#interesting time to be echoing your husband's words. the ones he said in the day you started dating | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bluehoodiewoozi · 1 year

Text

You Changed Everything

Kwon Soonyoung (Hoshi) x gn!reader

Genre: angst, fluff

Word Count: 10,6k

Wanings: some stronger language. mentions of violence, blood and injuries. it is implied that y/n was in a gang. small food and alcohol mentions.

[Series: Serenity Street 17] Two runaways meet in a bar and decide to get an apartment together to escape their worries. Their relationship has fuzzy borders from then on as they explore each other’s past and worries.

Note: a lot more angst than i’m used to writing but my bestie said the fic is just a mildly angsty house husband au, so idek.

You met him on a rainy summer evening.

Though you had put in some effort to dress up nicer than you usually would, you still looked and felt like a mess. Your drink sloshed around in the glass but you had little to no interest in it that night. If anything, it was an excuse to escape to this bar.

You barely liked the place more than you liked the people in it, but you supposed it was an improvement from your normal life. At the very least the lights were prettier there, shining gold and red.

Your thoughts drowned out any sound that echoed between the walls. Perhaps that’s why he caught you off-guard.

“I’ll have a tequila, please,” he called out to the bartender and practically fell into the seat next to yours, startling you out of your thoughts so hard that a drop of your drink fell onto your fingers.

Eyes wide, you watched this man who somehow looked worse than you did. His hair was haphazardly bleached blonde and cut, a few black pieces peeking through here and there; it was a mess from the number of times he must’ve run his hand through it.

“Rough day?” the bartender asked him while placing the tequila glass down.

The man scoffed and slumped against the counter. “It always is.”

Before he could ask anything more, the bartender was called elsewhere, leaving the two of you there alone. You couldn’t help but laugh a little – you hadn’t laughed in days – as he downed the tequila and cursed right after.

“Not much of a tequila guy?” you inquired.

His eyes widened in surprise at the sound of your voice, but a small smile appeared on his face nevertheless. “No, but I figured I should try something different.

“You don’t look like you’re in a much better place mentally,” he tried to joke without even realising how right he was. “So, what’s your tale?”

“I’m not big on sharing,” you told him that evening and took a swig of your drink, “but if you’re patient enough, you might find out.”

He smiled at your words – whether he was amused, understanding or too much of a jokester for his own good you’d never know. Then, he extended his hand. “I’m Soonyoung.”

To the surprise of both of you, a few exchanged sentences turned into hours of talking. By the time the bartender kicked you out (not before asking Soonyoung to cover the both of your bills, which he begrudgingly did) you were so far drunk and gone that you could barely stand up straight.

You rarely let yourself get to this point, afraid of letting your guard down and getting in trouble that would end with more than a slap on the wrist or a black eye. But this time you couldn’t be bothered to hold back. A new city, a new you – you repeated that to yourself every time you took a shot.

The more you talked, the more you realised the two of you were at the same point in your lives. The same chapter of a different book of a similar genre.

“Hey, here’s an idea,” you started with drunken giggles as the two of you stumbled through the streets together later that night.

Soonyoung seemed only a little more sober than you, seeing as he was the one providing most of the balance the two of you shared on your trip. Still, his face was red and he was laughing non-stop at just about anything, so maybe he just had very good balance. He nudged and prompted you, “What idea? Tell me, tell me!”

“What if we–” You burst into giggles again. “No, we couldn’t possibly.”

“We couldn’t?” he seemed almost scandalised that you would suggest something so preposterous – whatever it was you were suggesting.

“Okay, hear me out,” you eventually managed to get out when you got a break from your laughter, “your life sucks, my life sucks, we’re both new here – let’s move in together.”

He stopped in his steps, halting you with him. His eyes seemed to clear at the idea. “What are you saying?”

“I don’t have a place to stay and not enough money to cover the rent of anything alone. But together– Together we could rent an apartment, somewhere in this city.”

A smile appeared on his face and your drunk self felt a little weak at the knees at the sight. How had you stumbled upon this gorgeous specimen at all?

To your utter surprise, he wrapped his arm around your shoulder a little tighter and nodded, slurring his words a little as he answered, “That sounds wonderful. Let’s do that. Together.”

You moved into apartment 4C close to midnight only a week later. It was then that you learned that Soonyoung wasn’t particularly fond of the dark. Funnily enough, the darkness was where you felt most comfortable.

And yet, as you walked around your new home, 4C was like something out of a horror film.

The ceiling had obvious water damage. The floors were covered in dust and bits of dried mud. And the bathroom made such terrifying noises that Soonyoung had to ask you to keep watch outside the door every time he used it.

Even the guy in charge had seemed baffled in your interest in the place when he showed you the apartment two days ago. But this was all the two of you could afford.

Fortunately, there wasn’t much to carry up the stairs. You and Soonyoung only had a single bag each. You and your trusty backpack, Soonyoung and his suitcase – that was all you had.

Be the state of the furniture of the apartment as it may, at least it was there. You had a sofa, a dining table and a queen-sized bed – what more could you possibly need?

“I’ll sleep on the sofa,” you told your new roommate as the two of you looked around, exhausted from your journey. “You take the bed.”

He didn’t seem to like the idea as much as you expected him to. Instead of a grateful smile, what you received was a disapproving scowl. “No, I’ll take the sofa. You take the bed.”

You were baffled at his response. It didn’t take much to figure out that this man was used to living in luxury – he wore a button-up shirt on moving day, for crying out loud! Why would he possibly give up the bed?

“It’s fine, Soonyoung,” you insisted and prepared to settle down on the sofa. “I’ll be fine. You can spread out on the bed.” You felt a little jealous of him, really.

“But that’s not very fair,” he said and pulled you back up just as you managed to lie down. Before you could protest, he took your place and melted into the cushions. “You go sleep in the bed and tomorrow we can– Ow!”

He sat up as fast as he lied down and glared at the sofa before lifting his hand to inspect it. A bloody scratch stood in his palm, thin and painful – you thought it a warning.

“That’s it,” you sighed and pulled him up just like had done for you just moments ago, “we’re both sleeping on the bed. At least it has a new mattress.”

Soonyoung grumbled under his breath as he realised that he couldn’t be the perfect gentleman this time. Not with this cut in his hand.

“Really,” he cursed under his breath and glared at the scratch while blindly following after you by the hold you had on his sleeve, “who even gets injured by a sofa?”

“You, apparently,” you told him with a scoff before pushing him to sit on the bed.

You turned on the single light in the room and found that the bed was a little smaller than you had thought. Still, you brought this upon yourself, so with another sigh, you picked up your backpack and rummaged through it.

“What are you looking for?”

“The first-aid kit.”

“Why do you have a first-aid kit in there?”

“Because of you, it seems,” you bit back before victoriously digging the item out and throwing it on the bed. “There, clean that scratch. God knows what that couch has seen. I don’t want to nurse you back to health from the dead.”

“Aw, you care,” he giggled as he looked through the little red bag.

You rolled your eyes and shrugged off your leather jacket. “No. I just don’t have the money to pay this rent alone.”

“That’s what they all say,” he joked before thanking you nonetheless.

While he cleaned and dressed his wound, you took it upon yourself to make the bed. The owner had been kind enough to get you a brand new mattress, two blankets and three pillows as well as some bed sheets. You hoped they’d be as comfortable to sleep on as they looked.

Once the bed was made and you lied under the covers, the situation sank in. You were finally independent and free and you hadn’t had to do anything really illegal to achieve any of this. All it had taken was a friend.

Said friend grumbled on the other side of the bed. “Why is it so cold here?”

“The landlord said the heating would take some time to start,” you reminded him softly and tried to get comfortable with the idea of sharing the bed, as big or small as it was. “Just pull the blankets around yourself a little tighter, Soonyoung.”

Silence filled the room. Too loud to let you sleep just yet. When you let out a defeated sigh, Soonyoung spoke up again, “I don’t want to seem rude or needy or anything but–”

“What is it?” you mumbled and turned to face him.

“Can I hold you?” he whispered after a hesitant pause before ranting on, “I’m sorry. I just can’t sleep unless I hold something and it’s cold and you’re here anyway, so I just thought–”

To this day you don’t know what came over you that night. You didn’t let him finish his sentence before you wrapped yourself around his frame. Your arms comfortably rested around his torso, your head on his chest. You could hear his breath hitch and his heartbeat pick up before his arm wrapped around your body.

“Better?” you mumbled into his chest, thankful that it was too dark to see. It made it easier to forget you were actually cuddling a real human-being and not a giant pillow.

Soonyoung sighed softly, relieved and happy, before humming. “Better. Good night. Sleep well.”

You didn’t get the chance to reply – you had never fallen asleep faster.

Your apartment felt empty still even after three whole days. It felt less like a home and more like a shell. And yet you hadn’t felt so comfortable in years. A little worn-down, lacking a lot of the essentials, but free and, most importantly, safe from your past.

“It’ll feel more like home eventually,” Soonyoung whispered as he sat next to you on the small torn couch, his side pressing against yours. You felt his gaze on you, his voice impossibly small as he added on, “Right?”

You were still hesitant as well. Without much thought, you leaned into the comfort his warmth offered and rested against your head on his shoulder. It scared you how quickly you had grown used to his presence and affection and – worst of all – how fast you had started to reciprocate.

“The sunrise is beautiful,” you whispered back instead of answering his question, eyes still stuck on the view out of your living room window. A nice big window with a beautiful view towards the river – just like you’d always dreamed.

Soonyoung chuckled and rested his head against yours. “It’ll only become more beautiful the longer we stay here, I’m sure. We came all this way to see it.”

And come a long way you had, from the cold and unforgiving streets of the city. You could only hope this would be the turning point of your life and you could now finally forget your past.

“Do you think we could get a pet?” he then asked you. “I think a dog could make this place more lively.”

“No,” you told him before you could even fully comprehend and contemplate. You had always wanted a dog, or a cat. But old habits die hard.

He pouted. “But why?”

“Just because.”

“Because…?” he attempted to get an answer out of you, eyes shining hopefully.

You bit your tongue despite the excuses threatening to come out one by one: “because we can’t afford one”, “because I don’t trust myself to care for another being”, “because what if my past catches up with me?”. You held your mouth shut and just shook your head instead of voicing any of those reasons.

“Fine,” he groaned in defeat. “But I will win one day and you won’t be able to deny my request any longer.”

A part of you doubted you’d even stay in his life long enough to see that day. But the other part of you was just as hopeful as he was, if not more, and eagerly awaited that day.

“Can we at least decorate this place?” he then wondered, already eyeing places for trinkets and flower pots. “It’s so cold and empty.”

“Decorate?” You wanted to laugh. “You and what money? We need to find jobs first.”

With an offended scoff, he sat up and glared at you before starting, “I’ll have you know that I have–” and just like that he trailed off and shut up.

“Right,” he eventually mumbled and reached up to run a hand through his hair, “we’re poor.”

That word could barely even cover your situation. You had been lucky to get anything more than a house-shaped cardboard box for the cash the two of you scratched up just a week ago. It had taken some busking on his part (something you found he was decently good at) and a secret threat to a random guy in the streets on your part (something you knew you were very good at). The apartment was barely up to the standards of any person and yet here you sat.

The only places you had managed to clean so far were the bathroom, the one usable bedroom, and the living room window. This place was a complete mess but now it was your mess and, despite its many shortcomings, you were proud of it.

“Maybe we could clean the kitchen tomorrow,” you suggested after a pause.

Soonyoung grinned at the idea. “Yeah, it would be nice to finally have some homemade food.”

“When was the last time you had any?”

He frowned in thought and began counting, his lips moving without a sound as he did so. Eventually he said, “About a year ago? Back when I lived with my parents. Mother used to cook the most delicious bulgogi and my grandmother’s kimchi was out of this world–”

As you listened to him reminiscing, it hit you that you couldn’t remember the last time you saw your parents. You could barely even recall their faces. It had been far more than a year.

Soonyoung’s voice suddenly faded into silence. You didn’t even realise because you were so lost in your daze – in an attempt to recall your mother’s smile or your father’s voice, or anything really. Why was there nothing you could fully remember about them? Had you really already worn those bright memory photos down to blurry smudges?

The walk down memory lane came to an abrupt stop when you felt the warmth of a hand against your cheek.

As he gently wiped your face, Soonyoung spoke in a voice that seemed almost impossibly soft, “Why are you crying?”

“I–” You hadn’t even realised you were crying, but indeed, tears were rolling down your cheeks and your breathing was heavier than before. You had walked a little too far into your memory. “Sorry, I don’t know what–”

“Don’t apologise,” he interrupted and carefully pulled you into his embrace. “You never have to apologise to me.”

“Life will get better soon,” he added after a moment of letting you cry into his shoulder. “Let’s just hang on a little longer. We have this entire place to fix up and decorate.”

You sighed. “We’ll have to find jobs first.”

“I’m sure we can manage that. Together.” He offered the most endearing smile, one so full of hope that your frozen heart swelled at the sight. “After all, everybody else has jobs. How hard can it really be?”

It was only a week later that Soonyoung burst into the apartment with a wide bright smile and papers in hand. He immediately located you on the sofa and practically threw himself at you.

“Guess what!”

You blinked at him slowly before softly sighing and asking, “What?”

“No, you’re supposed to guess,” Soonyoung whined and squished your cheeks together for his own amusement. “So, guess.”

Taking a deep breath, you pushed his hand away so you could speak. “You saw a cute dog?”

He paused. “Actually, yes, I did that too.”

“Really?” You hadn’t expected it to be true, honestly.

“Yeah, the guy living across the hall has this fluffy white dog,” he told you, almost getting distracted already. Almost. “But that’s not it. I have far more important news.”

“What news?”

This time he just about stomped his feet and glared at you in disappointment. “I said you’re supposed to guess.”

“Why did I agree to move in with you?” you wondered under your breath before clearing your throat. “Okay, fine. Did you get free food?”

“Man, that would’ve been nice,” he breathed out – and you felt a little disappointed as well because you could only eat so much instant ramen before it became too much – but he still shook his head. “One more chance.”

“You… Yeah, I have no idea.”

“You’re no fun,” he pouted only briefly before a bright smile took over and held the papers out for you to read. “I got us a job.”

Your eyes widened and you sat up immediately, grabbing the papers to inspect them. “You got a job?”

“For us both,” he beamed and awaited praise, much like a little puppy. “How is it? Didn’t I do good?”

Unfortunately for him, you were too baffled to give him the compliments and head pats he so deserved. “How?”

Though he was clearly a little let down by the lack of praises, he still smiled brightly as he proudly recounted the tale. “I ran into one of the girls who lives in this building – Mina, or something like that – and she said that her parents need help with their shop and she remembered that we were new in the city, so she set us up. They want to meet us the day after tomorrow for our first day at their shop.”

“A shop?” You supposed it was better than joining another streetgang for quick dirty money. At least this sounded legal. “What do they sell there?”

Soonyoung squinted in thought, eyeing a random spot on the wall as he tried to sound out what he remembered. “I think it was a bookstore? Or a bar that has books? Or a–” He sighed in defeat. “Something to do with books.”

“I like books.”

“I don’t, but I’m willing to take anything at this point,” he breathed out and leaned back against the sofa. He let out a groan of pain barely a second later and sat back up to stare at the very spot he had just leaned against. “I don’t care what you say: I’m blowing my first paycheck on a new sofa.”

You laughed at that and he practically lit up at the sound, eyes bright as he watched you. Despite feeling shy under his gaze, you couldn’t help but elaborate on your amusement: “You do know how much a sofa costs?”

“Absolutely not,” he admitted without any shame, “but it can’t cost more than our future health bills without a normal sofa.”

You had to agree with that.

“How’s your hand?” you then remembered to ask.

He shrugged and looked at it. “It seems fine. A little sore at times, but I think it’s almost healed.”

“Good,” you smiled and gave him a pat on the head. “I’m glad.”

“And you’re proud that I got us jobs,” he urged with a playful smile, leaning a little too close to you, “right? I did good, right?”

You couldn’t help but laugh again. Much like one would do to a puppy, you finally gave him headpats and cooed, “Yes, you did so well. I’m so proud of you.”

He giggled at your affection but made no moves to reject it. In fact, he leaned further into your space and wrapped his arms around your waist. “Thank you.”

“No,” you sighed and held him close, “thank you.”

Soonyoung hadn’t been too far off with his job descriptions. It indeed had to do with books – a café-library hybrid. Exactly the type you had imagined when you were still young and naive. For the past ten years, you hadn’t even thought this kind of business could actually exist.

Under Mina’s supervision, Soonyoung was appointed the newest waiter at the café section. It took him a few days to get a hold of the coffee maker and the cash-register system.

In the meantime, the far less sociable you was in charge of tending to his near-daily burns as well as restocking and organising the bookshelves.

It was a perfect work division and you didn’t even mind the job too much – especially not when Soonyoung all but ran over to you with a fresh cup of your favourite hot beverage every time there were no customers in the building.

“Did you make this by yourself this time?” you asked between sips.

Soonyoung was practically shining, his chest buffed out proudly, as he nodded. “How is it? Better than last time, right?”

“Well, it doesn’t taste burnt this time,” you half-joked and pinched his cheek affectionately. “Good job.”

“Yes!” He just about vibrated in his place, excited to see improvements in his work. “I’ll become the best barista this town has ever seen.”

“Considering you couldn’t even figure out how to use a kettle the other day, I really can’t wait.”

“Right? Me neither.” He smiled at you, choosing to ignore the little jab at his technical skills. “How are the books treating you today?”

You glanced at the return cart. “It’s not the worst day. It’s manageable.”

“We got really lucky with this job, huh?” he thought out loud. “We should get paid today.”

“Still going to buy a new sofa with the first check?” you teased.

He scoffed as if he felt offended by your words. “The moment we get out tomorrow, we’re going to IKEA. I’m not even joking. I cannot stand that damn thing anymore.”

“And how do you suppose we get that thing to the fourth floor?”

He preferred to not embarrass himself by admitting that he hadn’t really thought that far yet. Instead, he cleared his throat and gestured to the return cart. “Do you need help with those? Mina said I’m not allowed at the counter because I keep stealing her loyal customers.”

“That’s what you get for being too handsome,” you joked and handed him a book to put on the shelf.

He grinned. “You think I’m handsome? Really?”

“What? You thought you’re getting all those tips just for being so good at making coffee?”

“Well,” he paused and pressed his lips together into a tight line of defeat, “no, but–”

“But?”

A confident smile came back onto his lips. “But it’s nice to hear that you think I’m handsome.”

You scoffed and shoved a book to his chest. “I’m never admitting anything to you again.”

“You can’t help it. You think I’m handsome.”

You chose to not interact with him for the rest of the work day, aside from a few hums, remarks and laughs at his dumb jokes. No one could fully ignore Soonyoung. The day went by faster in his presence.

To your surprise, you had multiple notifications when you finally remembered to check your phone. A bank notification to inform you of the paycheck going through – you let out a little sound of cheer because you were officially no longer poor to the point of hunger – and two messages from a number that made your blood run cold.

[did you really think you could just run to a different city and your debts would be forgotten?]

[tomorrow, 8 pm, the corner of rosewood and williams. bring the money and don’t be late.]

And just like that your week took a sharp left turn towards hell.

“You’re not coming to the store with me?” Soonyoung wondered in surprise as the two of you walked out of the store. “Why not?”

You hated lying to Soonyoung. So you didn’t. “There’s someone I have to meet.”

Not a lie. Just an omission. He would never know. It was for the best.

“Am I supposed to pick the sofa out on my own then?” he pouted and tugged at your sleeve. “But it’s your sofa too.”

“I trust your taste.”

Now, maybe you weren’t entirely uncomfortable with lying to him. But this was a lie so dumb and bold that it might as well have been a joke with how annoyed he looked.

You groaned under his scrutinising stare. “Fine. You can just text me when you think you found something you like. And then I’ll say if I like it or not.”

He seemed a little hesitant still, almost as if he knew that your plans for the evening were too dangerous for you to go on your own. But he trusted you. You wished he didn’t.

Finally, he sighed softly and nodded. “Fine. But if you don’t answer within five minutes of each text, I have the right to be mad.”

“Deal.”

“Deal!” He smiled proudly at that and nodded. “I’ll go and find us a sofa then.”

“How are you going to get it inside?” you still wondered.

He rolled his eyes, making a show of his tiredness of you underestimating him. “I already talked to Jihoon. He promised to help and get some of the other guys to help as well.”

“Good,” you smiled and gave him a gentle pat on the shoulder. Somehow you felt the need to show him you cared in this moment. “Don’t strain your back, okay?”

He nodded, looking a little solemn at the realisation that you really wouldn’t go along with him. Briefly you wondered if he actually did know where you were going as he took your hand and insistently looked into your eyes. His voice wavered a little as he told you, “You be safe too, alright? Call me if anything happens.”

“Of course,” you breathed out and shook off his hand before heading your way. How you wished you could keep your promise.

As you made your way to the meeting point, you briefly wondered if you were doing the right thing at all. This was something the you from your hometown would’ve done. You would’ve liked to believe that the you of this city was brave enough to not even bother with your past.

Maybe it would’ve been smarter to call the authorities and ask them for help. Heck, even asking for help of one of the guys living in your building could have had better consequences than your current plan.

But your mind was already made up: you were going to break out of this circle the only way you knew how – by facing it head-first.

You reached the the corner of Rosewood and Williams just a minute before 8. When you did, you felt your phone vibrate in your pocket. When you checked it, you couldn’t help but sigh at Soonyoung’s name on the screen. As you were about to reply, however, a voice interrupted you.

“Glad to see you’re still as punctual as ever. Now, where is my money?”

You took a deep calming breath. It used to be a lot easier to fake nonchalance before you met Soonyoung. He had changed you.

“I don’t have your money.”

When you turned to face the woman, you did so with the knowledge that it would be your last time to do this, one way or another…

Soonyoung never did hear back from you after the two of you went your different ways in the street. Though he had expected you to ignore his texts and calls, even expected you to come home a little late, he truthfully wasn’t even half-prepared for the anxiety the situation would bring him.

He spent the better part of the night pacing back and forth in the apartment. He was restless – more so than ever before. He hadn’t even been able to pick out a new sofa despite his generous paycheck because he was simply that worried.

There had been something off about you when you bid goodbye that evening and he both feared and waited the moment you’d come home. Even when he tried to rest, he couldn’t go to sleep until you came back to him.

At around 2 am he gave up on sleep and simply sat down on the floor in the middle of the living room, facing the front door as if it could open at any moment now. Between his anxious sighs and curses, he unlocked his phone in hopes of an update. When there was no sign of you even there, he groaned and texted Jihoon to let him know – the man was his only friend in this building besides you.

The clock dragged on.

3 am – nothing.

4 am – nothing but it appeared that Jihoon had fallen asleep in spite of Soonyoung’s panic.

5 am. He heard a rustle at the door.

At first he paid it no mind, assuming it was Seungkwan and Bookkeu going for their morning walk. But his half-asleep brain kicked right into gear when he heard the sound of keys against the lock – against your lock.

Without a second to lose, he jumped up – a little sore from sitting on the ground all night.

He just about cried when he opened the door to find you there. “Where were you?! It’s 5 in the morning!”

You could only whine in response, all of your energy going into staying even somewhat upright. It took Soonyoung a moment to realise your distress, but once he did, he flew right into action.

“Wait,” he gasped as he helped you inside, “you’re bleeding?!”

“Just a little,” you told him and sat on the chair he promptly pulled out for you. “It’s fine.”

Soonyoung looked ready to scream when you told him that. But he must’ve realised that was a dumb idea because he squeezed his eyes shut, took a deep breath, and then mumbled under his breath, “I’m so killing you after this, I swear to god–” He ran towards the bathroom all while still grumbling, “Where’s that stupid first aid kit? Under the sink?”

You could only grit your teeth and fight the urge to cry. You weren’t one to cry – crying meant weakness and Soonyoung had seen you at your weakest two more times than you would have liked.

“Why didn’t you go to the hospital? What if you die?” he scolded you once he emerged from the dimly lit bathroom with a familiar red bag.

He placed it onto the counter next to you and prompted you to lift your shirt enough to show him the wound. You shook your head and pushed him away before reaching for the bag yourself. With practised grace, you pulled out the disinfectant and bandages. “Don’t come any closer.”

“I just want to help–”

“You’ll get nightmares,” you interrupted him while doing everything you could to not cry out when the disinfectant touched your skin. After letting out a muffled hiss, you looked up to still find him there, staring like he couldn’t look away. You rolled your eyes at the sight. “Soonyoung. I’m serious. I can do this myself.”

He seemed almost sad at the mention. “Yeah, but… Just because you can doesn’t mean you should have to.”

You sighed and continued to clean the blood. “Just let me be.”

“What happened to you?” he eventually asked your most feared question. You didn’t dare open your mouth to answer. Yet, he pressed on, his voice rising a little with each passing question. “Who was it? Was it that someone you had to meet? What did they do to you?” When you still didn’t dare answer, he scoffed and his worry grew into anger. “I asked who did this to you?!”

You gulped. “An old… acquaintance.”

“Acquaintance?”

It was then that you realised that he wouldn’t leave you alone before he got the full story. You didn’t like that idea one bit. “Soonyoung, you don’t need to know any more. Just leave it.”

He rolled his eyes and clenched his teeth. “Let me get this straight: you think I should watch my roommate– no, my closest friend walk in, blood all over them, at the dead of the night – hell, it’s morning! – and just leave it?” He just about laughed at the idea. “You won’t let me tend to your wounds, so at least tell me what happened. You owe me that much.”

A deep breath – painful due to your injuries – and a sigh. You hesitantly began, “I used to hang out with some… horrible people. I didn’t like to, but I didn’t have a lot of better options around. So, I became a horrible person too.”

“You were in a gang?” His eyes widened before he looked away, as if he was ashamed of even knowing you. At least so you assumed – it was a look you were accustomed to, at least. But when he looked back at you, his eyes were brimming with tears. “They came to get back at you for something, didn’t they?”

You cringed. “I may have stolen some of their cash and… told on them to the police in exchange for a new start.”

Soonyoung wasn’t the smartest guy in town, or even the building, but it appears he was smarter than you. “You didn’t think one of those bad guys would find out and come to get back at you? Didn’t even consider it?”

“Not really, no.” You refused to actually admit that you were that dumb just a few months ago. At least you refused to admit it directly. “I guess I was just foolishly hopeful.”

He let out a deep sigh, his arms crossing over his chest as he leaned against the counter, staring up at the ceiling to blink back the tears of both rage and sorrow he felt for you.

Silence once again filled the room as the two of you stood there, one cleaning their wounds and the other thinking thoughts unknown to the other. Finally, after what felt like forever, once you had wrapped the bandages around your abdomen and arm, Soonyoung looked at you again.

The tears were gone and a glint of fire burned in his eyes instead. His voice was uncharacteristically cold as he uttered, “They won’t touch a hair on your body again. I’ll make sure of it.”

You blinked in confusion. “How exactly?”

He didn’t offer another word of explanation. Instead, he sighed and glanced at the clock before rubbing his eyes and yawning. He offered you a narrow-eyed stare and an accusatory pointed finger. “You’re not coming to work tomorrow.”

“What?”

“You heard me. You’re taking a sick day, maybe a week. I’ll talk to Mina about it, don’t worry,” he told you, his voice still low and even before he made his way to the bedroom. You followed soon after.

“We need the money though,” you argued all the while trying hide your limp.

He turned around to offer a pointed stare. “You’re hurt.”

“I’m fine–”

His voice rose again, “Did you forget the part where you almost died?!” He took a calming breath, closing his eyes before adding in a whisper, “You’re staying home and that’s final.”

You didn’t dare argue.

Though you were anxious of what was yet to come, of how your relationship with Soonyoung would go on, it appeared your exhaustion won. The bed had never felt so comfortable and safe, if a little cold without his arms around you this time.

In fact, he made a conscious effort to remain on his side of the bed this time, barely willing to graze against you as the two of you slept.

But when the morning finally came, even through your sleep, you felt a hand softly brushing over your cheeks and soft murmurs of promises you would forget by the time you woke up.

You spent the next day home, alone. It was lonely and cold without Soonyoung around as his presence had largely made up for the lack of decorations and home-like feeling in the apartment.

When he didn’t as much as spare you a second glance in the morning, you first worried your secrecy had enraged him to a point of silence and the ruins of your friendship.

You spent half the day in bed, contemplating if you could really face the day when you had managed to frustrate him so. The other half of the day was spent aimlessly walking in circles around the apartment, looking for anything to do to distract you from your worries.

You found yourself glancing at your phone in hopes of a new message from him, of any sign he thought about you at all.

Fortunately, Soonyoung proved your fear wrong when he returned from work with a bright-eyed smile and a take-away bag of pastries from the café. “Hey! How are you feeling today?”

Just hearing his voice made you soft inside on this day. Without a second of hesitation, you ran over (the best you could with your limp) and pulled him into a hug. He was taken off-guard by your sudden affection, almost to the point of dropping the bag of pastries he’d brought.

When you didn’t utter a single word, his smile morphed into a pout and his hand reached up to rub your back. His voice softened. “Are you okay?”

You nodded. Finally, you found your voice. “I thought you were mad at me.”

“Mad at you?” He opened his mouth to argue but soon realised that he was, in fact, just a little bit upset with you. “Well, I’m not going to let you be miserable just because I’m a little upset with you. Speaking of which, I bought you some–”

“Just hold me now. Let it be,” you whispered and leaned further into his embrace. He couldn’t find it in himself to protest.

So he just held you, right there in the front hall, still fully dressed in his coat and boots.

“Soonyoung,” you then started, “about yesterday…”

“You don’t need to apologise.”

“It’s not that. I just want you to know,” you leaned back to look at him, “you don’t have to worry about the guys who hurt me.”

His brows rose. “What do you mean? Of course I have to worry about them! They hurt you and you just want me to forget about that? We should report them to the authorities not–”

“I don’t think you understand,” you laughed a little, though there was little humour in the sound. “Soonyoung, we don’t have to worry about them anymore. They got what they wanted and, believe me, they fear me more than I fear them now. I walked out pretty unscathed compared to some of them.”

Soonyoung opened his mouth to inquire some more but remained silent. “I… don’t think I needed to know that. But,” he sighed out in relief, “I guess that means I don’t have to ask for a favour from a friend of mine after all.”

Your eyes narrowed. “What kind of friend?”

“... The head prosecutor of this part of the country.”

“You–” Your jaw dropped. “You know the head prosecutor?”

“I know a lot of people,” he admitted with a shy laugh, stepping back out of your embrace to sheepishly scratch the back of his head. “Didn’t I tell you?”

“What kind of people?”

“Powerful ones.” Your silence prompted him to add some examples. “The prime minister, some people in the state secretary… The president.”

It strangely made sense now that you thought of it. He did tend to dress a little too formal. He was impeccably polite. And yet he seemed to lack any understanding of the most trivial things.

“You come from old money, don’t you?” you eventually realised. “You’re one of those Kwons.”

“Those Kwons?” he wondered.

You smiled as the pieces fit further together, forming the perfect picture you had been to close to fully see. “One of the richest families in Korea. You’re an heir to a billion-dollar fortune, Soonyoung. I kept wondering why your name rang so familiar.”

He grimaced. “Yeah, I guess I haven’t done a very good job of hiding.”

“But why are you here then?” you asked, tilting your head. “You’re rich, you’re practically famous. Why this dump? Why me?”

“That– That is a story for another day,” he sighed and took off his coat, toed off his shoes, and walked into the apartment.

But just like he had been the day before, you decided to keep pushing. “Soonyoung.”

And unlike you the day before, he cracked far more easily. “I was sick and tired of the way I was treated. I was practically a play doll for the company – I was whatever they wanted me to be, whenever they needed me to be. I never got to grow to be what I wanted.”

“Sounds exhausting.”

He laughed bitterly and slumped onto the sofa, you following right after, your hand reflexively coming up to rest on his shoulder. “You have no idea. I was a Kwon before I was Soonyoung. I was the property of the company before I was my father’s son. I had all the money in the world but none of the freedom to use it. I hated every second of it. So…” He sighed.

“You ran away.”

“Thought it was my only option. But I don’t think I realised how much more difficult life is without all the money and the contacts.”

“It’s okay,” you whispered and let him lean into your side, his head coming to rest on your shoulder. With the softest kiss on his forehead, you promised, “We’ll figure it all out together.”

The two of you sat in silence for a while, just taking in the situation and each other’s company. Now that neither of you had anything to hide anymore, a strange new sense of home filled the apartment.

The sofa was still just as creaky and hard as the day when you arrived, and the rooms were still hauntingly empty, but there was more than enough comfort for the two of you.

“So,” he started again, a little more cheerfully, “do you want macaroons? I bought some.”

You smiled. “I could go for something sweet, now that you mention it.”

“Sugar helps you heal faster,” he joked and poked your side, making you wince just a little, “and you need it more than I do.”

“Does that mean I get to eat extra macaroons?” you teased and he immediately gasped at the mention, wounded by your suggestion.

“After all I have done for you–”

“Just kidding, just kidding.”

Despite Soonyoung’s protests, you returned to work just one day later, even as you continued limping and wincing every time you moved.

Obviously, he kept on worrying and checking in on you at every chance. And there was nothing you could do about it.

It was both amusing and annoying to see him peek between the shelves every time he caught a break, as brief as it was. Each time, he’d offer a toothy smile and sometimes a candy he nicked from the break room.

“You know you have a job of your own, right?” you laughed when he returned to your side for the 20th time that day. “I bet there’s a queue forming at the register already.”

“Nah,” he waved away your concerns and leaned against the bookshelves to watch you, “rush hour’s done. We should be fine for half an hour at least. Besides, I’m more worried about you.”

“And you’ve chosen to spend that half hour bothering me just because of that? Any other reasons?”

“You’re pretty to look at.” No hesitation. Not even a waver in his voice. “I love spending time with you.”

You scoffed and hoped he wouldn’t notice how flustered he made you feel. “You don’t know a lot of people, do you?”

“No, but the people I do know are all wonderful. Like you. Oh, and did I tell you that I ordered a new sofa for us earlier?” He grinned proudly. “So you can rest better while you heal.”

“Can you two stop flirting?” Mina’s voice carried into the bookstore side of the building. “Soonyoung, you’re supposed to be helping me clean!”

His eyes widened at the mention. “Oh shoot.” He hesitated to return to his post, eyeing you in concern as you lightly leaned against the shelves after a movement that was too sudden. “Will you be okay?”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Promise?”

“Soonyoung.”

“Fine, I’ll go. But when we get home, you’re not moving even an inch without my permission,” he threatened with a playful smile before kissing your cheek and rushing back to the counter.

You spent the next half hour in a daze — it was the first time he had kissed you at all.

From then on, you often wondered if you even deserved the affections of this man. He seemed far too great and perfect for you. Too wonderful and kind for the likes of you who used to make people’s lives hell for the fun of it.

But sometimes you thought maybe – maybe he was exactly what you deserved and needed: a broken yet cheerful man to mend your equally broken and lonely self. Maybe you were meant to heal each other.

“Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” you asked him through a tired laugh as he frantically flipped through the instructions’ booklet. “Because it sure doesn’t look like it.”

“It’s a sofa,” he grumbled, “how hard could it possibly be?”

“You keep saying that but then it has also taken you like an hour to assemble even a third of it.”

He hummed in response, brows furrowed, too deep in the instructions to really listen.

You scoffed at the sight. It had been unbearably adorable just thirty minutes ago, but now? It had been well over an hour and the heating was acting up again. You were getting cold. Very, very cold.

But unfortunately Soonyoung had explicitly forbidden you from moving a single finger unless you wanted to extend your rest – a rule you had taken for a joke at first. But now an entire month had passed and Soonyoung had kept his promise: when you weren’t at work, you were on bedrest at home until he deemed you healthy again.

Thus, now wiser than a month ago, you remained seated on the old sofa, arms wrapped around yourself for warmth, and sighed. “Soonyoung…”

“Listen,” he sighed and looked up at you finally, “I am trying. This thing is more complicated than it looks.”

You pouted – a habit you picked up after living with this man for over two months now. “But I’m cold… ”

His pout matched yours immediately. “What can I do about that?”

“You could hand me a blanket?” you offered with a hopeful smile.

Soonyoung chuckled at your tone, his earlier frustration at the sofa disappearing immediately. He got up and headed to the bedroom, soon emerging with a warm blanket and a garment in hand. He placed both in your lap. “Here, a blanket and you can have my hoodie, too.”

“Your hoodie?” you wondered, picking up the item and eyeing it suspiciously. “Weren’t you wearing this just now?”

He shrugged. “Nice and warm for you, sweetheart.”

You shut up at the nickname, afraid that if you voiced another thought your voice would betray you. But your face must have betrayed you regardless.

“Gosh, you’re so cute!” he cooed just seconds later, squishing your cheeks together a little before pressing a kiss to your forehead as he now often found himself doing. It was as if his need for physical affection had doubled after you got injured.

You whined and shook out of his hold, pulling the blanket over your head to hide. “Stop calling me cute. I’m not cute.”

“You’re absolutely so cute.”

“I’m not.”

“The absolute cutest.” He continued squeezing you through your warm, cosy fortress made up of a single blanket. Thankfully, he soon let up, with a laugh, and returned to his spot on the ground where the pieces of the sofa lied.

“Okay, I can do this,” you heard him whisper to himself in encouragement. You quietly cheered him on from underneath the blanket, peeking out just a little to watch his adorable pout and furrow of brows return.

“Fuck…” you mumbled under your breath, blood running cold in fear despite your heart beating faster in adoration, “I think I might be in love.”

You had dreaded this day. Feared it. Had nightmares about it. But it had come and it was even worse than you imagined: you had finally fallen in love.

But love? Love meant being tied down. It meant being vulnerable and loyal. It meant being there for him when he needed you. But you weren’t sure you could offer that to him.

It was a terrifying realisation. You weren’t used to being tied down or attached to anyone. You had made more enemies than friends in your lifetime. Lovers? Never.

Then there was the issue of reciprocation: just because you were in love didn’t mean he had to be as well. And this was something you couldn’t bear.

You decided that a lonely heart was better than a broken one and distanced yourself in hopes of it being a passing fancy.

It started small. Short answers to his questions. Avoiding his eyes at work. Rolling as far away from him as you could in bed (a fruitless effort, as somehow you still woke up in his arms).

When he didn’t seem to notice, you escalated. Avoided him at all possible places. Took your breaks when he was too busy to join you. You even began sleeping on the new sofa under the pretence that the rising outside warmth was making the bedroom and his embrace too hot to sleep in.

Had you not been so preoccupied with your own feelings, you would’ve noticed the way his eyes shone less brightly and his smiles didn’t quite reach as high as they used to. He had noticed your distancing efforts, and he was heartbroken.

Still, you didn’t dare risk it. You didn’t want to get your heart broken when you were already the most fragile and vulnerable you had been in years.

“Okay, I have had enough of this,” Mina declared one day, stomping over to your section of the store to drag you to lunch. She practically threw your jacket at you before leading you to a café across the street. “Come on.”

After sitting down, you began to fear the worst. “So–”

“Why are you playing with Soonyoung’s feelings?” she interrupted, crossing her arms over her chest while glaring daggers at you. You paled at her sharp tone. “Is this a game to you?”

“Game? I’m not following–”

She scoffed out a laugh. “Not following?! Have you even looked at him this past week?”

“Sure I have.”

“Really? And you didn’t notice anything strange?”

“Strange as in?”

Her stern look dropped into something more akin to genuine concern. “You– You actually didn’t notice?”

“I have never been so confused in my entire life,” you confessed despite the little bell at the back of your head ringing to say that you knew exactly what she was talking about.

She relaxed in her seat and stared at you, wide-eyed. “I’m worried about both of you now, then. Listen,” she leaned forward to rest her elbows on the table, “I know I used to tease you about flirting all of the time and what-not, but… I miss hearing the two of you goofing off at work. Now it’s just dead-silent all the time.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Did something happen between the two of you?”

You hesitated.

“Come on, you can tell me,” she encouraged sweetly. “Maybe all you need is someone to listen to you.”

“I… I think I might love him,” you eventually whispered, breaking under her relentless stare, “and I don’t know if I’m ready for it. Or if I even deserve it.”

“Oh, honey…”

“He’s so sweet and he’s funny and caring and gives me his hoodies when I’m cold and he learnt to cook so I wouldn’t have to. And me– I’m just a wreck. I don’t deserve to love him.”

“But he loves you,” she whispered so sincerely you almost believed her. You shook your head at the thought, laughing at it almost, until she took your hand and repeated, “He loves you. And I think you’re the only one who hasn’t realised yet.”

“You read too many romance novels,” you told her with a sigh. “How could he ever love me?”

“I assume he thinks the same way about you,” she told you with a sympathetic smile. “You know, he talks about you a lot. I swear he could write a whole novel about you. So, why can’t you just love him back?”

“He doesn’t love me. Even if I love him. He can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because if he loves me, he’ll get hurt. He’ll find out that I’m more broken than I let on. He’ll get his heart broken and hate me for the rest of his life. I don’t want that to happen.”

“But,” she was close to tears, always a hopeless romantic at heart, “what if he’s your romance of a lifetime? What if he’s the one that’s meant to be with you?”

“What if we crash and burn?”

“But how do you know that you will if you won’t even give it a chance?”

You didn’t say anything else but her words echoed in your head for days to come.

Soonyoung was many things. Patient was not necessarily one of his qualities. In fact, he was rather short-tempered and he wasn’t afraid to admit it.

He let you be for a week – two even. He forced himself to be patient and calm and keep smiling even as you ignored him. He almost hit a breaking point when you picked up your blanket and pillow and left to sleep on the sofa, but still he told himself that you were going through a phase and you would come out of it a warmer person.

But then the third week began and you were colder than ever. He felt as if an ice wall had been built between the two of you. And frankly he was sick of it.

When the day came to a close, he gathered his courage and headed out the café door. As usual by now, you stayed behind at work a little longer under the guise of working overtime. And unlike usual, he stood there waiting for you outside the store.

About an hour passed and he was about to lose hope when you finally stepped out, clad in your hoodie. He jumped up from his spot on the sidewalk and ran to meet you. He didn’t bother to smile.

“Soonyoung,” you gasped in surprise and took a step back as if to hide. “What are you doing here? You should be back home. It’s late.”

“Strange,” he laughed humourlessly, “I was about to say the same about you.” He looked at you up and down once before sighing and shrugging off his jacket, despite your noises of protest. He placed it around your shoulders, adjusting it as he spoke, “Where’s your coat? It’s not even proper spring yet and you’re walking around like it’s summer.”

“I’m fine.”

He frowned and scoffed. “I’m not.”

“Why?”

“Because this is the first proper conversation we’ve had in three weeks,” he whispered, hand falling from your shoulder to your palm. “Did I do something wrong? Did I upset you? If you were so mad at me for making you rest, you should’ve just said so. I would’ve–”

“That’s why I didn’t say anything. Because if I told you that something was wrong, you would do anything to fix it. But you can’t fix this.”

“I can try.”

“I don’t want you to.”

He let go of your hand to run his fingers through his hair, tugging at it as he sighed, “Why not? Why won’t you let me help you?”

You felt your lip begin to wobble. “I don’t want you to get hurt because of me, Soonyoung.”

He frowned at your words. “Why would I get hurt?”

Why did he have to be so damn stubborn?

“Because I love you, and if you loved me, nothing good would come out of it! I’m not good enough for you!”

You felt a stray tear fall. Perhaps it was too late to hide now. Your voice wavered as much as your confidence did. Because even when you shouted at him, even when you broke his heart, he only looked at you as if you had set the stars in the sky to light his way home on this dark night.

“You’re making me feel things I never thought I could and it’s scary. You changed everything: the sun is suddenly brighter because it reminds me of you, the people I used to deal with regularly are suddenly scarier because I fear they’ll come for you, and I don’t know if it’s good or bad, whether I’m happy or sad. I’m a wreck, and I’m not good for you.”

“You think I don’t feel the same way about you?” he breathed out after a pause, close to tears himself. “Do you have any idea how selfish I used to be? I ran away from my family just because I wanted to prove myself. I’m not even disinherited, I still have access to all that money if I want it – but, instead, I made you live in that shell of an apartment with me because I was too damn proud to ask my parents for help. I’m not any better than you.”

While you reached up to wipe his tears, you gave in to the temptation to run your fingers through his hair: it had grown since you moved together. Blonde and spiky and short when you met, his hair was black and smooth now, almost reaching past his eyes. He looked like a different person all-together – more mature and sure of himself than before. You wondered if you did too.

“You say I changed everything for you,” he spoke softly, leaning his forehead against yours, “but you changed everything for me too. Please don’t take it all away from me now. These past three weeks have been like hell for me. Please make it stop…”

You couldn’t even find any other words to say. Perhaps you really were perfect for each other as Mina had said. Two broken pieces that fit together.

“Can I…” He took a deep breath before whispering, “Can I kiss you? Even if it’s just this once.”

You nodded. His lips found yours barely a moment later, soft and plush, filling you with a warmth you suddenly craved. The kiss was too brief for you liking you found and when he went to regretfully pull away, you pulled him right back.

The doubts you had, faded into nothingness, but the warmth of his embrace remained as his arms wrapped around your body. It was then that you decided to follow your heart instead of your mind.

“I was being dumb, wasn’t I?” you breathed out when the two of you stepped away from one another, arms still lingering. “I’m sorry.”

“You may be dumb, but I’m no better,” he whispered with a light laugh. “So, does this mean you’ll give me– give us a chance?”

You pressed your lips to his again instead of an answer.

[bonus epilogue]

He whined and fell back into the mattress, letting it consume him whole. “Do we need to fix the other bedroom? We can just share this one.”

“Don’t you want your own space?” you wondered while picking your clothes for the day.

“Why would I?” He pouted. “Why would I need my own space when I could just be in yours?”

You groaned at that. Ever since you began dating, he’d been nothing short of affectionate: holding your hands at every chance, hugging, cuddling, kisses, pecks, head pats. And as much as you tried to hate it, it was hard to find it anything other than endearing.

“Okay, but if you don’t want your own bedroom–”

“Correct.”

“–then what should we do with our other bedroom?”

“... a room for our pets?”

“We don’t have any pets,” you told him with a laugh and sat down next to him to play with his hair (a gesture he greatly enjoyed). “All we have is that one houseplant Mina gave us.”

“I’ve been thinking about that, actually.” He sat up abruptly, eyes shining, a bright smile on his face. “We should get a dog.”

Your eyes narrowed. “Didn’t we have this conversation already?”

“Yes, but it was before we started smooching–”

“I hate that wording.”

“Romantically cuddling?”

“No.”

“Fine, you’re boring. It was before we started dating and I think we’ve grown a lot since then. We’re ready for a kid.”

It appeared your heart was made of soft cotton-candy rather than cold hard stone. You had eased up greatly in the past few months. And so, not even begrudgingly, you sighed and agreed, “We can get a dog.”

He lit up like the 4th of July. “Really?”

“Yes, but it has to be a dog we both like,” you compromised (or so you told yourself to not admit how easily you gave in to him).

“Then we have a reason to make the other room our pet room,” he declared and jumped to his feet. “Let’s get started.”

You laughed. “Now?”

“Yes, now. When else?”

“I don’t know. I’m too tired.” You emphasised your point with a theatrical yawn.

Soonyoung giggled at the sight of you slumping back in the bed and leaned down to press a single kiss to your lips. “Better?”

You pouted and shook your head.

Another kiss, followed by three more. You smiled now and sat up as he gently pulled you by the collar of your sweater.

“Great, then let’s eat some breakfast and get planning.” Leaving you standing in the middle of the bedroom, he walked out. Then he turned once again at the doorway and smiled brightly, as if an idea had struck him right there. “We should name our dog Tiger!”

“We’re not naming our dog Tiger.”

“What about our first-born child then?”

You raised a brow and followed after him. “Absolutely not.”

“You’re no fun.”

“And yet you love me.”

He sighed deeply. “I do love you.”

A/N: this fic took so long and i am so sorry. the next fic will hopefully be ready faster and it’ll be more fun to read <3

#seventeenweeklyarticle #seventeen x reader #kwon soonyoung #hoshi #seventeen scenarios #svt scenarios #seventeen angst #soonyoung x reader #hoshi x reader #soonyoung scenarios #.avy writes #series: serenity street 17 💙

242 notes · View notes

the-wraiths-wife · 2 months

Text

PAPA'S LITTLE PRINCESS

Hi!

In honour of one whole year of shadow and bone season two being released, I wrote a fanfic about Kaz and his daughter, Adjala.

And Adjala fell in love with Pekka Rollins' son Elijah and Kaz never accepted it so she eloped. And years later he finds her, as it was Inej's last wish, and Adjala's a medick with her clinic and her husband runs a bakery.

And Adjala has twins, Kazim and Nina

That's all the context y'all need to know

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

As I sat beside Adjala on the porch, the weight of years of separation hung heavy in the air. She leaned into me, her presence a comforting reminder of the bond that had endured despite the passage of time. But as I felt her warmth beside me, a wave of overwhelming emotion threatened to engulf me, and I couldn't hold back the tears that welled in my eyes.

Adjala turned to me, concern etched in her features. "What's wrong, Papa?" she asked softly, her voice a soothing balm to the ache in my heart.

I pulled her closer, enveloping her in a tight embrace. "You're still Papa's little princess, right?" I whispered, the words catching in my throat as years of pent-up emotions threatened to spill over.

Adjala hugged me back, her touch a gentle reminder of the innocence of childhood that still lingered within her. "Always, Papa," she murmured, her voice filled with a love that transcended words.

As I held my daughter close, a flood of memories washed over me – memories of her laughter echoing through the halls of our home, of her tiny hand clasped in mine as we walked through the streets of Ketterdam, of the fierce determination in her eyes as she faced the challenges of the world.

But amidst the memories, there was a painful realization – that I had missed out on so much, that I had been absent during pivotal moments in her life, that I had let her down in ways that I could never fully make amends for.

Tears streamed down my cheeks as I buried my face in Adjala's hair, the scent of jasmine and home wrapping around me like a comforting embrace. "I'm sorry, Adjala," I whispered, the words choked with emotion. "I'm so sorry for everything."

Adjala's arms tightened around me, her touch a silent reassurance that forgiveness was within reach, that our bond was unbreakable despite the trials we had faced. "It's okay, Papa," she whispered, her voice a soothing melody in the darkness. "We're together now, and that's all that matters."

Adjala's words hung in the air, a surprising revelation that broke through the heaviness of our shared confession. She always did have a penchant to ease tension. "Elijah takes Nina on daddy-daughter dates. Like you would take me," she said, her voice tinged with a hint of amusement.

I couldn't help but choke on a laugh at the unexpected turn of conversation. "Remember our first daddy-daughter date?" I asked, a smile tugging at the corners of my lips as memories of that day flooded back.

Adjala laughed, a sound so pure and infectious that it lifted the weight from my shoulders, if only for a moment. "Of course I do," she replied, her eyes sparkling with fond remembrance.

I leaned back against the porch railing, a playful glint in my eyes as I began to describe that unforgettable day. "We went to the park, just the two of us," I said, my voice filled with nostalgia. "You were so small, holding onto my hand with all your might as we walked through the gates."

Adjala nodded, her smile widening at the memory. "And you pushed me on the swings," she added, her laughter tinkling like wind chimes in the breeze.

I chuckled, the image of her tiny form soaring through the air etched into my mind forever. "And then we had a picnic," I continued, painting a vivid picture of that sunny afternoon. "You insisted on feeding the ducks, even though you were more interested in eating the bread yourself. No wonder you were a chubby little thing."

Adjala's laughter rang out, a melody that warmed my heart and chased away the shadows of regret. "And then we went for ice cream," she said, her eyes dancing with mirth. "I got chocolate all over my face, and you pretended not to notice."

I nodded, a smile playing on my lips as I recalled the sight of her sticky fingers and chocolate-stained cheeks. "It was the best day," I said, my voice filled with a father's pride and affection.

Adjala's laughter filled the air, a sound so infectious that it was impossible not to join in. "I asked for more funnel cakes, and you asked 'how many?' And I said ten, and you got them for me," she exclaimed, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she recounted the memory. "And we ate until I threw up."

I chuckled, the image of her tiny self covered in sprinkles and giggles etched into my mind. "Your mother was so mad," I said, shaking my head with mock solemnity.

Adjala laughed even harder, her laughter ringing out like music in the night. "She was!" she exclaimed, her voice filled with fondness and affection. "But you just laughed and said we could always get more ice cream."

I nodded, a smile playing on my lips as I recalled the sight of Inej's exasperated expression and my own inability to suppress a laugh at the chaos we had caused. "It was worth it," I replied, my voice tinged with nostalgia. "For that smile on your face."

Adjala grinned, her laughter fading into a soft smile that mirrored her mother's. "I love you, Papa," she said, her words a gentle reminder of the bond that bound us together, through laughter and tears, sprinkles and ice cream.

And as we sat there, basking in the warmth of shared memories and the love that flowed between us, I knew that no matter what life threw our way, we would always have each other, to laugh with, to cry with, and to cherish for all eternity.

****

Anyway should I write out Kaz's and Adjala's daddy daughter date?

#six of crows #kaz brekker #inej ghafa #jesper fahey #kanej #grishaverse #nina zenik #shadow and bone #wylan van eck #kazbrekker #kazs daughter #fluff #soc fic #kaz brekker fic

21 notes · View notes

melintowriting · 5 hours

Text

The first Empress-Chapter 3

Hi everyone! Sorry for the wait but writing and translating this chapter turned out to be more difficult than I thought. Hope you'll like it!

Warnings: arranged marriage, smut (+18), mentions of SA (by the Baron on Feyd)

Word count: 5.052

ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE

The spaceship arrived on Giedi Prime after nearly four days of journey, during which Megan and Feyd had tried to get to know each other a little. Feyd had not spoken much about himself: he had simply told her that he loved killing and fighting in the arena, nothing more. As for her, he had discovered more interesting things. The young woman loved reading, riding horses, history and politics, an unusual passion for a woman, he thought.

His uncle once told him that intelligence was a wasted quality in a woman; but Feyd disagreed. All his life he had only dealt with naive and useless women that were easy to manipulate. He kind of enjoyed the fact that his wife was smart and a woman worthy of his attention.

After that long journey Megan felt tired: many months had passed since the last interspace journey she had undertaken. She had gone to Caladan for an imperial visit to her uncle Leto. That was probably the last time she had visited her mother’s homeworld, but she didn’t know it at the time.

Her husky husband’s voice echoed from behind her as the doors of the spaceship opened, revealing the gray and gloomy sky of the capital.

"Welcome to Giedi Prime, wife." he said with a wide smile, taking her hand.

Megan and Jeremy exchanged a quick look.

What horrible place was that? They had grown up on a green planet with beautiful landscapes, and now they had both ended up in an industrial hell.

The Na-Baron and the Na-Baroness got off the ship immediately after Baron Vladimir, greeted by soldiers’ chants in Harkonnen language. Behind the ranks of the military there were the faces of ordinary people. Men, women, children, all united by the typical features of Giedi Prime.

Jeremy, who stood faithfully behind his sister almost in a protective way, noticed the way they looked at her. They were curious, almost impatient. They looked at her with hopeful eyes.

-The Bene Gesserit.- he thought -They prepared the people for our arrival. -

Megan walked neatly beside her husband.

She could feel his big hand holding hers.

"Do you like it?" he asked, continuing to walk on the long walkway that would have led them to the fortress.

Megan looked around, unsure whether or not to tell the truth.

"It’s a kind of planet I’m not used to." she decided to say.

Feyd looked at her, amused.

"Is that a subtle way of saying you don’t like it?"

"It’s a way of saying I have to get used to it." the girl promptly replied.

Her eyes inevitably met the ones of the common people behind the soldiers, intent on observing her while whispering.

"What’s going on?" Megan asked, noticing that the atmosphere was starting to warm up.

People had begun to speak louder and the soldiers had begun to arm themselves, ready to protect the noble family.

Feyd raised an eyebrow: he was confused as much as she was.

"Uncle." Feyd said, catching the Baron’s attention.

"This scum!" the Baron exclaimed, annoyed and angry.

Jeremy instinctively approached his sister, ready to defend her from any threat, asking, "What are they shouting?"

The screams were in Harkonnen language, an unknown language to the twins.

Feyd stopped to look at the agitated crowd, trying to figure out what they were shouting.

"Na-Baron."

A slimy and subtle voice caught his attention. It was Piter De Vries.

"It’s not wise to stay out here." he said, trying to keep his cool, "You and your bride must go immediately to the fortress."

"What are they shouting?" he asked, ignoring his recommendation.

And then he heard. He heard what they were shouting and he understood who they were shouting at.

"Liberator! Liberator!" they kept saying, pointing at Megan, begging her to free them.

It was her voice that brought him back to reality.

"Feyd, will you tell me what’s going on?" she insisted, slightly squeezing his hand to get his attention.

"Let’s go." he simply replied, confused and upset by the idea of a riot.

-What’s going on? - Na-Baron kept asking himself while dragging his wife and brother-in-law into the fortress. He wasn’t easily broken down, nor panicked, but an unsettling sensation was creeping inside of him. Never since his uncle brought him to Giedi Prime as a child, he had seen the people in such turmoil.

His uncle did not love the people, he despised them, and he taught him to do the same. Normally people would lower their heads in the presence of the nobles and remain silent in fear. Not this time though.

He couldn’t understand why.

******

A few hours later an extraordinary meeting of the small Council was scheduled.

The trusted nobles of the capital had been invited and Feyd, as the baron’s heir, had a duty to attend.

He left his wife in her apartments with her brother, both still confused by the turbulent arrival on the planet, and he then started to get ready for the Council in his own room. He needed to understand, to know more about what happened.

When he opened the door to his room his harpies were waiting for him, laying on the bed.

As soon as they saw him they began to greet him impatiently and to beg him not to leave them alone anymore.

"We missed you so much, Na-Baron..." they kept saying while kissing his whole body "We can’t be without you."

He greeted them with his usual manner of doing, impassive and icy, letting them praise him a little. He loved the fact that their life depended on him. Being the center of their existence pleased him enormously.

He caressed their heads almost as if they were obedient little animals and he then ordered the servants to start dressing him up.

When he noticed that his harpies were busy whispering to each other, Feyd slightly laughed. He knew what they were mumbling about. He knew what they wanted to know.

But he decided to remain silent, waiting for them to speak first.

And so it was.

"Feyd." one of them began, showing her black teeth in a wide smile.

"Yes, my darling?"

"What does your wife look like?"

There was a strong note of hatred in her voice.

At the word "wife" the other two harpies almost hissed in enragement.

Feyd smiled even more widely. They were jealous. Oh how much he loved to be desired...

"She is very beautiful." he admitted sincerely, visualizing Megan’s beautiful face in his mind.

"More beautiful than us?" the other harpy asked with a hint of desperate need for approval from him.

"Yes." he just answered.

He didn’t care if he hurt them or not, it was the truth. His harpies were beautiful for the beauty standards of Giedi Prime, but Megan was more beautiful for his taste.

A general hiss echoed behind him.

"So now that she’s here you’re going to abandon us?"

"Don’t leave us Na-Baron, please. We need you."

"We exist only if you are with us."

Feyd turned to look at them amused.

All that despair was feeding his huge ego.

"No, I will not leave you for now. As long as you satisfy me and you are obedient pets you can still receive my attention." he answered as the servants finished dressing him. He dismissed them with a simple gesture.

"Where are you going, our beloved Feyd?" a harpy asked, seeing him walking to the door "I thought you would spend some time with us..." she whispered sensually while the other two almost started purring.

He knew what she was alluding to: usually, as soon as he returned to Giedi Prime after a diplomatic visit to another planet, he visited them in order to satisfy his sexual needs.

But he didn’t have time to do that that day.

"I don’t have time." he quickly explained, looking at his reflection in the mirror one last time.

He still did not know if after the meeting he would have visited them or Megan.

"Maybe later, if I don’t meet with my wife." he added, postponing the decision.

And after that, in a mix of anger and resentment, they all remained silent while Feyd left the room.

******

The Council Room was a place that invoked memories in Feyd’s mind.

Most of them were dark and hard to forget.

The first memory related to that room was particularly traumatic. Like any seven-year-old, Feyd loved to play. He was always told that playing was a waste of time, that he had to learn how to fight, how to rule and not to invent stupid hobbies. But he was stubborn. He still wanted to play, even though there was never anyone willing to play with him.

One afternoon he was wandering in the fortress while playing with an indefinite amount of imaginary friends, when he accidentally entered the Council Room, interrupting a meeting.

Vladimir had angrily scolded him, humiliating him in front of all the nobles, and then he had told him that he was going to punish him in his chambers.

Feyd knew what that meant.

He knew what was coming.

Even at the time, despite the typical innocence of children, he understood that there was something wrong with all that. That the way his uncle touched him wasn’t normal, that not all children had uncles like that, fortunately.

From that day on Feyd kept his distance from that room until he was old enough to be ready to sit in the Council.

As much as he tried not to think about it, that room always took him back to that memory. Every time he sat at the long table next to his uncle, he felt such a deep hatred for him that led him to often fantasize about killing him.

He thought about it many times but he never did it.

-In due time.- he thought -I will have my revenge. -

"My trusted lords." the Baron said with his hoarse voice, "I think you all know why we are here."

The nobles nodded, visibly upset.

"I leave the word to Piter. He will be able to explain some... things to you better" he said vaguely, inviting the Mentat to continue.

Piter cleared his throat with his usual hasty manner before speaking.

"Well... so, thanks to my Mentat skills, I immediately understood the reason for the turmoil today."

Feyd rolled his eyes. He hated that Mentat. Nobody cared about his abilities, they just wanted to understand why the people were shouting those things to his wife.

-How much I want to kill that idiot. - he thought, still remaining impassive.

"The Bene Gesserit are involved, I bet." a noble said.

Piter nodded: "Yes they are. An ancient prophecy of theirs speaks of a First Empress, the first woman to sit on the throne. During our visit to Kaitain for our Na-Baron’s wedding I tried to gather as much information as possible about our new Na-Baroness and it seems that everyone believes she is the chosen one."

"Nonsense." commented the Baron to reassure the nobles "All nonsense of course."

Piter nodded again, but that time hesitantly. Feyd seemed the only one to have noticed.

Maybe his uncle was underestimating the situation.

"The Bene Gesserit, as always, must have spread the word here on Giedi Prime. The people were waiting for Feyd Rautha’s wife, the one who will free them from slavery and from the Laandstrad system, the one who will make them free men and women."

While all the nobles laughed, Feyd and Piter looked at each other in silence. Neither of them was laughing. It was at that point that Feyd realized that the Bene Gesserit prophecies were potentially serious things.

"A woman will never sit on the throne." the Baron chuckled.

"Women are meant to make children and stay silent. Can you imagine a woman ruling the Empire? We’d be doomed!" another noble said, making all the others laugh.

"Here’s what we’re gonna do. We’re gonna let the people love her, think she’s gonna save them, sit on the throne... we’re gonna let them think whatever they want. We will turn all of this in our favor, of course. So that when someone will sit on the throne, that someone will be my nephew Feyd."

Feyd turned to look at him slowly, perfectly hiding the surprise.

His uncle’s fat face deformed into a wicked smile.

"Let that woman believe she can rule and I will make you emperor."

Now all the nobles' eyes were on him.

"Emperor?" Feyd asked, savoring the taste of that word.

The Baron smiled even more widely.

"When she will ask you what happened today, tell her the truth. Fuel her hopes. Make her believe it. If we exploit the support of that mass of beggars, who do you think will sit on the throne?"

Feyd looked him intensely in the eyes, feeling the excitement growing.

"Feyd Rautha Harkonnen!" the Baron exclaimed with a proud look.

"Feyd Rautha Harkonnen!" the nobles repeated in a solemn tone.

******

Giedi Prime was a miserable place.

Nothing about it was pleasant or interesting.

It was sad to think that she would have had to spend the rest of her days there, under a perpetually gloomy sky and breathing heavily polluted air. But at least she wasn’t alone.

Her brother had dinner with her and before he left he had come up with a theory.

"What if what happened today is a sign that the prophecy is true?"

Megan looked at him in silence, analyzing his idea.

They both knew about the prophecy because of their mother.

"I don’t know." his sister replied "The world doesn’t seem ready for a woman on the throne yet... maybe the Bene Gesserit are wrong. Perhaps the Chosen One is yet to come."

There was disappointment in her voice.

“We’ll have time to see if the prophecy is right.” he reassured her "Rest now."

"Unless my husband decides to pay me a visit."

Jeremy tried not to show it but the idea of his sister with Feyd Rautha still troubled him deeply.

"Good night." he said, kissing her on the forehead.

"Good night Jeremy," she whispered, "I’m lucky to have you here with me."

And it was true. Without her twin she couldn’t survive, neither on Giedi Prime, nor anywhere else.

As expected, her husband came to see her.

"Come in." Megan said as soon as she heard a knock. She knew it was him.

Feyd entered the room and closed the door behind him.

He chose to go to her. He couldn’t explain it but the idea of having sex with her excited him a lot more than having sex with his concubines. The newest toy was always the most interesting.

"Did you have dinner, wife?"

"I did." she nodded "Did you attend the council?"

Feyd nodded without taking his eyes off her.

The way she looked at him... she wanted to know, she wanted to ask him what had happened. His ability to understand people was not due to his empathy, but rather due to his attentiveness and meticulous observation.

And just like he predicted, Megan spoke.

"What happened today?" she asked, "Were they shouting at me?"

Why did she ask him such an obvious question? Feyd was certain that she knew about the prophecy about herself.

"I think we both know about the prophecy." he just said, studying her with his piercing gaze.

Megan seemed to frown, slightly tilting her head in surprise.

"How do you know?"

"Bene Gesserit’s prophecies have always seemed like a waste of time to me, but they have the strange ability to spread quickly." Feyd explained, "Our Mentat heard about it on Kaitain at our wedding. Today he only had the confirmation that the people really believe in it. They believe that you will free them from the imperial system."

Silence fell between the two. They looked at each other for a few moments, both intrigued by the other.

Feyd had expected a reaction from her. He had expected astonishment, surprise... she was a woman after all, and women were always exaggerated and sentimental. He had just told her that people thought she was going to be the first woman to rule... and she just looked at him in silence.

-What a strange little creature. - he thought before breaking the silence with a simple question.

"Do you think they’re right?"

He had to make her believe in the prophecy as his uncle suggested, and to do so he needed to make her talk.

Megan remained silent for a while, breathing in deeply.

"I don’t know."

Feyd sighed.

-What a disappointing answer.-

Seeing him unsatisfied with her answer Megan added, "All men are still too dull to accept a woman’s power."

-That is an interesting answer. -

"All men? You’re assuming I am too?"

"Isn’t that right?"

"No."

To be honest Feyd never thought of a woman as a ruler. He had always been taught that women were just about having children and being good wives, but he had never had a maternal model to learn from. He killed his mother a long time ago. As soon as she had tried to stop the Baron in his attempt to bring Feyd to Giedi Prime to raise him as a true Harkonnen, Vladimir had ordered the little Feyd to kill her. And he, a simple child with a knife in his hand, had obeyed without really knowing what he was doing.

Did he regret it? No.

Or maybe.

But there was no point in thinking about it anymore: his mother was dead and he had found a strange pleasure in killing.

His wife raised an eyebrow in an unconvinced expression.

She didn’t believe him.

-You’re more stubborn than I thought, pet. -

"Men are all the same."

Feyd looked intensely into her eyes. That sentence annoyed him. He was not like all men. All men wanted to be like him, to be precise.

"And tell me, what are men like?"

"Frightened by a strong woman." she explained with a firm tone.

Feyd smiled in amusement.

"And you think you are?"

The girl inhaled deeply, nodding without hesitation.

"It’s a fact." and then she went on "That I really am what people say I am doesn’t matter now. There’s still time to figure it out. But one thing is certain: I always frightened men. My father was terrified that I would open my mouth to any event with guests."

The Emperor frightened by a girl? It was both absurd and funny.

"Why is that?"

"Because I didn't agree with him on a lot of things and I wasn’t afraid to say it."

Her answers, always accurate and ready... Feyd was sincerely amazed. But he did not show it.

And then he thought -If she’s so proud and stubborn it might become a problem for me. I’ll find a way to tame her. -

"In what ways did you disagree with him?"

He was really interested in finding out.

"I think the whole Empire is based on injustice and that an Emperor should rule differently."

Now Feyd could understand why her father preferred her when she was silent. Her confidence was unbearable, yet amusing.

"How?" he teased her.

"If I truly am the First Empress, you will see."

Feyd immediately became serious, taking a step toward her.

"Another husband would have already punished you for your insolence."

Just like before Megan didn’t get upset.

"If you do, you’d prove my theory that men are scared of confident women."

-Now it’s too much. -

He had to make things clear, that insolent little creature had to figure out who was in charge.

"I’ll prove something else." he whispered, approaching her, "That I can make you shut up for as long as I want. Or rather... that the only thing you’ll be able to say is my name."

Megan smiled, looking him in the eyes.

"We’ll see." she replied.

Was it possible that the fear with which she looked at him the first time had already vanished?

Feyd sat on the bed, ordering her to kneel before him.

"Now I’m gonna teach you something, pet, and you’re gonna have to listen carefully."

The girl nodded, kneeling between his legs.

"Look how obedient you’ve become now that you know you’ll get my cock." he grinned, caressing her cheek.

Without needing to be told Megan took off his uniform pants, freeing his half hard manhood from his clothes.

His dark eyes watched her fingers running along the numerous veins down his length before wrapping her hand around it, squeezing slightly.

During the journey from Kaitain to Giedi Prime, they only managed to have sex twice. Feyd had dragged her into a small room on the spaceship and made her his with impatience. And Megan also enjoyed those moments. The embarrassment and awkwardness were slowly abandoning her, leaving room for a constant curiosity and desire for him.

If during the first time with him she had been afraid that he might hurt her, now she knew how much Feyd was able to make her feel good instead.

Megan understood what she had to do, something she’d heard about but never done before.

"What if... I hurt you?" she asked, looking up.

-What a stupid question.- she mentally said to herself, seeing Feyd grinning. She already knew the answer.

"I like pain, pet. Both to provoke it and to receive it." he explained to her while slightly pushing her head towards his now hard manhood.

Megan breathed deeply, getting closer.

Her tongue licked the base and then ran up to the tip, following a large bluish vein. She then focused on the tip, licking it, making her tongue swirl around it in circular motions.

-I’m doing well. - she thought, satisfied, hearing Feyd’s deep moans.

After a few minutes of teasing she then opened her mouth, barely taking him all inside.

It was too big to take it all.

She began to move her head, bobbing it up and down his length, while Feyd took her long brown hair in his hand.

"Am I too big for you, little thing?" he groaned, pushing her down further at every movement.

Megan tried to shake her head but she was pushed down on him, feeling his cock touching her throat.

She instinctively tried to retreat, gagging around him, but Feyd kept her still for a few moments, grinning in pleasure.

As soon as he let her go, Megan coughed with tears in her eyes and looked at him with a grim look.

"Don’t make that face." he mocked her, laughing.

He wiped a tear off her cheek with his thumb, smiling even more.

"Now continue, pet." he ordered, slightly slapping his cock against her closed lips.

The girl obeyed, starting again.

After a few minutes and after understanding the mechanism, she began to enjoy it to the point that she instinctively added the hand movement, hearing Feyd groan even louder.

"Yes pet, just like that. Good girl." he said as bewitched, looking at her bobbing her head with teary eyes "Do you want me to cum in your mouth?"

Megan nodded eagerly without stopping, looking up directly at him.

That look she gave him... it sent him over the edge.

He came with a low groan, pulling her hair as he could feel his cock twitching in her mouth.

He looked into her eyes as she swallowed, almost amazed.

It didn’t matter that their marriage was arranged... the sexual pleasure he had experienced with her that week was a pleasure he had never experienced with any other woman, not even with his concubines.

Maybe they would have never loved each other, and that didn’t matter, but at least they could both make each other feel good.

"You did a great job, pet." he complimented her, caressing her cheeks.

Megan smiled slightly, wiping her tears with the back of her hand.

He had been right when he had told his harpies that she was very beautiful.

"You are mine." he added possessively, looking into her eyes.

That sentence stirred something within Megan. At first she looked at him in amazement, remaining silent as she caught her breath.

And then she nodded, not taking her eyes off him.

Perhaps there was a reason why according to the Bene Gesserit’s plan they were destined to be together.

And that was the reason: she was his and he was hers.

******

Two weeks later

Feyd told her about the upcoming fight in the arena. Because of Feyd’s duties as Na-Baron the evening was the only moment they could spend together. And when they were not busy having sex they had made a habit of entertaining themselves in conversations. Megan was surprised that they had sex every night. Men usually prefer the company of their concubines and she was sure that he was still sleeping with his harpies regularly, especially when during the day he was busy and away from her. But after all, he always came back to her and that… that made her feel special.

They regularly spoke after sex. It was always Megan to start, since she had understood that Feyd was of few words, but he always participated in the conversations with interest.

One night, without warning, Feyd spoke first.

"In three days there will be a fight in the arena." he had said proudly, looking up at the ceiling.

Megan had turned to look at him, observing his facial features, his body perfectly muscular and sculpted.

"How long have you been fighting in the arena?" he had asked.

"For years. Since I was 14, maybe." he had replied.

Everybody knew how damn good he was at fighting.

"Do you want me to attend?"

Feyd had looked at her, perfectly hiding his emotions behind a detached expression.

He didn’t want to ask her directly because he was waiting for her to make the move.

He wanted her to see him fight, he wanted her to understand and see how strong and skilled her husband was.

"The first time we spoke you said you weren’t afraid of death." he had said, "If it’s true, attend the fight. People want to see their Na-Baroness."

By saying so he had pretended that her presence didn’t mean anything for him but that it meant something to people.

Megan agreed.

And there she was, sitting in the arena, waiting for the show to begin with her brother beside her.

"There he is."

Jeremy pointed at the man entering the arena, greeted by the chants of the spectators.

It was Feyd.

"Who are his opponents?" his sister asked him, using a pair of special glasses to see clearer from afar.

"I heard he fights against prisoners from other planets." he explained, clenching his fists in rage "Including Fremens."

Megan felt blood freeze in her veins as a Fremen entered the arena, stumbling.

Although no one, except for the imperial family, knew about their true identity, the Fremen blood inherited from their real father was for the twins a source of great pride; and seeing a Fremen sentenced to death in that way made them seethe in anger.

The fight began.

"They’re drugged." Jeremy noticed "Prisoners are drugged."

It was true. All her husband’s opponents were staggering and their reflexes were slowed.

Her twin brother was confused.

"You can tell he’s a good fighter... why do this?"

"Because Feyd kills for pleasure. He fights for fun, he doesn’t care about fairness or honor." she explained, looking at the prisoners being killed relentlessly.

The way Feyd was killing them was proving to her how much he enjoyed doing it.

Seeing that side of her husband in person wasn’t reassuring her at all. She always contemplated murder but only for those who really deserved it, for those who committed injustice… not as a hobby.

When the fight finished her husband looked at the Baron, who nodded proudly, and then directly at her.

Megan looked at him, unsure how to react.

Did she have to pretend she liked it? Yes, maybe it was the wisest thing to do.

So she gave him a slight smile, a smile that Feyd secretly appreciated.

The chants of approval from the audience did not stop even when Feyd disappeared from sight, entering the underground parts of the arena.

"Let’s go." her brother said, getting up from the stands.

Escorted by Megan’s guards and maids, the twins left the arena to get to the vehicle that would have taken them back to the fortress.

But something went wrong.

The people were shouting and calling her name again. They started to surround the guards who were trying to protect her, reaching out their hands to touch her, begging for her help.

"Don’t worry." Jeremy told her, drawing out his knife. Her husband was a skilled fighter, but her brother was too.

But Megan wasn’t worried. Not at all.

In those weeks following her arrival she had thought a lot about how the people looked at her, about what Feyd had told her about the prophecy.

She knew she had to try to help them. She felt like she had a duty towards those people. She needed to understand why. She had to find out if she really was what they thought she was.

The guards began to load their weapons, ready to shoot at the crowd, when Megan felt an arm grab her.

She turned to see a young woman who was pulling her arm with a desperate look. She had the typical features of Giedi Prime, dark eyes, smooth and pale face.

"Please, my lady." the girl begged her in Galach, without letting her arm go.

Megan, as in a trance, started allowing the young woman to guide her out of the crowd, but saw with the corner of her eye a soldier pointing his weapon at the girl’s head, ready to stop her from taking the Na-Baroness with her.

But Megan turned to him and without even thinking she used the Voice.

"Stop. Let me go."

The soldier obeyed without resistance.

"No, no!" Jeremy shouted, seeing his sister disappear into the crowd. He started pushing people, desperately looking for her, shouting orders to the guards.

But there was nothing to do.

Megan had disappeared.

From that moment, everything changed.

Tag list: @mamawiggers1980 @avidreader73 @pomtherine

#feyd rautha #feyd rautha harkonnen #feyd rautha fanfic #feyd rautha imagine #feyd rautha smut #dune #dune movie #dune part 2 #fanfic #fanfiction #giedi prime #house harkonnen

16 notes · View notes

ohmeadows · 9 months

Note

Do you have any author/book recs for literary fiction? Or recs for beautiful writing (i.e. poetic, thought-provoking, interestingly structured sentences, haunting vibes, etc) in general?

tons, but i had to think on this so sorry it took me a while. i'm not including trigger warnings because honestly i'd forget half of the stuff others might find triggering, but you know. stay safe and research.

maddalena and the dark by julia fine had extremely poetic and beautiful writing, as well as a haunting vibe echoing through the pages.

the lonely city by olivia laing is a series of essays on art and artists and loneliness. probably one of the most thought-provoking books i've read on loneliness and the lengths we go to over it, as well as having an artistic practice rooted in it. highly recommend.

mourning diary and a lover's discourse by roland barthes. master of short fragment form, of turning just a few words into something you digest for days afterward. his theory books are rather heavy for me, but these are precious.

greek lessons by han kang. i love han kang's writing and this one delves into language in a very gentle, soulful way. painful and beautiful. probably a top 10 read of this year for me.

y/n by esther yi. i'm of two minds on this one. i wish it had been braver and weirder, but it is also really weird. it's about a woman who gets obsessed with a kpop band and it's very trippy, in the most positive way. i rated it a 3.5 because i felt it didn't carry itself to the finish line in a satisfying way, but it left me thinking.

love me tender by constance debré. on the limits of love in a corrupt system; debré came out as a lesbian and lost custody of her son because of it after her ex-husband made false accusations about "degenerate actions". she processes the slow, systematically enforced loss of time with her son and realizing he's a stranger to her now.

anything by maggie nelson, annie ernaux, édouard louis, sarah manguso, vivian gornick, anne carson. they all have very prolific releases to their names, i prefer their creative non-fiction/autofiction. i'd suggest looking through what's available and seeing if something grabs your interest here.

on earth we're briefly gorgeous by ocean vuong. masterpiece. i admire vuong's style and way of storytelling so much, i think he said "tell it true but tell it a slant". either way. love it.

natalia ginzburg is going through a revival as of late. i love her writing for the atmosphere, but think i prefer little virtues the most.

and for a tenth and final recommendation (for this round) the undying by anne boyer. nonfiction memoir/essay at its finest imo, she's unpicking illness and particularly her own cancer while exploring the cultural and historical aspects of illness, connecting it to other bodies of works. (can you tell i read a lot about illness and disability specifically?)

#ask meadows anything

26 notes · View notes

darkherolovercroissant · 3 months

Text

To Understand This

Short Story Series

Alejandro Vargas x Plus sized WOC Reader

This is a Bridgerton era style fic requested by @shadofireshinobi

This was supposed to be published in 2023, but Tumblr kept flagging it and crashing before I could save so I attempted this for the billionth time.

Warnings: Mature themes, mature language, smut, my writing, and anything I come across as I write this.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The hallways, once echoed the footsteps of happy children running while their father chased them while laughing himself.

Now, they echo the thousands of thoughts that have been circulating through my head as I walk down them. They used to hold such innocence and light, now it’s dark and full of fear.

The doors open and mother weakly smiled, she’s still grieving the inevitable pain of this family. It was no secret that father wasn’t in good health. He was dying slowly, I like to think he’s been trying to fight in order to see his family all in good hands first, but we all know that the illness takes its time. Dancing with its victims in a taunting manner.

Father had five children, but not one of them was a son, as such matters were obvious, father had no eligible child to pass the estate or fortune to. As such terrible laws, deemed us ladies unequal to a man, we couldn’t have been given much than the clothes on our backs.

Mother took my hand and her eyes were red from many unfortunate events. She guided me to father’s office, where my fate had been decided by a bunch of men that father knew, well before I was even born.

The doors open and the council of men had risen from their chairs and turned to welcome us as they handed mother the final papers.

“Colonel Vargas has agreed to your husband’s wishes. The colonel and your daughter will marry and the estate will be handed to him, as your husband wasn’t able to produce a male heir. Of course, no offence to you m’lady” one of the many men spoke with such professionalism.

“I hope my next words don’t carry insult towards you, but I’m on a quite busy schedule and unfortunately I must hurry this along so I can return to my men.” A deeper voice echoed from my left.

I turn to see who I gathered was the colonel himself. Much older than me, but still younger than the other men in this room. He was highly decorated and carried himself with such pride. The age difference between us was as obvious as the setting sun told us that nightfall was upon us. At least ten years to my current age, but it was common for older men to marry younger women, so they could give them as many children as they wanted.

Mother nodded and the men filed out of the once crowded room. Now, despite two remaining, it felt like I was alone in said room.

“I know this isn’t what you wanted, believe me when I say, that I begged your father to choose one of his other daughters, b-”

I raise my hand gently in a motion to stop her. I turn and I looked at my mother’s face very carefully. Taking in every small detail, maybe one day, this would be me and what I’ll look like. Full of pain and regret, just simply wishing it wouldn’t happen.

I nod my head and she sniffles before heading out to where father was laying no doubt. Probably to fill his final days with cursing him out for all the pain this has caused, but apologizing right after for ever causing him pain in his final moments.

————

The sunlight warming up the gardens as I walked through them, with my mind wandering as fast as my feet. So many questions about why this was happening. I was the one that refused to take in my duties growing up. Where my sisters all sought out company, I preferred to remain independent as I loved how peaceful the silence was. Father always said I was the most difficult to get through when it came to important matters.

He’d sit with me when I was younger and often told me what I should expect when I reached a mature age, but I simply couldn’t be more uninterested. I wasn’t interested in finding a husband and settling down.

I dreamed of having the biggest gardens, full of the prettiest flowers. I dreamed of having the biggest library, full of books that begged to be read. I dreamed of having that peaceful melody of sweet solitary playing in the background while I danced through life.

I dreamed of remaining independent until i finally came across someone that fit perfectly into my life.

I dreamed of having a choice, but atlas, I should’ve known better than to dream of things that could never happen. I was a foolish little girl, but the foolishness would end tonight, as tonight, my life would be made at the hands of others.

#alejandro vargas #requested #fanfic #short story series #x plus size reader #angst #x woc fem reader #part 1 #darkherolovercroissant #contains mature language #mature reading #mature themes #mature audiences only

6 notes · View notes

the-dumpster-fire-of-life · 1 year

Text

Liandro Bellavatti

Sometimes people are destined to be together, like Liandro and Eleonora, or Liandro thought so…

"Eleonora," A man with dark hair, blue eyes and dressed in a lavish suit kneeled in front of a woman.

She had long blonde hair, green eyes with a dress trailing behind her as she looked down at Liandro.

“I love you with all my body and soul.” Liandro professed his love to the woman whole heartedly, holding his hand out for her to take.

Eleonora held her hands in front of her, hesitant as she looked at Liandro with pity.

“I’m sorry, Liandro.” Eleonora started with pity.

“I'm in love with Diego…”

Liandro couldn’t hide it, but he would’ve never thought the woman he loved so much could crack his heart in two with so little words.

“Un-fucking-believable…”

You held your phone in your hands, almost shaking with anger over an online novel.

“Why the hell would he be the male lead and not Liandro?!” You almost yelled.

“He showed up half way through the book! Why would the author go so in depth into their relationship to do this?!”

You held your head in your hands, even if the characters didn’t exist, it was hard not to feel pity for the male lead.

“Why describe how much he loved her for this…” You mumbled, rubbing your forehead because of how much time you wasted reading the book for this.

Liandro Cyril Bellavatti…

His life was a series of miseries.

The boy when young used to have much shorter, pitch black hair but still the same crystal blue eyes from the novel.

Some similarities they both still shared, was the lavish clothes they wore even at a young age.

Something almost mandatory due to who his family was.

He was the only son of the Duke and Duchess of Bellavatti, who had an arranged marriage.

Liandros was almost the spitting image of his father, some of his mother mixed in but sparingly.

His mother was a beautiful blonde woman, but that was the only beauty she held.

Her heart held nothing but greed, no love for anyone, not her husband, much less her own son.

His father was the same, both barely sparring their son a glance.

Many believed they could’ve been a loving couple, but they had nothing in common at all.

But one thing of course…

Neither held love or respect for one another.

They could play pretend in front of guests, family and practically anyone who laid eyes on them.

But don’t let their clothes, smiles or rare portraits you come across of them fool you.

And of course, neither of them had any interest in their son.

A baby crying echoes through the halls, a nurse hurrying the newborn to hush its cries.

The baby, even barely being born, was still as beautiful as he would once become.

It was said that he was a little beast, thirsty for love.

Soon the days and months became years, and Liandrio grew up without the one thing he wanted.

He grew up sheltered, but exposed to the harsh ways of reality that his parents held no care for him at all.

A tiny baby who would still try anything, anything at all for his parents' love, even if it meant being the beast.

That was the perfect description of him.

That’s how Liandro lived, years in his life went by like nothing at all as he grew older and taller.

lonely, was the only way you could describe his life.

Then, one day…

“Ahh!”

A painful scream echoed through the walls, alerting anyone and everyone nearby.

It came from the young master's room, causing many and every one to come hurrying.

“Why, why is it so dark…?!” Liandro exclaimed, holding his eye in pain and hunched over.

“A candle…light a candle immediately!” Liandro ordered, wanting the pain and dark to go away.

A maid did just that, holding the newly lit candle as she slowly and cautiously crept to the bedside.

“Young master..? Are you alright?” the young maid asked, almost afraid of what she would see.

“Kyaa!” The maid exclaimed in horror, almost dropping the candle as she yelled once she saw.

Liandro couldn’t see still, but he heard her running footsteps, away from him and leaving him alone in the dark.

Even if he couldn’t see, the young maid did.

His left side of his face was covered black, writing of letters in another ancient tongue littering his skin and blood seeped from his eyes.

“It is a curse.”

A minister solemnly stated, lavishly dressed with a staff in hand.

“A curse of dark energy, which eats away at the host from the inside out.” The man explained, sealing Liandros fate.

“You want me to have another baby?! No, I can’t!”

Liandro woke up with a fever, looking over to see his mother and father arguing beside him.

Arguing like he couldn’t hear them, like they even cared if he did.

“Do you know how long it took me to recover after having him?!” His mother yelled at his father.

Liandro’s mother held her head in her hands, her husband yelling at her as they argued.

“I told you to calm down! We need to wait and see how this progresses!” Liandro’s father snapped, agitated at his wife.

Since then, many people tried to break the curse, but to no avail…

The next years of Liandro’s life were filled with popes, visits from the doctors and even sorcerer’s from all over.

All trying to heal him from what he was now sentenced to life with, but nobody could break it.

Until one day, Linguist made a surprising discovery.

A short, red headed man in a sweater ran through the pages in a book quickly, stopping at a specific page that could hold an answer…

The symbols inscribed on Liandro’s face were from the language used in the ancient city of Ambrosetti.

Soon enough, they set off to Ambrosetti for answers.

Liandro’s mother, father and himself sat in a room in a lavish house across from a maid, doctor and caretaker of the young princess.

The young princess was Eleonora, as young as Liandro and clinging to her caretaker out of fear.

That was the first encounter between the kingdom of Ambrosetti’s pawn, Eleonora, and Liandro…

“Can you decipher the words on the young master's face?” Eleonora's caretaker asked, gently, not to scare her.

Eleonora had tears in her eyes, threatening to fall at any moment as she looked at Liandro, almost fearful.

“I…I don’t know…” Eleonora muttered after a few moments of looking at Liandro’s face, a tear falling finally.

“It’s gross!” Eleonora finally exclaimed, screaming fearfully as she jumped into her caretaker's arms.

“Get it away from me! Monster!”

Liandro froze in his seat, gazing at the ground, feeling a wave of cold wash over him.

Was he really so hideous that someone couldn’t even look at him?

Was he really just a hideous monster like she said…?

Traumatized, Liandro locked himself away in his room for years.

Liandro spent years like that, shunning himself away to solitude.

If someone couldn’t lay eyes on him without crying out of fright, he would just hide away.

If he hid away, nobody would see him, and he wouldn’t see their tears of horror.

He didn’t need to be hurt again.

And the duke and duchess turned their backs on him.

The duke and duchess, even going lower, pretended they didn’t have a son altogether.

Thinking of him as a burden they were left with, they didn’t have a need for the young boy anymore.

Thirteen Years Later

Liandro and Eleonora reunited and she began to take pity on him.

Eleonora, now older than she once was when she saw Liandro, stood beside the young man.

Liandro stood in the garden beside her, barely sparring her a glance at her pity as she blatantly stared.

Liandro was still stricken with the curse, and had no desire to be in the same vicinity as the girl who once called him a monster.

But because of Liandro’s deep-rooted trauma, Liandro could not accept Eleonora.

Liandro merely glared at the young girl, the young woman barely reacting as she still stared at the curse on his face.

However…

With Eleonora’s consistent effort, he eventually opened his heart to her.

Eleonoras now openly gazed at Liandro, amazed at the faded words on his skin as he sheepishly tried to avoid her eyes.

The longer the time they spent together, Liandro began to heal, his trauma along with his curse.

And through her power, his terrible curse was lifted.

And Liandro fell hopelessly in love with her…

Liandro, now curse free, openly expressed his love for Eleonora whenever he could, even when she seemed to not want his affection.

But Liandro being Liandro, didn’t notice. He never did, he only knew one thing, that he loved her.

And he thought she did love him too…

The woman who had broken his curse and shown him unwavering kindness.

Liandro, obviously, still held out his hand with his smile still etched onto his face.

Hopelessly in love and hoping Eleonora would take his hand, and be with him as long as he wished to be with her.

Forever.

But that was when the story’s true tragedy began…

“I’m sorry, Liandro…” Eleonora helplessly apologizes over and over again as Liandro stood emotionless.

“I’m in love with Diego.” Eleonora's words would forever haunt Liandro now, hearing his heart crack in two.

Diego was the crown prince, and the story's true male lead.

Diego, with dark red hair and gold eyes, dressed as lavish as a royal should, took Eleonora's hand and pulled her into him.

Liandro was forced to watch the assumed love of his life, turn her back to him to be with the one he could never seem to out do.

Liandro stood there for who knows how long, gazing at the ground.

“You were always by my side…” Liandro finally muttered in a voice so quiet, you never would assume it was him.

“I’m not good enough?! Is that why you chose him?!” Liandro finally snapped, even alone as he yelled into the air.

“Why…Why?!” Liandro yelled over and over, his anger over taking him.

Finally, his anger vanished and was only replaced with a heart ache.

Why not him?

‘Is it because…he’ll inherit the throne?’ Liandro wondered, the question haunting him.

Greedy only for Eleonora’s love, Liandro rebelled against Diego and failed…

Liandro, now dressed in rags, older than when Eleonora rejected him, sat tied and bound to the ground.

He wore clothes only to be described as rags, his hair now longer tame and looked sick in front of a guillotine for his fate to be sealed.

And was executed.

Not long after, Liandro’s life was ended.

All for a woman who could not love him back.

“What the hell type of plot is this? What’s the author's purpose in this?” You muttered, laying on your back now as you stared at the screen.

“Why make Liandro miserable for his entire life until the end?” You went on, finding no reason why the Author would do this.

‘All I’m saying is that if it were me, I would’ve taken Liandro, Diego isn’t even that good looking.’

You shook your head, ending the book, putting your phone on the charger and lying down to bed.

You don’t know how long you lied there in bed before you drifted off, but surely, you did.

If it were you…

Was your wish…granted by someone?

You opened your eyes, expecting to see your bedroom ceiling but no, you were met with your hand on a rag mopping…a staircase?

Why would you be on a staircase with a rag if you had a mop? Why were you on your hands and knees?

And, much less, your apartment didn’t include a staircase?

You abruptly straightened up, looking around to see you were no longer in the comfort of your home, but in an unfamiliar grand house.

You looked at the rag in your hand. Down the staircase and then to your own hands.

This wasn’t your home, where the hell were you?

And what the fuck was going on…?

#manwha #tappytoon #liandro bellavatti x reader #liandro bellavatti #eleonora #x reader #fanfiction #manga #webtoon #web series #how i became the dukes maid #a tender hearth: how i became the dukes maid #A tender heart: the story of how I became a dukes maid #webtoon x reader

32 notes · View notes

rosethornewrites · 2 months

Text

T & G reading since 3/18

I was going to wait a few more days to post but it’s getting too long.

Finished

Teen:

Everything Is Solved With Soup (And Poison), by Love_Psycho (reread)

Waking up from a nightmare – that may or may not just be a nightmare – Jiang Yanli decides she needs to stop that nightmare from becoming reality.

What Is Holding Is Also Being Held, by curiositea

“Congratulations,” Song Lan says with a grin that can only be described as ‘shit-eating’. “You’re haunted.”

“What.” Lan Zhan and Wei Ying say simultaneously, one sounding significantly less excited than the other. Honestly Lan Zhan, Wei Ying thinks, how can you not be ecstatic?!

—

Or, Wei Ying and Lan Zhan are haunted by the powerful and lasting echoes of their past lives and maybe, just maybe, it’s fate.

(Halloween/Wei Ying’s birthday prompt from the fantastic @/wwxwashere on twitter: wangxian are haunted.)

The Best Soup in the World, by Nyatci (reread)

Lan Wangji wakes to his husband missing from their bed. He happens to find him in the kitchens, peeling lotus roots.

Possible Works 3 - What If Number 4, by Hauntcats

Things go differently at the Yiling Supervisory office when Wen Chao shows up early.

Possible Works 4 - Tunnel Vision, by Hauntcats

A night hunt turns interesting.

Stop, In the Name of Love, by weenakohi2 (🔒)

Artist/art teacher in training/volunteer crossing guard-Wei Ying saves A-Yuan from a road accident and gets hurt in the process. Lan Zhan and A-Yuan insist on taking him out as thanks. One things leads to another leads to domestic bliss.

General:

The Greed is the Unraveling, by nirejseki (4 chapters)

“Don’t cough blood on me,” Lan Qiren said, voice as prim and proper as it had ever been.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Wen Ruohan replied, teeth clenched and brow furrowed as he fought off the pain. Blood leaked out from the corner of his mouth despite his words. “I suppose the stain of red on white is terribly hard to get out.”

His tone was bitter, angry, and he was probably making some sort of very clever metaphorical point, given the Lan sect’s white robes and Wen sect’s emblem of red and white.

But -

(Lan Zhan, Wei Wuxian said. Do you think we made it - worse?)

(no one else can) take me there, by azurewaxwing

In his recent article in Contemporary Theories of Cultivation, Lan (2019) sets out to study the correlation between instrument choice and outcomes in the liberation of spirits. While his main thesis appears sound, his decision to limit the study to the qin, dizi, xiao and pipa undermines his conclusions.

This decision falls prey to the fallacy that tradition cannot be questioned. It ignores, too, the fact that many practising cultivators will encounter spirits that will have no exposure to such “expectations.” In a small study comparing the use of a dizi with a theremin—undoubtedly a non-traditional choice—the theremin produced optimal outcomes in liberating spirits where: time since death was less than 6 months; spirit was younger than 25 and older than 17 at time of death; or spirit motivation included aspects of revenge. The conclusions reached in Lan (2019), while providing a foundation for future study, are therefore as yet incomplete.

Mo Xuanyu

Cultivation Studies, Center for East Asian Studies, Stanford University

Lan Wangji, Wei Wuxian, and musical cultivation: a love story, told through academic articles, emails, texts, and videos.

just like glass, by sunflowersfield (🔒, 2 chapters)

Lan Zhan is grateful. Gratitude is a feeling that he can appreciate because it is not like the inky black guilt that runs hot through his veins. It is not like the dizzying paranoia that burns bright behind his eyes. His gratitude for Wei Ying glows like a flickering candle, and he hopes he can keep it alive.

Butterfly, by dragongirlG (🔒)

Lan Sizhui’s eyes widen. “Is it your birthday?” he asks, panic creeping into his tone. It occurs to him that he’s never asked about birthdays—Ning-shushu’s, his parents’, his sister’s—

“A-Yuan,” says Ning-shushu, his voice softer than normal, “it’s yours.”

Lan Sizhui blinks, stunned. “What?”

Lan Sizhui receives some unexpected gifts when he makes a visit to Wen Ning.

A reflection on family history, familial bonds, and identity written for Lan Sizhui's birthday.

Warmth in Winter, by rhysiana

Lan Wangji watches Wei Wuxian spend his first winter in Cloud Recesses.

(a song) greeting the dawn, by LadyKG (🔒, 2 chapters)

With a laugh he threw himself back over the seal painted on the floor, a hysterical bubble in his chest popping as he dug his hands into his hair. Of all the times to be sent back to. Of all the places he could have ended up. Why did it have to be now?

Unfinished

Teen:

Inchoate, by Marinelifeclub

“Where would you even go once you left? Wait a few more years before leaving." persuaded Jiang Fengmian,

“Will I live to see that long?” Wei Wuxian whispered under his breath.

Jiang Fengmian felt cold at those words. He always thought his children would be the ones to heal the scars left by their mother on Wei Wuxian, but just the concise way he spoke about them, he knows that wasn’t true. Now his best friend’s son sat in front of him, confessing to not thinking he will live to see himself become a man. Cangse and Changze must be furious in their graves as the sweet smiling son they raised endured pain because of a jealous woman and a cowardly man. Sighing, he did the only thing he could to make things right and accepted the boy’s wishes.

At age 14, Wei Wuxian left Lotus Pier and never looked back.

Wei Wuxian leaves Lotus Pier and while things change something’s are just set in fate.

Rabbit Charm, by aoeros (🔒)

“You gotta promise me that when you’re back home and settled in, I’ll be the first you come to see. Because I’m going to miss you more than anyone else will, Lán Zhàn. Except your brother, of course.”

“Of course. I promise to come find you first after I’ve settled back in.”

“Great! Then I promise to call you whenever I can. And, I will definitely not forget you.”

until only the mountain remains, by idleorbitals

Sizhui had asked why he wore it, and Lan Wangji had said something about restraint that sounded mysterious and grand, and Wei Wuxian had said it’s a no-fun ribbon. Once you put it on, you have to promise not to have any fun, and Lan Wangji had said Wei Ying, in that voice he had.

Can I have one? Sizhui had asked, and Lan Wangji had looked strange and fond, and Wei Wuxian had said, does no one listen to me around here?

- - -

The one where the Burial Mounds timeline gets expanded and Sizhui grows up a Wen.

Echoes, by LadyCrowned

Wei Wuxian heartbreak was so deep that broke time itself. Now, back in his youth, maybe this time around he can set the things right... But, how to change anything without knowing you have the chance to do it?

Your soul remembers what matters the most, even if your memory can't.

Something Warm and Safe, by Winxhelina

"Rich-gege!" A-Yuan exclaims happily.

"You can't call him that," Wei Wuxian admonishes gently. He puts an arm around Lan Wangji just as his knees give out, "Hey! I'm holding a child, you can't pass out on me like that. Oh. Oh, your back is covered in blood. Is that - is that your blood, Lan Zhan?!"

"Mn."

"Oh. Oh, you're bleeding a lot! Hold on! I'm putting A-Yuan down. A-Yuan, walk on your own for a bit. Can you also hold the basket for me? You're so mature and responsible! Okay, Lan Zhan, stay with me. I've got you."

"Is Rich-gege hurt?"

Lan Wangji doesn't hear the rest of that conversation.

In which Granny Wen manages to convince Wei Wuxian to take A-Yuan and hide away from the world. Lan Wangji manages to find them.

Shed Their Blood And Sealed Your Fate, by Eternal Scribe (Shadowcat)

The end scene at Guanyin Temple goes a bit differently...

General:

Pulled Against the Grain, by youleeyeah

“We found him walking injured just outside the Jingshi. He said-” Sizhui paused for a moment and then lowered his voice before continuing, “he said it was Young Master Jin who did this.” The boy couldn't look into Lan Wangji’s eyes as he spoke and turned his head to the side.

“You know,” Wei Wuxian started again after the pain subsided a tiny amount, “if I had my old body, I could've had intestines falling out of my gut and I’d still be able to fight for a few more hours.”

Lan Wangji furrowed his brows.

He has heard this before.

-----

Wei Wuxian wakes up in Gusu with a fresh stab wound he claimed was caused by Jin Ling. Lan Wangji is confused because the last time that happened was three years ago. Something is wrong with Wei Wuxian.

he, who died, is ignorant, by Maxciel_99

Jiang Cheng is thirteen when his eyes lose the shine that has always mirrored Wei Wuxian’s wild spirit. And then no longer is he a shadow of anyone but merely a shell of himself.

Here is a man who is served the world, for once, but he has turned a boy who finally stops wishing and wanting all at once.

Or basically, JC time travels but it's not your typical time travel fix-it.

By the River I Sat Down and Wept, by naolbedo

Wei Wuxian, while in the burial mounds, kept a small paper scroll. It is in this scroll that he filled his happiest memories.

When he eventually passes away and Lan Wangji arrives at the burial mounds, he finds only A-Yuan, clutching onto a qiankun pouch close to his heart as though he was holding on to the flickering warmth that once graced the burial mounds.

When the Hills Are All Flat, and the Rivers Run Dry, by stiltonbasket

Wei Wuxian feels her blood run cold.

Yu-ayi’s right. He really is going to choose me, she thinks. Oh, no. Oh, good Heavens, no!

She nearly bursts into tears on the spot; but just as her eyelids begin to sting, she remembers what her aunt said only two minutes earlier and breathes a sigh of relief.

The moment Huangshang lays eyes on you, he will know what choice to make.

In that moment, Wei Wuxian realizes that she can only be certain of evading the Empress’s throne if she ensures that the emperor never lays eyes on her at all.

Or: in the second year of his reign, Emperor Lan Wangji yields to the wishes of his ministers and holds a bride selection to find his future empress.

#the untamed #mo dao zu shi #cql #chen qing ling #mdzs #untamed fanfiction

4 notes · View notes

jjsobsessions · 2 years

Note

Ok i would love to read one when Bradley has to eject and is in the hospital Maverick finds out that he’s not listed as Bradley‘s Next of kin this is not what surprises him they didn’t have any contact in the last years what really surprises him is that his next of kin is according to the doctor Bradley‘s wife Lieutenant Natasha Trace he couldn’t believe it he didn’t even knew they where more than friends out of question married how in hell did this slip past Ice? His Godson will have a lot too explain later but for now the only thing that matters is that Bradley’s ok. Later that day Maverick and Bradley play cards to fight the boredom Nat left some time ago when there are child shouting in the hospital wing Maverick doesn’t think any of it until the little footsteps come closer and the door too the hospital room is being opened and two little kids storm in and climb to Bradley in the hospital bed even when it’s matter of factly who this kids belong to Maverick is still shocked the boy looks just like Bradley and his little sister is the spitting image of Nat.As they realize they’re not alone the boy snuggles closer too his dad as the little girl climbs from the bed and gives him her hand introducing herself and asking who he is (definitely Nat) Bradley tells his two kids that this is they’re Grandpa Maverick. Much Love❤️

LITTLE SURPRISES

Bradley Bradshaw x Natasha Trace

Requested: Yes

Words: 569

Warning: hospital, injuries, squint of sad

Summary: Maverick gets two little surprises.

a/n: This was a lovely request. I didn't know I would enjoy writing this piece so much. Again would love y'alls feedback. Hope you enjoy. :)

The anxiety was gripping Maverick the moment he heard of Bradley’s ejection due to a malfunction with his aircraft, he wasn’t surprised that the doctor hadn’t called considering they hadn’t been in contact for years. He was notified by Phoenix, which hadn’t seemed strange to him at the moment, as they were best friends to his knowledge.

He rushed to the hospital as soon as he found out. Maverick then walked into the room filled with medical supplies and at the other end Bradley, asleep with a cast on his arm. Another person walked through the room, Maverick turned to see it was the doctor.

“Hey doc, would you mind telling me what his condition is?” Maverick asked, looking back at Bradley.

“Broken rib and arm, he’s in a bit of shock, but he’s stable nonetheless. He should be released in the next two days.” The doctor reported. She observed the way he seemed concerned, curious she asked, “Might I ask what your relation to him is?”

“Godfather.” He answered, looking back at her.

“Interesting, in his closest relation he has a, ‘Natasha Trace’, his spouse.” She stated, then walked out busy with other duties around the hospital. Maverick stood there, a bit confused. She was only ever introduced as a friend. He was knocked out of his trance when a figure walked in, Phoenix.

“How’s he doing?” She asked, rushing to her husband’s side. She held his hand letting Maverick get a glimpse of her wedding ring.

“He’s stable, he’ll be released in a couple of days.” He said, not looking away from their conjoined hands. “When was the wedding?” he asked, slightly furrowing his brows and thinking of what he could’ve missed. She looked up at his confused state.

“3 years.” She swallowed looking back at Bradley. Maverick sat in the chair next to the bed and let a ‘wow’ escape his lips.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bradley had woken up from his deep slumber, he and Maverick and talked a little. Arguing a bit, but came to an agreement and continued talking. Eventually they started a game of go fish and played from there as Bradley talked about him and phoenix. Maverick listened , missing moments like this before Carol’s death and the pulled papers.

In the faint background, hurried footsteps and children laughing echoed through the hallways. Maverick didn’t think much of it and continued with the cards, until the footsteps became louder, eventually racing through the door. Two kids, a girl and a boy, ran in.

“Daddy!” the boy yelled, climbing onto the hospital bed. Close behind what seemed to be the boy’s younger sister struggled a bit climbing on. The girl was the spitting image of Phoenix, long dark brown hair collected into two braids and eyes surrounded by her long lashes.

The boy however looked just like young Bradley, from head to toe. It was like going back in time in Maverick’s eyes.

He saw how the two kids snuggled into the open spaces of Bradley’s arms. The kids then seemed aware of the other figure in the room, the boy shied away and hid in his father’s neck. The little girl scoot towards Maverick holding out her small hand.

“I’m Amelia and that’s Nicholas, who are you?” she asked, head tilted and staring with her wider brown eyes. Maverick stared at her in awe.

“That’s your grandpa Maverick.” Bradley chuckled, pulling the boy into his side.

#natasha trace #top gun maverick #top gun #rooster top gun #rooster bradshaw imagine #phoenix top gun #phoenix x rooster #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw #natasha phoenix trace #jake seresin #hangman top gun #coyote top gun #bob top gun #fanboy top gun #pete maverick mitchell

55 notes · View notes

marvelmawrter · 2 years

Text

they reach into your room

6x04 coda - Buck sleeps with Connor but says Eddie’s name

Buck doesn’t know how he got here.

Ok, he does. If pressed, he could explain the winding path that led to him saying his best friend’s name while fucking a married man but. He can’t promise that it makes sense.

“Dude, I’m telling you, I’m not offended in the slightest.” Connor’s sitting on the edge of the bed now, boxers on, calmly putting on his socks. “I literally got permission from my wife to get railed by our sperm donor. And somehow, I don’t think you’ll be knocking me up.”

Buck’s next exhale could almost pass for a laugh, but truthfully he’s barely processing a word Connor says. He’s too busy staring at the wall, trapped in the memory of Eddie’s name echoing around the loft.

“Hey.” Connor’s hand on his arm makes Buck jump, shaking him out of his thoughts. Turning to meet Connor’s eyes, recognizing the kindness in them, Buck thinks that may have been the goal.

“Here.”

Connor’s fully dressed now, but he hasn’t run out the door. Instead, he passes Buck his discarded joggers, turning back to peruse the bookshelf as if his interest in the worn paperbacks isn’t just a cover for giving Buck a minute to pull his shit together.

Buck takes the moment for what it is, quickly standing up and slipping the pants over his hips. To be honest, he hadn’t even realized that he was still naked. That somehow, only minutes ago, he was having sex for the first time in months, fucking Connor into his mattress, back in the familiar satisfaction of bringing someone to the edge. Until his brain betrayed him, dredging up the fantasy that is always lurking beneath the surface, the shameful secret escaping when Buck parted his lips, eyes wide as he scrambled up the bed and away from Connor’s confused, searching eyes-

“Do you want to talk to me? About him?”

Connor’s leaning against the strip of wall next to the stairs now, shoes on, phone in hand. But he’s looking at Buck with a softness he doesn’t deserve, giving him more grace than an old fuckbuddy should warrant. For a moment, Buck’s transported back to a cluttered bedroom in a crowded house, the assertion that they don’t have a thing , they’re just helping each other through a dry spell at odds with the way Connor wouldn’t go back to his room, after. He would stay, and they would talk, their truths easier to lay bare in the dark.

But it’s mid-afternoon, years later, and the sun is streaming through the wall of windows that Buck loves and hates depending on the day. Today, the sun feels like a spotlight on his weaknesses.

He can’t say yes to this.

He’s said yes to so many things. Meeting with Connor to begin with, carefully masking the jealousy that consumed him when confronted with proof of what he could have if he was enough for anyone. Giving them the one thing they can’t have, a baby, since watching from the sidelines is better than having no one at all.

He said yes to having Connor back in his bed, his friend stumbling through assurances that he didn’t want to bring it up until Buck had made his decision, that he would’ve asked even if Buck said no to being a donor, that Kameron was totally aware and on board. She had dropped Connor off this morning, two days after they made arrangements for Buck’s soonest day off, and she’d kissed her husband and winked at them both on her way out the door like it was some sort of X-rated play date.

God, what’s Connor going to tell her when she asks for all of the dirty details? She’s obviously into the whole idea. At least they’ll get a laugh out of how much of a bullet they’re dodging - imagine if they went through with using someone this fucked up to make their kid? They can move on and pick someone who hasn’t blown up his whole life, who knows how to have a relationship, who doesn’t just attach himself to any family that will take him in just to get a taste of what it could feel like. No one wants that level of failure mixed into their kids’ DNA.

Talk about it? About Eddie? Buck takes a minute to imagine pulling Connor back to the bed, sitting across from each other pretzel style, rambling about his crush like an infatuated schoolgirl. But Connor already has enough damning evidence - Buck doesn’t need to offer up even more proof that he’s going nowhere. That he’s playing house to trick himself into believing that he’s doing something worthwhile with this life.

“No.” His voice is hoarse. Buck clears his throat and forces himself to meet Connor’s eyes. “No, I’m good. Nothing to talk about. Just an embarrassing mistake.”

Connor stares back, his gaze unwavering for long enough that Buck wonders if he can see the way the word “mistake” is ping-ponging around his brain. That it defines Buck to his core. If that’s why Connor looks so disappointed and sad.

They’re both quiet for another beat before Connor’s phone vibrates and he pushes off the wall.

“Are you sure? Kameron’s here, she was just hanging out at a coffee shop a few blocks away, but I can stay. We can stay. Order some takeout, watch a movie, whatever.”

Buck shakes his head. “Nah, man. I think I just need to hide out for the rest of the day until I get my pride back, y’know?” He forces out a laugh. “Totally get if you guys want to look for someone new, too…”

“What? No,” Connor’s voice is firm, a fire in his eyes. Maybe if that had come out earlier, when all Buck wanted was someone holding him down instead of the other way around. Maybe if he hadn’t started to imagine someone else in his bed, someone stronger than him. Maybe things would’ve gone differently. Maybe he wouldn’t have-

There’s a hand on his shoulder, a thumb on his collarbone. He flinches.

Connor’s hand slides away, awkwardly settling on Buck’s bicep instead. He steps back as two short bursts from a car horn filter in from the parking lot.

“That’s her. If you’re sure, I’ll get out of your hair. But Buck,” he smiles, voice turning soft like secrets in the dark, “like I said, this is separate. Nothing to do with the baby. We’re so, so excited to do this with you, man.”

Buck blinks, and then Connor’s walking down the stairs. Buck doesn’t move, just listens to the door open and shut. He throws himself back onto the bed, knowing he needs to change the sheets but having zero of the energy needed. He just stares up at his ceiling and breathes.

He’s pulled back to Earth by the chime of a new text message. Buck blindly gropes at his nightstand until he finds his phone, pulling it to his face.

One text from Connor, thirty seconds ago: like I said, no judgment here dude. glad to reconnect today 😏 send me your schedule when you have it - let’s meet up to talk logistics 👶

One text from Eddie, one hour ago: forgot to send this last night - what are we gonna do with him?

There’s a picture, Eddie in a black tank top, rolling his eyes at the camera with his arm outstretched, putting Chris’s XBox on the top shelf of a kitchen cabinet. The one with all of the novelty mugs. The “Emergency Dad Jokes” mug that Buck helped Chris pick out is barely visible behind Eddie’s bicep.

Buck stares a little too long.

Buck roles over, burying his face in his pillow.

Buck screams.

#911fic #evan buckley #connor 911 #Eddie Diaz #buck/connor (sort of)#buddie #be gentle it has been A While #911 spoilers #911 6x04

53 notes · View notes

smzeszikorova · 10 months

Text

Word Search

Thanks to @the-stray-storyteller for the tag!

So from what I remember, the rules of this game are: Give WIP snippets containing the words you're given, and if you can't find one, list a fun fact instead. (I didn't do that cuz I'm a rebel >:3 My version's that for every word I don't have, I post a snippet that I feel relates conceptually to the word I was given. Feel free to do either.)

Open tag, as always, and also tagging @clairelsonao3, @fountainfrog-cake171, and @mjparkerwriting. Eager to get to know some of my newer mutuals, but absolutely no pressure.

Your words are: Friend, Broken, Exploit, and Error.

My own words and answers are beneath the cut. All quotes are from Pemoki & Kenacia (Book 1).

My Words : Punch, Fell, Snore, Black

Black:

She planted her boots into the black earth—still soft from the previous night’s rain—and spent another fruitless minute ramming her upper body into the carriage house door, which had recently swollen to nearly double its thickness and wouldn’t close in spite of her best efforts. Years of wear had reduced the carriage inside to a pile of snapped, protruding beams; they greeted her now through the door’s gap with the smell of rotting wood and the disconsolate air of a neglected dog greeting its owner.

Fell:

“Oh, all right, then. What about a house?” said Catherine. She sat up and scooted closer to her husband. “A big, beautiful, seaside house for the two of us, somewhere down south? You’d like that, wouldn’t you, leksijet?” Lyn gave Catherine a smile and pulled her into a gentle embrace. “I think if you were with me, I could be happy anywhere.” “You’re no fun!” She swatted at him, narrowly missing his face, and fell backward onto the mattress while Lyn laughed soundlessly.

Unfortunately, I have neither of the others. So . . .

Punch:

I'm kind of tied between a couple gut-punch lines I really like right now, but currently, this one's my favorite.

Besides, he thought, there was a subtler kind of grandeur in the coastal cliffs of Yebroch. They resembled Qhiron’s—craggy and grey, with waves as high as cathedrals crashing rhythmically against them. Adriel hadn’t appreciated them nearly enough when he’d lived with his family a stone’s throw from the sea, but he had drawn them a few times out of boredom, and aside from the odd news article discussing Hugh Oliver’s works and legacy, these drawings and the sketchbook that contained them were all Adriel had left of Kuryeiz. They took on a special significance to him now.

Snore:

I considered briefly putting in a passage from chapter six where Adriel spends the whole day being bored out of his mind, but then it occurred to me that I actually did have a sleep-related bit in a scrapped version of Chapter One back when I thought I was good enough to make a Dream Opening™ interesting and novel. So I'm putting that here. (TW for brief gore description.)

During her waking hours, grim statistical reports and photographs of the massacred soldiers in Kenacia consumed Catherine’s thoughts, and at night, these images had recently begun to haunt her dreams as well. She frequently found herself awake hours before sunrise, her mind filled with echoes of cannon fire and visions of Pemokese soldiers lying face up with their intestines strung around their necks and their eyes bulging from the sockets. One black morning, she reflected on the events of the previous night, during which she had barely slept at all. Pervading her otherwise pleasantly nonsensical dream had been the distorted, butchered face of a man she’d recently seen on the front page of the Suvlin Chronicle.

#p&k #tag game #word search #find the word tag #find the word game #tw gore #my writing #wip

6 notes · View notes

moonlybxbe · 1 year

Text

Jade Vine in frozen lake

An almost extinct greenish blue flower that blooms in the rainforests of Phillipines

Part 1

The white dress dragged along the soft trail of pink rose petals. The small jewels on her magnificent glowed an iridescent sparkle, reflecting onto her beautiful brown eyes that could only gaze at a single person. Her long black hair secured by a silky white ribbon, strands fanning her face, the snow white embroidered veil tracing her path on the petals as if an angel passed by. The guests smiled and looked at the bride in awe as she passed by them, walking towards the groom dressed in a crisp black suit. Her eyes didn't see anyone but him, the man she loved dearly, a man she could give up everything for. The man who pledged to love her her whole life, to hold her hand in the ocean of troubles and to make her the happiest woman in the whole world.

“I do”, his voice like honey to her ears, he looked at her, gripping her hand softly yet his hold promising to never go back on his words. “I do”, she said as the crowd’s cheering immersed in the soft music, the humble priest asking them to kiss. She giggled as he bent down to her level, her face blushing a cute shade of red. Her hands still in her husband’s soft hold, their lips inches away as the girl herself let out a loud laugh “oh no I am sorry, so sorry!!”, covering her already bright red face. The crowd’s laughter echoed through the hall, as the now impatient man held her in a firm grip and laid a soft lingering kiss on her moist lips.

She sat with the love of her life, now her husband, among the guests on the round white and pink clad silk table, “I can’t believe our young CEO got married today huh?” said one of Oya’s friends at the table. “Now you will get busier, handling one of the top companies and giving your husband some love”, another friend joked as the groom laughed and the bride blushed, “I can handle it”. She did not believe she finally got married to him, married to the guy she loved with all her heart. Looking at the diamond ring that adorned her left hand, matching the one on his hand, rang the final bell of realization, taking her on a trip to cloud nine.

It had been a year since that day, but Oya still remembered the day cloud nine looked like paradise to her, it still did. She lived with her husband in their apartment, which they had moved in not so long ago because Kai didn’t want to live in the high paying penthouse that Oya used to live in. “Bye honey, I am going out for work”, Kai said, bringing her out of her thoughts as she jumped out from the cushion facing the window and smiled saying, “see you later, I will cook delicious food for you”. Oya wasn’t a CEO anymore, her company had fallen into the ditches 4 months ago but she picked herself up being the strong woman she was. Everyone would ask her as to why she stopped her business so abruptly and she would just give a small sad smile and say “I am just burnt out”.

She got herself busy with housework and cooking. She went out for grocery shopping and when she came back it was almost time for Kai to come back home. Entering through the door, she felt her phone buzz and saw it was a call from a close friend whom she used to work with when her business was still flourishing, “Heyy!! How are you?”, she said. “I am fine just so busy with these meetings every minute UGH!” her friend exclaimed as she let out yet another sad laugh, she herself wanted to work again but circumstances didn’t let her. They continued talking as the front door clicked open to a very tired Kai, Oya was still busy with her talk to see the man. “Why don’t you talk to the secretary of Luminus Corp. I am sure they will be interested to partner with you, they are a small company but soon to be big”, she said to her friend on call. “Ahh”, her friend said “I think you are right, it would be beneficial, why did I never think of that! Oya you are a lifesaver! If you still worked we could get together so often”.

That was when Oya saw her husband and said “Okay but I have to leave now, Kai’s home, byee” with which she cut her call. “Who were you talking to?” he asked plopping down on the couch “Linda, she just called to check in”, she answered, heading into the kitchen to get the tired man a glass of water “What was that about? The Luminus Corp.?” he asked, taking the glass of water from her “Yeah she was having some trouble with her new project so I thought of helping her”, she sighed feeling the burst of anger about to burst. She knew he didn't like her talking all business-ey. “HOW MANY TIMES HAVE I TOLD YOU NOT TO TALK BUSINESS WITH YOUR FRIENDS?!” she flinched and his eyes widened as he cleared his throat and said “You know I don’t like that Oya” “Yeah but how could I not help a friend? Why are you so angry?!” she said getting agitated with his behavior. “But I like this Oya more, not the CEO Oya”, he said, coming closer to her, holding her waist as she felt anger boil within her. “I AM SORRY OKAY!” she yelled, releasing herself and storming into the bedroom, slamming the door shut. “DON’T YELL AT ME OYA!!”Kai yelled at the closed door getting no response in return.

8 notes · View notes

nighttimescribbles · 2 years

Note

“Just a boy and his dog…”

Sorry for the silence, Bub. still getting my bearings but i wanted to show you this as quick as I could. My take on Harry's origin story. In a much, much earlier and unrelated draft, beagles also appeared in relation to Zeke. I think it's fate. not proofed. sorry for any spag errors/typos/funnies.

“Clare, no.”

“Clare, yes.”

Before he could utter another word in protest, Zeke found himself hauled into the spacious foyer of the Smiths’ home. Their heavy front door slammed shut behind him.

“Now,” his old friend and colleague, Clare Smith, dusted her hands and beamed at him in what could only be described as malicious glee. Behind her, her husband, Erwin Smith, whistled to himself as he contemplated the ceiling, hands shoved in his pockets.

“We’re popping out for a fair at Shrekky’s school -”

Said Shrekky made her presence known by unleashing a nuclear squeal as she battered through the second floor of the house, half-shod and followed by the joyous barks and thumping steps of the family’s three spaniels. Neither of her parents batted an eye.

“- it’ll take all afternoon, but I expect we’ll be back by evening. You shouldn’t have too much trouble. They’re only a couple of days old, and mum’s so lovely. Takes such good care of them and barely leaves their side -”

Zeke raised his eyes to the din echoing through the ceiling. Shrekky had, by now, made her way in and out of her room, slamming doors and thundering down the steps hollering about being ready to go. Erwin, spotting an opportunity, murmured something about seeing to his daughter and bowed out. Zeke glared daggers into the back of his blond head.

“Clare, I’ve never been a zookeeper,” Zeke whined in last-ditch protest.

His friend rolled her eyes and dragged him by the arm into the recesses of the house. “I’m not running a zoo. Just asking you to mum-and-pup-sit a little, is all. You owe me a favour and I’m calling it in now, Jaeger. Look.”

He looked. One corner of the Smiths’ expansive kitchen was overrun by an enormous dog pen.

“Aren’t they darling?” Clare cooed from the threshold, her grip on poor Zeke’s arm unrelenting. At the sound of her voice, the female beagle lying inside the pen raised her head, snuffled quietly, and stared at the newcomers with the largest, most soulful eyes. All around her, squeaking and burrowing into her belly, were her jellybean-shaped pups, snouts still pearly pink and eyes closed but already sporting their tell-tale black-tan-and–white beagle coats.

Clare crouched beside them and put her hand out for the mum. The dog nuzzled into her palm as Zeke watched impassively on.

“You and Erwin are raising beagles now, too?” He sounded less than impressed, though unsurprised. There was always something interesting going on at the Smith home, and most of the time, it had to do with turning the ancient, respectable estate into a right proper menagerie.

“Don’t be silly,” Clare scoffed. “We’ve our hands full seeing to Jasper, Pippa, Tim, and their ringleader, Shrekky. Erwin and I are only temporarily housing these cuties until they can go to better homes.”

“These fleabags having a hard time finding takers, eh?”

In spite of himself (and the disapproving look Clare sent his way), Zeke, too, reached for the momma beagle. She gave his proffered fist a thorough sniff, deemed it acceptable, and blessed it with several welcoming licks. Her pups squirmed. A particularly feisty one pushed himself up off his mum’s belly, threw his little head back, and hollered at the bringer of the new smell.

Zeke clicked his tongue (the most amusement he deigned show) and gave the pup a gentle scratch on the forehead. The little one yodelled some more, hurling himself to and fro, before finally settling back down with a contemptuous snuffle.

Clare snorted. “This one’s taken after you already.”

“Very funny.”

She patted him on the shoulder. “Don’t be looking so morose, Zekey. Think of it as your good deed of the year. Lord knows you’re terribly short of your quota.”

“You’re not being very persuasive.”

“Look after them for an afternoon and I’ll never ask another favour of you ever again.”

Zeke’s look of disbelief said it all.

Clare shoved him. “Oh, come on,” she wheedled. “Have a spot of humanity.” Stroking the mother beagle who still looked hopefully up at them, “Poppy was just rescued from the lab along with several hundred other poor souls. She was fit to burst with all her pups but wouldn’t have them. And can you blame her? Ferried from shelter to shelter, all of them unfit for this poor momma -”

“Wait a minute.” Zeke narrowed his eyes at her. It wasn’t so long ago - only earlier that week, in fact - that the tenacious Clare Smith landed once again in the papers for having successfully caused the release of loads upon loads of dogs from an animal testing facility. Erwin had preened non-stop about his wife over it, and Clare herself had made some righteous, teary-eyed vow on national T.V. about giving those poor animals a better future.

“You did not.”

“Did not what?”

Feigned innocence did not become Clare.

“Poppy is one of those lab beagles.”

Clare sniffed. “She doesn’t live in a lab anymore.”

“You named her Poppy!”

“Every dog has the right to a name!”

“And you let her give birth in your house!”

“I couldn’t very well throw her out in the cold, could I?”

Zeke groaned, face in his hands. “And now I’m stuck baby-sitting them.”

“That’s the spirit! The sooner you come to terms with it, the better!”

From the front of the house echoed Shrekky’s and her dad’s excited conversation. A minute later, Clare’s little bundle of joy bellowed for her momma to hurry up. Clare rose.

“That’s me. Gotta go. Don’t want to be late for the most important school fair of the season!”

Zeke shot her a pleading, chagrined look. He appeared especially pitiful squatting on his heels beside Poppy’s pen (which Shrekky had lined with the brightest, most garish floral print known to man and ogre) in his cashmere sweater and perfectly tailored coat.

Clare patted his shoulder. “Good deed of the year, Zekey. We’ll be back before seven.”

—

The Smiths were not, in fact, back before seven. Shrekky’s school fair was a huge hit, and her prominent parents an even bigger success. Quite forgetting Zeke and his litter of ‘fleabags’ back home, the excited young family went out for supper, and then ice cream afterwards, before finding their way back around eleven-ish.

The Smith home blazed with light. Shrekky was fast asleep in her daddy’s arms. Clare unlocked the front door and was immediately met with the wagging tails of Pippa, Jasper, and Tim.

“Where’s Zeke, then?” Clare whispered to her babies, who whined and danced in and out of her legs and led her inside.

Couch cushions and an old afghan were strewn all over the living room carpet, the ruins of a puppy-sized plush fort. The trail led directly to the kitchen, the floor of which was peppered with milky dust. Pippa’s, Jasper’s, and Tim’s bowls were at their usual places by the kitchen island, licked clean (if not also overturned). The wrappings their dinner came in were neatly scraped and hurriedly shoved to one side of the kitchen counter, where they were left forgotten beside an open can of formula Clare had never seen before. She gave it a sniff, shut the lid properly, and peered at the label.

Premium goat’s milk. Organic. Enriched for lactating dogs.

Poppy’s pen was ajar. Zeke’s feet stuck out of one end of it. The rest of him was sprawled inside, dead asleep on his back on the cold kitchen tile. Poppy had curled up on his coat and was burrowed into his side, snoring. Her pups had likewise made themselves comfortable around their new bedmate. One had crept into the wrist of Zeke’s cashmere sweater, while a pair of squeaking girls buried their little faces into his beard. Their brother - the feisty, noisy one - had crawled down the neck of Zeke’s shirt and had fallen asleep with his round little bum tucked under Zeke’s chin and his tail all over Zeke’s mouth. The rest of the litter flopped like molten clocks all over his face and head.

Erwin sidled up to his wife and peered over her shoulder at their friend. “Should we wake him?”

Clare didn’t even take a moment to consider. “Nah. Better to let them grow on him.”

—

Over the next few weeks, Zeke made more frequent appearances at the Smith’s under the pretext of embracing his ‘uncle duties’. Whether he was more an uncle to Shrekky or to Poppy and her babies, remained unclear.

One morning, eight weeks to the day he was roped into Poppy’s world, Zeke felt an overwhelming hankering to take his usual morning jog past the Smith house for a change. And since he was already there, he figured, good old Uncle Zeke might as well drop in and enliven their day.

Except he found the Smiths’ home already chaotic.

It wasn’t eight o’clock in the morning yet, but the driveway was already backed up with cars and the lawn crawling with people - mostly families with beaming, bouncing children in tow. Zeke spotted Shrekky in the thick of it, making playmates and showing off the puppies - beagle puppies - in her arms. Nearby, her parents chatted with a handful of people wearing shirts emblazoned with a rescue shelter’s logo.

Zeke wove through the crowd and caught Clare by the upper arm.

“What’s going on?”

She was tremendously pleased to see him, if her wide, toothy grin was any indication. Gesturing to the shelter people, “It’s adoption day! Poppy and her babies are going to their forever homes today!”

A couple with a gaggle of noisy children walked past with their own beagle puppy. Zeke acutely felt the strange sinking feeling in his stomach.

“All of them?”

He didn’t catch Clare throwing a wink Erwin’s way. “Quite,” she said, linking her arm in his and steering him towards the house. “Huge turnout we have today. I’m pretty sure they’ll all be snapped up and gone soon. Take the chance to say good-bye. You’re their favourite uncle.” She tried not to snigger as she said that.

Zeke rolled his eyes but obediently followed her inside through the living room and the by-now familiar kitchen. The pen he had grown so used to seeing was dismantled now. Poppy and her babies had no use for it anymore. All that remained now was the gaudy floral blanket, making a last stand at hosting Poppy and her last remaining pup.

“Poor girl’s gone shy at all the commotion,” Clare explained.

Zeke sank onto the tile. Poppy’s tail wagged and her little face brightened at the sight of him. The roly-poly pup raising a ruckus beside her tumbled incessantly, barking for Zeke’s attention and pawing at his knee. Without a second thought, Zeke scooped the pup up and plonked him onto his lap, where he promptly began to bat and chew at the ends of Zeke’s hoodie strings.

“Who’s taking Poppy?” he suddenly asked. The dog had made herself comfortable with her head on his palm and was growing drowsy-eyed with contentment as she received a good chin rubbing.

“A man with a lovely farm,” Clare replied, watching the proceedings from the door. Zeke was completely engrossed, back to her and bent head almost level with Poppy’s and her baby’s. “She’ll have plenty of space to run and be a dog.”

“She’ll have plenty of room at your country place, too.”

Clare bit back a smile at that. “There’s a thought. We’ve all become fond of her.”

As Poppy snoozed on Zeke’s lap, her little pup clawed up Zeke’s sweatshirt, found himself hanging in mid-air by his sharp little claws, and let out a horrified howl. His mother’s ears twitched, but otherwise, she did not move. It was Zeke who laughed, untangled the tiny adventurer, and brought him up to face level.

“And this pint-sized gremlin?” he asked. “Who’s to be saddled with him?”

“Probably another family with a bunch of wailing kids who can spend all day running hi8m silly” Clare nonchalantly replied.

Zeke’s mouth thinned and his brows came together. “You mean he isn’t spoken for?”

“Nah.”

“No one wanted him enough to put in a reservation?” Zeke demanded, twisting around and sounding personally offended for the puppy, who was busying himself going to town leaving teeny tiny teeth puncture marks on the front of Zeke’s sweatshirt.

Clare shrugged.

“Is everybody in the world blind?” Zeke raved. In his indignation, he’d risen to his knees, puppy still possessively clutched to his chest. “How could anybody look at this face-” he gesticulated at the pup like he was showing off a national treasure, “and these little feetsies and not want him?”

The corners of Clare’s mouth twitched wildly. “Feetsies?”

Zeke didn’t hear or notice. He was too busy ranting about how people never saw the good that was right under their noses.

“Zeke, who are you to talk? You always called them ‘little gremlins’.”

“Because they are!” He looked down at the pup in his arms. It paused mid-gnaw, stared back at him, let out the biggest yawn its tiny face could muster, and hurled itself against his chest.

“He’s taken a real shine to Uncle Zeke,” Clare laughed. When there was no response forthcoming, she turned away to leave. “I need to get back to everybody up front. Take your time with them.”

‘Uncle Zeke’ did not remain long in the kitchen. Clare had not been gone fifteen minutes than her friend wandered out the front door, sweatshirt on backwards and Poppy in his arms. He strode right up to Clare and Erwin and deposited Poppy into Clare’s arms.

“Keep her,” he said, all stony-faced seriousness. Tilting his chin towards his chest, “And I’ll keep this pint-sized gremlin for myself.”

Stuffed into the fleece of the ample hoodie of his sweatshirt, Poppy’s last boy lolled contentedly on his back, blinking into the morning light and reaching with his soft pink paws. Zeke grinned at him and couldn’t resist reaching in to tickle the pup’s fat belly.

“We’re off to go shopping,” he announced to his friends, “Harry and I.”

Erwin’s brows went up. Clare crossed her arms and put on the smug-est grin in her arsenal. “Harry?”

Zeke made a face at her. “The gremlin. He wants to be called Harry. Told me himself.”

Clare’s satisfaction, if any, only expanded. “Of course,” she cooed. “Now where are you and Harry off to in such a rush?”

Zeke sniffed importantly. “To the shops, of course. We’re going to clean out the fanciest, best damn pet store in town to stick it to them.”

Erwin looked utterly bewildered. “Stick it to who?”

His wife gently patted his chest. “To everyone who didn’t deign fight over little Harry, of course. Right, Zeke?”

Terror-in-the-criminal-court Prosecutor Zeke Jaeger nodded curtly. “A big box of toys for Harry and presents for Poppy, too, to celebrate her staying.” Leaning forward, he petted her head. “Just you wait for Uncle Zeke to be back!”

Clare and Erwin watched him melt into the crowd with a pep to his step, whistling to himself and both hands cradled underneath his backwards hoodie.

“He forgot to sign the adoption papers,” Erwin remarked.

Clare laughed. “I’ll run them to his office on Monday morning.” For now, she was more than satisfied to watch them go on their merry way, a big old boy and his little dog.

#kabalians #the kabal multiverse of madness #fillers #harry's origin story

12 notes · View notes

celestialship · 2 years

Text

Americans at Rest

Meg wanders into the town of Valentine in an attempt to find her old gang, when a commotion stirs.

word count: 2,467

content warning: none

Meg had never thought there would come a day where she turned to the police for help, but she had finally reached a point of desperation. It had been weeks…no, maybe even months, after the massacre at Blackwater. Certainly long enough that Meg felt she had lost track of time, having been all on her own since. She hadn’t been away from the gang for more than a few days in all the years she had known Dutch Van der Linde. She felt as though she could hear the gang leader’s voice echoing in her head as she led her horse through the muddy streets of the town of Valentine: “Faith, Meg, faith. Do you really think you can put that in the hands of men who have made us their enemies?”

The truth was, Meg could not place her faith in anybody right now. How could she have faith that the gang could find her, when she didn’t even know where they were? When the heist in Blackwater took a turn for the worst, it felt like every man for themselves. She could still feel that adrenaline rush whenever she thought back to the massacre that pulled everyone apart. Hell, was the gang even still together? Did the rest of them join back up, and Meg was the only straggler? Did they think she was a traitor?

The thought of that made Meg’s heart drop. “Traitor” felt like such a dirty word among the Van der Linde gang, and it was. Everything was built on faith, loyalty, trust, as that was all they had. When the cops came gunning for them, when the Pinkertons began shooting, the only thing that could keep the group together was the faith that Dutch had a plan and that they would all be there for each other. Unfortunately, now Meg had no gang to fall back on. She only had herself.

Having practically grown up with the gang, running with them since she was barely an adult, Meg hated being on her own. Sure, she had survived up to this point from tips she learned from other gang members like Charles and Hosea, but Meg could not stand being by herself. It made sleep that much harder, as she felt as though any morning she could awake to an enemy gun propped against her head, or taken away from her camp in her sleep. That was what made her turn against Dutch’s lessons, and turn to the police for help; or at least for a point in the right direction.

Tying her horse to the post outside the old wooden Sheriff's office, Meg made her way up the steps, the rifle strapped around her body thudding against her back with each step of her foot. Her gloved hand reached to the doorknob and swung it open, her boots thudding as she made her way in.

A mustached man sat at a nearby desk, his feet propped up and his body reclined in the chair. “How can I help you, miss?” he asked in a half-interested tone.

Despite all her worries crawling around in the back of her mind, Meg maintained a firm tone and an expression as to not allude to her emotions. “I’m looking for someone.”

The man’s eyebrows raised, expecting Meg to go on, but she was busy racking her head for how to approach this. The gang being made up of wanted men and women, how could she just ask their whereabouts? Would it endanger them to do so?

“Someone…like who? Your husband?” the man pressed, snapping Meg out of her thoughts.

“No, no,” said Meg, shaking her head. “I uh, mean…” She pressed her lips together nervously, before steeling herself again. “The Van Der linde Gang.”

His eyebrows raised. “The..Van-Der-Lin Gang? That doesn’t sound like ‘someone’, that sounds like a group.”

“I need someone specific from the group, I mean,” Meg continued. “They’re outlaws, and one of them stole from me. I want to know if they’ve been seen around here, so I can confront them.”

“You sure, young lady?” The man asked, looking more concerned. “If they’re an outlaw group, you’re just one person. How could you possibly apprehend them?”

“I’ll figure it out,” Meg said curtly. “I just need to know if they’ve been seen in the area.”

He gave an amused chuckle. “Miss, please, leave the outlaw hunting to us. If you went after them and got hurt, that’d be on our hands. We don’t need any young ladies getting hurt, okay?”

“I can handle myself.”

“Shooting a coyote away from your Pa’s ranch is much different from shooting a man, or multiple men by the sounds of it. If there’s a dangerous group of outlaws, leave that to us to handle, alright? We have it under control.”

Meg stormed forward and slammed her hand onto the desk. She felt a quick rush of satisfaction seeing the surprise on the man’s face. “You know nothing about me,” she scowled. “You don’t know what or who I’ve shot, mister. If I say I can handle it, I can handle it.”

Words failed the man at the desk, and his mustache quivered a bit as he tried to form any sort of response.

“Tell me if you’ve seen–”

Suddenly, the sound of glass shattering hit Meg’s ears, and she whipped her head around, hearing it came from outside. Shouting and commotion followed it, and she glanced out the window to see a crowd forming near the saloon. She looked back down to the man. “Ain’t that your sort of problem to deal with, mister?”

He glanced back out the window, then turned and shrugged. “The saloon gets pretty lively sometimes, it’ll sort itself out.”

Meg glared at him. “You really are useless.” Spitting at the foot of his desk, Meg turned around and stormed out of the building, more curious about the commotion now than trying to get answers out of a cop that clearly didn’t care.

Rain was starting to pick up, making the muddy paths even more slippery. Meg walked cautiously as she made her way down the steps and onto the road, approaching the crowd from behind. She could hear blows being landed, the sounds of mutual punching from two people who must have been caught up in a brawl. She attempted to shoulder her way through to get a better view.

“Go on, Tommy!”

Finding herself in the middle of the crowd and not wanting to push herself too far forward in case the fight got out of hand, Meg tried to peek between the townspeople to get an idea of who was wrestling in the mud. It looked to be a large, hefty man, and a slightly shorter man with a strong build. Immediately judging from the bodies of the fighters, it could’ve been anyone’s game.

“Come on then, big boy!” Called the smaller of the two, his voice strained with effort. It sounded a little familiar - but with the way he shouted, it was not as obvious to Meg who it was.

That taunt earned him a solid hit to the side of the head, causing him to fall to the ground. This earned some “oooh”s from the crowd as people dared to push a little closer to the match, obscuring Meg’s view once more. Frustrated, Meg continued to try to lean to watch the fight.

She could see through a couple of onlookers that the bigger man now had his opponent in a headlock. A few men standing from the saloon entrance were calling out in support of the trapped man. “You okay there, Arthur?” one asked concernedly.

“Yeah, I got this son of a bitch,” called the trapped man back as he began to thrash his body against his opponent.

Wait – Arthur?

A different Arthur, it couldn’t be, Meg told herself, trying to suppress that feeling of hope that shot into her chest. There had been so many times during her solo journey that she thought she had seen gang members - a native man making his way through the woods, Meg had almost run up to and hugged thinking it was Charles Smith. A pretty blonde woman at the bar talking up some drunken men, Meg had once thought was Karen Jones. Even once, the silhouette of a masked man shooting one of the boys from the O’Driscoll gang looked a bit like Dutch Van der Linde to her. It seemed the lonelier she got, the more her mind wanted her to see the people she had been separated from.

But seeing Arthur would be a different kind of cruel trick for her mind to play on her. He was the first of the gang she had met, the one she was closest to. He knew her better than any of the gang, and she knew him better than anyone else. Growing up, the two had done most everything together, and soon they could fight alongside one another in almost perfect synchrony. She could not believe after all of her searching that she would randomly happen upon him in a town in seemingly the middle of nowhere.

Gasps from the crowd took Meg out of her head and she strained to see that the larger man was now in the mud, the fighter he had once had trapped now punching his face repeatedly, beating him into the mud with vicious blow after blow. Meg hardly considered herself to be soft, but even this was beginning to make her wince. She had to fight back the urge to shout that the larger man had had enough, that he needed to be let go.

“STOP!” Someone shouted, and a scrawny man ran up to the two, looking at the man who had been delivering the beating. “Stop, please, I beg you,” he pleaded, as the man held his punch midair and looked at the newcomer. “Come sir, you won the fight already, surely that’s enough?”

He threw the bigger man back into the mud, and the victim now had a bloodied face, a sigh of relief escaping him as he was unhanded. “What business is it of yours?” demanded the winner, his tone fraught with anger.

“No business,” said the scrawny man quickly, his hands held up in a defensive manner. By the looks of his hat and overalls, Meg figured he might be a farmer or ranch hand. “No business sir, but please, I beg you–”

The winner of the fight pushed the scrawny man away, although lightly so as to not shove him into the mud with the man he had just beaten. With that, he stumbled past the crowd, covered in mud and dirt, looking more defeated than a man who just won a fight should’ve. Meanwhile, the scrawny man began trying to help out the bigger man who lost, attempting to encourage him to stand up.

“What just happened–?” Meg wondered aloud.

“You just get here?” a voice asked, and Meg turned to see a pale lady in a yellow dress standing nearby who must’ve heard Meg’s inquiry. She was holding her dress up a bit so as to prevent mud from caking the bottom. Her hands occupied, the lady lifted her chin in the direction of the beaten man. “That there’s Tommy. He’s a bit of a hothead and well, not all that bright. The man can sure fight though.” She frowned as she said this. “I don’t think he’s ever lost a brawl, no ma’am, least not ‘til today. Ain’t nobody been brave enough to take ‘im on.”

“Well, who…who was that fighting him?” Meg asked a bit nervously, once again fearful of getting her hopes up.

“No idea,” she shrugged. “Seen him come into town already once or twice though, with some funny old man and a couple of young ladies. Whoever he is, he must be a troublemaker.”

“Must be,” Meg echoed, as the lady was then guided away from the commotion by what looked to be a male relative, saying something along the lines of “no place for a proper lady to be.”

The crowd was beginning to disperse as the farming man tried to help take Tommy to the doctor’s, however it looked difficult for him to do as Tommy seemed to be double the man’s weight. With the fight over and everyone beginning to return to their work, Meg began to look around desperately to see if the other fighter was still nearby.

From where he had stumbled to, a group of men was beginning to disperse, heading their different directions. Meg was about a good twenty or thirty feet from them, but as the men walked away from one another, she could see one of them staying behind, caked in mud and cleaning his face with water from a barrel between two of the buildings.

Taking a breath in, Meg began to walk over to him, having a gut feeling that this time, it wasn’t her brain playing tricks on her: the clues were all adding up. Hands on her belt, confidence in her step, Meg crossed the road and came to a halt at the start of the alley that the man stood in as he continued washing his face.

“Arthur Morgan,” she said, hoping to God that she was right in the name that she called.

The man turned, answering to the name, and Meg’s heart soared in her chest, relief washing over her as she finally put a face to the brawler, a face she would know anywhere in an instant. It was him; it was her Arthur.

Disbelief came over him, and he seemed to squint and blink a few times as if doubting what he saw. But as his eyes confirmed it, his expression turned to relief and a rare smile formed on his face. “Meg,” he said softly, happily, immediately walking towards her, but then coming to a halt, glancing down at his muddied clothes. “I–uh, I’m a bit–”

“I don’t care,” said Meg, feeling tears well up in her eyes as she embraced him in a hug. Not many people managed to get a hug from Arthur Morgan, but they were the most comforting hugs Meg had ever felt. His big arms wrapping around her and pulling her in made Meg feel safer than ever, like as long as she felt his embrace she could never be harmed.

She didn’t want to let go. Meg was now covered in mud, but she didn’t care, she wouldn’t even care if the whole of Valentine came crumbling down. She was where she was meant to be, and that lonely feeling she had been stuck with for what felt like forever, disappeared in an instant, never to weigh on her again.

#i've been wanting to write something like this for a while lol #i've had this as an idea for when meg would come into the story #figured the separation trope would slap #my writing #f/o x s/i #f/o x self insert #f/o #f/o community #self insert #self insert community #self ship #oc x canon #🌵#meg.txt

10 notes · View notes