sooner. Remus Lupin always had a thing for quite unexpected events, especially when his actions left you speechless and in a surprised daze afterwards.

And now Remus had decided it was a brilliant idea to sneak a tiny paper into your room at number twelve Grimmauld Place, days after his disappearance. His plan was successful. Because despite the fact that you felt a wave of relief washing over you now that you knew he was alright, his short, unnoticed visit still robbed you of speech. There was no trace of him around the place and if Hermione hadn't dragged you downstairs, you'd probably have a chance to see him.

The long waiting was frustrating.

Speaking of Black's ancestral house, the sound of chattering and laughing was still loud in the air, reaching the high walls of the decrepit place. Days had passed since the downfall of darkest wizard of all time and the grimy atmosphere of Sirius Black's home was replaced with luminous parties that seemed to be in full swing all the time. From your arrival day until now, you had never seen Order's members this joyous and full of life. Back then, every moment was filled with constant alternation between worry, fear and death. But now it was all over and no whiff of darkness could invade the cheerfulness of your surroundings. Guests from all around the wizarding society would pay a visit everyday and some occasionally stayed longer to help clear the wreckage left from that murderous war. Ministry of magic mostly took care of bringing captured Death Eaters to trials and tracking the missing ones. Some other members, including you, tended to wipe any trail of destruction from Muggle places and erase their memories at the same time.

Bridges, buildings, stores. Death eaters hadn't left anything untouched on their way to Hogwarts. By now the castle was properly repaired and no sign of damage was left on its grounds, but the world of Muggles needed more work to be done. Though it was a long process, the distraction helped to slightly soothe your longing for Remus.

Inside the Grimmauld Place, you were surrounded with happiness. Fred and George were obviously the life of the party, playing pranks here and there and selling their creative products to the visitors. Sirius would crack a joke every once in a while and he never ceased to bring the whole family to hearty gales of laughter. Dobby and Kreacher were determined to serve cocktails, pastries and chocolates to everyone that stopped by the house of Blacks. It was heartwarming to see that everyone you cared for, was alive and there was no empty seat or heartbreaking sight. The Weasleys, Sirius, Hermione, Harry Potter and many more. Some of them had injuries, but they would heal. The past would eventually heal.

You were supposed to feel this happiness with every fiber of your being.

And yet in the back of your mind, it was hard to be joyful without his presence in the room. As far as you could remember, Remus Lupin was by your side through the lowest and scariest stages of war and it was unfair to celebrate the victory without him. There was this empty seat right in front of you at the dining table and each day a heavy lump tugged at your throat, because he hadn't returned yet. That spot belonged to him.

What on Earth was he doing away? Did it need to be now?

Though it saddened your twisted heart, you knew there was a reason behind his actions. So you decided to wait.

But as the days passed, your attention was drawn to the fact that Remus hadn't informed a single soul of his whereabouts. Still, everyone looked undisturbed by his absence. Your questions were left unanswered and you were getting worried that maybe something bad had happened to him. Despite your constant impatience, other members seemed totally unperturbed by Remus's disappearance. They just had some "Don't worry your mind, Y/N." to offer as a response. It was strange, as if they knew what Remus was up to. But since none of them was willing to let on any information about him, you didn't push it any further.

Maybe he didn't want you to know.

Or, maybe he didn't want you.

The thought crossed your mind in the middle of a particularly heated argument in the living room - which you didn't want to attend. Hermione had suddenly decided it was a good idea to keep you busy and away from the secluded atmosphere of your room, just for you to ignore the hustle and bustle and find your way back up the wooden stairs a few minutes later.

Just as the door clicked shut behind you, the unexpected touch of cool breeze on your cheeks brought a soft smile to your face. You didn't remember if the window was opened last time you were in the room, but nonetheless you watched as the gentle wind unhurriedly drifted through the curtains and vanished into your hair, spreading its cool and fresh air all around.

That was when a faint movement out of the corner of your eyes, caught your curious attention. It was right there, stuck on the wall below the ticking clock. The surface of a small purple note was swaying gently in the wind, waiting to be noticed by you. Even from across the room, you could pinpoint whose handwriting was written on it.

Your breathing hitched.

Just a few minutes ago, he was here.

But you weren't.

You quickly cast a look around the room and your gaze remained on the packed bags by the bedside table for a second longer before you reached for the tiny paper. Everything else was left totally untouched, meaning that his visit was fairly short with the sole purpose of leaving a sign and guiding you back to him. The same day you had decided to leave. Tears threatened to brim over and fall on your cheeks, but you blinked them away and traced your thumb several times over the cursive words, not trusting your blurry vision. The words were written in magical ink, giving off a celestial, multi-coloured glow that flowed freely and changed its appearance every few seconds.

It was like midnight sky.

Enchanted to fit inside the small space of a purplish paper.

It took you seconds of confusion to actually read those four words and realize what he meant by them. Midnight wasn't a specific moment in time. It couldn't be found on any clock. It was a secret rendezvous. Somewhere only the two of you knew.

So with a heart thudding fast and hands getting cold in anticipation, you strode towards the trunk and knelt down to carefully pull out the three books you'd tucked away beneath your clothes.

You knew where you needed to go.

***

Knowing that Grimmauld Place was bustling with activity and guests were coming and going as usual, it wasn't a hard task to sneak out of the building without being noticed.

Without looking back, you quickly descended the stone staircase and trusted your knees to not give in before seeing Remus. It was only a short walk away and nervousness had already taken over your whole being.

The sun was setting low and blasts of cold air were coming around faster than what you last felt in the bedroom, but the cold shivers could do nothing to stop you.

You had your fingers brushing against the inviting note which was folded safely inside your pocket. The warmth it radiated was of a promise for your impatient heart.

Minutes later, the familiar cobbled street came into the view and your gaze simply wandered around each building. A content smile formed on your lips at how normal everything seemed to be. Just a few days ago, you were one of the many volunteers who had witnessed the ruins of this particular side of a Muggle town and played a part in fixing it.

Especially that one book shop, standing out from the rest at the far end of the street.

Midnight

With shaky hands, you reached for the door handle and the friction suddenly brought you to a halt, old memories flooding back to your mind like a restless ocean...

Spring, the season of blooming and revival, had never been as gloomy and atrocious as it was now. Bad news flied around the town and spread like wildfire, faster than anyone who beared it. Death Eaters were invading and shattering wherever and whatever they saw fit. There was nowhere to safely hide and stay away from that growing darkness, but people were too scared to stand still and watch it consume them. Your eyes stung from how haunting their crestfallen expression was.

Remus had your hand firmly in his, dashing across the pavement towards what seemed to be a shop. Just after he pulled you inside and set to walk straight down the deserted area, your realized that it was filled with books.

It was no wonder.

No one in their wildest dreams could ever think of purchasing or burrowing books right now. But neither of you questioned the destination. It seemed like the place to be in that very moment, in the middle of a mission.

Torn pieces of paper were lying on the floor. Some of the shelves were broken and there were numerous holes on the walls. Your brows involuntarily knitted into a frown.

Just as Remus reached the far end of the shop, your steps halted and a soft touch of thumb on your cheek brought your back to reality. You were startled for a moment, not having realized you were on the verge of crying until Remus brushed one fallen tear away.

His hand remained there, more gentle than ever. As you leaned back against a shelf and looked up into his stormy eyes, for a brief moment, the sorrowful world faded into nothing. No voice could be heard from the outside. Only matching heartbeats and tangled souls. A hazy, colourful feeling had begun to flourish inside you, but it was vague and new. By the wide-eyed expression on his face, you knew he had felt it too.

The same man whose whole being you adored and cherished from distance, was your soulmate.

You blinked once, twice. Then the haze was gone. A simple indicator that now wasn't the right time to let this happen. What an inconvenient and cruel world.

To find your soulmate in the midst of approaching devastation.

War and its inevitable aftermath, his own werewolf condition, wrongful judgements. All of them had aimed to dam your chances of being together. Your inner bond couldn't form fully and bloom in all the cruelty and uncertainty that lay around it. You had to wait.

Remus knew it too.

"Y/N, my dearest," his own voice was cracking as he cupped your face in his warm hands. He paused and swallowed heavily. The disbelief hadn't left him either. "Now more than I could ever imagine, this heart of mine is yearning to be close to you. I want to leave it all behind and run away to wherever you lead. But I don't wish to lose you by breaking the rules. This magic between us, we'll work it out, okay?"

You knew how severe the consequences would be if soulmate rules weren't taken seriously.

But it still hurt.

Death Eaters were closing in. The sound of walls crashing and spells being shoot in various directions could be heard from nearby. Anger was raging through your veins, streaming down in the form of hot tears. The mere thought of not seeing Remus again was killing you and all you want to do was clutch onto him and never let go.

A lovely whisper, a sweet kiss, a comforting hug.

You wanted to try, but your lips were sealed, your feet unmoving, locked firmly on the spot. He always rendered you speechless. All you could muster was a slow nod.

"I... Remus, I lov- Merlin, I wanted to say that I-" you tried, but the four-letter word was forbidden to your mouth. The frustration set in and Remus was quick catch on your struggle and grant your wish by pulling you into a tight hug.

"I do understand, Remus. We'll work it out."

It was too quiet of a response to your own ears. You had no idea if he had heard it at all, because all your senses were focused on the rhythmic beating of his heart.

But Remus had a knowing smile on his perfectly scarred face.

"Sweetheart, never forget whatever you've dreamed of for our future. I'll be by your side until each of them becomes a reality. That day, I'd be damned if I give damn what anyone has to say."

He whispered and you sobbed silently into his chest.

Everything about this man had come from dreams.

No words were shared, but you promised to hold on to those dreams and never let go. Calmness took over you for a short moment, but it soon faded away as someone harshly burst through the door.

Both your wands were drawn out in an instant.

There was no time to lose.

"No matter what awaits us in this path, I have a hazy feeling that you'll always be my one and only. I'd do anything to stay in that haze forever."

You let the words get out of your chest in an urgent whisper. There was much more to say. You just had to wait.

"And... I will see you again, right?"

Remus nodded silently, taking your free hand in his and placing a lingering kiss on your knuckles. His eyes were full of certainty. You couldn't doubt his promises. Something about him was assuring you that this wasn't going to be the last time you'd be here.

"I guess," he glanced around at the ruins. You knew the scene deeply hurt him. Reading books was his favorite hobby. "Midnight will be our rendezvous then."

His smile was more certain. You couldn't help returning it.

He summoned three of his favorite books from different directions and they headed towards you all at once. "Read them while I'm away."

You had actually pored over each of those books several times, finding yourself attached to everything that reminded you of Remus in your lonely nights.

The atmosphere of the shop was warm and welcoming.

It was nothing like your last experience. The walls were decorated pleasantly and rows of books were neatly stacked on the shelves. Even a number of Muggles had come by to pay a visit. It wasn't deserted and cheerless anymore.

With a content sigh, you wandered around different sections and put two of the books back on their exact place. The last one belonged to the far end of the shop. There was no sign of Remus yet, so you set to walk a little more, having no doubt where you were headed.

The highest shelf, really?

Casting a quick look around, you decided to reach for your wand and levitate the book up to its place, but a defeated huff slipped your mouth as you realized you'd left it back in the bedroom on your rush.

You stood on your tiptoes again, trying your chance one more time, but the book nearly slipped out of your reach before a large, deft hand grabbed it and effortlessly places it on the wooden rack.

Tall and breathtaking.

You sensed his presence before seeing him.

Sandalwood and forest.

You were engulfed in his scent before seeing him.

"I had to help you with that one."

You heard his voice.

Before even seeing him.

Slowly turning around, your heartbeat raced up in anticipation and then for a second, it skipped a beat as you took in his broad smile. Once again the world had decided to halt its movement and put a silencing charm on any outer sound. There remained only your matching heartbeats and tangled souls.

You were falling in love all over again.

Remus didn't hide his astonishment either. You knew how he felt in was all so unbelievably beautiful. He was beautiful. Remus mouthed a silent "My dearest" and softly caressed your reddened cheek with the back of his free hand. The other one had remained braced above your head on the shelf.

Tears were willing to appear again, but nonetheless you grinned from ear to ear.

"You remembered our rendezvous."

The familiar haze was creeping up around you again and his intense gaze wasn't helping your wobbly knees at all. You swallowed and looked down at the neckline of his woolen jumper. Only for a brief moment. But Remus wasn't having it. He slid two fingers beneath your chin and tilted your head enough to draw your attention back to him. His touch was like flame on your skin.

"I never planned on forgetting it."

A single tear drop was wiped from your face before he pointed at the floor.

"We stood right here exactly three years ago. Y/N, you've got me enamored with you all this time."

His voice was like honey as he called your name.

But despite the fierce blush that spread over your neck and behind your ears, your nod was absent-minded. A cold tug inside your chest made you clutch onto his robes. The past and its memories were still haunting. You couldn't bear the thought of facing them ever again.

"I've missed you terribly, Remus. We finally worked it out, right? Tell me nothing's gonna stop this anymore. I need to hear it."

He patiently moved your arms to wrap around his neck and leaned forward, his hand on your waist pulling you impossibly closer to him. His certain eyes were on your lips. Your breathing hitched.

"I'd rather show it."

"Here?" You asked in a low voice, actually not even wanting him to stop even if the shop was bustling with crowds.

"Y/N, love. Today is the day I won't give a damn what people say."

He closed the remaining gap and met your lips in a reassuring kiss. His lips were softer than you'd ever imagined. His thumb drew circles on your back and you nearly melted into his touch. Apparently, soulmates in the wizarding world could experience the phenomenal appearance of their bond in reality. It was either in shapes, sounds or even colours. You hadn't believed it until now.

Because even with your eyes closed, you could somehow guess what colour the kiss was.

It was like midnight.

And nothing had stopped the sweet reverie this time. You nearly began to cry.

But Remus gave your side a light squeeze, easily taking your mind off that thought. Your fingers came up to trace over his beautifully scarred face and a content sigh escaped him. Barely audible, but you noticed and a smile bloomed at the corner your mouth. With both hands tied securely around you, his tongue swiped over your bottom lip and your head tilted backwards, easily allowing him to deepen the kiss.

The feeling was only intensified as a sweet, floral scent wafted through the air. If Remus wasn't holding you, you'd definitely fallen over by now.

How was it that he knew everything?

It had taken you years to feel this moment and neither of you was willing to let go or see where the scent was coming from. But you needed air. You pulled back to catch your breath and that was when colourful shapes came across your line of vision.

You looked around and gasped at the galactic sight. The shop was barely recognizable.

It had turned into a flower field.

Thousands of lavenders were scattered across the floor, swinging in the invisible wind like an undulating purple sea. Even the numerous books were replaced by flowers. The scenery was exceptionally tranquil and beautiful.

A bluish purple haze was hanging above the field, slowly creeping its way around the place and engulfing you in its pure charm.

Suddenly, you were reminded of those hazy feelings both of you had talked about. They never had a colour before. They never had a shape. It wasn't a full love before.

You hadn't broken the rules. You had waited. And this was your final reward.

It was mesmerizing. You found it dizzying.

Before you got the chance to ask if Remus could also see any of the lavenders or the violet smoke, he knelt down and picked one of them, gently tucking it in your hair. All of that was real.

Minutes later, you were being dragged out of the shop.

You glanced down at your intertwined hands and bit your lip in excitement. Remus John Lupin took great pleasure in surprising you with unexpected events, even if it meant you had to sneak past all the enchanting magic that was surrounding you.

"Where are we going?"

He raised a playful brow and chuckled, looking at you over his shoulder. "Sweetheart, I hope you haven't forgotten your dreams."

That hearty chuckle of him turned into a delighted laugh and you thought it was the most heartwarming sound you'd ever heard.

You felt truly happy.

***

Later that night, when Remus took you to his little cottage in the middle of the woods, it dawned on you why he was absent all those days. He'd tended to decorate the place with his own hands, no use of magic. And somehow, it was more magical than any other scenery you'd ever seen.

It was all surreal.

In the middle of the night, as you lay awake and stared at the ceiling together, the purplish haze was still shimmering in the air. Down below, flowers were blooming in every direction. Up above, supernovas were exploding and pouring their glittery sparkles down on you. The bed felt like a fluffy blanket of cloud drifting across the starry sky. You blinked once, twice. Nothing faded.

It was magical. There was no other way to put it.

But to you, he was the real magic. The blue shade of his eyes was sparkling with every dream you'd ever thought of. Everytime you looked into them, your heart swelled with happiness. Because you knew your biggest wish was granted. A soft brush of your fingertips against his chest and over his hand, could reveal the galaxies buried deep within. A canopy of twinkling stars hovered above you and yet there was nothing more magical that him.

Lots of "I love you"s were expressed in different forms and ways. Lots of stories were shared. Lots of secrets were revealed.

And yet... There was a lot more to come.

Lovely whispers, sweet kisses, comforting hugs.

You had forever to do all of them.

"We will stay in that lavender haze, forever."

Remus whispered into your ear and locked you in his warm embrace. You knew he meant it. This love was meant to surround both of you in its eternal glow.

You'd finally met each other, at midnight. The place of wonders.

-

If you enjoyed, you can check my Wattpad for more <3

#Spotify #remus lupin #professor lupin #remus lupin x y/n #moonytheprofessor #wattpad #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin one shot #remus lupin x reader #hogwarts #harry potter #purple #soulmate au #fluff one shot #lavender haze #death eaters

[thewordworrier]

If You Marry Me - Part Four

Series Masterpost

Word Count: 7,609 words.

Reactions, ruminations and... Results.

The mood on stage was joyous that night - Shelly noticed that from her usual spot side stage. It wasn’t to say that they were normally miserable on stage or anything, they were normally pretty happy to play for people. But today it was… There was more to it. She wasn’t against it in the slightest, of course not - it was wonderful to see them so happy. She was just curious as to the reason why.

While Shelly was making her observations from her spot side stage, Gerard was making some of his own. Especially while they were performing ‘To The End’ - because of course the others had pushed for that to definitely be on the setlist for the night, and it wasn’t until the opening riff started that all of the words flooded Gerard’s brain and… Yeah, he understood why they’d fought for that song.

He wished that they hadn’t though, because after the events of the day, he felt very distracted - especially while singing that song. Singing about weddings when the woman he was now technically married to stood still wearing the dress she wore when they exchanged vows and rings. When the ring she’d put on his finger kept gently knocking against things because he wasn’t quite used to it yet. Singing “if you marry me” when the woman he was now married to was standing there, watching him. Singing about cake, hearing the others sing the “kiss the bride” backing vocals while his own bride had just totally caught him looking at her for most of that song. Or, was that he had caught her watching him while he sang that song? And it was specifically him she was watching - he knew it, he could feel it. He knew it was him because Frank moved around a lot, and she wasn’t following him.

The show was excellent, as usual. Shelly never expected anything less, and she was glad that they hadn’t celebrated before the show - or if they had, it hadn’t been too hard (she wasn’t to know that instead of celebrating, they had been scheming instead). Because it meant that they were able to put on a great show for the fans. Then again, Shelly knew that Gerard would never settle for anything less than a brilliant show. And actually, neither would any of the others - they all worked very hard and were all very proud of what they did.

By some kind of good fortune, the rest of the band managed to go on ahead to the hotel, Gerard staying back to make sure that Shelly wasn’t alone while she finished up with something (though they should’ve guessed that he would do that because he was just the type to do so.) By the time Shelly and Gerard had made their own way back, the others were settled in their swapped rooms, waiting to see if they’d gotten away with it.

Shelly kissed Gerard’s cheek goodnight before she made her way into her room, as normal and as the others had planned. Gerard stood happily dazed for a few moments until the closing of her door snapped him out of it. He shook his head a little bit and tried his key in the door of the room that he thought was his. It didn’t work, and he frowned before trying again. When it didn’t work again, he tried the next door, fully aware of the fact that sometimes he did get doors confused - especially when he was mentally distracted. And of course he was mentally distracted. When the second door didn’t work, he went to knock on Shelly’s - she’d know which room he was supposed to be in.

She opened the door and listened to his explanation before turning to go and check her planner. She got half way across the room before she noticed his bag on the floor.

“This yours?” She asked him.

Gerard stepped inside her room, closed the door behind him and focused on the only bed for a moment. Until he managed to tear his eyes away from that to glance at where she was pointing. “Um, yeah, that’s mine.”

Shelly took his key from him and checked it against the list in her planner. She looked at the keys, looked at his bag and sighed.

“Oh, hang on. I think… I think the others have been up to something.”

Gerard frowned but watched her pull her phone out of her bag before she started typing. Not too long later, his own phone went off and he pulled it out to check the band group chat.

Shelly: I see that some room swapping has taken place. Very funny guys! We’ll go along with it, just for tonight but, seriously, don’t do it again.

Gerard looked up from his phone to see her nibbling her bottom lip before she started typing again.

Shelly: Although Gerard did say that people didn’t answer their doors, so can you please let me know that you all are alright?

It didn’t take too long for them to reply back after that.

Lux: I’m good! Sleep well, newlyweds!

Frank: I don’t think they’re going to be sleeping that much though! ;)

Gerard cleared his throat after reading that, and hoped that he wasn’t blushing.

Mikey: Frank, that’s my sister in law, and my brother - can you not?

Ray: We’re all good and alive Shell, though if Frank doesn’t behave, I don’t know if he will be by morning.

Frank: Hey! :(

Shelly snorted a little bit and that made Gerard smile more than the group chat.

Shelly: I’ll start drafting up a notice for a replacement guitarist. Let me know if I need to post it.

Frank: Double hey! :( you’d miss me!

Lux: hmmmmm.

Mikey: I don’t know…

Frank: Shelly? You would?

The blonde giggled a little bit before she replied to them all.

Shelly: Oh, I suppose I would. Behave and we won’t need to post the notice. Sleep well guys. Be good! X

Frank: We should be saying that to you! But if you can’t be good, be careful ;)

Mikey: Frank I’m going to murder you in your sleep.

Frank: I’ll behave now! G’night!

Shelly rolled her eyes and pocketed her phone before looking over at Gerard, who was still staring at his own, his cheeks a bit pink. After a moment, he looked up to see her watching him and he swallowed.

“I… Um… I can sleep on the floor. It’s fine.”

“Don’t be so ridiculous,” Shelly’s response was almost instant. “It’s not like we haven’t fallen asleep together, or next to each other before. And, you fall asleep next to me on the plane all the time.”

Gerard hummed. “That’s true but…”

He swallowed a little bit, thoughts racing in his brain. Though he was trying really hard to make sure they didn’t just fall out of his mouth, because it might be an issue if they did. 

But you weren’t legally my wife before, but I hadn’t seen you in that dress. I’m on medication when I fall asleep next to you on the plane - I don’t do it out of desire - I’d rather be awake talking to you. All those other times I’ve fallen asleep next to you, I was never this aware of how I feel about you.

Shelly waited quietly, and patiently, watching him look a little conflicted as he nibbled his bottom lip. After another minute, she sighed softly and cupped his cheek. The touch must’ve surprised him because he jumped a little bit before refocusing his eyes on her.

“You’re gonna hurt yourself if you keep chewing your lip like that. I have snacks in my bag if you’re hungry.”

“Um…” He swallowed again, desperately wanting to ask if she was included in that, because she was very much a snack. “I’m… I’m fine, I promise.”

“I’m not sure that I believe you,” she admitted with a small smile. “But I’m not gonna push you to talk, I know it doesn’t work. You know that I won’t do that. Did you want to go and get ready for bed first, or can I?”

“Um, you can if you want.”

Shelly hummed, leant up and kissed his cheek before going to get ready for bed.

As soon as the bathroom door closed, Gerard sighed incredibly deeply before dropping himself to sit on the edge of the bed. He stared ahead of him for a moment before he put his face in his hands and grumbled a little bit. The cool metal of the ring on his finger rubbed against his skin and he sighed again, dropping his hands into his lap with a shake of his head.

“Um.”

He looked up to see Shelly sticking her head around the bathroom door. “Um?”

“So, um, I thought that I would be sharing with Lux,” she said as her cheeks went pink. “So, um… My pyjamas aren’t exactly… Uh, full coverage?”

Gerard’s eyebrows rose a little but his mind was already working.

“Those are in my other bag on the bus,” she continued quietly. “Is that going to bother you?”

“Nope,” he squeaked out, his brain already showing him too many suggestions. “As long as you’re comfortable and it doesn’t bother you.”

Shelly couldn’t help it - his little squeak made her giggle. “Okay. Well, if you get uncomfortable, let me know and we’ll figure something out.”

Gerard just nodded and she ducked back into the bathroom.

[Somewhere down the hallway… “I thought I was gonna be sharing with Lux, so my pyjamas aren’t exactly full coverage.” As if he could hear her words, Frank almost perked up and then pouted. “I sense… I sense the missed opportunity of a potentially hot situation.” “Shut up,” Ray muttered, his back to the other guitarist.]

Gerard remained in his spot on the edge of the bed, his brain only now also picking up on the “I was supposed to share this one bed with Lux” concept to pair it with the “not full coverage pyjama” concept. Those two ideas were now getting very snuggly in his brain and he had to shake his head to get them to leave each other alone.

He actually managed to get the two thoughts to separate just in time for Shelly to return from changing, and he kinda regretted not going first because… Oh. Her pyjamas were quite small. Tiny shorts. A clingy, strappy tank top that seemed to be moulded to her figure. God damn it. And then he remembered that he was about to sleep next to her while she was dressed like that. Jesus Christ. He had to force himself not to just stare at her as she plugged her charger and phone into the socket next to the bed. He definitely had to avert his eyes when she started pulling the blankets back so she could clamber into bed.

As soon as she was settled, he scurried into the bathroom himself. He purposely took a little longer than he really needed, because he was really, really hoping that by the time he was finished, she would’ve turned the light off. And that would only help him in the long run.

Unfortunately, that would not be the case. The universe was really testing him. When he opened the door to head to bed, Shelly was still awake, the light was still on and she was sitting up in bed, leaning against her pillows. One arm and hand holding her phone, and the other arm folded under her chest. That gave her chest some… Support and… Some lift.

Jesus Christ.

Gerard swallowed, desperately attempting not to stare at her too much. He shook his head and shuffled around the room to put the clothes he’d changed out of with the rest of his stuff, before heading to the other side of the bed. Though he did hesitate before he even touched the blankets.

“Are you sure that you don’t want me to keep on the floor?” He asked her shyly.

Shelly glanced up from her phone as soon as he started talking. Once he’d finished, she put her phone down on her bedside table, moved the blankets and leant across the bed to grab him by his t-shirt. (Gerard wasn’t sure if he felt blessed or cursed by this action - because he ended up with a really, really nice view of her cleavage when she did that.) She tugged his t-shirt, essentially encouraging him to get into bed. He did as he was told and got into bed beside her. She waited patiently until he was settled down before she adjusted her pillows and settled herself before gesturing to the lights and tilting her head in question. Gerard answered with a nod of his own and she turned the lights out.

“There’s a good boy,” she said brightly in the dark.

Gerard swallowed and laid quietly for a little bit, trying really, really hard not to think about what she’d just said. About what she’d just called him. And he was trying really hard not to think about how bloody little she was wearing, lying within arms’ reach. He was trying really hard not to think about that soft, happy noise she’d made when they’d kissed at the altar earlier. He tried not to think about the ring on his finger. And he was trying really hard not to think about the fact that if this marriage was actually real, there was no way that she wouldn’t be naked and squirming underneath him by now instead of sleeping quietly next to him.

He was so lost in his head and trying not to think about things, that he didn’t hear her say his name. She tried twice before she turned over to properly face him. Once she was settled there, she gently poked him wherever she could reach.

“Gee?”

He squeaked and jumped a little.

“Sorry!” She said. “Did I wake you?”

“N- no! I was thinking,” he shifted a bit. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” she said quietly. “Well. Kinda.”

“What’s wrong?”

Shelly hummed softly before biting her bottom lip. She was starting to feel a little stupid, actually.

“Shell?” Gerard said softly. “It’s okay. You can tell me.”

“Um. Could you… Could you hold me? For a little bit?”

Gerard blinked rapidly and shifted from his back onto his side, facing her. “Sure Shell, c’mere.”

She wriggled over to him and snuggled up against him. When she was settled, he wrapped his arms tightly around her and smiled when she hummed happily.

“Thank you,” she mumbled into his t-shirt.

“Any time,” he replied, nuzzling into her hair for a few minutes. “Are you okay?”

“Not sure, really,” she confessed quietly. “I feel a little bit weird. And, I like your hugs, you know that.”

“I do,” he nodded, now really trying not to think about how many times he’d said that recently, and trying hard not to think about how much bare skin he was close to. “Know that, I mean.”

Shelly nodded against him.

“Why… Do you feel strange?” Gerard asked her quietly.

“Um,” she thought about it for a moment. “I don’t think the others switching rooms on us really helped matters.”

“Not how you imagined your wedding night, huh?” He said gently, in what he hoped was a lighthearted tone.

“Not how I imagined getting married either, to be honest,” Shelly almost whispered.

She sounded so sad. Gerard thought that his heart might be breaking. He held her a bit tighter and she snuggled closer as he did so, so he kissed the top of her head. They fell quiet for a moment before Gerard decided, well, he might as well speak up a little.

“You deserve so much more than today,” he said quietly.

Shelly tilted her head up a tiny bit so she could listen to him a bit better.

“You deserve the venue you’ve always wanted, the dress of your dreams that makes you feel like… I don’t know, a princess if that’s how you wanna feel on your wedding day. You deserve to write your own vows, to put more thought into the rings. You deserve to have your family there so one of them can walk you down the aisle. If that’s what you want. But at the very least, you deserve to have them there for you.”

She shifted a bit more, in an attempt to look at his face in the dark.

Gerard felt her move, but she hadn’t moved away that far so he assumed that she was just getting comfortable again. He knew he was blushing, he could feel it, so he decided that he might as well continue. Even though he knew he’d go redder, but it’s wasn’t like she could see it.

“You deserve a wedding night where your spouse shows you how totally and utterly devoted and in with you they are. A proper kiss when they say “you may now kiss the bride” - not just like, a shy peck and a tight hug.”

“Gerard?” Shelly whispered.

“You deserve someone who will tell the world after they’ve married you,” he continued, playing with her hair a little. His volume was quiet but his tone was impassioned. “Who tells the world, hey! Look at this incredible woman! This smart, gentle, kind, generous, hard working, compassionate woman. Look at her! Look at this gorgeous creature! She’s my wife! And I’m so fucking lucky!”

Shelly just stared at him, though he wasn’t aware that she was doing so in the dark.

“Gerard,” she said a moment or two later, a little louder than last time, still in a gentler tone.

He blinked rapidly. “Mm?”

“I…” She swallowed, actually not sure what to say. “Um… You…”

Gerard tilted his head slightly as he waited, removed his arm from around her waist and started stroking her hair, tucking some behind her ear. He was surprised that he managed to do this in the dark bedroom, but, somehow he managed. He felt his fingers brush against her cheek a little.

“You didn’t take off your ring,” Shelly said, feeling the item in question against her skin.

“Well…” He blinked for a second as he computed that. “Neither did you. I saw it earlier.”

“It stops people from hitting on me,” she replied after a moment. “Why didn’t you? It’s riskier for you to keep yours on.”

“I… I thought about it,” he confessed before hesitating and then finishing with a whisper; “But I didn’t really want to.”

“Gee?” Shelly replied, almost just as quietly, though she sounded confused. “Why?”

“Why… What?”

“Why, didn’t you want to take it off? What if you get photographed with it on?”

“I… I don’t really care about that,” he shook his head a little.

Shelly shifted again, just a bit. Not enough to remove herself from his arms though.

“I mean,” Gerard continued, her silence making him a little nervous. He suddenly felt the need to fill that silence. “I care if it makes things harder for you, obviously. I never want to make your life or your work more difficult, but then again, I don’t think we’d ever willingly let you go and work for another band, so I don’t think that you’d ever need to worry about your reputation there…”

He swallowed and paused for a moment, suddenly aware of the fact that he was actually rambling a little. 

“Um,” he continued. “But, I don’t care about being linked, to you, like that. I consider it an honour, actually.”

Shelly just blinked up at him, feeling quite speechless. Some of the things that Lux had been saying to her over the course of the last… However long it had been since this whole Vegas debacle had started; they started to echo around her head.

“Gerard…” Shelly said softly and almost… Carefully.

“Mm?”

She moved herself away from him, which made him pout a little. There was a ‘click’ before the room was illuminated, and he squinted and blinked at the brightness of the light. As soon as he could, he returned to focus his attention on the woman by his side. She looked a little bit dishevelled, which was actually super cute on her. But she was looking at him so… Curiously.

He sat up to mirror her position and looked at her. “Mm?”

“You… Really mean all of that, don’t you?” She said.

She sounded so uncertain, which was something that was… Not brand new, but… It wasn’t a tone that Gerard was used to hearing from her. He focused on his lap, fiddling with the hem of his t-shirt.

“Of course I do.”

Shelly nodded once and looked him over. “Is… There something else you’re not telling me? Is there anything else that you want to say?”

He looked up at her, his eyes widening a little bit. Did she know something?

“Um…”

“You can tell me anything,” she continued softly. “Literally anything, you know?”

“Mm,” Gerard nodded. “I know.”

“And I think there’s something, something else, that you want to say,” Shelly shuffled a little closer to him, watching him carefully as she spoke. “You’re just not sure how, and you’re not sure if you should. But… I think you should. What’s stopping you?”

The last question was a whisper.

“Um…” Gerard fiddled with the blankets a bit. She was so perceptive. She was so smart. It was like she could see right through him sometimes. “I… I’m not sure that it’s the best idea. I’m not sure that you’re going to want to hear it, really.”

Shelly couldn’t help it - she snorted quietly. “I think you’re wrong there. I always wanna hear what you have to say. I find your thoughts so interesting Gerard.”

He smiled very slightly, mostly at her snort - it was so cute. “This isn’t one of those types of thoughts though… It’s more… Um…”

Shelly waited as he paused to find the right words. She tilted her head ever so slightly - an action Gerard was used to seeing and yet another thing she did that he adored.

“It’s more about,” he continued nervously, knowing he couldn’t really not answer her forever. He swallowed and decided that he might as well attempt to be brave. “It’s more about feelings.”

“Feelings?” Shelly prompted gently, though truthfully she hadn’t really expected him to say that. She leant forward a bit and took his hand in an attempt to stop him from fiddling so much. “Are we talking about… Your feelings?”

As soon as she took his hand, his eyes focused on the ring on her finger. Gerard hummed softly for a moment before he nodded. God, he hoped that she was still watching him, because he wasn’t sure.

She was, of course.

“Okay,” Shelly squeezed his hand gently. “Does this have anything to do with your feelings… About me?”

Gerard nodded, sighing deeply before he managed to reply. “Yeah.”

“You… Have feelings for me?” Shelly asked, wanting to be absolutely sure. “Like, romantic feelings?”

“Yes,” he whispered.

Shelly blinked rapidly as the single word made so many things fall into place in her head. She was really surprised that she hadn’t managed to put it all together sooner. Why hadn’t she seen it? If this had been literally anyone else, she would’ve put it together almost instantly.

“Huh,” she murmured, letting his hand go to rub her earlobe.

Gerard glanced up to see her looking off to the side instead of directly at him. She seemed lost in thought, and actually, he was glad that she wasn’t looking at him.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, starting to feel uncomfortable as he shifted a bit in his spot next to her.

That snapped her out of her thoughts and she redirected her attention to him instead of whatever she had been looking at instead.

“Excuse you?”

She sounded offended actually and this worried him.

“I said,” his voice came out as more of a squeak, so he swallowed. “I said, I’m sorry?”

“Why?” She frowned. “Why are you sorry?”

“Because!” He swallowed again (why was the way she was looking at him so hot?) “Because you’re so out of my league! Because I don’t want you to think that I did this,” he gestured to their rings. “Because I thought I might be in with the chance of… Um…”

Shelly watched his eyes fall to the sheets.

“Of anything happening tonight,” he finished after a few moments.

Shelly stayed quiet, processing what he had just said, examining her nails for a moment.

“But,” Gerard continued, looking back up at her. “I will admit that maybe I was a little selfish with my reasons behind doing this.”

She hummed to let him know that she was listening.

“I mean, obviously, I don’t want the band to lose you, you’re the best thing that has ever happened to us but… I didn’t want to lose you either.”

Shelly looked up from her nails.

“Maybe that’s bad,” he whispered. “Maybe you’ll hate me -”

She cut him off by leaning across and kissing him hard.

He nearly didn’t respond at first because he was just… Shocked. Once his brain actually kicked in (admittedly faster than he anticipated than it would), he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer to him.

“Hate you?” She whispered, allowing him to pull her against him. “Gee, I could never hate you.”

Gerard almost whined at her.

“I could do many, many things,” Shelly continued quietly, trying to stop herself from grinning too much. “With you, for you, to you - but I could never hate you.”

He swallowed, quite hard actually. “N- no?”

Shelly gave him one of her Looks before giving him a gentle nudge. Once he’d moved a little, she climbed into his lap, her knees either side of his hips. Gerard swallowed and shifted a tiny bit underneath her before she cupped his face in her hands.

“No, you dummy,” Shelly whispered. “Oh my god, no.”

“You don’t think I’m awful for this?” He placed his hand over hers and rubbed his thumb over the ring on her finger.

“No,” she shook her head gently. “You saw an opportunity and you took it. After some gentle persuading, of course.”

“I didn’t want to seem too eager,” Gerard could feel himself blushing, and the fact that she was now sitting on him was not helping that. “I was trying not to give away how I felt - how I feel about you.”

Shelly cooed softly at him and leant down a little so she could kiss him again. Gently this time. She smiled against his lips as he almost melted under her, his hands going to grab her waist. Both of her hands stayed cupping his cheeks, being ever so tender with him.

“You’re so sweet,” she whispered in between kisses. “I can’t believe you like me.”

Gerard gripped her a bit tighter. “What’s not to like Shell?”

Her hands slipped to his shoulders and she did that head tilt thing he loved.

“Look at you,” he continued softly. “Look at how wonderful you are, how sweet you are, how kind and patient and gentle you are. You’re hardworking, genuine and passionate. You’re generous with your affection, your time and your money.”

Shelly dropped her gaze, removing her hands from his shoulders so she could cover her face as she blushed.

“You’re modest about yourself and your achievements,” Gerard continued softly.

“Stop,” she whispered, feeling terribly shy.

“And,” Gerard sat up a bit better before carefully taking her hands away from her face, gently holding her wrists so she couldn’t cover her face again. “You’re gorgeous. You’re absolutely stunning.”

Shelly shook her head a little.

“Mm hm, yes you are,” he let go of her wrists, but wove his fingers between hers, still making sure that she couldn’t cover her face. “That little black number today? That blew my mind, Shelly. Like, god damn.”

She giggled and bit her bottom lip before glancing up at him. She was starting to go red instead of pink. “I can blow something else if you want.”

Gerard went very red very quickly and swallowed, which she heard. She giggled again, a little louder this time and leant forward to kiss the tip of his nose. He smiled.

“Hmm,” she nuzzled him, not minding that he was still holding her hands. “Maybe not yet?”

“Mm,” Gerard let go of her hands so he could wrap his arms around her, pulling her against him more. “I… I guess this means that you like me too?”

“Duh,” she pressed a kiss to his jaw, nestling close to him. “I’ve just… I’ve just been trying really hard to be professional. I never thought that you would be interested in me, not when you could have anyone.”

“Lux did mention that,” Gerard began to play with her hair again. “And I think that’s ridiculous. No-one else could ever dream of matching up to you.”

Shelly whined quietly at his words and hid her face in the crook of his neck. “You’re so wrong. Delusional even.”

“Mm, you’re allowed to think that, but you’re wrong,” he kissed the side of her head and wrapped both arms around her. He was trying very, very hard not to think about the fact that she was wearing small, probably thin pyjamas and she was straddling his lap. “I’m happy being delusional though.”

She shook her head against his neck before speaking quietly. “Does that mean… That you want to try something? Like a relationship, sort of something?”

“I… Yeah,” he nodded and held her tighter. “Yeah, I’d love that. If it’s not going to make your job harder.”

“I’m sure I can cope,” she removed herself from his neck, tucked some hair behind her ear and shrugged. “I mean, I get enough ‘she works on her knees’ comments as it is, what’s a few more?”

“Not gonna happen within my earshot,” Gerard almost growled. “That’s not gonna happen. Not a chance.”

“Hey,” she cupped his face again. “Do not get yourself in trouble. Especially not for me. Please.”

Gerard ended up distracted by the skin on show for a bit - her top had shifted and the strap had slipped off of her shoulder. Why was that so god damn hot?

“I… I’ll try,” he mumbled, unable to take his eyes off of her skin.

Shelly glanced down to see what he was so distracted by and giggled when she realised. She hooked her finger under the strap and pulled it back onto her shoulder and laughed when Gerard pouted. She kissed his forehead.

“So, we’re gonna give this a go then?” She asked shyly.

“Yes please,” he replied eagerly before he blushed. “I mean, um…”

“I don’t mind you being eager, sweetheart,” she murmured. “It’s cute.”

Gerard grumbled softly for a moment, mostly at the slight call out and being called cute than anything, before he cleared his throat. “Did you want to keep it quiet for a bit?”

“From the fans and the press?” Shelly asked, watching him nod. “Yeah, please.”

“What about the others?”

“Um,” she thought about it for a moment. “I feel like we have a right to play a joke on them, but I can’t really think of how right now.”

“Mm, I know what you mean.”

“But yeah, if we could keep it to ourselves, maybe just for a few days?” Shelly tilted her head. “Just so we can have each other to ourselves for a little bit? But I know that them knowing about us will help us in the long run.”

Gerard nodded in agreement. “Yeah. I would, much like you, like to keep us to myself for a bit first.”

Shelly smiled ever so slightly. “You don’t wanna share?”

“Absolutely not.”

His voice was almost a growl again and Shelly had to bite her bottom lip.

“Oh,” she whispered, nibbling her bottom lip. “Yeah, okay, that’s hot. You can be as possessive of me as you like.”

“I think I almost always have been,” Gerard confessed with a small smile before humming happily when he received a little kiss as a reward.

She giggled softly at his happy expression.

“I mean,” he continued. “You’re ours and I don’t like it when people say bad stuff about you, especially when they don’t know you and can’t judge you.”

Shelly kissed him again, harder this time, and when she felt him grab her hips again, she pressed herself against him more.

“You’ve already got me Gee, you don’t need to try so much.”

“I’m not trying,” he said, almost breathless from that kiss. “I’m just speaking the truth.”

“Well,” Shelly started to play with his hair. “Keep talking like that and I’m going to want to take my clothes off for you.”

“Oh god,” Gerard whined, grabbing her tightly for a moment before exhaling. “God. As much as I want that…” He swallowed, a little bit surprised that he was about to say this; “Maybe not right now.”

Shelly giggled, went pink and smiled. “Mm, maybe. We should probably think about getting some sleep.”

Gerard nodded, yawned and then pouted as she removed herself from his lap.

“You can have more of that, whenever you want,” Shelly kissed his cheek before settling down in bed beside him.

“Just not right this second?”

“Mm hm,” she nodded.

Gerard shifted closer to her and hummed.

“Do you wanna snuggle or spoon?” Shelly asked.

“Oh. Um,” he went pink as he thought about it. “Snuggling sounds nice, actually. If that’s not too awkward.”

She shook her head. “Not awkward at all. Do you want to snuggle up to me, or do you want me to snuggle up against you?”

Gerard hummed again. “I think I’m feeling protective now, so you can snuggle against me. If you want to.”

Shelly giggled, turned out the light and started to shift closer to him. She guessed that maybe she moved a bit slow for his liking because she felt him wrap an arm around her before pulling her against him.

“Oh!”

Gerard hummed happily, burying his nose in her hair as he held her tightly.

“Comfy?” She asked and she smiled when she felt him nod. “Good.”

“What’re… What’re we gonna do about this marriage thing?” He asked after a minute.

“Well, we have to stay married until my papers are sorted but…” Shelly nestled closer, snuggling into his t-shirt. “After that? I don’t know. But we can talk about that later. Tomorrow. The day after tomorrow. Once my papers are sorted. We don’t have to think about it right now.”

“Mm, that’s true. We can just enjoy being married for a bit,” Gerard mumbled into her hair.

“Fake married and in a real relationship,” Shelly said with a nod, closing her eyes and relaxing against him.

Gerard hummed a little, and after a few minutes, he mumbled softly; “Would staying married be so bad though?”

Shelly’s eyes snapped open and she blinked rapidly before she shifted away from him. “Um?”

Gerard realised that maybe, maybe that was the wrong thing to say. When she moved away from him, he pouted at the loss of contact. He winced again as the light went on and his eyes widened at the look on Shelly’s face. He wasn’t sure if she looked mad (he didn’t really think so) or just… Flummoxed?

“What did you say?” She said, moving so she was sitting up again, her arms loosely around her knees.

“Um,” he swallowed and also sat up. “I said, although now I’m beginning to think that it was a really stupid thing to say… But I said, would staying married be so bad, honestly?”

Shelly stared at him for a moment before she leant back into her pillows. Gerard watched this, chewing his bottom lip. He thought that she was thinking about it in order to give him a proper response.

“Although,” he said softly. “I meant what I said earlier, about what you deserve.”

She glanced over at him. 

“A real wedding,” he continued. “As much as I love that little black number, you deserve a proper dress, proper vows, rings that are more expensive.”

She smiled. “I do love the little black number.”

Gerard exhaled a bit. “It’s so hot, like, what the hell ma’am, who gave you the right?”

Shelly laughed. “Truthfully? I wanted to show off a little bit, I wanted to give you something to think about.”

His eyes widened and he went pink. “Something to -? Ma’am, I think about you enough anyway, I really don’t need help with that.”

She leant across and kissed him gently, her hand cupping his face, her fingers caressing his cheek. He hummed into the kiss, his hand going to her waist, gripping the fabric covering her skin. Though, she seemed to like it when he got a little grabby with her - he’d noticed that before.

“Well,” she said softly, nuzzling the tip of her nose against his. “I wanted to give you something else, something nicer to think about.”

Gerard hummed. “I appreciate that.”

She giggled again. “I didn’t think this Vegas thing would end up with us like this…”

“No?”

Shelly shook her head. “I didn’t think I’d be allowed to be in a relationship with someone I worked with.” She paused. “Actually, I’m still not sure that I’m actually allowed to do that, I haven’t really asked Andi.”

Gerard hummed. “I don’t… I don’t see why there would be a problem?”

“Something about a power imbalance, and abuse of that I think,” Shelly rubbed the back of her neck. “Or there’s probably something there about how weird it would be if the relationship didn’t work and the assistant couldn’t find a replacement.”

“But, if the relationship does work, then that can only benefit both people involved?” Gerard said. “Like, it’ll benefit me and the band because I’ll be happy and, if I’m dating someone who works with me, I’ll get to see her often and I’m gonna do as I’m told.”

“You do as you’re told anyway,” Shelly said with a slight grin. “You’re a good boy.”

Gerard swallowed, inhaled and then let it out slowly. Shelly observed this - she had previously seen this sort of reaction towards those words in particular and towards praise, at least from her, as well.

“And I know you like that,” she said, almost shyly. “I’ve noticed that.”

He hummed, averting his eyes from her before he nodded once. Shelly shifted a little closer to him and snuggled against him. Gerard quickly wrapped his arms around her and buried his nose in her hair again.

“I don’t mind,” she whispered. “I think it’s cute.”

“I like doing as I’m told for you,” Gerard mumbled into her hair. “It makes your job easier. And if your job is easy, then you’re gonna want to stay.”

“I’d want to stay anyway,” Shelly admitted. “I like working for you guys. I fully support what you guys wanna do.”

Gerard squeezed her tightly. “God, can you be any more -”

“Don’t say perfect, because I’m not,” Shelly interrupted gently, shaking her head once.

“Hmm,” he kissed her forehead. “Are you gonna ask Andi about this situation?”

“I probably will, yeah. I think it’ll be better to do that, so we know what we’re up against.”

“I guess we’re gonna keep us quiet until you’ve done that?” Gerard stroked her hair, feeling her nod. “What about the others?”

Shelly thought about this for a moment, enjoying the way he was stroking her hair.

“I think we should keep it quiet from them too, just in case,” she said slowly. “But I can probably talk to Andi quickly, and if we essentially get the go ahead there, then we can tell them, but still keep it from the fans and the press.”

“Mm. Sounds like a plan.”

Shelly hummed and reached for her phone. “I can’t remember if I’ve told Andi that everything’s sorted and the paperwork’s on the way. I did take photos of it all too so I could email those off to her…”

Gerard stayed quiet for a moment, watching her tapping away at her phone. He presumed that she was emailing her boss so she could attach the photos and maybe even ask the question regarding them being together.

“I’ll ask her to ring me if she gets the chance,” Shelly said. “I wanna ask her about us verbally first. Sometimes I worry about messages being seen or something.”

“I get that. At least the photos you’re emailing have a purpose? We had to do it to keep you here.”

“Mm, well, I still don’t think the fans will completely get it,” she said as she read over the email she’d written. “And, if any of them see you with a ring on, they’re gonna dig around on the internet and maybe find the licence. I think those are public record?”

He shook his head. “I don’t know.”

“I’ve asked about that too,” she smiled shyly. “I thought about asking if we should just put a statement out about it but, I figured maybe that might not be a good idea until after my papers are sorted.”

“Yeah, like, if there’s an online statement that says, oh we only did this for this reason, then things might go wrong.”

“Exactly,” Shelly nodded. “I’m sure Andi will help me sort something out for that. But we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it. No need to worry about it right now.”

“Okay.”

He hummed and nodded before they cuddled up together for a bit; Gerard leaning against the headboard with Shelly’s head against his chest. He did notice that she’d left the light on, but that didn’t bother him too much. He just enjoyed being able to hold her close like this.

“Shelly?” Gerard said softly after a few minutes

“Mm?”

“When we have to get an annulment…” He started, nuzzling into her hair.

“I’m not even sure an annulment is the right term, or the right thing, to be honest,” Shelly confessed. “I was looking into it last night. I think one of those makes it so the wedding never happened, so it might affect my papers.”

“Oh,” he held her tighter. “We don’t want that.”

She just shook her head. “Nope. Sorry I interrupted you, what were you going to say?”

Gerard hummed for a moment. “I was just wondering, if we’re gonna stay together? Even if we’re not legally bound?”

Shelly blinked rapidly at him. “I… Yes, of course! I mean, if that’s what you want? ‘Cause I want to date you, Gee. This,” she gestured to the ring on her finger. “Is just a means to an end right now. But the way I feel about you isn’t.”

“Oh!” He brightened and held her closer. “Good! Because I really want to date you too.”

She giggled softly as he pressed kisses to her face.

“I was more than happy to step in for this,” he said quietly, taking her hand and kissing the ring on it. “And I’m more than happy to keep it for as long as I need to.”

Shelly hummed softly and leant up to nuzzle him.

“I’m crazy about you,” he whispered, nuzzling her back. “Like, you’re everything I’ve ever wanted.”

“Gerard…” Shelly was rather pink in the face.

“I’m sorry if I’m a bit much,” he confessed quietly. “I just…” He kissed her forehead. “I just have very strong feelings for you and about you.”

Shelly raised an eyebrow slightly. 

“All good!” He added quickly, smiling when she giggled. “All good, I promise.”

“Hmn, I believe you. You’re not a bit much, it’s okay,” she cupped his face in her hands for a moment, studying his face before she leant up and kissed him; it was a short and gentle kiss.

“How can I not have such strong feelings about you?” He asked softly, nuzzling the tip of his nose against hers. “Look at how amazing you are; both personally and professionally. Look at how hard you work for us. We’re so god damn lucky to have you because you’re clearly the best in the business.”

Shelly shook her head a little bit. “Oh, stop.”

Gerard wrapped his arms around her tightly as she returned to leaning against his chest. He had always enjoyed it when she sat like this. He took a moment before he spoke again.

“Professionally? Perfect. Best in the business. And you’re ours.”

Shelly giggled softly. “And I’m happy to belong to the band, really I am.”

“Good.”

“I love working for you guys, I really believe in what you do. That’s why I work so hard.”

“Mm, that’s why you’re so professionally perfect. As for you personally?” He tilted his head as she looked up at him. “You’re incredible. You’re so intelligent. Sweet, encouraging, supportive, understanding. Gorgeous,” he kissed the top of her head and smiled as she hummed happily. “My god Shelly, can you be any more perfect?”

She buried her face in the t-shirt he wore as a pyjama shirt and shook her head against his chest. “Nuh. You’re wrong.”

“I’ll get you to believe it one day. Even if all I convince you is that you’re the perfect one for me.”

“Hmm,” Shelly glanced up at him. “Well. When you think you’ve done that, maybe it’ll be the sign to trade this,” she tapped the ring on her finger. “For the real thing.”

“Careful,” he whispered. “I’ll hold you to that.”

“Gerard,” she giggled softly. “You can do more than just hold me to that.”

#She Speaks #She Writes #my fanfic #MCR fanfic #Gerard Way x OFC #IYMM

[roseonne]

best among eight

Allen drags Anne and Hajun back home after being crowned the legendary champions of Club Paradox.

for the ch△mp1ons of road to legend ! ( ao3 link )

You would think, winners become all too busy the moment they find out they actually won. From the initial surge of adrenaline and simultaneous waves of emotional varieties crashing upon them entirely; to formalities of all kindsーpublic appearances, interviews with the media, and press conferencesーhaving to come afterwards and last for a quite a while. It's one hell of a rollercoaster ride of much physical and psychological intensity.

And yet, one winner differs from another. 'Thou shalt not judge,' remains the golden rule no matter the winning case.

So when the newly declared winners of Road to Legend, future owners and legacy-holders of Club Paradox are all holed up in the comfort of their shared apartment, no such questions should dare be raised.

"Alleeeeeen!" Anne whines, brows furrowed and arms crossed over their chest. "We should be celebrating, you know!?"

Hajun stands not far behind, his back to the wall, a sigh leaving his lips as he shares a meaningful glare with Anne. "I don't normally say this, but I agree. We should be celebrating."

It's supposed to be a perfect night. Every detail, from the biggest to the tiniest ones, of the universe is in their favor. The night skies lit up brightly thanks to the stars twinkling all over it like drops of paint on a blank canvas. Heads from all over the world cheerfully taking part in the biggest event of the year, happening on this overly joyous evening.

However...

Plopped on the middle of the couch by himself with his body curled into a ball, Allen resembles a sad sack of old potatoes. He could barely wrap his head around the newly acquired status he and the two people he loves the most now possess.

BAE is the legendary champion!

It feels so real, yet at the same time, surreal. He thinks he's going insane. If this still is just another fever dream... Then he truly has gone mad.

"ALLEN!!!"

BAE's reliable leader can't see them, but he sure knows the grumpy Anne and Hajun duo's making all kinds of faces at him. If there's anything he learned from living together with these two, it's to never upset either of them. Ever. Turns out he's not as reliable as he thinks he is.

"Look, I-I'm sorry, I just..." he stammers, head still regretfully buried in his hands. "I just can't believe it, is all..."

"Geez, we know you're super sensitive but this? This is beyond me," Anne complains with a groan. Allen feels them sit right next to him in defeat; no longer wanting to waste their energy trying to argue with him any further.

Hajun takes the other seat next to him with a tired shrug of his shoulders. "Oh well. No drinks for us tonight, I guess."

Perhaps 'disappointment' is the correct term to describe the tension currently weighing down the mood in the room. This isn't even close to what Allen had planned to do with the rest of BAE for tonight. He thought about this over and over beforehand. If they win, they'll go all out; and if they lose, they'll graciously accept the results and move on. But upon seeing that BAE had the most number of votes and holding their poster with the letters of 'WINNER' engraved across it in gold, all sense of reason in the galaxy is immediately lost.

Allen knows he should make up for their ruined mood. He has to. How else could he redeem himself as their reliable leader?

Reaching out towards either side of him with his hands, fingertips carefully tap on the back of his companions' palms as if asking for permission. He doesn't expect them to forgive him right away, nor allow him his selfish favor; considering he might have just robbed them their chance to bask in the glory of the legendary title they now hold. But it would be really nice if they did. And, to his surprise, when he does feel the warmth of their hands intertwined with his, he automatically scores a win for the second time in a row.

"Oh? Is this how you apologize to us now?" Hajun teases. He's been waiting to do this all evening long. "How bold of you, leader."

"I know right!" Anne suddenly bursts out giggling to themself in amusement. "C'mon, Allen, lift your head. We're not that bummed about it, trust!"

"We'll celebrate together all day tomorrow, I promise!" Allen croaks, voice hoarse from all his quiet sobbing as a melancholic potato sack. "I'm just really sorry for dragging you both back here so quickly. This was supposed to be our moment, as BAE, but I messed it up..."

Allen tries to sniff back another overwhelming tide of tears, but the soft pair of lips that barely brushes across both of his cheeks at the same time renders him completely unable to keep himself intact.

"Feel everything you need to feel," Anne whispers into his ear, their tone as gentle and sweet as a beautiful swan.

"We got you, Allen. We always have." Hajun assures him, his temple lightly touching the top of his head.

Allen has never cried this much and this hard ever in his life.

"Thank you. Hajun, Anne," he manages to say in between shallow breaths. He clings onto both of their arms as tightly as he can; partly scared and partly resentful that he could slip away from them if he isn't strong enough. "It's done. We did it. We finally did it. We won..."

Falling short whilst being so close to the finish line the first time, scarred BAE to their core. Each point of the triangle thus vowed to never let such a thing happen again. Seemingly impossible battles, they conquered. Seven opposing powerhouses they fought long and hard against; and ultimately prevailed triumphant. Now that the future has been decided, before anyone else challenges them for the throne, they first have to show the world who the best among eight is.

#paradox live #bae #allen sugasano #hajun yeon #anne faulkner #post road to legend winner announcement #inside seonne's head

[slightlystupidhun]

If The Shoe Fits… Bear It!

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6,

Part 7

Summary: Prince Vincent Solaire, of Wonder Land, spends a wonderful night with a stranger, but what happens when the shoe left behind fits someone else.

It was officially the day of the ball and lovely was sweating buckets. It would be their first official event with their Prince. In fact it would be their first and last event before they would be married to him.

They walked over into the dining room where Grand Duke Sam, Sam’s Partner, Tanker, Vincent, and William were patiently awaiting their arrival. Upon seeing them, Vincent stood up and pulled out their chair for them.

Their meal was rather delightful that morning. They had biscuits, tea, and some fresh fruits from the garden.

“Is your highness ready for the ball tonight?” Tanker spoke up to lovely.

“Yes, I suppose I am. Although if I may be upfront, I am a little nervous.” Lovely replied, fiddling with their fingers.

“Well that is normal, but worry not your highness, you’ll have your Prince on your arm.” Duke Sam teased. Vincent shot him a half hearted glare.

“I suppose.” They laughed. “Thank your Grand Duke.”

With that breakfast was concluded. And Lovely and Tank headed over to grab their outfits.

Tanks was dressed up in a dark blue coat that reached the floor, it had gold embellishments on it. They matched it with a pair of black pants and black sleek boots, that shone under the lights.

Lovely was gawking over the outfit of their new friend for so long they hardly noticed when starlight came out with theirs.

It was so gorgeous and flattered their figure so nicely. The heels had them drooling and they couldn’t wait to see Vincent’s outfit matched with theirs.

Finally all styled up they were ready to attend the ball.

—————

They stepped down the long hallway making their way to the room where they would meet up with Vincent and everyone. They couldn’t help but pick up their pace, so excited to see everyone.

They opened the large doors and four pairs of eyes were on them. William offered them a proud smile, Sam nodded at them, and Tank offered them a smirk as they pushed the Prince forward. Vincent’s Jaw was dragging along the floor. He had stars in his eyes as if he couldn’t have seen anything more beautiful in his life. He reached out for their hand and that is when they were finally able to take him in.

He looked absolutely dashing and his outfit perfectly complimented theirs. They both looked like the perfect pair. Lovely thought of how amazing he would have looked many times but none compared to the real thing.

It was a second or two before they were able to come back to themself and take his hand, as they all prepared to enter the ball.

They entered the large room, it was all white with gold accents and carefully picked flowers. It looked gorgeous. The ball was brought to life even more as guests started coming in.

The room felt warm, full of laughter, dancing and conversation. It was a joyous day. The mood in the room proudly represented that.

The room silenced as William arose. The musician halting their symphony. Laughter breaking off, and conversations coming abruptly to a halt.

“Everyone! I am so please that you all could make it!” William began. “Thank you all for taking the time out of your busy schedules to come celebrate the engagement of my son and his lovely partner. Let us all spend this evening feeling just as joyous as they plan to make each other!” And with that he raised his glass of wine in the air.

“Cheers!” Echoing around the room, as everyone took a drink from their glass.

The dance floor was once again filled as the orchestra started back up. Vincent looked down at them and back over at the dance floor.

“Well, would you do the honor of dancing with me.” He held out his hand preparing for the next dance. This would be the biggest social dance of the night where everyone would switch partners as they made their way around the circle.

“I would love to.” They replied, taking his hand and letting him lead them along side some of the dukes.

The dance started a slow waltz. They moved in a circle and Vincent occasionally spun them around. Dancing with him felt warm and intimate. They looked up at him and couldn’t hide the smile on their face.

“Don’t have too much fun without me.” Vincent said as he passed them off to the next person they would be dancing with. It was Sam.

“Well hello there your highness.” He spoke in his usual nonchalant tone they have become accustomed to. “How is the ball going this far?”

“It’s going pretty well. I met a few dukes from the Dahlia estate. And for you, Grand Duke?” They replied quirking their head.

“It has definitely been interesting. It is always a fun evening getting to keep the company of Darlins family.” He spoke. “Well goodbye for now.” He said as he twirled them to their next partner. He was a tall lanky man with wild hair and a big smile on his face.

“Well hello there your highness.” He spoke his tone bright and comforting. “I’m grand Duke Asher from the same kingdom and your friend Tanker.” He laughed.

“Oh yes! A pleasure to meet you grand Duke.” They smiled at him as he spun them around.

“How are you adjusting to the royal life your highness?” He asked innocently.

“Well It is definitely different than my previous life, but I have no complaints.” They laughed at the end.

“Well that is amazing to hear! You are a real soldier! Have fun!” He said as he spun them off to a larger man. Definitely more muscle mass and height to him. He had a demanding presence. He definitely reminded them of Tank. This must be their brother!

“Good evening your highness.” The man spoke. “I am Prince David Shaw.” He was direct and to the point.

“Ah yes, good evening your highness, I am well acquainted with your sibling!” They spoke quickly and cheerfully. “Congratulations on your wedding.”

“Why thank you. And congratulations on your engagement m. I wish you all the best.” He said as he passed them off to the next person.

—————

Vincent had danced with quite a few noble individuals. They all said the same thing. “Hello Prince. Congratulations Prince.”

That was until he was partnered up with someone oddly familiar. It felt like he knew them. He had seen them before. Felt the feeling of their hand in his before. That’s when he looked up and met their eyes.

The mask that covered only the middle of their face revealing the same orbs he had seen at the most recent ball. It was them the stranger that he had danced with that night.

His eyes widened with shock and his whole body tensed. He could tell that they knew, he knew who they were.

“Well good to meet you again Prince.” They said as they shot him a smirk.

*I am so sorry the chapter is so late! So much has been going on. I hope you all enjoy it and I will do my best to put the next chapter out asap!*

#redacted asmr #redacted audios #redacted darlin #redacted david #milo redacted #redacted sam #redacted asmr asher #sam x darlin #redacted shaw pack #redacted asher #redacted william #redacted vincent #redacted stranger #redacted lovely #vincent x lovely #redacted solaire clan #redacted davey/angel #redacted fanfic #redacted Cinderella AU #redactedasmr #redacted vincent Solaire

[theflashdriver]

Plunging Fangs (A Silvaze Fic)

Blaze's ears kept twitching, there was an itchiness at her scalp. The plastic red headband she wore was, as she'd expected, just a little too small. Still, this was the costume she'd ended up with; it was much too late to change now. Regardless of her comfort, there was work to be done. The cat's senses were attuned to her surroundings while she and her partner stood with their back to one of many giant metal jack-o'-lanterns, its face carved to form the familiar emblem of one Doctor Eggman.

A cacophony surrounded the guardian of the Sol Emeralds, a combination of music and joyous uproar was exploding from every direction. Orange, green, purple and black were the colours of the evening, draping and coating every inch of the fairground that the feline and her hedgehog ally found themselves stood within. People of all ages, from babies in strollers to grandparents pushing them to gaggles of teens were present; every single person garbed in some kind of costume. The foot of the Pumpkin Mountain range had been a fitting choice for this festivity, but the pair hadn't come to celebrate.

The pyrokinetic elbowed her companion, catching part of his wing, "Have you seen anything suspect?"

"Not yet, everything looks... normal," Silver's point was punctuated by a massive cat in plastic grey armour rushing by, in pursuit of a crowned frog, "Well, as normal as I think it should. I've never been to a fair before, let alone a halloween one."

While the hedgehog's gaze followed that rotund purple figure, Blaze's eyes lingered on Silver. She hadn't seen anyone else in an angel costume in the time they'd spent scouting, but Blaze supposed that might have been because they'd arrived mere hours before halloween night. In hindsight they should have arrived earlier, taken more time to shop, but their present costumes would do for tonight. Regardless, white and gold suited him better than orange and green.

He was wearing a headband too; his was topped with a cheap looking gold tinsel halo attached to a stiff wire. Flowing white robes hung from his shoulders, bound around his waist with a golden sash yet leaving far too much chest fur exposed. The billowing sleeves from his garb left the usual golden bangles on his wrists half exposed, glinting in the light only when he reached. Attached by straps, slung over his shoulders like a backpack, was a set of gaudy white plastic wings that were clearly uncomfortable against his spines. Only one aspect clashed with his outfit; the hedgehog had opted to keep his boots on, lest things take the dangerous turn that they were expecting.

Just as she caught him turning back to her, Blaze re-centred her attention to the surrounding events. A green feathered fellow dressed in an elaborate pirate outfit, flanked by two other birds in more rudimentary swashbuckling garb, was currently boasting as he walked toward what was labeled as a haunted house. Left of them was a white furred bat in an ornate golden headdress, thick spools of bandages wrapped around her body, in the midst of rummaging through a massive cauldron of candy as if in search of something. The cat also caught sight of Cream and her mother for the third time this evening, dressed in matching witchy outfits. The two of them had been taking advantage of the rides; going from a pumpkin based ferris wheel to a set of ghostly dodgems before now approaching a hall of mirrors. Despite the oddness of the event's aesthetics, nothing seemed untoward.

Blaze looked up from the festivities, staring up to the mountain range looming over the fair. Atop every other hill and mountain sat a large, grinning, stone carved jack'o-lantern, the origins of which were lost on the cat. What she did know, based on a newspaper they'd found in Silver's future, was that the largest and most central of-

"Sonic! Why aren't you wearing the costume I made you!" One voice shouted over the crowd, loud and familiar, "You promised we'd come as a couple this time!"

Blaze was on the ground before she could blink, suddenly smooshed beneath a great wall of white fluff and pointy plastic wings. The weight atop her was not merely that of Silver though, Blaze knew that mass well enough. No, another had induced and added to this pile up. Hints of pink, though oddly accompanied by green, were visible just beyond the psychic.

"Amy," Silver's voice was strained, she was surely hugging the air out of him, "It's me, Silver. Not Sonic!"

Almost immediately the weight above shifted, Blaze heard a panicked apology sound but her attention was elsewhere. Silver's palms had thudded to both sides of her shoulders as he struggled to right himself. His yellow eyes locked into her amber set. Seriousness had claimed his expression, Blaze felt her tail lash.

"Are you alright?" He asked, a concern clear in his voice.

"You know I can handle a harder hit than that," Blaze rolled her eyes, "It's-

All of a sudden Silver's head was a lot closer, he'd lowered himself to align with her ear. Temperature spiked across Blaze's body, did he really think the hit had been that hard? Amy had tackled him, not her!

"What should we do, should we tell her?" With that whispering question, Blaze felt quite foolish for not realising his intent, "Do you think she knows what's going on around here?"

"Even if she doesn't, she'll find out eventually, it's in our best interest to be honest," Blaze grumbled back, averting her gaze from him, "Please get up."

"Are you two okay down there?" Amy's voice sounded as Silver rose, "Oh no, did I interrupt a date!?"

Before Silver could extend a hand, the feline had fully jumped to her feet, "No Amy, not a date. This is not a date."

"Oh," Did she sound disappointed?! If she was, the pink hedgehog had immediately bounced back to her excitable state, "You guys are here for the Halloween party though, right? You both look great! Silver as an angel makes so much sense, but I'd never have pictured you as a devil Blaze. It really works!"

Blaze reached down, dusting herself off. She'd ended up wearing a somewhat garish red jumpsuit lined with scarlet sequins, worn over a somewhat tight red shirt. A pitchfork-like red cap had been uncomfortably fastened to the tip of her tail, made of the same cheap plastic material as the horned headband pushing back her hair. Red fishnet gloves now covered her hands but, like her partner, she'd kept her heels for the sake of being practical. As fancy dress went, this devil outfit was the most endurable of the options that their last second shop had revealed.

"Thank you, Amy," The cat replied, adjusting her scratchy headband, "Although, I must admit, I am a little confused. What are you dressed as?"

The pink hedgehog's quills had grown longer since their last encounter and been dyed an almost neon green colour at the tips, matching the smattering of face paint streaked across her muzzle. Her clothes looked to be intentionally torn; a red sports jersey with the number ninety-six emblazoned on it with a matching skirt. Her long socks were littered with strategically placed holes and a set of sneakers completed the worn ensemble, though the hedgehog also had a multitude of painted on bruises and cuts littering her body.

"Oh, I'm a cheerleader zombie!" The pink hedgehog struck a pose, bearing her teeth while making a victory symbol with her fingers, "Eating brains and looking cute while doing it!"

Silver quickly picked up on the root of the question, "Do you not know what a zombie is, Blaze?"

"The festivity you call Halloween doesn't exist in my dimension, so many of the mythological creatures of this world are somewhat lost on me," Blaze quickly and bluntly responded, "That's besides the point though. Amy, we're here to-

"You don't even have Halloween?!" The loud hedgehog was aghast, "Well, you're in exactly the right place! This has to be the biggest Pumpkin Hill Halloween Party ever," Her cheering did waver after that explanation, "It's just a shame about who's sponsoring it..."

"So you know, you know Eggman's behind this?" Blaze pushed, trying to shift the conversation.

"Of course I do, everyone does," Amy explained, but her hands shot to her cheeks just a second later, "Is that why you two are here? Are we in danger?"

Blaze caught Silver's stare and gave him a nod.

"We don't know. The future is in a state of discord, it keeps changing whenever we return. We've been struggling to find the cause," Silver gravely explained, "We found a newspaper the last time we visited, claiming that the pumpkin on top of a nearby mountain is going to explode tonight. Unfortunately, there weren't any more details."

"Oh," The zombie cheerleader was back to grinning, "Then we've got nothing to worry about!"

"What?" Silver blinked, "How can you know that?"

"Sonic told me he was heading up there before coming down for the festivities tonight; I think he said Eggman has a base in there," Amy so casually answered.

"Then we should go and help him," Blaze quickly looked to Silver, only to catch Amy shaking her head.

"Sonic can handle this, I just know it. Even if he couldn't on his own, I'm certain Knuckles and Tails are there to lend a helping hand. Besides, we have a much more important work to do," Amy cryptically insisted, grabbing them both by the hand, "We've got to show you Halloween Blaze!"

There was a glow in the pink hedgehog's eyes, a sparkling excitement that took the feline aback, "Are you sure that-

"Eggman spent way too much time setting up the fair, there's no way he's had time for some world ending plan," Amy unconvincingly explained, "Besides, he doesn't have all of the chaos emeralds and I did a tarot reading today. This evening's set to be the best halloween yet! There's nothing to worry about."

With that, and not a word more, Amy began to drag the otherworldly pair away from the edge of the fairground.

"What do you think?" Silver muttered across, half whispering.

"I think we should remain on guard and ready to help," Blaze answered, "But I confess, it sounds as though we're probably not needed here. Amy has an uncanny foresight when it comes to Sonic and, for as silly as those cards of her sound, they're accurate..."

"I suppose we know more now than we did before," The angel confirmed, "And I guess there's nothing stopping us from doing our recon while on the grounds..."

"So, Blaze, what do you actually know about Halloween?" Amy asked, slowing down to walk between the pair.

"Well, um," The cat struggled to start, "It appears to be a costume based event, primarily based in horror based aesthetics but..." As if to punctuate that point, a crocodile walked past in an overlarge detective coat with a false cigar at his lips, "Not exclusively? There also appears to be a lot of candy involved as well as a focus on an autumnal aesthetic... though maybe it's just pumpkins? I haven't really seen any red leaves or..." Feeling her tongue grow heavy, Blaze gave up in her rambling, "To be honest, I am rather confused. It all seems a little eclectic."

"Well, Halloween as a tradition comes from the north. Back when it was first celebrated turnips were carved into lanterns rather than pumpkins and used to ward off evil spirits; the same idea kind of applies to the costumes," Amy rather succinctly explained, "Nowadays though it's best to just think of Halloween as a fun, spooky, celebration. People get dressed up, tell scary stories and have all sorts of traditions. Kids go trick or treating, walking around houses to collect candy in costume, but most folks either kick back and watch horror movies or come to parties like this."

"I... see," Blaze hummed, "So it's really just an excuse to have some fun then?"

"It always seemed that way whenever I read about it," Silver chimed in, a spark of excitement now present in his tone, "There's not really anything spiritual to it anymore, ironically. It's more about bringing people together and enjoying what people usually find scary."

"Exactly!" Miss Rose cheered, "When it's dark out and there's an eerie chill in the air, there's always a chance for romance."

"Romance?" Silver fell directly into her trap.

"Yes of course! For example..." The pink hedgehog scanned their surroundings, Blaze watched her eyes fall on the trio of pirate garbed birds stumbling back out of the haunted house, "What to those three might have been a terrifying experience, filled with animatronic ghosts and ghouls, brings with it an opportunity to cuddle into one you love," Amy swooned before turning to point at the bat by the candy cauldron, having just pulled some sort of gem from its depths, "Or over there! Rouge is being selfish, clearly searching for something specific, but knowing someone's favourite treat and sharing it with them? What could be more lovely?" Third, Amy ended up pointing to the large crocodile fellow who had passed prior, now chatting with Vanilla, "Even just being in costume together; what people pick says a lot about them. There's tons of romantic potential in Halloween!"

"Huh, I guess that could be true," Silver responded, immediately looking down at himself.

"We picked these at the last moment, I don't think they reflect much of anything," Blaze reminded him, trying very hard no to think about their past in Crisis city; how she'd seem herself as a demon and him as something far purer.

"Maybe not, but you see how it could," Amy teased, their hands now released as she led the way deeper into the fairground.

The trio passed by and through attraction after attraction, the two otherworldly visitors only managing to rebuff Amy's attempt to drag them into the fun once. They were pulled onto a series of spinning open top pumpkins, dragged through a corn maze stalked by spooky automatons, made to test their strength for a sweet reward, found themselves laughing as they fumbled against plainly rigged carnival games, experienced a true jump scare for the first time, and finally rushed their way through an open air rave. Once all that was done, plainly in need of a break and to set things back on course, Blaze had been the one to drag her allies to sit at a nearby bench.

Silver was to her immediate right, lightly panting with his nose to the air as he popped the last of their gathered stock of chocolate into his mouth. He'd come out the other end of their adventure only slightly worse for wear, not a stain on his costume though it was thoroughly ruffled. Even more of his chest fur had ended up exposed as the belt around his waist had loosened. The cat's eyes quickly wandered back to the mountain range, only to find it completely still. If Sonic and the others were up there, it certainly wasn't obvious...

"Amy, what's that?" The psychic asked aloud, drawing the cat's attention.

"Oh, you don't know about apple bobbing?" Amy inquired in response.

Following her allies' gaze, Blaze found herself peering at a wide brimmed cauldron. There was a small queue leading up to it but, presently, a chameleon dressed fully as a ninja was lowering a bee head first into what looked to be water. Said dunked child was wearing an especially peculiar costume, designed to look like the bee was instead a hedgehog with black quills. All of a sudden he was removed from the water, an apple in his mouth, and went flying off with the chameleon in tow. Those who followed didn't look to incorporate the submerging an ally approach...

"I'm not really sure how it started to be honest, but it's one of the oldest games associated with Halloween. Basically you just go up and dunk your head in the water, trying to bite an apple to retrieve it from the water. The point of the game is to do it without using your hands," The girl explained, "I guess it might be based on the idea of dunking witches in water? They used to do that to try and force confessions out of them."

"I want to go give it a shot," The hedgehog seemed to immediately regret blurting that out; his eyes crashed back to Blaze, "I-I'll be quick. Then I think we should go check on Sonic and the others, it feels like they're taking too long."

"You're so naive," Blaze knew how he loved apples, she rolled her eyes to avoid his puppy-eyed look of regret, "If they're not here by the time you're back, we'll start heading up the mountain."

"You guys, I'm sure Sonic's got a handle on this. Enjoy yourself Silver!" Amy called, shoeing him off the bench. The moment he was in the line, Amy's attention was on the cat, "Don't you want to join him in the fun?"

"I don't think I trust that water," The cat half lied, not wanting to confess her remaining tension regarding the mission, "Who knows how long its been left out or how many people have... bobbed before I would have that opportunity."

"Don't be a spoilsport, it's one of the oldest halloween games for a reason. It's fun!" Amy laughed, though her attention seemed to drift, "But I think I know an easier way to get us some apples. I'll be back!"

With the pink hedgehog having briefly fled, and no sign of activity on the mountain, Blaze's gaze was of course pulled away from the other festivities and to her companion. The psychic's love of apples was something she'd learned upon reuniting with him. It was endearing in how simple it was; a fruit others viewed as so commonplace was a unique treasure to him. Introducing him to apple pie come Winter would surely be a treat.

The hedgehog ended up at the front of the queue and immediately, as expected, put his whole heart into the gaming endeavour. His hands had thunked onto the rim of the cauldron and his muzzle was fully submerged. Blaze snorted as a wave of water splashed free from the cauldron, very almost freeing an apple with the force of his mouthing alone. It was fortunate that he was wearing a headband, otherwise his quills would surely have been soaked. Well, fortunate from a certain point of-

An apple blocked Blaze's gaze, coated in an orange toffee glaze with a stencilled chocolate jack'o-lantern grin set to face her. Glancing down the apple led to an attached stick and that stick to a torn glove. The zombie cheerleader Amy rose had returned, a toffee covered apple of her own in hand.

Blaze quickly smothered her prior thoughts, claiming the confectionary, "Thank you."

"He's certainly giving it his all isn't he?" The pink hedgehog ribbed, retaking her seat.

"As he does with all things," Blaze professed, "Any sign of Sonic?"

"No, but the cards don't lie," A sing-song lilt entered her tone, "We'll meet again today and this time he won't get away!"

"I trust in your confidence," Blaze tried to sound positive, examining her apple, "But the shifting nature of the future has me worried."

"Well, shouldn't just you guys visiting have some sort of effect? You know, changing the past a little might cause a big shift in the future," Amy astutely raised.

"I suppose," Blaze hummed, "Though I wouldn't want to rely on that."

Silence brewed between the two of them, though their surroundings remained undeniably loud. Blaze couldn't bring herself to stare at the hedgehog, not with the risk of Amy's chiding. Instead her eyes flickered between the pierced apple in her hand and their counterpart of the mountain range. If things were going to go badly, at least they had friends nearby. They'd make it through this.

"Blaze," Amy's voice finally gave Blaze something to focus on, "Since it's halloween, would you like to hear about a superstition? It's not a very scary one, I just find it interesting."

"Absolutely," Blaze agreed, turning her full attention to the hedgehog, "It might even match one of the ones from my world."

"Now I actually don't know where this rumour even comes from, but I've heard it so many times that there must be some sort of truth to it," The zombie mused before asking a frankly baffling question, "Have you ever watched Silver bite an apple?"

Blaze's brow raised, "I've... certainly seen him eat apples before, yes?"

"No, no," Amy shook her head, "Have you watched how he bites them? Like, really watched?"

Blaze paused for a moment, trying to process, "I don't think I understand what you're asking?"

"When Silver first bites an apple, does he nibble or does he take a big bite? Does he tilt his head when he moves in? Can you hear the crunch when he bites down? Do the juices run?" Amy rattled off question after question without so much as breathing.

"I'm," Blaze paused again, aware now of what she was asking but baffled as to why, "Not sure?"

"Well, you might want to pay attention when he gets back. How he bites an apple is very important," Amy proudly responded, "I've been trying to get Sonic to show me how he does it for ages, but I've never been in the right spot to watch. I don't think the tradition can be translated to chilli dogs either, the shape's too different..."

"What's so important about how he bites apples, how could that possibly matter for some superstition?" Blaze knew Amy was building anticipation; bluntness was the only way to cut her down.

"They say that how a person bites an apple," Though Amy was keeping her tone cool her eyes were wild with excitement, "Indicates how they kiss."

"Why would that be important to me," Blaze immediately responded, panic and harshness both present in her tone.

"I just thought you might be curious, that's all," Amy winked, "But let's just keep this rumour between us; if he knows, he might change how he bites," A smug smirk crept onto the teasing romantic's lips, "Do you think he'd nibble instead, or chomp harder than usual?"

Blaze felt her temperature spike, "I can assure you, I have no-

A rush of wind gusted across to halt in front of the pair before Blaze could properly reprimand Amy. A grinning blue blur came to a sliding halt, though his look was somewhat different from usual. Like Amy his clothes were tattered, though there was no sigh of green on him. A torn cap topped his head, he wore a sports jersey with tears and gloves that looked intended for baseball. Perhaps they just seemed that way due to the baseball bat in his hands, the words zombie slayer etched into it.

"Hey Amy," He greeted, "And Blaze! Long time no see."

"Sonic!" The pink hedgehog squealed, "You made it."

"Yeah, dealing with Eggman was no sweat; he practically folded the moment we showed up," The speedster grinned, "There's a little something left over in his base, but it seems like it'll take care of itself."

"Well, since you showed up in costume, this is for you," She went to hand over her caramel apple, but took the opportunity to instead snatch up Sonic's hand, "Come on, I want to try out the haunted house!"

They were gone before Blaze could ask about Eggman's base, but thankfully Knuckles and Tails were trailing behind. The young fox was wearing a lab coat and thick glasses with a series of crude looking tools in a bag by his side. Beside him stood a monster, presumably of Tails' design, in the form of Knuckles; stitch marks painted onto his fur, a bolt through his neck and heavy boots on his feet.

"Tails, Knuckles," Blaze called out, pausing them from pursuing the hedgehog pair, "How did the battle go."

"Oh, Blaze, you're here?" The young fox was understandably shocked, "Eggman made a giant jack'o-lantern airship. He was going to use it to drop bombs all around and flatten the fair, but we punctured it to stop him from taking off!"

"Yeah, it's like he wasn't ready for us. Hardly put up a fight," Knuckles agreed, messing with the boy's ears, "Keep your eyes on the mountain range though, Tails cooked up a real display with what's left over," He grinned mischievously to the fox, "Come on, let's go spook Sonic and Amy. They'll be to distracted with each other to see us coming."

"See you around Blaze!" Tails called out, now being pushed along by the Master Emerald's guardian.

And so the purple feline was left alone among the fairground bluster. Almost immediately however, her eyes returned to the cauldron only to find someone new had replaced Silver. Soon enough the feline caught sight of him, having taken to the air to subvert the crowds rather than struggle his way through them.

"So, it sounds like we didn't need to be here," The angel pointed out, descending from on high to sit next to the demon.

"You overheard all that," The red-clad cat mused.

His muzzle was still soaking wet, his chest fur and gloves were the same. If his fluff was any colour but white it would surely be showing through his angel outfit. He was messier now; his halo was bent and his pinned quills somewhat bedraggled. Blaze felt temperature spark at her cheeks again.

"Sonic arriving turned a few heads and they're not the quietest bunch," Silver reminded her before his eyes started to wander, "Did you find somewhere else to bob for apples? Where did you get the stick?"

"What?" In the wake of Amy's teasing and the other's arrival, she had entirely forgot her own candied apple, "Oh, no. I presume Amy found this on a stall. I didn't want to trust the water."

"It's still cleaner than what I'm used to I guess," Silver shrugged, rubbing the apple dry on his bicep sleeve, "I suppose we should still keep our eyes on the mountain, just in case something still goes wrong..."

"Probably..." Blaze's eyes felt magnetised to the green orb in his hand, so shiny and fresh.

When her gaze fled that fruit, they arrived at his mouth and caught a hint of fang, "I guess we can just wait out whatever thappens here, seems as good a spot as any."

"Yes," Blaze swallowed hard as he raised the fruit to his mouth.

The guardian wanted to look away, she longed to stare at the mountains or the festivities or her lap or anywhere else... but she could not muster the strength to pull her stare from him. His head tilted left ever so slightly, his clutch tight on the fruit's underside as he brought it to his lips. His mouth opened wide, it would be no small nibble! Teeth glided through green skin and into succulent green flesh, a resounding crunch sounded even above the ceaseless chatter of the fair. Blaze's tail fluttered wildly as her eyes clashed with the aftermath. Juices coated his lips, dripping almost as far as his chin.

Blaze's mind was abuzz with thoughts; how would that chomp translate to a kiss?! The parallel certainly wasn't a delicate peck; no innocent press of lips on lips. To call the kiss rough wouldn't be inaccurate; but the cat had seen him demolish a meal, he could have bitten so much harder. It hadn't been a quick bite though, it wasn't as though he'd been ravenous. Was his intent to savour? How long would he spend in lip-lock?! Did the juices on his chin imply the use of tongue? Was the truth of Silver's psyche that he longed for such torrid intimacy?!

Blaze heard the hedgehog hum as he took a second bite, a smirk plain on his lips.

"You're so vulgar," The demon grumbled, turning away from the angel.

"Huh?" Blaze could feel Silver's confused stare, "Wait, that's different. What did I do this-

Just as he tried to respond, Blaze's gaze locked on the ground, the chatter of the halloween carnival was finally overwhelmed. The cat's eyes were torn up to the mountain range just in time to find their surroundings bathed in a bright orange light! Where once a stone pumpkin-head had sat, one formed of fire and light was now glowing. It was like a massive firework had exploded on the horizon, perfectly set up to take the form of its pumpkin shaped shell!

The cat's eyes sped across their surroundings, in search of panicked looks from the surrounding citizens. Instead, the cat was met with looks of wonder and excitement at the view. Given the distance from the grounds to that mountain, the cat supposed there was reason to celebrate. They were all well outside of the blast radius. If this really was the only trouble they'd face tonight, there was nothing to worry about.

With those relaxed thoughts sweeping through her, Blaze found her attention drifting back to the hedgehog at her side. The fire dying down, sound having already long past, the cat fumbled for any distraction. Her grip tightened on the stick of the toffee coated apple in her hand, perhaps food could comfort her?

She tilted her head right and a bite was quickly taken, the thick candy coating was a little harder than she'd anticipated but gave way to the juicy flesh underneath. It was only as the cat was on her second chew, now watching the citizens go back to their festivities, that Blaze realised what she'd done.

Her eyes dropped to the candied fruit and found a small bite mark through the orange coating, revealing white-green beneath. She couldn't remember what exactly she'd done, but the shape of that hole immediately quickened her pulse. It was no perfectly cut oval; indents were plainly visible. Four additional small carvings; evidence of fangs use. If they'd been used here-

"I think we're okay now," The hedgehog piped up, his hand was upon her shoulder, "If that mountain was any closer I'd be worried about falling rocks..."

"Indeed," The guardian muttered under her breath.

"Oh um, Blaze?" His questioning forced her to look, "You've got toffee on your cheek."

He reached across without warning, sullying his white sleeve with an orange stain as he cleared the mark. Blaze caught sight of concern quirking onto his lips and her gaze quickly fell... only to crash into the apple she'd just bitten, held so close to his. The moment she noticed that though, his hand was back on her shoulder and holding tighter.

"Are you okay?" The angel asked, "You're really burning up..."

"So vulgar," Was all the demon could manage to murmur, her cheeks aflame and imagination running wild.

#Blaze the Cat #Silver the Hedgehog #Amy Rose #silvaze #sonic the hedgehog #sonamy

[colormepurplex2]

Curse Of The Serpent | Godly Gifts & Deceptive Shadows

↳  Perseus!Namjoon x Medusa!Jimin ⤜ Strangers/Fated Lovers ⤜ Rating: MA 🔞 ⤜ WC: 6,083 ⚠️ Angst, mentions of violence and murder, threats, foul language

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Tonight is supposed to be a night of joyous celebration. But, all the fanfare and overzealous cajoling leave much to be desired; for the event being celebrated tonight is nothing that should ever be written in the stars. Stories of the gods, old and new, find themselves a place among the fiery galaxies and nebulas. A half-mortal—a Demi-god—often falls short; unless they perform an act so great that the stars have no choice but to make a place among themselves for them.

That’s what tonight is supposed to be about, a Demi-god taking on such a Herculean task. A feat that will grant him godly status and a place in Olympus. It’s not lost on Namjoon how ridiculous it is to celebrate something that hasn’t even happened yet and may never happen. The idea of defeating a centuries-old demon, a blight that’s tormented the world for longer than he’s drawn breath, wasn’t his, to begin with.

Love makes you do unthinkable things, though. Such as agreeing to seek out said demon and vow to slay it. The prize for such a feat? Besides power and status—Andromeda. The most beautiful being Namjoon has ever laid his eyes on. Simple. Kill Medusa and win the favor of Cepheus, therefore, earning his blessing for his daughter’s hand.

As Namjoon paces along the rampart, staring out across the vast, endless ocean, he feels his heart longing to be with her. He heard rumors from Poseidon that Cepheus was planning to sacrifice Andromeda to the sea beast, Cetus, so it would no longer torment his kingdom.

Namjoon had met Andromeda in passing a few times and always favored her beauty and her pure soul. So, he struck a bargain with Cepheus. He would provide a way to defeat Cetus—one that would guarantee the sea monster never brought destruction to Cepheus’ kingdom or any other again through the power of a Gorgon’s gaze—in exchange for Andromeda as his.

That’s how he’s found himself here, in the kingdom of Cepheus, celebrating his not-yet-victory in the royal palace. Word spread quickly, earning the attention of old and new gods alike. Namjoon sighs, casting one last glance at the vast ocean, knowing Andromeda is out there somewhere in a stone prison, held by Posideon at the behest of Cepheus, waiting for him to rescue her.

“Perseus, my brother!” a strong, gruff voice bellows before a large palm smacks Namjoon on the shoulder.

“Ares,” he murmurs. “You know I prefer the name given to me by my mother.”

Ares huffs a half-laugh. “Namjoon, son of Danaë? But that doesn’t sound nearly as godly as Perseus, son of Zeus.”

“It suits me just fine,” Namjoon sighs again as he steps out from under the hand on his shoulder and moves back toward the brightly lit doorway that leads to the throne room of Cepheus, where the celebration is in full swing.

Ares presents a formidable, prominent, daunting figure with a glinting chest plate and plumed helmet. His spear and shield are probably chucked off into a corner somewhere, considering he holds a large drinking chalice in one hand and is now reaching again for Namjoon with his other.

Namjoon turns, sidestepping the outstretched hand as he steps back inside. Ares follows just a step behind. “Don’t be like that, brother. If you’d accompany me to the armory, I have something for you.”

“But the feast isn’t nearly over,” Namjoon begins, glancing at the other regaling figures of power. “We would be missed.” He’s glad Ares doesn’t mention that he was outside, away from the gathering, missing the party anyway.

“Pah, nonsense. Our father will be tittering and flirting for several hours, keeping everyone entertained. You know how he is. And Cepheus is beside himself with glee at being graced by the presence of so many of our standing. Besides, tonight is all about you, it’s your party, and you can do as you please.” Chalice discarded on a table, Ares manages to snag his hand into Namjoon’s robe and begins to tug him toward the darkened corridor leading to the armory behind the currently vacant throne at the head of the room.

Namjoon bites his tongue, allowing the god of war and courage to lead him through the hall and toward the armory. There are guards stationed outside the metal-plated door, but with one wave of Ares’ hand, they push it open and step aside.

“What is it that you have for me?” Namjoon asks, skeptically eyeing the array of mortal blades and leather-covered wooden shields inside.

Ares tuts softly. “I will not ruin the surprise. Cepheus allowed me to stash this under his wards until I could hand it off to you. It was stolen from Poseidon.” There’s unmistakable glee flickering in Ares’ gaze as he says that. “Part of me wishes he would have attempted to attend tonight’s celebration. That two-faced bastard could do something about the sea monster, but you know how fickle gods can be and how little they care for mortal affairs unless it suits their agenda.”

Namjoon knows all too well how that goes. Even Ares can be quite pigheaded at the best of times. “I do,” Namjoon agrees, giving Ares a knowing look.

The war god guffaws loudly. “Yes, consider this my penance for all my blind eyes.” He taps his free hand on a gold emblem, with Cepheus’ sigil carved into it, hanging on the far wall. “An adamantine sword, the only weapon in existence that can kill the Gorgon children of Phorcys and Cetus. From the vault of Zeus himself. But, it was stolen by sea nymphs working for Poseidon before it could be used against the Gorgon offspring.” Ares trails off, his words growing sober as the wall with the emblem swings wide to reveal a large stone plinth with a narrow bronze chest atop it.

“A weapon that can kill a Gorgon?” Namjoon asks in awe. “It can’t be. There is no such weapon. I would have heard of it.”

Ares shrugs his large shoulders. “You weren’t around then, but when Athena punished Medusa and unleashed those Gorgon powers, things were a little off-kilter for a while. It’s not unreasonable that a weapon like this would have slipped through the cracks in history. Poseidon’s forgotten he ever stole it, and Zeus, well, you know how our father is. It was hoarded away at the bottom of some sea chasm with other choice pieces. Only recovered by chance when a rogue siren with a grudge against Poseidon decided to plunder his wares. Serves him right, the evil bastard.” He takes a deep breath and lets it out in a rush. “All that aside, I wouldn’t boast lies about this weapon, Perseus. I, too, want you to succeed; so you can take your rightful place in Olympus.” He steps into the small antechamber, giving Namjoon a brief but emotionally-charged glance as he passes, and lifts the lid on the chest.

The scent of salt and brine permeates the air in the small room. Namjoon takes a hesitant step forward, moving around Ares to look into the open box. Adrenaline blazes through him, his heart beginning to gallop erratically in his chest. “You’re certain?”

“Aye, it will ensure you succeed. I had Athena look at it and check the blessing marking the blade. It’s powerful. Once you finish off that bitch Medusa, feel free to tarry after the sisters, too.” There’s an undercurrent of something in Ares’ tone that Namjoon is having difficulty placing, but he’s so focused on the sword he dismisses it.

Namjoon grimaces, thinking of the immortal sisters of Medusa, Stheno and Euryale. “This is a great gift, Ares. Thank you.” There is a studded belt and scabbard tucked in with the sword. The weight of the leather and bronze holster is comforting on his hip, deft fingers securing it with ease. “This sword is exquisite.” Namjoon gently lifts it from the bed of silk. The blade seems to twist in on itself, mimicking how two serpents might entwine their bodies. Just under the pommel, the edges curl out into thick, blunt points in the shape of serpent heads. The tip, where the tails come together in a seamless point, glints wickedly in the bright light enchanting the room.

“You’ll also want this, a gift from Athena to go with her blessing.” Ares reaches around the backside of the plinth and pulls out a round armband shield. The bronze surface gleams beautifully. “It’ll never go dull,” he explains, handing it off to Namjoon. “Dual protection. Shield your body and your eyes. I’ll not hear of any brother of mine turning to stone, by the gods, I swear it, Perseus.”

Ares’ promise echoes through the room. It takes everything in Namjoon not to laugh openly in his face. Instead, he chooses to jest lightly, “Does that mean you’ve decided to accompany me to Medusa’s cave?”

The short scoff from Ares does make Namjoon laugh. “Listen, Perseus, you know I’d help…, but there’s just—”

“Peace, brother,” Namjoon holds up a hand to silence Ares. “I’m only kidding. This is my task and my task alone. It’s the only way I can know for certain I truly deserve Andromeda.” He intentionally leaves out the godly powers and his place in Olympus. They barely hold a flame to Andromeda’s hand.

The god of war and courage narrows his gaze on Namjoon before nodding. “Aye. Let that guide you then, Perseus.”

Namjoon attaches the shield to the leather baldric that straps over one shoulder. The bronze circle is slightly concave, sitting comfortably against his back. The sword goes into the sheath, sliding home with a satisfying sound of metal against leather. 

“I won’t use these gifts lightly, Ares. It’s an honor to receive such things.” Namjoon is sincere with his words and hopes his half-brother can see that.

Ares grabs Namjoon by his shoulders and steps in close, pressing their foreheads together. “The honor is mine, little brother. You’ll make Olympus proud with this endeavor. You deserve a place among the stars.”

A tiny thread of guilt worms its way down Namjoon’s spine. He doesn’t want the glory, which makes him feel like he’s being deceptive. Quickly dismissing that line of thought, Namjoon gives Ares a small smile and pulls out from under the looming intensity of the war god.

The rest of the evening is full of suppressed sighs, stilted smiles, and murmured pleasantries. Cepheus avoids Namjoon as much as Namjoon avoids Cepheus. They exchange a few glances, but for the most part, Namjoon applauds his self-control for not throwing Cepheus off the nearest balcony for his intention for his daughter.

Gods, even those in the form of sea monsters, don’t bother to hide their pleasure in receiving human sacrifices. Namjoon is well-versed in the wills and wiles of the royals across the land. His father is a boaster of such deeds. Sure to note that there’s no love lost between Namjoon and Zeus. More so, as Zeus finds immense pleasure among the flesh of mortals, Namjoon’s mortal mother is a testament to that—sure, Danaë may not have been a sacrifice to the gods. Still, her father, King Acrisius, condemned her to death nonetheless. As such, a death to glean favor from a god doesn’t always equate to a trip along the River Styx. Much to Hades’ displeasure, a god can choose to retain their sacrifices until their potential has been meted out to its fullest capacity.

All this aside, Namjoon wishes nothing more than to bring Cepheus the head of Medusa as agreed. There is no trumpeting farewell nor grand ceremony to send him off. Namjoon simply packs up his small belongings, dons his armor, straps on his sword and shield, and leaves quietly in the purple haze of pre-dawn. He sets out from the palace of Cepheus, heading along the vast coastline, intent to continue until he reaches the edge of the world and the Gorgon’s lair.

The sun rises and falls, only to be replaced by a bright moon that beckons him on. No beast, man, or god crosses his path. Namjoon finds himself feeling far lonelier than he ever has before. He takes the time to reflect on his life, going all the way back to being a small boy.

When King Acrisius discovered his daughter, Danaë, was heavy with a child of Zeus, instead of killing them and potentially incurring the wrath of a god, Acrisius chose to have Danaë, and the baby tossed into the sea in a wooden box. Begrudgingly, Namjoon knows he has Poseidon to thank for his and his mother’s survival, but it doesn’t make anything else Poseidon has done any easier to accept. After all, if Poseidon would just command the seas and earth as is his right, he could have the earth open deep in the ocean and swallow Cetus. Problem solved.

Namjoon sighs, letting his eyes drift over the mostly barren shorescape around him. He knows he’s beyond any kingdom—salt crusts along the rocky outcroppings and cakes to the bottoms of his borrowed sandals. Hermes pressed them into Namjoon’s hands sometime during the celebration ceremony, trumpeting about how they’ll be the reason he succeeds against the Gorgon. Namjoon isn’t so sure, as the only benefit he’s noticed is they leave behind no distinguishable footprint.

The helm of darkness given to him by Hades sits at the bottom of the kibisis, the impenetrable burlap sack enchanted to retain the severed head of Medusa, which he carries opposite his sword on his hip. Namjoon is uneasy about using the cap. Hades isn’t exactly known for his charitability, just his bitter nature of being stuck ferrying the dead in the underworld. So, the cap is only for when all other options run out.

Briny, ocean air ruffles his hair and cools the sweat lingering on his forehead. The slight, bitter pang of thirst and hunger gnaws at his belly, but he refuses to stop until he locates the cave.

The days blur together, and the passage of time becomes meaningless the closer he draws to his destiny. Namjoon can feel the pull of fate like his string is tugged along by the rise and fall of the sun and moon. The stars guide his feet at night, while the misty wind directs him when the sun is high.

There is a moment when Namjoon realizes the elevation begins to change. His steps carry him a little quicker as the earth starts to slope downward. Small rocks and pebbles displace under his shoes' soles as he trudges along beside the hissing and surging ocean.

Waves begin to rocket into the sky, crashing with thunderous fury against the shore. Ocean spray mists Namjoon, the salty water catching in his hair and along his lashes. The further he goes, the angrier the sea seems to become until he has to lift a hand to shield his eyes from the lashing wind carrying the stinging currents. The robe and trousers under his armor quickly become drenched, appearing like a second skin that chafes lightly with every step.

Namjoon’s eyes cast skyward, taking in the pewter thunder clouds overhead that threaten to add only more menace to the screaming shoreline. He breaks into a trot that bleeds into a run as he races along the craggy and pocked rocks. Just before the storm brewing overhead breaks, Namjoon catches sight of a small pocket receding into the rock face. He leaps down onto the ledge where the recess is, relief flooding him when he recognizes it as the mouth of a cave.

A moment of clarity breaks through the haze and din of the storm now fully raging around him. There are distinct markings around the mouth of the cave. Slender forms twine around the entrance, numbering in the thousands. He recognizes all manner of pythons, vipers, constrictors, and other twisting serpentine monstrosities. At the very top, a crude depiction of a Gorgoneion stares down at him.

With one last glance over his shoulder at the swirling hell-storm and a hand on the pommel of his sword, Namjoon takes a tentative step into the darkness of Medusa’s cave.

A few feet into the hollowed entryway, a sharp turn leads Namjoon around a bend and into a large cavernous space. The thick rock surrounding him muffles the watery tempest, still battering herself against the cliff face outside. A soft blue glow emits from the walls as if they’re enchanted with cerulean starlight. It throws long shadows across the room, highlighting in stark relief dozens of horrifying stone forms, in varying degrees of fighting stances. There are warriors, men and women alike, with arms raised still holding onto rusted or disintegrating sword hilts. Time has weathered away weapons and shields, leaving behind macabre pillars that mock strength and bravery.

There is only one clear passage, opposite from how Namjoon came in. Dozens more of the stone guardians cluster in the gaping maw. It beckons, taunting him with how easy it would be to cross the expanse of bedrock and continue forward to find the beast within that has wreaked so much havoc. But he knows he should take some time to orient himself and prepare for what’s to come.

Staying as near the curve back toward the mouth of the cave as he can without completely drowning out all sounds from the storm, he slowly lowers himself to the ground and kneels. It’s a slow process, taking extra care not to make too much noise as he relieves himself of his possessions. He keeps the sword and shield close at hand but removes the kibisis from his waist and the sandals from his feet. Inside the knapsack, atop the helm of darkness, he pulls out a dry linen shirt and leather trousers. Not wanting to be caught with his pants down, literally, he shirks his clothing and pulls on the new ones faster than he’d ever thought possible.

Feeling a little clearer-headed and comfortable, he quickly reassembles his armor, straps on his weapon, and shoulders the shield-bearing baldric. The last thing that he does is slip the golden sandals back onto his feet, lacing them with trembling fingers. The following things he pulls out of the kibisis are a waterskin and a wrapped portion of barley bread. The meager meal is tasteless on his tongue, washed down with stale water. Though nothing compared to the ambrosia of the gods, it revitalizes him all the same.

As Namjoon is straightening up, he catches the faintest whiff of something floral drifting from the back of the cavern. A soft scuffing sound has the hair on the back of his neck and his arms standing on end. In a flash, he has his shield off his back and secured on his arm, and his sword leveled in the air before him.

The moment of panic passes, and he quickly remembers where he is and what that entails, whipping around quickly and positioning his shield higher. The reflective surface catches the room's light and brings the distant opening into a clear view. A shadow passes through the darkness, moving quickly across Namjoon’s line of sight.

Adrenaline pumps through with his erratic heartbeat. He had assumed it would take a bit of searching to locate the demon serpent, but it seems it has come to him like a mouse drawn to breadcrumbs.

“You must leave here,” a hushed whisper comes from the darkness. “You are not welcomed.”

Surprise lingers just below the surface of Namjoon’s awareness. The voice sounded soft and sweet yet undoubtedly masculine. He’d always thought Medusa was a female; legend says so, at least.

“Do not think to sway me so easily, beast. I’ve come for your life,” Namjoon announces with confidence. He takes a few slow and easy steps backward, keeping his eyes locked on the mirrored surface of the shield.

A rattling hiss comes from behind him. “You must leave!” the voice rings out again. “I wish you no harm. I’d be grateful if you extended me the same courtesy.”

That stops Namjoon in his tracks. “Wish me no harm?” he scoffs. “I know what it is you do, demon. Are these stone statues not evidence enough of that?”

There is a frustrated groan from the shadows. Namjoon can tell from how the sound moves that whoever is in there is constantly moving back and forth, almost like they’re pacing. “No one ever listens,” comes an irritated reply. “Just leave me alone! I do not wish to do this song and dance again…please.”

The whispered plea at the end has Namjoon furrowing his brow. “I don’t entertain idle talk with monsters,” Namjoon says the words but thinks that that’s exactly what he’s doing, holding a conversation with the monster he’s come to slay.

“So be it.” The words fade in retreat, moving further away from Namjoon. The sound of rocks crunching and light scuffing echoes above that resounding statement. The sounds are like a homing beacon for Namjoon. He backs swiftly toward the entrance, deftly skirting around the statues and plunging into the darkness beyond.

A glance up shows that the walls are still enchanted, just far dimmer past the secondary entrance. There are a few statues littered along the path, creating a proverbial trail leading Namjoon right to where he knows he needs to go.

It’s not easy moving backward, but he keeps to the balls of his feet, letting the golden sandals cushion the impact of each step. The air turns tepid as he moves further, the floral scent from earlier saturating each breath he takes.

Flickering light peeks from around a sharp turn. Namjoon slows to a silent shuffle as he nears the bend in the tunnel, knowing it would be the perfect place to stage an ambush. “Give me strength,” Namjoon whispers under his breath, sending a near-silent prayer to whatever gods may be listening. If he weren’t in such a precarious situation, he’d probably laugh at himself for such a foolish notion. He’d be lucky if anyone were keeping an ear to the pathways: even his devout brother, Ares.

As Namjoon moves into the curve of the wall, his arms poise in preparation for an immediate reaction. Only no attack comes when he slides around the bend. All he’s met with is the faint crackle of a fire in the distance of another large cavern. This one fades into darkness in all directions, the ceiling and walls so high they are beyond the reach of the firelight.

The area resembles a crude home in so much as there’s a smattering of furniture that has seen better days and a few trinkets littering surfaces. A sagging bed sits a few feet from the circle of stones where the fire is. Large boulders dot around the cluster of furniture, creating an allusion of walls.

“Invading my home, and for what? A little glory? God-like powers? To kill someone who just wants to be left to live out the remnants of their miserable existence away from those who would cause them harm?” The voice drifts from the far shadows, a biting edge of bitterness adding with each additional sarcastic query.

“Word games,” Namjoon spits, tired of the back and forth. “Come out and face me. Go to your death with pride!”

Namjoon skirts around the furniture and firepit, the voice leading him past the proverbial wall of pillars and boulders. Eerie, long shadows dance between the large stones, forcing Namjoon to slow once again and focus intently on the shield for guidance lest he makes a misstep.

It’s frustrating that Medusa keeps hiding instead of coming out to face him. More scuffling and sudden movements echo around him. For such a renowned fierce, and terrible creature who is said to have terrorized thousands, they’re indeed not acting like it.

The closer Namjoon gets, the clearer he can make out other noises besides the shuffling of movement. He wasn’t expecting so many surprises when he first embarked on this quest, but the soft whimpering he can hear is easily the most surprising of all so far.

Stepping around a glistening stalagmite, Namjoon catches his first glimpse of the monster—well, the shadow of it, at least. The shadow is crouched down, kneeling behind a towering boulder. The shadow stretches, gently flickering in the low light. There are undulating coils pulsing around the top, the cast of writhing serpents that are said to be in place of hair upon Medusa’s head. Namjoon watches as the slender forms twist and sway in a macabre dance he’s seen from cobras getting ready to strike.

There will only be one chance to end this. Namjoon knows if he misses or makes a mistake, it could mean his life is forfeit. Taking a slow, steady breath, he prepares himself to attack. He flexes his toes, letting them take his weight for the pivot he’ll need to execute to swing his sword just right.

Sweat beads along his forehead and slips down his temple; the floral scent mixing with the salt of his perspiration is heady in his nose. He grits his teeth and takes one more fortifying breath. Then, he attacks.

The figure crouched behind the boulder reacts, a surprised and anguished scream contending with the whir of Namjoon’s blade rending the air. Namjoon’s eyes are squeezed shut as his body twists, momentum spurred by the strength in his arm sending his serpentine blade arcing toward the figure.

There is a moment when time feels suspended. Something doesn’t feel right. Namjoon can sense it in the way the air in front of him ripples as Medusa manages to shift under the swing of the sword. It’s a knee-jerk reaction to open his eyes, his body telling him he needs to see to correct the angle of his attack to hit his target. It’s too late by the time he realizes his grave error. He gets his first proper glimpse of the demon known as Medusa…and what a sight it is, too.

Instead of hissing snakes, soft, slate-colored hair sits above an empyrean face with full lips and round, bright eyes so blue that they’re nearly white. Those full lips are agape, trembling with fright. A strip of black lace drapes loosely over the bridge of a small, straight nose—the lace flutters in the aftermath of the sword strike that severed it on the side. A thin slice from the point of the sword mars over the apple of a prominent cheek, dark red blood already welling up. An odd sensation pangs through Namjoon’s chest, like a string within him is pulled too tight. His heart thumps hard, a lightheaded feeling crashing over him.

Namjoon’s sword finishes its arc, the tip grating violently into the stone boulder beside the face staring up at him. The twang of the impact jars up his arm, sparking angry bursts of pain through his elbow and shoulder. It’s so intense that his fingers go numb, losing their grip on the hilt. The sword clatters loudly to the ground, the tip still embedded in the stone, crumbling pieces of rock showering down.

“By the gods,” the crouched figure whispers, breaking the resounding silence following the disastrous swing of Namjoon’s sword. “It’s not possible.”

Namjoon backpedals so quickly that he stumbles over his feet and finds himself on his backside, now level with those blue eyes. He watches as they take on more color, the whitish blue giving way to a beautiful cerulean. The man blinks a few times, his brow furrowing as his eyes flick over and take in Namjoon sprawled out before him. The delicate strip of lace slips further, drifting down to settle in the man’s lap.

The mirrored shield slips from Namjoon’s arm, his grip going slack. The metal bites into the bedrock. The flinch that jerks the other man’s shoulders when the shield clangs flat to the ground brings Namjoon out of his stupor with a sudden flood of regret.

“I’m sorry!” He blubbers, panic surging. That weird feeling in his chest tightens even further before turning into a warm and fluttering sensation that drips into his belly. “I didn't mean to harm you. I thought you were someone else, something else…I was—it’s not; I’m so sorry.” Namjoon scrambles onto his knees, grabbing his shield and wrapping a hand around the sword's pommel to try and pull it free from the rock.

“Who did you think I was?” The voice is soft, but it makes Namjoon pause, hand flexing around the leather of the hilt, as his eyes drift back up to those blue ones. This man is painfully beautiful, filling Namjoon with something he’d describe as akin to love. But that’s impossible, considering he doesn’t even know who this person is. There is something familiar about the voice, though. But that familiarity makes a cold sweat bead on Namjoon’s temple. It can not be. He refuses to believe it. The voice is too fresh in his memory, and it belongs to a monster.

“What is your name?” Namjoon asks, ignoring the man’s question. Anxiety washes through his limbs. He gives a harsh tug to the sword, the tip finally slipping free from the boulder. With a slow and steady turn, Namjoon gains his feet and points the still, sharp, twined tip at the stranger.

A coldness closes over the man’s face, the bloody cut on his cheek not disrupting the beauty of it. “I was once called Jimin.”

“Once called? Do not play word games with me, stranger. I do not have time for this.” Namjoon adjusts his grip on the sword, laying the glinting point in the hollow of the man’s throat.

A faint smirk twitches on the man’s lips. “Yes, well, I’ve lost count of the years since someone last spoke that name to me.” He takes a deep breath, the blade pricking his skin slightly with the rise of his chest. Namjoon swallows hard, watching the bead of red swell beneath his sword. “I can’t say I was ever fond of the name given to me by your kind—Medusa.”

Namjoon’s eyes grow wide, and a chill drips down his spine. It shouldn’t be possible. “I should take your head for your lies.” He swears his threat is real, but the words feel like chalk on his tongue for a reason he can’t explain.

The man laughs, a full throaty laugh that makes Namjoon purse his lips. “I wish it were a lie. I never asked for this life. I’m just as surprised as you are that you haven’t joined the macabre cloister of supposed warriors who have come before you waving their swords and touting about their bravery and valiancy.” Jimin trails off, his eyes dropping as best they can to his lap, where his fingers pinch the streamer of lace and lift it up. “I was told it would be impossible to ever look upon the face of another. Eyes bound and heart caged.” The lace crumples in his fist as his lips twist around the words. “Cursed never to know the gaze of another, not unless they were my—“ he abruptly cuts off, clearing his throat and glancing up at Namjoon, who still has the sword against his throat. 

Namjoon shakes his head dismissively. “Prove it,” he grits out between clenched teeth. “If you are Medusa, I’d be stone now.”

Jimin makes a soft humming noise before delicately placing a finger against the flat of the blade and slowly pushing it down until it’s no longer pricking his throat. Keeping his ocean eyes on Namjoon, he tilts his chin to the side, revealing the side of his neck that was cast in shadows previously.

Winding up the side of his neck is a tattooed serpent, the black form bent into an s-shape extending from below his ear and down to the base where his neck meets his shoulder.

“The mark of the serpent’s curse,” Jimin says softly. “Given to me by one of your own.”

Namjoon sucks in a stilted breath. “Marked by Athena, cursed for your betrayal. Gods, you are Medusa.”

Jimin bares his teeth in a silent snarl. “And you say I’m the one spouting lies. That is not my name, and I betrayed no one. Why even bring Athena into this? I’ve never quarreled with the battle goddess.” He shoves harder against the flat of the blade, sending it careening out to the side before Namjoon can react. “Now, if you’ve had your fun, you can leave. There is only one way you could have broken my curse, and I don’t think I’m interested in learning more.”

The blade whirls back, and Namjoon takes a step forward, brandishing the point again. “I don’t care how I broke your curse. It’s obvious there is something nefarious going on here. What witchcraft have you used to prevent me from turning to stone? All you do is speak in riddles and obscurities. I’ll have you reveal your tricks before I take your head and—” a bellowing voice behind him cuts off Namjoon’s threat.

“PERSEUS!”

“Ares?” Namjoon wonders aloud, looking back toward the darkened entrance, confusion and alarm bells ringing in his head. His sword sways, forgotten in his hand, allowing Jimin to shift further back and scramble to his feet.

“Where are you, brother?!” The voice calls again, drawing closer, followed by the heavy footfalls of large booted feet.

Jimin backs away, keeping narrowed eyes on the wavering warrior. The whispered name of the war god has ire filling in the gaps of his wariness. “Brother?” Jimin whispers to himself.

The hulking figure of Ares, the god of war, is a formidable sight. He lumbers through the far entrance and quickly covers the distance, ignoring the scattered furniture and dotted boulders. The light from the fire throws his large shadow across the floor.

Jimin can barely see around the boulder he was just crouched behind, but the presence of the god can be more than felt in his bones. An oppressiveness comes with it, like the pull of the earth increases just a fraction under his feet.

Ares’ gold armor shines even in the dim lighting. His red-plumed helm is firmly upon his head, and his spear is holstered atop his round shield on his back. The leather boots on his feet leave faint imprints on the stone as he trots closer.

“Ares, what are you doing here?” Namjoon asks. He throws a glance to the side, realizing now that Jimin has moved. Namjoon quickly adjusts his stance, bringing the sword back up toward Jimin. His eyes flick back and forth, splitting his focus between the stranger and his godly brother as he approaches.

Ares guffaws loudly. “Why, I’ve come to congratulate you on your victory, dear brother!” He comes to an ambling stop beside Namjoon, eyes lighting upon the still figure of Jimin. “Jimin,” Ares says in greeting. “It’s been many a moon since I’ve laid eyes on your pretty face. I’m glad to see it veil-free.”

“You know him?”

“I couldn’t say the same of yours.”

Jimin’s and Namjoon’s words blend together as they both speak in response to Ares. The giant god crosses his arms over his barrel chest and smirks. “We have much to talk about, Perseus. But, first, let’s leave this dark, drafty cave.”

“Wait just a minute, Ares. You don’t get to lord your godly wills like this, and just expect me to smile and nod. You explain what’s going on right now. How do you know this man who claims to be Medusa, cursed by Athena for the betrayal with Poseidon?” Namjoon says, nodding toward Jimin.

“Yes, Ares, do tell your brother here exactly how you know me and the part you played in my being here for the last several hundred years,” Jimin sneers. “For the record, I never mentioned Athena,” he murmurs the last part, giving Namjoon a pointed look. “I don’t lie.”

The smirk on Ares’ face falters. Darkness molds over his features, turning him into a proper, fierce god of legend. “Namjoon,” his mortal name comes as a surprise from Ares’ lips, “I didn't mean to deceive you with any of my actions, but there are greater forces at work here…all starting with my jealous, vindictive whore of a wife.”

“Aphrodite? What does she have to do with this?” “Everything.” The answer comes from Jimin. “As Aphrodite is the one who actually cursed me.”

Next Chapter⇾ ◅ Back to chapter list

◅ Back to Master List ©️     2023-02-21   ColorMePurplex2

#namjoon x jimin #namjoon smut #jimin smut #bts smut #namjoon angst #jimin angst #jimin fanfic #namjoon fanfic #bts imagines #bts au #bts gods and monsters #bts jimin #bts namjoon #park jimin #kim namjoon #colormepurplex2writings #bts angst #bts fluff #bangtanwhq

[snappedsky]

Fanatics 99.13

The Tallest try to figure out what the Battalion is up to.

*Links to previous and next chapters in reblog*

--

The Greatest in the Galaxy Part 13

“Attention. This is an announcement from your Irken overlords. Tourney is under lock down. All guests must remain within their houses for interrogation and arrest by Irken guards. Do not attempt to resist. And if you are part of the Earth team, turn yourselves in! Thank you.”

The message rings out across Planet Tourney while the streets are in chaos. Audience members race in a panic, trying to get into their guests houses as Irken guards march after them. They capture any alien they can grab and anyone who tries fighting back gets shocked into submission. In just a handful of minutes, the streets are empty as the Irkens take away anyone they’ve captured and anyone who’s gotten away hides.

An eerie, deafening silence fills the once bustling and exciting city-planet.

In the penthouse of the Irken tower, the Tallest sit on a luxurious couch, staring at a series of screens, all of them black. They’re both getting increasingly more annoyed.

“Status update!” Red barks. An Irken soldier slides in front of them and salutes.

“The streets have been cleared,” he announces, “our prisons are packed with approximately 2000 alien guests.”

“Fine, fine,” Red grunts, “but what about the Battalion?”

“Uh, the remains of the Earth house have been scoured and we can confirm that nobody was inside it when it exploded,” the soldier replies, “the Battalion have not been found and all of the cam-bots are still missing.”

“That’s not an update,” Purple groans, “we already knew that.”

“B-but, you asked...”

“Beat it!”

“Yes, sirs,” the soldier bows before scampering out of the room.

Red and Purple both sigh angrily.

“What a disaster this has turned into,” Red laments, “this is supposed to be a joyous event, celebrating the amazingness of Irkens.”

“And instead it’s displaying our monstrous ruthlessness.”

They turn at the voice to see Rory entering the room.

“Well, yes, I suppose it’s showing our amazingness in a different way,” Purple agrees.

“Rory, what are you doing here?” Red demands.

“I wanted to see how things were going,” Rory replies, “and I see you’re doing what you do best when you panic- ruining everything. Is capturing all of the guests really necessary?”

“Everyone is a suspect,” Red insist, “any one of them could be in on the Battalion’s plan.”

“Which is?”

“Something nefarious, no doubt,” Purple replies.

“Right,” Rory grunts, “well, I will be having no part of this nonsense. If you need me, my bots and I will be in the Massive. Later.”

He gives a cheeky salute as he leaves and the Tallest scoff after him.

“That smeet has our combined DNA,” Purple points out, “how did he become so insubordinate?”

“He’s got a mind of his own,” Red replies, “it’s his greatest strength, and our greatest curse.”

Rory marches through the halls of the tower to the tele-pod that’ll take him to the Massive, which is parked outside the atmosphere. “Civ, Viv,” he calls for his bots, but they don’t rush to his side in their immediate manner. He slows to a stop, glancing around suspiciously. “Civ? Viv?”

The twin SIR units fly down the hall and stop in front of him. “Apologies for our tardiness, Master Rory,” Civ says.

“It’s fine,” Rory replies, “let’s get-.”

“Ah, Master Rory,” Viv says quickly. “We have something we must show you...privately.”

Rory blinks with surprise and glances up and down the empty corridor before nodding. The robots lead him to his private chambers, which are dark with the lights off and the drapes drawn.

“Why’s it so dark in here?” Rory questions and moves to turn on the lights.

“Leave the lights,” a familiar voice orders from within the darkness. “And keep your voice low.”

Rory stops and strains to look through the darkness. He cautiously approaches until he’s able to see who he already knows is talking. “Zim?”

Zim grins as he leans back in a chair. “Hello, Rory. We need to talk.”

---

Devi flips through the competition channels, each one a black screen. After a couple minutes, she groans and tosses the remote aside. “Still nothing.”

Johnny cries out angrily and punches the floor. “What the fuck is going on? How are supposed to know if Squee is okay?”

“And the others,” Tenna adds.

“Yeah, sure, whatever.”

“This isn’t because of the competition,” Skoodge says, “this has never happened before. I bet Zim and the others caused this.”

“So we don’t have to be worried?” Colton asks.

“I wouldn’t say that.”

“But what are they doing?” Carmen asks, “and why? I thought they wanted to win this competition, not ruin it.”

“We’ve been watching them all week, but we don’t actually know what’s going on in the background,” Maddie points out.

“She’s right,” Devi agrees, “something must’ve happened.”

“All we can do is wait, I guess,” Tenna says.

“Argh I hate waiting!” Johnny barks.

They sit around for another hour, periodically flipping through the dark channels. Devi checks them mechanically, automatically clicking the button, until she flips through one that isn’t black.

“Whoa!” she exclaims.

“What?” Tenna questions, everyone startled.

“I saw something!” Devi replies as she flips back and stops on an actual view.

The cam-bot is high up on a building, looking out at the city. It’s glancing around, as if confused. Then the sound of fingers snapping is heard and it turns around to Squee.

“Squee!” everyone gasps.

On Tourney, the Tallest are also watching and Red pounds the couch’s armrest. “Somebody get his location!”

Zim and Rory are also watching in Rory’s room, as are any planet guests that have evaded capture and at-home viewers waiting for the show to come back. Right now, Squee has the whole galaxy captive.

He’s fully dressed with a pair of black, wraparound sunglasses and some kind of metallic bands on both of his forearms. He doesn’t have any bandages and small burn marks can be seen scattered across the bare skin of his arms and face. He stares at the camera with an emotionless expression before pointing above his head.

The cam-bot looks up to see a large digital billboard in the distance cheering for the Irken team. But it’s been graffiti-ed with a smiley face in purple spray paint.

Squee lifts his hand into view and wiggles it before snapping his fingers. The spray paint explodes, rendering the billboard into smouldering dust that crumbles to the ground, shocking everyone watching and even the cam-bot.

Squee grabs the camera and lowers it so it’s looking at him. “Follow me while I destroy every last bit of Irken propaganda on this planet,” he says darkly. “Catch me if you can.”

He suddenly shoots off the screen and the cam-bot turns to see him flying off the edge of the building, cheering. It rushes after him.

“He’s having fun,” Zim remarks in Rory’s room.

“What was that?” Rory demands, “what’s Squee doing? What’s going on?”

Zim grins hungrily. “Revolution.”

#invader zim #invader zim fanfiction #johnny the homicidal maniac #johnny the homicidal maniac fanfiction #iz jthm crossover #myocs #myart

[pixiemage]

Through a Crack in the Void

Part 7 / ??? [ Previous | Next ] [ Chapter List ]

[While Grian has a moment alone, we get a glimpse into what he went through under the Watchers' care.]

{This story can also be found on Archive of our Own}

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“MUMBO! MUMBOOOO!”

Mumbo, who had been in the process of luring a pair of cows into a pen, popped one last fencepost into place before squinting out across his sunny island toward the shore. He could see the back of white wings from here, could see Grian crouched on the sand a few feet from the ocean.

“What’s happened now?”

“The eggs are hatching!” Grian shouted back over his shoulder, his eyes alight with excitement. He waved Mumbo over, and the redstoner was quick to banish the remaining fenceposts to his inventory to join his friend at the coastline.

Mumbo hadn’t been lying when he had told Grian he had seen turtles on the beach. A pair of them had taken to meandering between the sandy shore and the ocean shallows, which was exciting enough as it was…and then Grian had found a small nest of eggs hidden on the southern coast of their little island. The avian had been absolutely thrilled, his wings all aflutter as he babbled to Mumbo about ways to keep them safe, and all morning - now only a few days later - Grian had been sitting near the nest to keep an eye on things.

At one point Mumbo had even made a joke about Grian going bird-brained over the eggs, his avian instincts making him protective of them, and Grian had promptly thrown his pillow at Mumbo’s laughing head with a squawk of faux outrage.

Now though, Mumbo leaned over Grian’s shoulder to look and Grian folded his wing more tightly against his back to give him room, only wincing slightly at the way it must have irritated the injured side.

“See?” Grian whispered, excitement in his every syllable, gesturing to the little cluster of turtle eggs partially buried in the sand. He was right, of course. Two of the eggs were already cracking, their spotted surfaces marred with tiny fissures. Mumbo couldn’t help the grin that appeared on his face.

“Goodness me, they’re going to be so small,” he mused. “How long d’you think it takes for them to–”

Crack!

It was almost instantaneous, tiny shell particles exploding in every direction. Mumbo reeled back in surprise and Grian’s wings flew up to guard him from the debris, and when they both looked back at the sandy nest with cautious eyes there were three absolutely tiny baby turtles trying to crawl their way toward its edge. While Mumbo was still trying to catch his breath from the rather startling turn of events, Grian was already dropping down to lie on his front in the sand, his chin resting on his folded hands and a pleased little trill leaving him.

“Awww, look at them!” he cooed, his face level with the tiny hatchlings as they took their first unsteady steps. “They’re so cute!”

Mumbo huffed out a soft chuckle. He tucked his hands in his pockets and watched his friend in mild amusement, his tie fluttering slightly in the seaside breeze. A small part of him - a very small part - wanted to tease Grian mercilessly for how absolutely giddy he was getting over baby turtles. But another part - a far greater part - was simply taking in how bright and joyous Grian seemed right now, especially after how rough the past few days had been. For someone who had been trapped in a place like the void for longer than anyone should have been, Mumbo supposed one’s perspective changed a little. Even the smallest joys in life probably felt like monumentous occasions for celebration. So for all Mumbo wanted to make another joke about avian instincts and bird-brained roommates, he let it be. Instead, he summoned his communicator from his inventory and switched over to the camera, silently taking a photo of the enamored look on Grian’s face as he watched the little aquatic creatures explore their new world for the first time.

“Grian?” he spoke up once his communicator was stowed away again. “I’m going to head underground to mine for a little while. Can I trust you to do as Stress said and–”

“Yes mum,” Grian rolled his eyes, rattling off the rules and embellishing a little as he did so. “No flying, no running, don’t stand for long, don’t breathe too quickly, don’t even think of placing a single block–”

“Grian.”

The avian snorted and glanced back over his shoulder at his long-suffering friend with a smirk.

“I’ll be fine, Mumbo. I know what Stress said.”

“Yes, but I know you,” Mumbo retorted. “And I know you’d have already tried to fly on your bum wing if Stress hadn’t threatened to literally strap it down until you’re healed if you so much as try to lift off.”

“I’ll be fine!” Grian repeated, exasperated. “I’ll be good, I promise! Just go hunt down that precious redstone of yours.”

“I’m not–”

“Diamonds, then,” he amended, returning his attention to the baby turtles with the attentiveness of a mother hawk. “Go find some treasures and get back before dark. You promised me beef stew for dinner now that we have cows, and I expect you to keep up your end of the bargain.”

Mumbo folded his arms over his chest and raised an eyebrow at Grian.

“Oh, it’s a bargain now is it?” he asked. “And what am I getting out of this deal?”

Grian flashed him one last cheeky grin over his shoulder.

“I said I’d behave, didn’t I?”

“Oh for the love of–” Dragging a hand down his face, Mumbo finally turned and marched off toward the makeshift mine entrance by the cow pen, a crude single-block-wide staircase that descended into the depths of the earth. “If you’re not on the ground when I get back, I’m making you eat raw fish for dinner!”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Grian trailed his fingers through the sand, his eyes lingering on the absolutely minuscule creatures in front of him. The baby turtles were so small, their shells smaller than the palm of his hand, but they had a newborn strength to them as they sifted their way across the beach. They were alone, of course, their parents nowhere in sight, but from what Grian could remember about turtles - which wasn’t much, really, since they had only existed on modded servers prior to the latest update - the parents leaving their hatchlings to fend for themselves immediately after laying the eggs was fairly normal. Grian couldn’t fathom it. Avians - and birds in general - were far more protective of their eggs or their fledglings. Birds were known to guard their nests against predators quite fiercely, and avians were much the same. Leaving a newborn behind like this regardless of the risks - it made his skin crawl.

Mumbo had teased him for going into bird-mode at the sight of eggs, and Grian had jokingly protested the entire idea, but he wasn’t entirely wrong.

The hatchlings were so small, so delicate, so…vulnerable. Their tiny beady eyes blinked and squinted in the sunshine, not yet used to the light, and their little flippers flailed and fumbled against the sand as they figured out how to move around now that they were no longer confined to their eggs. It was like watching a fledgling’s first attempt at flight, but with less feathers and more water. Water, because as Grian watched, all three of the tiny turtles started to get the hang of their new limbs and started rushing toward the ocean as fast as their tiny flippers could carry them. It was like an instinct. Now that was something Grian could understand.

It was only when the last of the little creatures had vanished beneath the seafoam that Grian sighed and sat up, brushing sand from the front of his borrowed shirt and shaking out his wings. He got to his feet - no longer wincing when he stood on his injured ankle like he would have a few days ago - and meandered his way back toward Mumbo’s little starter base.

It was fairly well put together. It didn’t look like Mumbo’s build style - from what Grian could remember of Mumbo’s builds, anyhow - but that was to be expected. Mumbo had told him on day two that a friend of his, Scar, had been the main workforce behind its construction. It was simple, a two-story stone-and-oak structure with only three rooms, but it held a simplistic sort of beauty nonetheless. The front room was the largest, with a small kitchen area and storage chests and a table, though Mumbo had already begun digging out a basement to transfer his storage into temporarily since - apparently - Scar’s idea of storage space was “atrocious and unsustainable”. (Grian couldn’t help wondering if Scar’s chest monsters were less or more insane than his own.) There was also a slightly smaller room upstairs - one that Grain hadn’t seen himself just yet - that Mumbo had said was meant to be a bit of a workshop that would be replaced with something more long-term once he began work on his megabase. (A megabase, as if that was a normal occurrence here. From what Grian had heard of some of the builders on this server, perhaps it was.) Then there was the bedroom, of course, with the two beds and the bedside table and the semi-open walls. The fence posts that had been added a few days ago were still there, fitting in surprisingly well despite how spontaneous their addition to the build had been (though Grian had taken the time to craft up a pile of trap doors so they could at least cover the windows on rainy days or chilly nights).

It was small, but Grian liked it anyway. It was cozy. It was comfortable. After so many years of staring at obsidian towers and marble-esque floors and vast unending void as far as the eye could see, being able to stay in a house that had so much warmth to it was a lovely change of pace.

Grian slipped inside the little home and shut the door behind him, traipsing over to one of the chairs and dropping backward onto it. He leaned forward against the backrest and curled his still-bandaged wing in front of him so he could see it, his fingers straightening some of the feathers that had grown a bit disorganized in the last day or so. He squirmed a bit, his face screwing up in mild discomfort. The bandages were driving him crazy. Stress had come by two days ago to replace them, not yet deeming him flight-ready, so he still had to suffer with an itchy wing until she told him otherwise. The burns he had received from breaking through the server wall were almost entirely gone - save for his hands - and his ankle no longer hurt to walk on. There was still some bruising but it was nothing he couldn’t handle.

No, he was healing well for the most part, but the most annoying part of all of this was that the burns on his face - the ones left behind by his Watcher mask - had yet to heal. They had barely faded, the skin across his cheeks and forehead still reddened and slightly painful to touch, and while fire resistance potions helped ease the discomfort, the healing potions Stress had tried hadn’t done much.

It was beginning to look like it would have to heal on its own.

Grian gritted his teeth and clenched his fingers in his feathers, glaring irately at the purple plumage as if it had personally offended him. (In a way, it had.) He wanted nothing more than to leave his life with the Watchers behind, but it seemed as though parts of his past refused to leave him be, clinging to him like a particularly irritating disease. His purpureal feathers, the occasional nightmares…the lingering backlash from whatever spell or magic had fused his Watcher mask to his face against his will.

Not to mention the questions the admin, Xisuma, had been asking him.

Grian forced his fingers to relax, straightening the feathers he had disrupted with a tired sigh. He knew Xisuma meant well. He knew the man was just trying to keep his server -and by extension, Grian - safe. Grian had been an admin before, and if he was in X’s shoes he would be doing the exact same thing. But the problem was, of course, that some of the questions that needed answering pried a bit too far into what had happened to him, and at the moment Grian wasn’t quite ready to talk about what he had gone through, let alone with someone who wasn’t a longtime friend. The rather embarrassing breakdown he’d had a few days prior was evidence of that. And then there was the one question that had been grating at him since it had been asked of him and left unanswered…

“I can’t read all of your player code. I don’t know galactic as well as I probably should. I’d like to ask your permission to have a friend of mine translate this for me, because as of right now I’m the only person who has seen the full extent of your code and I’m a bit useless with it. Technically you’re not on the whitelist yet. I’m not sure how stable your player code is. I don’t know if adding you to the whitelist would negatively affect your code for whatever reason, and I don’t want to run the risk of hurting you if it did…”

At a time before Evo, a time before the Watchers, his answer would have been immediate. If his player code had been corrupted he would have readily accepted help with repairing it. But now…with this…this wasn’t corruption. Grian knew exactly what it was.

When the Watchers had taken him, they had turned him into one of them. The process had been far from painless. He had been a player, an avian, and they had wanted him to be more. They had wanted him to be other. They had wanted him to be like them. Indescribable and nebulous, an amalgamous being of stars and wings and light and void and eyes and eyes and eyes. While Grian had managed to maintain his more humanoid form despite their best efforts, he had also come away different. The kaleidoscopic vision had been difficult to control at first, headaches exacerbated by both the overwhelming visual input and the abilities that had been “gifted” to him alongside it. And his wings - void, his wings. He had already been an avian before the Watchers found him, and he had already gone through the experience of hybrid manifestation the first time around. Letting his wings grow in once had been a slightly painful process - like growing pains but worse. It had lasted a few weeks and it had made his back ache horribly, but it wasn’t the worst thing in the world. But the second time around…oh, the second time around had been agony. Twice as many limbs growing in less than half the time–

Grian shuddered, letting his wings - his original wings - curl around him to shield him from the outside world.

Forcing a player to become something they’re not was a grueling process, and maybe Grian should have suspected that his very code would have been affected by the change. Maybe he should have known. But he knew now, knew that the Watchers had woven their own language into the very core of his being just so they could mold him into an imperfect recreation of themselves. Grian folded his arms on the back of the chair, burying his face against goosebumped skin with a groan. He knew why Xisuma wanted to check on his code. He understood the concerns. Hell, he was concerned too, he simply refused to focus on his own fears long enough for it to freak him out. But he also knew that if he let Xisuma translate the Galactic interwoven throughout his code, if he let X’s friend read the words that the contemptible gods beyond the void had carved into his very being, then they would know. They would know what he was, would know what they had forced him to become. Grian knew that tales of the Watchers lingered in the corners of every server, of every world. He knew that some - like the ones they shared on Evo - were stories of benevolent beings that held only a curiosity for the worlds they watched over, stories of creatures of the universe that gifted the creative and granted strength to the kind and only punished those who deserved their ire. But there were also stories - more stories, perhaps - that portrayed Watchers like the ones who Grian had been unfortunate enough to have met. Capricious and vengeful gods, all-seeing and powerful deities that saw players as playthings and considered themselves above such tiny, inconsequential creatures.

Grian couldn’t be sure what Xisuma knew of Watchers. He couldn’t be sure if the man believed them to be a myth like so many players assumed, or if he was the kind of person to hear mention of them and immediately grow wary or fearful or - worse - enraged. If X found out what Grian really was, he couldn’t be sure how the admin would react. He had only found this safe haven a few days ago, and he wasn’t exactly itching to be banished from it so quickly, especially when he had found Mumbo here.

Of course, Grian supposed, finally forcing himself to stand and stretch and straighten the borrowed green shirt he wore, of course he may not even have to worry about being whitelisted at all if he ended up leaving of his own accord. It wasn’t his first choice, to be sure, but he knew the Watchers were relentless. He knew they would find him eventually if he stayed in one place for too long. There were infinite universes and infinite servers they had yet to search through, but eventually they would track him down…and when they did, the last thing Grian wanted was for Mumbo - or anyone else on Hermitcraft - to get dragged down with him in the process.

He had already lost too many friends to the destruction of one world. He wouldn’t be able to stand it if he had to lose Mumbo to the destruction of another.

Or they could help you, a small thought cropped up in the back of Grian’s mind. Surely people have hidden from the Watchers before. And this server feels safe. There are no Watchers looking in on you here, cruel or benevolent or otherwise. You haven’t felt their eyes on you since you landed on that shore. It might be safe to stay.

Grian’s feet carried him to a window beside the front door and he looked out onto the tiny island, his eyes going out of focus as the idea marinated in his thoughts. Xisuma was kind. Grian didn’t know the man’s stance on Watchers, but he knew that much. He also knew that Hermitcraft was full of unusual hybrids and unorthodox players, at least if the crowd he had seen around the spawn portal was anything to go by. Clearly this server and their admin would be more open-minded than most when it came to a player’s background or species. The only question that remained was whether or not they would accept Grian when they knew what he really was.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

[A/N: Ohhh we're getting into Watcher lore! If you haven't figured it out already, I'm not fully subscribing to the "All Watchers are evil and they traumatized Grian" narrative. True, the ones who took Grian fit that description, but the ones we saw more frequently in Evo weren't unnecessarily cruel. They were cryptic, and they were mysterious, and - yeah - they "punished" Grian with the obsidian on his chests, but only after he was a little trouble-making shit lol. You'll learn more about their role in this story later, but I just think it's a little more fun that Grian's initial eagerness to join them still existed...he just trusted the wrong Watchers in The End.]

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#Hermitcraft FanFic #Hermitcraft #Watcher!Grian #Winged!Grian #Hermitcraft Season 6 #Evo SMP #Pixiemage Writes #Through a Crack in the Void

[goodmorrowing]

Bestie what happened 😭

ALRIGHT i'm going to give the most brief timeline of events this year that i can 😭 this comes with light trigger warnings for abuse, sa, poor mental health + associated behaviors. i think that's it.

JANUARY: celebrated my one year anniversaryyy with the love of my lifeeee and honestly everything was fine. i was having fights with my mom but generally things were good. i was gearing up for my last semester of college and going around and it was good!

FEBRUARY: again it was FINE i was starting to panic about my life changing but that's normal. early in the month i started getting harrassed by my ex-boyfriend and it became a whole situation. but i was still okay. i was working my dream job as a paid internship and planning to move but not stressing too much because i had everything in order!

MARCH: march actually came and went really fucking fast. a lot happened and my gf was playing lacrosse so it was a blur of finishing up coursework and watching so!! much!!!! lacrosse!!! + a whole field of other spring sports. again there was more with my mother siding with my ex but that came and went.

APRIL: april was my birthday month! had a birthday, and then the panic really started to set in. i was searching for apartments in washington dc but my heart really wasn't there because my mother was in the area. everything got a little slower when my gf suffered an injury from lacrosse and was ordered rest. also the harrassment from my ex increased tenfold but the first part kind of culminated here. overall, it was okay.

MAY: i graduated!! it was not as joyous as i thought it would be because i wasn't rich in family or friends, but it was okay. at a grad party, i was taken advantage of and humiliated. it was more impactful than it should have been. i was ashamed and trying to forget it happened. i wasn't coping too well. at the time everything going on just turned into a puddle of mental wreck. it got to a point that i was having daily anxiety attacks and in a bad place. i adopted a cat though!

JUNE: so i thought the ex situation was over but! it wasn't! this guy found my address through his friends and showed up at my place regularly, would non-stop call and text me from different phone numbers, would threaten me and my girlfriend, etc. he even found out about my sa from the month prior and attempted to use it to humiliate me, on top of so much other bullshit. my mother was fully on his side at this point and the whole situation made my mental health plummet. i felt so fucking scared all the time. another thing to note is that he got married in april (which was a leading cause of the fight we had then) and was still married at this point. it felt awful to know that we had both "moved on" and i was still stuck in cycles of his abuse.

JULY: i was supposed to move in june, but complications prevented me from doing so until july. so in july i moved from new jersey to washington dc! it was honestly huge for me. i lived in the dmv area during my teen years, so it was refreshing. my girlfriend had gone for the first time the prior year when she was helping me after i went low contact with my mother. my girlfriend and i moved into our first place together and we loved it. i was working my dream job for real and kate was taking up work as an artist and it was one of the best months of my life. all of the stress i had slowly started to fade out.

AUGUST: there were some complications here. we found out that my gf's injury wasn't healing right and would require surgery. which was fine. we were tight financially, as an artist and a writer often are, so i started waitressing again, which was my student employment job of choice during college. my girlfriend got surgery and started physical therapy, so she was recovering well. everything was still okay.

SEPTEMBER: in september my mental health began to tank again without much rhyme or reason. after seeing my mother for the first time in months, i decided to go no-contact with her because it went terribly. the whole thing filled me with so. much. guilt. my father passed away when i was a kid, so cutting my mother out felt worse than it should have. i was barred from seeing my younger sister until she turned eighteen (but she is thankfully so understanding) and everything just felt like a wreck. at this time i also had to take a break from my dream job because it wasn't making ends meet. my girlfriend and i were experiencing some personal conflicts but it was nothing huge. it was mostly just added pressure on top of everything that had already happened.

OCTOBER: october was a wreck of a month. my girlfriend and i quickly recovered from our spats but my mental health wasn't getting any better. i couldn't afford therapy and things were getting bad faster than i could handle them. it was a vertical battle. essentially i abandoned everything that wasn't absolutely necessary and began living in a perpetual routine of working shifts that could go on upwards of twelve hours, several times a week... cooking dinner from nothing... cleaning... making minimal conversation... and downing energy drinks so i could do it all again. any semblance of life that i had just simply felt like it was gone. all of the things i was looking forward to? gone. at the end of the month, there was an emergency in my girlfriend's family and we had to make an emergent trip to boston.

NOVEMBER: cont'd. so we went to boston and stayed for about a week (this was actually the time when my phone broke lmao). i had to go back because we'd left our cat in the care of friends and had to sort some things. kate stayed in boston. i came back to learn that i'd lost my waitress job and would lose my apartment without proof of income. so i made the spur of a moment decision to pack some of our things, deal with the rest, grab the cat, and come up to boston indefinitely.

flash forward to december, things are getting better. it's still difficult. it's getting better. and hopefully next month things will be great. hopefully next year everything will be okay again. but all is well, besties ✨ and god that was long! oopsies.

#i honestly probably forgot some things #but i feel like i owe this explanation of what happened #i regret not answering this first so i could bury it in fun stuff

[healthstyle101]

Texas wedding officiant arrested after accidentally shooting grandson during wedding ceremony

Wedding Officiant Accidentally Shoots Grandson at Nebraska Ceremony In a surprising turn of events, a wedding ceremony in Nebraska took an unexpected twist when the wedding officiant accidentally discharged a firearm, injuring his own grandson. The incident occurred during what was supposed to be a joyous celebration. The Incident The Lancaster County Sheriff’s Office reported that Michael Gardner, a 62-year-old from Odessa, Texas, had traveled to Nebraska to officiate a wedding. As the ceremony unfolded, Gardner, carrying a Pietta model 1860 snub nose revolver, decided to fire a "blank" round into the air to capture the attention of the wedding guests. However, things went awry when the firearm discharged, and the blank round struck his 12-year-old grandson in the left shoulder. Immediate Response Wedding attendees swiftly contacted local law enforcement, and first responders arrived to provide immediate care to the injured boy, who had suffered a deep laceration in his left shoulder. He was subsequently transported to the hospital but thankfully sustained non-life-threatening injuries, according to the police. Investigation Findings Upon investigating Gardner's revolver, authorities discovered homemade "blank" rounds containing black powder and glue in the cylinder. Additionally, they found a discharged .45 Colt casing within the revolver. Legal Consequences On Monday, Gardner voluntarily turned himself in at the Adult Correctional Facility. He now faces a child abuse charge for negligently discharging a firearm, resulting in an injury. If convicted, he could be sentenced to up to three years in prison and/or fined $10,000. Authorities' Perspective Chief Houchin of the Lancaster County Sheriff's Office acknowledged that Gardner did not intentionally harm his grandson but emphasized the recklessness of the act. "Just another example that playing with firearms, no matter what, even if they’re blanks, bad things can certainly happen," Houchin stated. The incident serves as a stark reminder of the potential dangers associated with firearms, even in seemingly harmless situations. Read the full article

[rakhionlineindia]

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Closing Views:

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#send rakhi to bangalore #bhaiya bhabhi rakhi #kids rakhi #lumba rakhi