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lady-rose-moon · 1 year

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The Selection || Final Chapter ||

A/N: woooooooooow this too forever to do and after so many edits and rearranging, I think I got it perfect! Welcome to the final chapter of The Selection. Please leave a comment or reblog, I don't bite 🥰❤️

Chapter Ten || Masterlist

There was silence for several minutes after Loki realised why the King of the Jötnar was standing in the Bifrost Observatory. The youngest son of Odin’s whole body tensed up and the grip on your hand was almost painful as he tried his best to keep himself together.

In his place, you squared your shoulders and raised your head high before glaring at Odin. “My King,” you spoke sweetly, breaking the thick tension of the room and forcing all eyes onto you, “I had thought you were not on speaking terms with Jötunheim?”

Laufey turned his terrifying gaze to you and yet when you looked at him, all you could see was the same eyes that you had seen on Loki when he had revealed his Jötunn side to you. Those entrancing ruby red eyes, the way Laufey held himself eerily similar to Loki, all those things that you could see that made you second guess the hatred you had started to feel.

“You are the girl my son chose,” Laufey sneered, stepping closer to you and leering down, assuming immediately that you were afraid of him, “we sent our best Jötunn to win my boy’s heart and he chose you. A Midgardian.”

You smiled politely and held out your hand, “Y/N Y/L/N, very nice to meet you, father-in-law.”

Laufey reeled back and bared his teeth, sneering at the sheer audacity of the girl in front of him being unafraid. Loki’s body tensed up at the heat of the glare that Laufey was giving you and he wanted nothing more than to slay the monster where he stood but he knew that he would be committing regicide and would be thrown to the dogs despite his high status.

“Excuse me,” your father spoke up, turning all heads to the seemingly forgotten group of Midgardians gathered behind you and Loki. Your father pushed forward and raised his head to look up at Laufey, “I do not like men who sneer and ridicule my daughter. Giant or not. My Y/N has worked long and hard to get to this moment and has seen many a bad day, you will do well to congratulate her, not be scornful.”

“You dare speak to me, filthy Midgardian,” Laufey growled, the Observatory suddenly becoming very frosty and the temperature dropped a few degrees, “you are the lowest out of all the species in the Nine Realms. I would advise you to keep quiet in front of the higher species, I’m surprised you can speak to begin with.”

“That is enough,” Loki finally spoke up beside you, making your father twitch before he walked in front with you in hand. His emerald eyes shone with anger as he glared up at Laufey, his seiðr emphasising his power and control. “I will not have you speak that way to the family I am marrying into,” he finished, squeezing your hand and never looking away from the Jötunn King.

The King turned his eyes back to Loki and you saw them soften somewhat before the hardened expression returned and a growl rumbled through his chest. “You do not speak to me that way, Loptr,” Laufey snarled, “I have watched you through all of these months, I have seen you fall for this mortal and it perplexes me.”

“Maybe it is because you have never felt love before?” your father spoke from behind you two and you glared at him over your shoulder and he shrunk away, suddenly nervous.

“Stay out of things you do not understand, mortal,” Laufey barked, his teeth flashing in the setting sun and forcing your family to shudder at the sheer drop in temperature, “I loved once. Before the war. They were stolen from me. My spouse was killed, my firstborn kidnapped.”

Loki froze and his brows pulled together in confusion. Kidnapped? He thought, his mind racing back to the argument he’d had in Odin’s office, so I wasn’t abandoned?

“That is enough!” Odin’s booming voice bounced off the rounded walls of the Observatory, bringing attention back to himself and his presence in the room, “Laufey, you insisted on seeing Loki and now that you have, you will return to Jötunheim.

“You will do no such thing,” you glared up at Laufey before you locked eyes with the King of Asgard. You could tell that he wouldn’t want to hear what you had to say but you didn’t care, it needed to be said and you weren’t going to disregard what you’d just heard. “Your majesty, you told my fiance that you found him abandoned,” you began, taking a step closer to the King with an eyebrow raised, “why, then, would Laufey say that his firstborn was kidnapped?”

“You have no right to speak to me in this way, girl,” Odin sneered as he glared at you, his grip tightening on Gungnir and you saw the subtle sign in his eyes that he was tired.

Curiously, you turned to Laufey and dipped into a curtsy. The Jötunn seemed surprised but nodded his head in acknowledgement before his eyes wandered over to Loki. “I demand that my son marries in Jötunheim, where he belongs.”

“It would be too cold for my family,” you replied and Loki nodded beside you, his words escaping him as he thought over the whole story and thought of the possibility that he was actually wanted by the Jötun in front of him but it sounded impossible even in his mind.

“That is correct,” Loki replied softly, feeling smaller than he was under the fiery gaze of the King of Jötunheim. “I cannot allow that proposal as my fiancee will not be able to attend and that is the whole point of a wedding.”

Odin was fed-faced, almost looking purple with anger as he watched the exchange between his enemy and adopted son. The King of Asgard had not planned for this to happen, he had planned for Loki to jump into action and slay Laufey where he stood for even thinking of stepping onto Asgard’s soil. But he didn’t. In another way, Loki was inferior to Thor. Thor would have protected the realm.

“Very well then,” Laufey backed down quickly, his shoulders squared and confident as he turned to Odin, “I shall stay here until my son marries this mortal and then I shall return to my kingdom.”

The King of Asgard looked as if a volcano was about to erupt out of his face, it was so red and he was almost shaking with anger. “You will not stay,” the King growled, his eyes full of loathing for his enemy, “you have seen the child you abandoned and now you need to leave.”

“Abandon, did I?” Laufey sneered, stepping close to Odin and reaching out to Gungnir with his icy hand, feeling the gold react to the cold and begin to shudder, “I remember this weapon. It was the same one that blew down our temple and murdered my mate. I remember this weapon as the weapon you held to my throat as one of your Einherjar took my son. I had feared it was the weapon that took my son’s life.”

You turned to Loki and saw that tears were starting to form in his eyes. His seiðr crackled in the air as he looked between Odin and Laufey. “Sleipnir…” he whispered numbly, not reacting when Odin ordered him to be quiet, “you stole Sleipnir from me just as you stole me from Laufey. You stole my son… my son. My son!”

Odin seemed shocked at the anger in Loki’s voice and his eyes swept up to take in Laufey’s reaction and he saw pure hatred in the eyes of the monster. “Sleipnir would have grown up to be a risk to Asgard’s safety had he stayed with you.”

“Gutten min ville ha vokst opp til å ha en bedre far enn meg!(My boy would have grown up to have a better father than me!)” Loki snarled, his words becoming daggers as his anger surged forward. “But it wasn’t just Sleipnir, no, no. It was Fenrir, Hel, Jormungandr. It was all four of my children. Laufey should be proud that you just took me!”

“ENOUGH!” Odin boomed, trying to get the attention away from Loki and back onto the monster king.

“NO YOU WILL LISTEN!” Loki shouted back, stepping forward and pushing you behind him to protect you from how angry he was, “you say you’re a just King but you stole me. You say you were a noble man but you stole my children from me. I am a father. I am a mother. You put me up against my brother in a competition for your approval for the throne. You never approved of anything I did outside of me fighting my brother for the throne!”

“Loki…” you whispered, pressing a hand to his shoulder and resting your forehead on the nape of his neck, “can we leave? That’s enough.”

Loki straightened instantly, raising his hand and smoothing down his shoulder-length hair and forcing his face into a mask of indifference. “Now, much of the day has been wasted with this argument, my darling and her family need escorting to the castle. King Laufey,” Loki waited for the Jötun to look at him before he continued, “stay as long as you’d like. As long as I live here, you are welcome in Asgard.”

With that, Loki turned to your family and offered them an apologetic smile before guiding them out of the Observatory and to a carriage that was waiting for them and, much to Loki’s disgust, was being pulled by Sleipnir. Undeterred, Loki helped your family into the carriage then walked over to Sleipnir and stroked his mane.

The stallion jumped slightly at the touch before looking at his mother and whinnying with joy before nuzzling his head against his mother’s chest. Loki laughed slightly and pressed a kiss to the great horse’s muzzle before walking back to the carriage and stepping inside, sitting beside you.

As the carriage began to move, you gazed over at your fiance and released a breath you didn’t know you were holding. You took his hand and looked him in the eye as you whispered, “are you okay?”

“We’re freeing him,” Loki whispered darkly, his eyes clouded with tears, “on our wedding night. Not even Odin will stop me.”

You smiled and nodded at him, resting your head on his shoulder as you watched the scenery and city go by.

“Loki, dear,” your mother spoke up from the opposite seat, earning yours and Loki’s attention as she sat at the edge of the seat, “you look famished, my dear, did you not eat breakfast this morning? I left some eggs and bacon for you.”

Loki looked shocked that your mother was speaking to him and his cheeks coloured as he looked away bashfully, “it escaped my mind, unfortunately.”

Your mother clicked her tongue and started rummaging through her bag before pulling out a small biscuit tin. “Well, lucky that I baked some cookies before we left this morning,” she said in a joyful tone as she opened the lid and held it out to you and Loki, “eat up, that argument has drained you, I can tell. And you’ll need all the strength you can get if you’re going to go stealing back your own horse-child.”

Tentatively, Loki took two cookies from the tin and bit into one of them, his eyes widening in surprise at the flavour they held. His lips spread into a smile as he ate the first one and began nibbling on the second after whispering a faint, “thank you, mother.”

“Do you always dress in green?” Donna asked from her seat on her father’s lap, her eyes staring at loki with barely contained excitement, “I mean… doesn’t it get boring?”

Loki looked at your younger sister and his smile became warmer than before as he shook his head, “I chose this colour when I was about your age in Asgardian years. Ever since, wearing green has always been my thing just as red has always been Thor’s thing.”

“But don’t you like other colours?” Milly asked from your mother’s lap, her head rested on her breast as she stared at the Asgardian Prince curiously, “would people hate you if you wore… blue?”

The Prince chuckled at the question and shook his head as he sighed softly, “no, little one, but blue is mostly mother’s colour and therefore it would be like I am stealing her status if I wore her colours. You are going to be a Duchess, you shall learn all of this soon.”

“Why aren’t we going to be Princesses like Y/N?” Donna asked with a tilt of her head, sadness pooling in her eyes at the reveal that she wouldn’t be royalty.

Sensing the distress about to form, Loki quickly jumped in to save his skin as he replied, “because to become a Princess, you’d need to marry me and I have learned that Y/N really despises sharing me. Therefore, you and your sister and mother shall become Duchesses whilst your father becomes a Duke of Asgard. It is the highest title you will get other than royalty.”

“Oh,” Donna whispered, her eyes far away as she thought of the thing that Loki had just told her and she smiled wide as she looked over at you, “Duchess Donna Y/L/N! That sounds so cool!”

You laughed and opened your arms, urging your sister to come into your arms and you laughed when both of them jumped into your waiting embrace. Your sisters were more than excited to have their new lives but you saw the unease in your parent’s eyes.

“Would we have to live in Asgard?” your mother whispered from her place in the carriage, gathering all the attention as she fidgeted with her nails and bit her lip, “we don’t belong here, your highness.”

“Of course not!” Loki quickly replied, holding his hands out and smiling as he saw your mother shaking, “you will be allowed to visit whenever you wish, of course, but Midgard shall always be your home! Your titles here will ensure you have a house here so you can visit Y/N whenever you wish! While on Midgard, you will be back to normal, I swear it.”

The family relaxed at that and nodded with a smile. The rest of the trip to the castle was quiet, nobody wanted to break the quiet in the carriage at risk of Loki having to think of Laufey or of the wedding that would be taking place tomorrow. As the carriage entered the castle’s gates, you could sense your family beginning to become nervous.

When the carriage stopped moving, a footman opened the door and helped your mother and sisters out before helping you down and straightening your gown with a caring smile. Loki and your father disembarked last and Loki instantly caught your hand and guided you ahead of your family to the entrance to the palace.

Donna and Milly could barely contain their excitement as Loki pushed open the grand doors and they got their first real look into the palace. Your sisters screamed and before your mother could stop them, they raced ahead and too in the splendour of the entrance hall.

“This is where you stood waiting, Y/N!” Donna called out over her shoulder with a grin, looking up at the ceiling and around to the grand doors leading to the throne room and great hall, “you stood here on your first day with the other eleven!”

You smiled and walked over to your sister and took her hand, kneeling to her level and looking at the grand doors. “You don’t know this but I actually met Loki before we met in the throne room,” you whispered to her before your eyes flicked over to Loki.

Loki chuckled softly and folded his arms as he shook his head, making his curls tremble on his shoulders. “Indeed,” Loki replied with a smirk, “she bumped into me because her eyes wandered and she wasn’t paying attention to her surroundings.”

Your cheeks coloured and you smiled weakly before looking away. “I hated him when I first saw him,” you whispered with a grin, your eyes shining with the memory, “I thought exactly the same as everyone else. That he was a distant Prince who wouldn’t care which girl he chose as long as they gave him an heir. Obviously, in hindsight, I was wrong.”

You decided to give your family a tour of the castle and it took the majority of the day to show them all of the places that you considered important for them to know. You took your mother and your sisters down to the kitchens where the cooks had already put together a lovely assortment of cakes, brownies, cookies and biscuits. Donna stuffed so many cookies into the pockets of her best dress and Milly ate most of the brownies while grinning. Your mother allowed herself two cupcakes and a jammie dodger.

~~~~~

“It is unbelievable to know that our own little Y/N is becoming Loki’s wife tomorrow,” your mum sighed happily as she walked beside you and your sisters later on that day with a bag of foods from the kitchen on her arm.

You smiled and felt Loki squeeze your hand as he eyed your mother with a proud smile, “I am beyond honoured to marry your daughter, Mrs Y/L/N, she is the bravest, determined and powerful woman I have ever met.”

With a shy smile, you ducked your head and pressed a kiss to Loki’s cheek before seeing that you had now arrived at your chambers. Sighing sadly, you kissed your sister’s cheek as a goodbye and hugged your mother and watched a guard guide them to their quarters before walking into your bedroom with Loki.

“Is it tradition here too?” you asked once the door was locked, waiting until Loki looked at you with a raised brow before continuing, “is it tradition for the groom to not spend the night with their fiancee the night before the wedding?”

“Yes, that is tradition here too,” Loki replied easily with a smile before crossing the distance and taking your hands, his eyes boring into yours with unbridled passion, “but when have I ever been one for tradition?”

You sucked in a breath and Loki’s eyes fell to your lips before he leaned forward and gently pressed his lips to yours. The coldness of his lips against yours had you gasping again before you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him closer to you. The God was tall so you had to stand on your tiptoes to be able to reach but you managed as Loki’s hands cupped your thighs and helped you jump up and wrap your legs about his middle as his tongue warred with yours.

Pulling away from the kiss, Loki guided you over to your bed and allowed you to indulge yourself into marking the skin of his neck before he threw you onto the comfortable mattress and knelt on the bed between your legs. With a racing heart, you watched as your Prince unbuttoned his shirt button by button and his emerald eyes never left yours as he did, a playful smirk pulling at his lips.

You began to unlace the front of your bodice before your hands lifted above you to rest on the pillows by Loki’s magic. “Let me,” Loki whispered softly, his fingers wrapping around the laces of the bodice, gently tugging them apart and undressing you.

Once you were undressed for him, Loki eyed you hungrily and smirked as he leaned down and pressed a deep kiss to your lips. Arousal sparked in your body as Loki pressed his body to yours and you felt the hardness against your stomach as he stayed pressed against you thus. With a gasp of breath a moment later, you tugged down his pants and heard him groan in pleasure as you did, smiling as you heard your name fall from his lips as he shuddered.

“I thought you’d want to stick to at least the marital traditions, my love,” you whispered, your hands now allowed to roam the beautiful curls of his hair.

“Do you want me to?” Loki asked with a slight husk to his voice.

“Don’t you dare,” you replied before pulling him back into a kiss.

Loki sat up after a few moments and nudged your legs open wide as he kept eye-contact with you. The Prince gently slid two fingers down through your slit, circling your clit gently and watching you moan happily at the contact before sliding them inside you and curling them. You mewled with pleasure and thrust your hips up against his fingers, brokenly whispering his name as your eyes tried their hardest to focus on the Prince in front of you.

Loki’s fingers began to thrust gently inside you and he watched as you met the movement with a thrust of your hips eagerly. After a few seconds, his fingers began to pick up the pace and thrust against the spot inside you that makes you see stars, forcing moan after moan to fall from your lips alongside eager whimpers and whispers of his name. Loki, fuelled by these noises, pressed his thumb against your clit and rubbed it at the same pace that his fingers fucked you. You whined and shook beneath him as the coil in your middle began to form and bliss came rushing forth.

The Prince of Asgard leaned over you, latching onto one of your nipples and running his tongue over the hardened bud before gently tugging on it with his teeth and looking at you to gague your reaction. Overwhelmed by the stimulation, you succumbed to your first orgasm of the evening.

After allowing you a few minutes to recover, Loki nudged your legs open again and smiled lovingly at you as he pressed the head of his cock against your entrance and slowly pushed in. You moaned heartily at the pressure of his cock pressing inside you but the pleasure overwhelmed the pain of the stretch and you eagerly thrust your hips forward to get him to sink in deeper. Usually, Loki would stay on his knees and fuck you hard but this time, he bent over you and thrust deep into you, eliciting a deep moan from your mouth in bliss.

You wound your arms around his neck and moaned his name as he began to thrust into you gently, a blush forming on your cheeks at the sheer amount of pleasure you felt from this position. Loki pressed his lips against yours as his hands pulled your legs up to wrap around his hips and his thrusts deepened. The fast drag of his cock against your walls had you moaning into the kiss, pulling him closer with your legs, groaning as the head of his cock pressed against that good spot inside you.

Spurred on by your encouragements, Loki rested his head in the nook of your neck and wound his arms around you and held you in a loving embrace as he left marks down your neck, claiming you in places he knew you couldn’t hide in time for the wedding. After a few minutes of the pleasurable movements inside you, Loki’s hips began to stutter so his hand flew down to circle your clit, trying to bring your orgasm closer so you would cum with him.

Moaning loudly into the God’s neck, your eyes rolled back and you succumbed to the second orgasm of the night.

You laid limply on the bed together before Loki conjured a damp blanket and pulled out, gently cleaning you and pressing a loving kiss to your sweaty brow.

“Jeg elsker deg,” he whispered to you, his hand stroking down your cheek.

“Jeg elsker deg,” you replied, flashing him a blissful smile.

Loki chuckled and extinguished the candles beside the bed and pulled you to his chest as he fell asleep. You stayed awake a few minutes longer just listening to the gentle breaths escaping the man beside you in sleep before they lulled you into a peaceful sleep alongside him.

The curtains were pulled open very early the next morning, causing you and Loki to groan at the interruption to your slumber. You sat up and glared at Charlotte and Madysin who were staring openly at Loki sleeping in your bed.

“My Lady, the traditions,” Madysin whispered, looking around anxiously as though worrying that Odin would storm in and behead both serving girls for allowing the Prince to break another tradition.

“Ladies, we wanted a night together so we had it,” you whispered with a smile before pulling Loki’s pillow out from underneath his head, “although the Prince is not allowed to see my dress so he needs to make himself scarce.”

With a groan, Loki sat up in bed, pressed a kiss to your cheek and disappeared into green smoke.

Wasting no more time, the maids grabbed you and rushed you into the bathroom. You allowed the girls to bathe you and wash your hair, smiling at the peace it gave you to think of last night fondly.

“Honestly, my lady,” Madysin was speaking as she shook her head, “you should honour Asgard’s traditions if you are going to be its Princess! And you must set an example for your little sisters!”

“It’s alright, Madysin,” you assured her with a smile, resting a hand on her arm, trying to show her that you took her opinion and treasured it, “you’re right but we wanted each other. And Loki can be very persuasive.”

You smiled as the colour rose to Madysin’s cheeks and she carried on washing your hair before helping you out of the tub and the two maids guided you back into your main chambers. They helped you into the corset you were required to wear and the undergarments before beginning to help you into the underskirts to your wedding dress.

You had only seen your wedding dress once and you had fallen in love with it immediately. As such, you were so excited to wear it for the first time today. It was a variant of the ballgown you wore to the ball that you had danced with Loki at and it had a hue of emerald going through the embroidery if one paid close attention to it in the sunlight.

Charlotte walked over to you holding the main gown and you smiled with joy when you saw it, holding up your arms so that the maid could slide it onto your body. Once it slipped on easily and the girls had pulled out the skirt properly, you allowed yourself to look in the mirror and you gasped as you saw how beautiful you looked. Pulling up the skirt gently, you spun in a circle and watched as the skirt followed you with a glistening hue of emerald.

“It’s beautiful,” you whispered as tears formed in your eyes, feeling truly like a Princess now.

“You look just like a Princess,” came a voice from behind you and you looked through the mirror to see your mother standing at the door with tears in her eyes. Your mother crossed the room and closed the door behind her before taking your hands and looking into your eyes, “I see this girl in front of me and I see you just as I have always seen you. My beautiful Princess Y/N, do you see yourself as we have always seen you now?”

You nodded and wrapped your arms around your mothers shoulders, allowing yourself to cry before the makeup was applied. You’d never had the time to see yourself as beautiful or to think of marriage before The Selection came along but now that you were here, you felt like everything was going to be alright again.

Your mother stayed with you as you got your makeup done by the castle professional while Frigga’s personal handmaiden assisted in pulling your hair into the most intricate and stunning style you could imagine. To finish it off, she placed one of Frigga’s tiara’s in your hair and flashed you an approving smile before bowing and leaving the room.

“Shall we go see your father?” your mother whispered to you, taking your gloved hand hand giving it a squeeze, smiling when you nodded.

The walk to your father’s quarters was silent apart from the click of your heels and your mother’s shoes against the marble floors. You could see your reflection in the golden walls and you felt as if your pride was boosted when you saw how lovely you looked, as if you were a Princess.

When you were finally outside your father’s quarters, your mother pressed a kiss to your nose and whispered, “wait for us to let you in, baby, we need to get this photographed too.”

You smiled and allowed your mother to enter the quarters and you were suddenly alone in the palace corridors. This was your wedding day! You had gone through months of living with some of the best and worst women you had ever met and it all led to this day, the day that you would marry the love of your life.

The door to your father’s quarters opened and your mother guided you inside. You saw your father standing by the window and you grinned as you walked over to him and rested your gloved hand on his shoulder, feeling how they immediately began to tremble and you smiled softly as he turned to look at you and instantly he clasped a hand over his mouth as he whispered, “oh, my girl.”

Tears formed in your eyes at his reaction and you allowed him to cup your cheek and study you. His eyes overflowed with love as he took in the wedding dress and how your hair was styled and the makeup that brought out your natural beauty. “My girl,” he whispered emotionally, smiling as his eyes met yours, “you look lovely. Oh my girl, my girl.”

Your father pulled you into a hug and pressed a loving kiss to your temple before pulling back to look at you again. “You look just like your mother did on her wedding day,” your father whispered with a nostalgic smile, “you look so beautiful. I love you, my girl.”

“I love you too, papa,” you whispered, melting into his hug and enjoying this family moment that you had. You hadn’t really had the time to be close to your father that much before The Selection. You were always working and so was he. Now, he finally got to see the real you, the little girl he’d hoped to see marry before his death, he finally got to see you happy.

It was time now. It was ten minutes to noon and you were due to marry Loki at noon. You bit your lip as you waited in the antechamber to the Asgardian throne room where all the people would be watching and hundreds of cameras were positioned to broadcast to the Nine Realms. You were starting to get very nervous now that it was starting to get closer to the time you were due to get married.

Your father stood beside you as he looked down at the pocket watch that he had bought with The Selection’s money. “We have a few more minutes, cupcake,” he whispered to you, smiling as he saw how nervous you were starting to become, “I was worried on the day that I married your mother. I was worried that she’d run away or something. I was worried that I wouldn’t be able to provide for her or make her happy. Trust me, everything is going to be okay, my daughter.”

You smiled and embraced your father before a bell rang to signal that it was time and your heart began hammering in your chest and you bit your lip. The doors opened in front of you and the transparent silk curtains were pulled apart as gentle music began to play. Your father offered you his arm and when you’d gotten yourself together, you took his arm and began to walk down the long aisle toward where Loki was standing beneath a floral arch adorned with emeralds and your birthstone.

It had been arranged that your father would walk you half way down the aisle and hand you over to Odin as a way of him handing you over to the royal family of Asgard to marry Loki. You watched as all the people cheered when you walked past but some glared and you heard mumbles that other Selected should be in your place. You paid no mind, you carried on your journey down the aisle and squeezed your father’s arm when you saw Odin waiting for you.

“This is where I leave you, cupcake,” your father whispered to you, pressing a kiss to your forehead with a small smile, “I love you.”

“I love you too, papa,” you whispered before allowing your father to give your arm to Odin and you watched your father bow to the King of Asgard before allowing the King to walk ahead of him with you.

As Odin guided you down the aisle, your anger burned deep in your chest but your face was indifferent. The anger became worse when Odin whispered to you, “you won the Selection, my dear, but as Princess you will do as I tell you. Be silent and obedient and you will be respected.”

You scowled as you heard what he said and you turned your head to him, “respectfully, your grace, I shall do no such thing. I have a voice, I am young, I will love the Prince of Jötunheim with all of my heart and I will in no way be your silent Princess. As soon as I marry Loki, you will have no control over him.”

Your eyes flicked to Loki’s and you smiled despite the interaction you just had with the King and out of duty, Odin took your hand and gave it to Loki before sitting beside Frigga.

With a smile, Loki gently took off your gloves and laced his fingers with yours to show the first touch on the day of marriage was his. His eyes shone with love as he squeezed your hands and whispered, “you look beautiful.”

“You look dashing,” you replied with a soft smile.

The ceremony began and a hush fell on the crowd as everything began.

Loki unsheathed a sword on his hip with an emerald carved into the shape of his Nordic symbol on the pommel. He balanced it on both of his hands and stared into your eyes with a smile as he began to speak the traditional vows, “from lover to lover, man to woman, soul to soul. I am yours, you are mine. I promise that with this sword I will fight for you and protect you. Day to day, month to month, year to year, century by century shalt pass and mine blade shalt not rust. I pledge to thee, mine heart is thine, just as thine heart is mine.”

You smiled and turned to a maid holding the traditional blade and you cut your palm, wincing in pain as you watched the blood leak out and onto Loki’s blade. “My dearest love,” you began with a smile, running your hand over the blade and smearing it with your blood, “I give you my blood as a sign of my love and trust for you in battle. I accept thine heart as mine. I accept thine by thine blood and by thy heart. Jötun, Aesir, Midgardian, unite by our marriage.”

Loki smiled and watched as the blood sunk into the blade and the gold threaded lovingly through the handle tinted red slightly with your blood, a sign that you will be with him even in battle in this blade. Taking the blade from you, he gently cut your lip and watched the blood trickle down your chin as he allowed you to take the blade back and cut his lip before he surged forward and kissed you deeply.

When you pulled away, you smiled brightly as Queen Frigga stepped up to the both of you and tied a ribbon around your conjoined hands. “You both have shown your devotion, you both have given your blessings,” she began with a smile, “I, Queen Frigga, as Goddess of Marriage, do pronounce you husband and wife.”

You grinned and pressed your lips to Loki’s, wrapping your arms around his neck as you pressed your body to his. Loki responded quickly, holding your hips as the crowd roared around you and he deepened the kiss.

“Y/N, my dear?” Frigga spoke, breaking the moment between you and Loki, “I know that you are mortal and are already a quarter ways through your life so I would like to give you a way to extend your life to that of an Aesir.”

“Your majesty…” you whispered as tears formed in your eyes, you could live as long as Loki would but… what about your family?

“Your family will be included in this possible way to immortality, of course,” Frigga added quickly with a smile, “Lady Iðunn, would you please step forth?”

A beautiful woman stood from the front row of the seats and walked up to you and Loki. The woman conjured up a chalice and offered it to you before speaking, “this is wine made from my legendary golden apples. I watched your journey through The Selection and knew that you would use this well. Drink this and you will get the life of an Aesir, your family already drank theirs this morning. It’s time to join us, Princess Y/N.”

You nervously took the chalice from the lady and with a loving squeeze of the hand from Loki, you drank the contents of it. You hummed at the pleasant taste in your mouth and returned the chalice to Lady Iðunn. “I thank you, Lady Iðunn,” you smiled as you addressed her, “I promise to cherish this gift you have given me.”

Iðunn nodded and curtsied to you before returning to her seat.

Happy that everything had gone well, Loki pressed a kiss to your knuckle and began to lead you down the aisle as people cheered around you. The two of you settled into the antechamber where you had been before the wedding to have a moment alone and Loki could not look away from you. His eyes roamed down your figure and yours did the same to him. He was in his ceremonial garb with his horns in a headpiece. You could instantly see his erection through the leather of the trousers but you both knew you couldn’t consummate the marriage yet. You had to get through the ball held in your honour before that.

The ball was in full swing now and you had just finished your meals so it was time for the speeches. The main table housed the best man - Thor, obviously -, Thor’s wife Elysia, Frigga, Odin, Loki and you in the middle, your mother and your father.

As best man, Thor stood and cleared his throat, silencing the room and bringing all eyes to the main table. “I thank you all for being here tonight,” he began with a smile, holding his arms out wide and grinning, “I remember when my little brother was just two hundred and pouty if anyone brought up the idea of marriage around him. Now look at him, marrying for love! Loki, my brother, despite recent events, never doubt that I love you and trust you and truly honour your opinions when you voice them. I promise to listen to you in future battles and honour your judgments. Now, I propose a toast! To the happy couple!”

Thor raised his tankard of mead and everyone followed him, drinking in honour of you and your husband. You smiled as you drank your champagne that was specially shipped from Midgard for you.

Once everyone had finished their drink, Loki flicked his wrist and they refilled as your father stood up. He was holding a written speech and his hands were slightly shaking. “Where do I start - hang on, I don’t need this,” your father spoke up with a smile before throwing the script behind him, looking down at you and then at the crowd, “I am prouder than any father that today is happening. My little Y/N had only been devoted to her job of supporting the family for years before The Selection happened. You never really saw her taking time for herself, she was always out in the fields, helping in the market and trying to find any kind of job she could to bring money back to our home for us to eat. We could see that she was unhappy but we could never do anything about it. Then her name was pulled for The Selection and our whole family was overjoyed because she could finally try to find a way to be happy. We watched her all these months and watched her form friendships, rivalries and fall in love. The girl we see today is a product of her path she has taken. This hardworking, determined, courageous woman was once unhappy and lonely and now she’s found the one that makes her shine, makes her happy and I hope she will be happy for many more years. My darling Y/N, we are all so proud of you. To the happy couple!”

You stood up quickly and enveloped your father in a tight hug, nestling your head into the crook of his neck as you heaved a sob, trying to keep in the tears so it wouldn’t ruin the makeup. “I love you, papa,” you whispered as your father’s arms wrapped around your body.

“I love you too, cupcake,” your father responded while rubbing your back gently.

Everyone left the room to watch you and Loki do your first dance in the garden where a beautiful dancefloor had been laid out in gold and black slabs. Loki took your hand and gently guided you to the middle, holding your hand and your waist before guiding you into a slow dance, smiling as your skirts followed smoothly with your movements. Your eyes never left each other as you both lost yourselves to the music that was playing and you forgot that people were watching as the world became smaller and you two were the only ones that mattered. The wedding rings on your fingers glistened in the floating lights that Loki conjured for the dance. Your smiles were equally delighted as you danced and enjoyed this moment together because as the song finished and you pressed your lips to his, you felt him whisper ‘it’s time’ against your skin.

“Thor!” Loki called out after a few seconds of kissing, pulling you close by the waist with a practised patient grin, “brother dear, what is it that you usually do at weddings?”

Thor looked confused for a moment before he remembered Mjolnir and he grinned as he nodded, gesturing to the closest table and he was practically bouncing on the balls of his feet when Loki sat down with you opposite him. “May you take this blessing well, sister,” Thor whispered as he approached you and placed Mjolnir in your lap, blessing you with fertility when he did, “good luck.”

Your cheeks heated and you glared at Loki before you yelped when the Prince pulled you to him and pressed a kiss to your lips. Grabbing your hand, Loki guided you through the cheering crowd and bowed to them before leaving the party. Everybody thought that you would be going to consummate the marriage. You weren’t. You were going to free Sleipnir.

You entered Loki’s chambers and found that your valuables that had been in your chambers had been moved into Loki’s already and you smiled brightly at the reminder that you didn’t need to sleep apart anymore, you were free. You could do whatever you wanted!

Walking to the closet that was undoubtedly yours, you pulled open the doors and grabbed a black slip that would go over your wedding dress to hide it and a black cloak that would hide your features. You pulled the hood over your head and exchanged your wedding shoes for furry boots that had been enchanted to be silent when you walked. You ventured back into Loki’s chambers and saw that he had pulled a black cloak over his shoulders to hide his ceremonial garb.

“Let’s go,” Loki whispered, holding your hand and leaving through the servants entrance. The two of you managed to get out of the castle without much hassle and the streets were fairly abandoned as everybody was invited to the party to celebrate.

Getting to the stables, Loki tried the door but he could hear chains from the inside and his eyes narrowed as he held out his hand and whispered an incantation, “aperta.”

“‘Open’?” you whispered with a smirk as you heard the chains fall to the floor inside and Loki pressed on the lock and it opened with ease.

Loki rolled his eyes with a smirk before walking over to the stall that held the large stallion you had met yesterday. Sleipnir Lokison. You followed your husband and held his arm as he stared solemnly at the stallion.

“Sleipnir,” he whispered, breaking the silence with a frown and the stallion raised its head to look at Loki, whinnying happily and nudging Loki’s chest eagerly. “Yes, it’s me,” Loki whispered, caressing his skin, “I’m here for you.”

Suddenly, there was a loud crash outside and you could hear the approaching voices of guards and your heartbeat spiked. Odin would not be happy that you and Loki were stealing his precious warhorse. “Loki, we need to go,” you whispered anxiously, eyeing the door with worry.

Loki nodded and started to speak an incantation and soon, the stables was filled with black smoke. With the stables darkened, Loki turned back to Sleipnir and began speaking another incantation, his eyes glowing brilliant emerald as he broke the spell holding Sleipnir in his horse form. Once the spell was broken, the stallion’s form gleamed a bright blue before disappearing and revealing a small child - no older than four hundred - lying in his place. Quickly bundling up the small child in his cloak, Loki grabbed a spare cloak from the rack that would have belonged to the stableboy and quickly guided you out of the back entrance to the stables.

Under the cover of houses and their shadows, Loki ran with you by his side back to the palace. A warning bell started ringing in the lower town where the stables were and you looked behind you to see if anyone was chasing you before Loki tugged you to keep running and he shouted, “don’t look!” as he ran faster, a look of panic in his eyes. It was a maternal panic, a fear that his womb child would be ripped from his arms again.

You and Loki slipped through the servants entrance to the palace and suddenly, the palace that had been your home for months was now a giant obstacle course to get to Loki’s quarters without being caught. Loki kept you and Sleipnir close as he kept to the shadows, trying his best to walk silently and yet as fast as he could to his rooms. You were about to go up a staircase when you heard two guards coming up to it at the top and Loki pulled you into an alcove, one hand over your mouth as he tried to melt into the shadows. You could feel his heart racing, he was terrified.

You managed to get back to Loki’s chambers and when you did, you slammed the door and pressed the lock into place, watching the door glow green and gold before you knew that it was safe to breathe again. You leaned against the door and pulled down the hood of your cloak before covering your face with your hands and taking calming breaths. That was the most terrifying half an hour of your life.

Loki was still breathing harshly, staring down at his son with worry on his face. As soon as he pulled Sleipnir out of the bundle and dressed him with magic, he began to calm. Kissing his son lovingly on the head, Loki looked over at you with a sad smile, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” you replied before approaching him and gazing down at Sleipnir, “he’s so handsome. He’s definitely your son.”

Loki released a laugh and nodded before looking at you and pressing a kiss to your temple. “Let’s go to bed,” he whispered, guiding you to the bedroom and helping you out of your clothes with his magic before doing the same to himself.

As you both got into bed with Sleipnir between you, you were happy that Loki finally had at least one of his children back in his arms.

“Do you have any idea what you have done!?” Odin boomed early that morning after summoning you and Loki into the throne room after realising that Sleipnir was taken, “you are unsuited for parenthood just yet! Your children are prophesied to bring about Ragnarok and you defied me!”

“I have a family I need to protect!” Loki bit back, his eyes lit up with power and fury as he scowled at the man that he once called his father, “I am not just your pawn anymore! I am the Prince of Jötunheim, I am a father, I am a mother, I am a husband and I am the God of Mischief! I no longer need validation from the likes of you!”

“You have no authority to that child!” Odin snapped, rising from the throne as he glared down at you and Loki, “you lost that the day you gave him up.”

“Gave him up? Gave him up?!” Loki snarled, his hands sparking with unused seiðr as he stood to his proper height, “I never gave him up! You stole him from me! You are a sick king thriving off tormenting your adopted son!”

You watched as Odin began to get closer to Loki so you stood between them. “I agree with Loki,” you began, holding your arm out to protect Loki, “Sleipnir is his son and his alone. You stole the others from him too and he deserves to have them back. If you do not give them back to him then you are a coward of a King and I pray anxiously for the day that you leave this existence so Thor can become King.”

“Do not speak to me in such a way, useless Midgardian,” Odin sneered, grabbing you by the throat and glaring at you, “I could banish your whole family.”

“No need,” Loki replied calmly, his seiðr teleporting you to his side, “I’m leaving. I will not return until the day Thor becomes King. May the Gods be merciful for your soul, Odin Borson.”

Loki grabbed your hand and stalked out of the throne room towards his chambers.

“Where will we live?” you whispered weakly, looking to Loki with a frown as you squeezed his hand, “Loki, did you even think of this?”

“Of course I did, I wanted us to have a life away from Asgard as soon as I found out that Laufey actually wanted me,” Loki returned with a smile, shrugging easily as he opened the door to his chambers to see Frigga holding Sleipnir and telling him stories, “hello, mother. It’s done. We’re leaving.”

Sorrow filled Frigga’s face and she walked over to you and Loki, wrapping her arm around Loki’s shoulder and pressing a kiss to his forehead. “I don’t want you to go but Asgard is not your home anymore, is it?” she whispered sadly and when Loki shook his head, tears filled her eyes and she whispered, “then I hope you find peace on Midgard or with Laufey. Just remember that there are people on Asgard that love you.”

“Thank you, mother,” Loki whispered with a smile, before looking to the two suitcases by the door with a frown, “will you come with us to the Bifrost?”

“I would be honoured,” Frigga responded, smiling at the offer.

Once you arrived at the Bifrost, you gave Frigga a hug and smiled as you whispered, “thank you for all of your lessons, mother, I will never forget them.”

“Stay safe, child,” Frigga replied, her smile warm and loving, “it is good that you are returning to Midgard for now but Loki may wish to go to Jötunheim someday and you need to keep warm in their cold. Keep him safe.”

You nodded and once Loki had said his goodbyes, you took one last look at Asgard and all that had happened to you here before the Bifrost opened and brought you back to Brekstad, your home. Months ago, you had left Brekstad an unhappy girl who wasn’t eager to marry the Prince. Now, you were returning with the Prince as your husband and his son as your adopted child.

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

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merakiaes · 3 years

Text

Gentle Blue Eyes - Tommy Shelby

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x reader

Requested: By @elia-the-bibliophile

Prompts: None.

Warnings/notes: Mentions of domestic abuse and not wanting to be alive. Not proofread so apologies in advance for any spelling and/or grammar mistakes. Please reblog and comment to keep this blog going and to motivate me to write more fics.

Wordcount: 6176

Summary: As an heiress from the big city of London, the daughter of a powerful man and wife-to-be of a stranger chosen for you rather than by you, your value as a young lady has always been determined by men. When you decide that you’ve had enough and abandon the life forced upon you, you should’ve known better than to let your guard down, but you couldn’t help it. Luckily, you’ve made new connections and formed new bonds while on the run, with people who would do anything to keep you safe from the people of your past.

Much like most other women alive in and before your time, your value had been determined by another man all your life.

Your value was not determined by what you accomplished in your life, what good deeds you did your fellow human beings and the world you all lived in, or who you were as a person. Instead, your value was determined by how men depicted you.

From the day you were born and up until your twentieth birthday, your value had been judged depending on how good of a daughter you were to your father.

Did you hold your tongue in situations that tested your patience in order to save him from a public social fiasco, no matter how utterly disgustingly men may have been treating you and talking to you? Did you stand silent and obedient at his side while he introduced you to multiple men of high status and offered them your hand in marriage, no matter how appalling the men in question may have been? Did you follow his every order and instruction on how to please and appeal to the male population of the world, no matter how much you had to violate yourself in order to do so?

Yes, you did. You did all that and a little more like the good, compliant daughter and woman you were. Why? Because you knew that you would always be living in a man’s world, and your parents had both emphasized your entire life what horrible things you might have to endure if you chose to go against the societal stream.

So just like you had done your entire life and been taught to keep doing until the day you died, you brightly smiled and bowed by your knees when your father introduced you to your husband-to-be.

With gentle green eyes, blonde combed-back hair and dimples that could make any girl swoon, he smiled back, bowing his head and placing a kiss on your knuckles; a kiss equally as gentle as his eyes.

For the first time in all your life, you felt as if the stars were finally aligning in your favor, that you would finally be free of your father’s tight grip and allowed to live more freely. Maybe this man would be your savior, you had thought as you stood before him, smiling from ear to ear at his handsomeness and everything but aware that you were looking into the eyes of the devil.

His name was Steven Burton and just like every other man in the world, he was not as gentle as he outwardly seemed.

All your life you’d been taught by your father and mother how to be the perfect wife, how to keep a man pleased and interested. It had been tolerable then. After all, all you’d have to do was smile, nod, agree, and remember their words.

But it was something else entirely to have to live up to those lessons, and even more so to be ordered around by an actual husband. Or well, you weren’t married yet, of course. But you might as well have been, because Steven already acted like he owned you.

And in a sense, you guessed he did.

Steven and your father had signed on it the day after you’d first met the former, your own parent giving you up to a man he knew wouldn’t be good to you. That’s the first time you really understood that you were more of a mere object in their eyes, less of an actual woman.

But you knew your place and smiled. You smiled through the countless scoldings, and you smiled through the countless slaps and shoves, all of which you’d get even after the smallest of mistakes. Spill an inkling of a drop of tea on the floor, and that’s all that was needed.

This went on for months while your father and fiancée planned the wedding; you were, of course, not allowed to have a say in any of the arrangements. You were only a woman, after all, and a woman’s job was to stay quiet and fill the needs of her man. Nothing more, nothing less.

The date of your wedding was set to be in the middle of June, in the biggest church in England with more high-up men that you cared to remember the names of. You dreaded it more and more for every day that passed, and when you were only a week away from the set date, you got sick with consumption.

You were on your death bed in a matter of days, not being able to eat, drink, nor properly breathe, and for the first time in a long time, as you laid in your bed staring into the ceiling with your mother by your side, you smiled sincerely with only one thought running through your head.

Finally.

You thought that you’d finally be free of the men in your life, free to live your own way in heaven, because you had done everything right in your lifetime, lived every day according to the bible. You knew that you’d be deserving of a place up in paradise and you knew that things up there couldn’t be like how they were down on Earth, because this life you were living… Well, it was nothing short of hell, so even death would be preferred.

But by miracle, just as you’d made your peace, just as you realized you were ready to go, you started to get better. And you found yourself crying, mourning, over the fact that you didn’t die, and it was only then that you realized how truly horrible it was.

How horrible it was that you considered yourself lucky for getting as sick as you did because you’d rather lay on your deathbed and never see the light of day again than marry the man you had been promised to.

All your life, your value as a woman had been determined by how other men depicted you. From birth until the end of your teens, you were judged on how good a daughter you were to your father. Now, you were being judged on how good of a wife you were to your husband and soon enough, you would be judged on how good of a mother you were to your children.

You realized that as long as you stayed there, with your family, your value as a woman would never be determined by yourself as a person. You’d never even get to be your own person, as long as someone else was pulling the strings and making every decision for you.

So you did what you had never, in your entire life, done before; you abandoned your womanly obligations and responsibilities, vowed to never stay silent at the order of a man again, and ran.

You ran from one place to another, to another, to another, for longer than you could keep track of, taking more names than you could count, hiding from your father and fiancée’s spies that you knew couldn’t be far behind while simultaneously searching for your place in the world.

Where exactly a woman of such high status as yourself would end up, you had no idea. But the last place you’d ever see yourself was as a barmaid in the slums of Small Heath, Birmingham. And yet, that’s where you ended up.

You took the name Evelynn Bailey the second you crossed the invisible border of Small Heath, just like you’d taken other names for every other place you had settled down for various periods of time.

Harry, the bartender of the local pub called The Garrison Pub, greeted you as you entered for the first time, politely asking you how he could be of assistance.

You still knew one thing for sure after being on the run from your family for so long and that was that you were still just a woman living in a man’s world. But another thing you had quickly come to learn after leaving home was that, although still sexist and misogynistic on various levels, a lot of men saw women as more than just man-pleasers. They saw them as people.

You had run into a lot of men during the time you’d spend on your own, and not even the bad ones were as bad as the men you had grown up with had been. More and more you realized that the riches your family sat on just had to have been a contributing factor to the way they’d always felt like the world, especially women, owed the something.

Harry was one of the good ones, you knew that as soon as he met you with a smile. So you didn’t waste any time in asking him what you came to ask. Harry was hesitant, saying that he’d love to help you out and offer you a job as a barmaid, but you were just… too beautiful.

At that point, you’d already come to terms with the fact that your father and fiancée had been more extreme than most, and told Harry that you could handle any man in the bar, should anyone ever give you any trouble.

And that was it. He agreed to a trial night and everything went smoothly.

Who would’ve thought a shy little bird such as yourself could have social skills good enough to have every man in the pub up on their feet and singing within the first hour? Not you, that’s for sure. And yet, that’s what the Shelby clan was welcomed with when they first came to join the party that night.

All of their eyes found you immediately, laughing and singing and being spun around by Jeremiah Jesus as well as one could be spun in the small space behind the bar.

You had never gotten to let loose like this in your entire life and Tommy knew that the second he saw the way your face lit up.

For a woman to be that comfortable and off-guard in a room full of drunk men, she’d couldn’t have lived an easy life, he realized, and was instantly drawn to you like a moth to a light, fascinated by the fact that you could still be so sweet and gentle after obviously having gone through hell.

So Tommy did with you what he hadn’t done with any woman since the death of his lover before the war; he got emotionally involved and, eventually, emotionally attached.

It quickly became apparent that the two of you were a lot alike, and the other members of the Shelby family could see immediately that you would be special. It, also, became apparent quickly that you were a big potential asset to the Peaky Blinders.

If there was one positive thing about having had to follow your dad and fiancé around without ever being allowed to say a word, it was that you had become pretty good at being invisible.

Most of the time, they would never even notice you were there and so, you had learned a lot about different businesses, big and successful as well as small and aspiring ones, and how to guarantee success in deals through eavesdropping. Although, it could hardly be called eavesdropping. You had always been there, out in the open; it wasn’t your fault that they’d never noticed you.

Either way, it was quickly discovered that you had a knack for blending in and, through that, getting the gossip; not only in the way that you were incredibly inviting, resulting in a lot of men willingly spilling their life stories to you after one too many drinks at the bar, but also because they’d, a lot of the times, not even notice you were there. And even if they did, what harm could a pretty little barmaid do?

You helped to get Tommy tips for business as well as discussing potential partners based on what you’d heard both in the pub and out on the street, and the two of you helped each other through your company, never going a day without long, deep conversations.

Tommy felt so at ease around you and so easily opened up to you about the things that he had seen and been through that, for a moment, he forgot that you had originally come from somewhere else from which you probably carried heavy baggage, that he’d at some point have to partake in the unpacking of. And for a moment, you did, too.

You should’ve known better, after spending that much time on the run from those who wanted to keep you caged; figuratively and possibly even literally, but for the first time in your life, you had gotten so comfortable that you finally dared put down your walls and let the past go.

And you should’ve known better.

It was early Saturday morning and just like every other day, you found yourself alone in the Garrison, organizing, cleaning, and everything in between in preparation for the crowd that was sure to gather in the pub as the afternoon rolled around.

Cleaning and wiping down the mugs and glasses was always the first thing you did when coming in to work, just in case someone came in needing a drink before the real festivities began, so at the moment, you were in the back unpacking the delivery of whiskey and gin that you’d gotten the evening before.

It was no easy work carrying the boxes inside from the alley when you’d had no experience in life that had allowed you to build any kind of muscle, but you were a determined woman and didn’t mind breaking a bit of a sweat.

But even so, as you were just carrying the final crate of bottles inside, you were grateful to hear the bar-bell ring. Once, twice, and then thrice.

What Arthur had been thinking when he brought in that damned bell, you didn’t know. The drunken men coming in every day and continuously ringing the bell for refills or just to get your attention in order to make a move on you was one thing, but the kids who had been running in and out ringing it endlessly since it got brought in was something else entirely.

So, it was safe to say that you’d developed a kind of love-hate relationship with the dinging piece of metal, but right at this moment, it had never sounded as sweetly as it did.

“I’ll be right there!” You called back to the person waiting, and carefully put the crate of bottles down on the floor.

You blew on a strand of hair that had fallen out of your bun to get it out of your face and wasted no time in making a beeline for the doorway, all while wiping your dirty hands on the apron tied around your waist.

Stepping through the doorway behind the bar, you instantly spotted the form of a man, dressed in expensive-looking clothing and standing with his back turned to you, hiding his face from your view.

You unwrapped the dirty apron from around you and grabbed a clean one from underneath the bar, put on a bright smile, and approached the man.

“I’m sorry for the wait. What can I do you for?”

The words that you’d spoken so many times before fell effortlessly from your lips, with an even more effortless kindness.

But the second the man turned around, revealing his face, you froze. Your blood felt like lead in your veins, weighing every part of you down. Every finger, every toe, every strand of hair even though they didn’t even contain veins, suddenly felt twenty pounds heavier, and suddenly, not even breathing came without effort anymore.

"Hello, (Y/N). Long time no see wouldn’t you say?"

At the sound of his voice, you snapped back to reality again and immediately spun around, wasting no time in heading back for the door to the alley.

But he was fast, strong, everything you weren’t, and circled around the bar and caught your wrist before you’d even gotten the chance to blink.

Your head whipped around and with newfound strength, you glared. You glared up into those monstrous green eyes and tugged on your arm.

“Let. Me. Go.” You demanded with every pull, glare never faltering, but to no avail. The grip he had on you only tightened.

“You didn’t think you could hide from me forever, did you?” He questioned with an amused laugh. “You silly girl.”

It was only when his hand came up to your face that you broke eye contact, turning your head to the side in an attempt to get away from his touch as his fingers made contact with your hair.

But again, it was to no avail. He had you in a grip so tight that you couldn’t move an inch, and his hand soon enough made contact with your cheek; calloused and rough, against silky soft.

“Please, Steven.” Your breath shook as you spoke. “You fought in the war, you got awarded medals for your bravery and honor. You can still do the right thing.”

“And what would that be?” He quirked an eyebrow and moved his face close to yours. “Let you stay here, in the slums? Hm? No, this is no place for a lady.”

You flinched at the feeling of his breath fanning across your face. “I’ve finally found my place. I finally feel like I belong.” You kept fighting back with your words, but your body was already giving in, your wrists turning limp in the grips of his hands.

“You belong with me.” He spat and in quick movements raised a hand to turn your head, forcing you to look at him and once again making you flinch. “What other place could a woman like you have in the world?” He continued, voice now lower as he gently tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear.

You shivered at the feeling and thanked the gods of all existing religions when hearing the front door open.

As an immediate response, Steven’s grip on you tightened and you closed your eyes while his head whipped around to face whoever had just entered the pub.

You, on the other hand, didn’t even need to look to know who it was, recognizing the sound of his steps, the smell of his cologne, and the sensation of his mere presence immediately.

There was a moment of thick silence, and then...

"What’s going on here?" The voice of Tommy Shelby reached your ears, his thick accent sounding like the sweetest music you’d ever heard.

You let out a short breath of relief.

“None of your business, that’s what’s going on. We’re having a private conversation so you can see yourself out the way you came in and come back when we’re gone.” Steve immediately fought back and quickly, you whipped your head around to face him.

“Steven.” You warned in a whisper, shaking your head lightly and giving him a pointed look when he turned to meet your eyes.

You knew fully well what Tommy was capable of and while you wouldn’t mind the man next to you being beaten to a bloody pulp, you’d much rather not be present to witness that happen.

"Evelynn?" Tommy’s voice came again and only then did you turn to look at him, meeting his eyes where he still stood still right in front of the doorway.

“Do you know this man?” He continued in asking, eyebrows raised in a way that showed he was clearly ready to jump him if you so wished.

But rather than encouraging just that, you simply nodded your head, eyes flickering between the two men while one tightened his grip on you in a warning, and the other slowly moved closer in protective caution.

No more words got to be shared between the three of you before the door opened again, Arthur, John and a few of the other Peaky Blinders stepping inside, to a start full of chatter and banter, but everyone falling silent when catching on to the tense atmosphere in the room.

Arthur looked at Tommy, then at you, then at Steven, then at you, and then at Tommy again. “We got a problem in here, Tommy?” He asked his younger brother before turning to give Steven a suspicious eye. "Who are you?"

"Who the fuck are all of you?" Steven shot back without missing a beat.

“We’re the Peaky fookin’ Blinders.” Arthur glared. “This is my pub, and we all happen to hold the women you’re currently threatening very close to heart, so I’d watch my tone if I were you, boy.”

“I’m not threatening anyone.” Steven glared defensively, but the increasingly tightening grip he had on your wrist said otherwise, as did the flinch that followed as a result.

Perceptive as he was, Arthur noticed this immediately, but so did Tommy, and the latter was much quicker to respond to it.

“Really now?” He raised his eyebrows in question, giving the man next to you a good, long stare before turning to John. “Does she look like she’s enjoying herself to you, John?”

“Not in one bit, Tommy.” John, who had been standing by in silence with his eyes narrowed to slits, spoke, and Tommy turned back to the two of you.

“No, she doesn’t.” He repeated. “So why don’t you do yourself a favor and tell us who the fook you are so we can resolve this before any blood is spilled, yeah?”

Steven met your eyes with a warning glare, a glare that said: “be quiet, or else”, before he finally let go of your wrist.

You immediately hurried to cover the bruised skin with the sleeve of your shirt and stepped back, while Steven took a step forward.

“I'm her fiancé.” He said. “And I’m here to take her back home.”

“Fiancé?”

An unreadable expression swept over Tommy’s face for a moment and his eyes flickered to meet yours at the sound of the words. But he quickly regained his composure, straightening his face.

"That’s funny. She never mentioned a fiancé.”

As you glanced up at him, Tommy’s eyes looked nearly dead, his usually vibrant irises looking dull, and you felt a pang of guilt in your chest knowing that your lies were to blame.

“I can imagine.” Steven chuckled back, suddenly acting friendly. “She does have a tendency to lie. A bit of a pathological liar, this one.”

You had to clench your fists in order to not exclaim in protest at the sound of his poor-tasted and not at all accurate joke. Luckily, Tommy was a smart man, smarter than any other man you’d ever met, and didn’t meet Steven’s deceitful humor with even a hundredth of the same enthusiasm.

“I know a liar when I see one, and she isn’t one. You on the other hand…” Was the only thing he said back, and you felt relief flood your entire body at the realization that he wasn’t angry at you.

Steven picked up on the hidden support, as well, and quickly returned to his previous demeanor. “She’s not who she says she is.”

“Is anyone?” Tommy simply raised an eyebrow, the corner of his lip turning upwards every so slightly.

His eyes flickered to meet yours for a tenth of a second, just long enough for you to notice the humorous spark behind them, and for Steven to remain oblivious.

“I’m not here to cause any trouble.” The man in question insisted. “I just think you should know the truth about her, that’s all.”

“And what truth would that be?” Tommy kept playing along, clearly finding it amusing that the other man still thought that he’d be able to win with his poor excuses and made-up explanations.

The man in question, however, clearly wasn’t as smart and perceptive as he always made himself out to be, as he had yet to pick up on the fact that the only reason he was still standing inside the pub, was because Tommy was enjoying messing with him.

“Well, I don’t know what made-up alias she’s given you and claimed to be, but her name, her real name, is (Y/N) (Y/L/N), and her parents have been forced to put up with her crazy behavior her entire life.” He explained. “She’s a bit unstable and acts out when she doesn’t get her way, that’s all, and I just came here to take her back to London on their orders. So I’m going to do that and be out of your hair, and you have my word that you won’t have to see her again. This isn’t the first time she’s run away, but it will be the last.”

Your blood boiled when listening to him spew out lie after lie and yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to react with anything other than shame.

Tommy watched as you lowered your head and started down into the floor, before turning back to the man at your side.

“Is that supposed to reassure me?” He asked, all of the play now gone and, finally, Steven seemed to come to the realization that they weren’t being fooled.

One after the other, Steven let his eyes inspect his audience. First Tommy and then on to Arthur, John, and the handful of Peaky Blinders; he met the eyes of every man in the room and was met with only glares. Glares that were getting fiercer and more impatient by the second.

So finally, he stepped back, and looked down at you.

“We’re leaving, now.” He ordered, but the second his hand reconnected with your wrist, Arthur and John stepped forward with their guns already held in front of them, the latter roughly shoving the barrel into the back of Steven’s head.

The other Blinders quickly followed suit, keeping some distance, but providing protection nonetheless.

Tommy, on the other hand, didn’t need a weapon. The power he radiated with every step as he moved towards you at an antagonizing pace was more than enough to make Steven’s composure falter.

Clasping his hands behind his back, Tommy came to a stop right in front of you, and gave Steven the most dangerous look you’d ever seen a man give another, speaking: “I’m afraid I can’t let you do that.”

The tone of his voice alone was enough to send shivers back your spine.

“You and your jolly band of gangsters don’t scare me, so get out of our way. I’m taking her back to where she belongs, even if I have to fight my way through the lot of you to do so.”

Stephen’s voice was strong and confident, but his eyes, and the way his grip on your hand faltered, contradicted the power behind his words.

“She belongs, where she wants to be, and it looks to me like you’re the last person on earth that she’d want to be stuck with.” Tommy was beginning to lose his poker face, that much was clear judging by the way his eyes got progressively angrier.

In return to this, Steven only got more persistent, squaring his shoulders and narrowing his eyes. “She doesn’t know what she wants. Like I told you, she’s unwell.” He spat. “She knows that the best place for her to be is at home with me and her parents. Go on, tell them.”

He turned to you.

Surprised, your eyes flickered up to meet his and you saw it immediately: he was scared, and he was angry and humiliated about being put in that position. If you went with him now, you didn’t know what would happen to you.

“(Y/N).” Tommy called.

It was weird hearing him speak your real name, and even weirder to hear it spoken so softly; as if you hadn’t lied to him and his family about who you were for the past month.

You turned to look at him slowly, and he met you not with the anger and impatience he had been showing toward Steven only a second before, but with a genuinely caring gaze as he asked, “Do you want him to stay?”

Your heart was pounding in your chest, anxiety rising and getting stuck in your throat. You knew that he already knew the answer, and you knew that he would protect you as well as the fact that Steven wouldn’t stand a chance against all of them in his lonesome.

But still, your hands shook as you allowed your eyes to flicker to meet Steven’s only to be met with a discrete, pointed glare, and yet, you didn’t dare say a word, only quietly shaking your head “no”.

“Okay.” Tommy replied and held your eyes. “Do you want to go with him?”

“No.” You didn’t hesitate this time, the simple but oh, so heavy word falling from your lips in a breath.

Tommy nodded again and turned back to the man beside you, who was now fuming and refusing to look away from you. You could feel his eyes burning holes into the side of your face, but you said nothing.

“Well, then I think it’s time for you to go. And you, alone.”

“This is not your business to be meddling with.” The heat of Steven’s glare disappeared when he whipped his head to face his opponent.

He hissed the word like a snake and took a threatening step in Tommy’s direction. As to be expected, Tommy didn’t budge.

“She’s a part of this business, a part of this family.” He simply replied, prompting you to look up slowly. “That makes it my business and gives me the right to meddle however much I want. She’s only been here for a short period of time but over that time, I’ve gotten to know her well enough to know that she’s not the crazy one here. She’s family, and if you mess with one of us, you mess with all of us.”

To prove the truth and sincerity behind the last part, everyone took a step closer, closing Steven in like prey.

At this point, when seeing Steven cornered and confusedly looking around for a way out, you finally managed to gather the courage that you needed in order to push past the man in question and take the empty space beside Tommy, instead.

Tommy instinctively pushed you a little bit behind him, hiding you away from Steven’s sight as well as putting you out of reach.

“Now, because I’m feeling unusually generous today, I’m going to give you two options.” He then proceeded to speak, raising his eyebrows. “Either you see yourself out of my pub and never come back, or I’ll have my men escort you out. And that, I can assure you, will not be pleasant.”

“You’re making a mistake.” Steven attempted to step closer to you, but was immediately shot down as John and Arthur stepped closer.

“Okay, okay. I’m leaving.” Steven put his hands up and backed up again.

Tommy gave the Blinders a simple nod and they immediately began backing up, clearing a straight path for the front door.

“For your sake, I hope neither you nor her parents make another attempt to come to get her back or contact her in any way. She’s one of us now, and we take protecting our family very seriously.” Keeping his stare unwavering, Tommy spoke his final words of warning.

Steven spared the two of you one last look, clenched his jaw, and then he was gone, followed closely by the Blinders who stayed close to the door after his departure, while Tommy took your shoulder and gently guided you further into the pub.

With the storm now blown over, you were left standing still and silent in shame, arms self-consciously wrapped around yourself.

“Are you alright?” Tommy wasted no time in asking, voice low enough only for you to hear.

He bowed his head down in search of your eyes and after a moment of silence, you slowly raised them to meet his. “Yes. Thank you.”

A crease formed between his eyebrows, but it was gone just as quickly as it had gotten there.

“I don’t believe we’ve been properly introduced. (Y/N) (Y/L/N), was it?” He lightly smiled.

All you could do was smile back while nodding your head. “Yeah.”

“A beautiful name for a beautiful woman.” He mumbled, slowly reaching his hand up to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear, just like Steven had done minutes before.

Unlike when the latter had been the one behind the action, your stomach turned with excitement and contentment, rather than fear and disgust, at the feeling of calloused fingertips brushing against the soft skin of your cheek.

You closed your eyes for a short moment, basking in the feeling, but opened them again shortly after and furrowed your eyebrows.

“I’m sorry. For lying to you and for all of this. I completely understand if you-“

“We all have things in our past that we no longer want to be a part of our lives and there will come a time, for all of us, when we need to start fresh.” Tommy didn’t even allow you to finish your sentence.

He pressed his entire palm against the side of your face with a gentleness you’d never gotten to experience personally; you’d only ever seen that kind of emotion be showed to other people, strangers on the streets whom you had always envied.

Your eyes automatically closed at the feeling, but Tommy quickly urged you to open them again with a soft sweep of his thumb over your eyelid.

Letting them flicker open, you met his eyes, and with the most sincerity he had ever spoken in before, he said: “I don’t care about who you used to be. I only care about who you are, here and now…”

That sentence alone was enough to flip your stomach upside down. No matter how much you tried to contain your happiness, you couldn’t hold back the big smile that overtook your features and before you knew it, his lips were on yours.

His hand left the side of your face, slowly sliding down your neck and shoulder to stop at your upper arm, where he rubbed soothingly slow circles with his thumb. Eyes closed and hearts beating hard, the kiss was short but satisfactory nonetheless, the two of you coming apart with parted lips and spinning heads.

You stood in silence for a short moment, before he let out a slow breath, once again getting serious.

“Did he hurt you?” He asked quietly, genuinely, caringly, and while asking the question, he reached for your hands, accidentally putting pressure on the darkening bruises.

Before you could help yourself, you flinched, and he instantly reacted by looking down and carefully pushing up your sleeve.

You watched his face turn from one of genuine concern to burning rage at the sight of the purple and blue skin that had previously been hidden from sight by the lettuce edge hem of your sleeve.

He let his fingers hover above it but in the end, he didn’t touch the mark again, instead softly dropping your hand, erasing all anger from his face and taking your face between his hands.

“No more secrets from now on, eh?” He joked with a smile, and although you knew he was upset, you smiled back, nodding your head.

“No more secrets.”

“Good.”

You remained standing there for another few second before he leaned up to press a kiss to your forehead.

“Put some ice on your wrist and take the rest of the day off. I’ll come by your house later and we’ll talk.” He mumbled against your skin.

You replied with a nod once he pulled away again, and with one last shared glance watched him turn around and head for the door, where the others were still patiently waiting, murmuring among themselves presumably to give you the privacy you needed.

The second he turned away from you, his rage returned, as he marched across the room rather than walk the way he normally did.

“I want all of you to keep an eye out for that man. If he sets his foot on Small Heath soil again, you bring him to me.” Was the last that you heard before the door slammed shut behind them.

As they turned a corner some way down the street, they disappeared from your view, and left you in your lonesome to think about those gentle, blue eyes.

Tagged: @lucillethings @marvelously-flawed @springsoulofengland @lovelynervouskingdom @vintagedaydreams @caelys @thesassmisstress

(If you want to be added or removed from the tag list, send me a message, ask or leave a comment)

(I noticed that a lot of people have either changed their usernames or removed their accounts since the last time I posted a Peaky Blinders fic, because I can’t get the tags to work and also can’t find the blogs. So if thelonewolfdies, knrivera16, peakyhermione and fanficflaneuse see this and still wants to be tagged, let me know and I’ll write up your new username if you’ve changed them. Of course, newcomers are also welcome to join my tag-lists. Comment and reblog! <3)

#tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby #thomas shelby #thomas shelby imagine #thomas shelby x reader #peaky blinders #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinder #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinder x reader #arthur shelby #john shelby

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absolutepokemontrash · 3 years

Text

MC’s Half Demon and They Look Awfully Familiar Lessons 18-20

Series Masterlist

T-the season finale… *sniffle* it’s been a wild ride y’all… I’ve never actually written and stuck through with something for so long, so this is a real achievement for me! I really hope you guys have enjoyed this completely weird fluffy/angsty/mildly crackhead adventure! Please enjoy the last part!

All is well, the family is back together, everyone’s fine, the school year is almost over-

Wait, the school year is almost over?

Upon realizing that, everyone settled into a state of mild panic.

MC couldn’t just leave, they were part of the family! An integral part! They were the only thing keeping everyone from murdering each other during family game night!

As for Lucifer’s personal feelings on the matter, things were… tough.

When the exchange program was announced, Lucifer expected it to end like most of Diavolo’s ideas: annoying to clean up, it certainly couldn’t have ended worse than when he and the Crown Prince ended up getting cursed to hold hands for 25 hours straight. What Lucifer didn’t expect was for a child he didn’t even know he had to end up as the human exchange student and for his entire life to be thrown out of whack. That child of his was busy finishing up their final paper of the year.

“Hey, father,” MC looked up from their paper with a cheeky smile. “Do you think that the next exchange student will be as fun as me?”

“I sincerely hope not.” Lucifer sighed, continuing to sift through his paperwork on his desk. “Your kind of ‘excitement’ has completely worn me out.”

“Aw,” MC giggled, then went back to work. “So you don’t want me to stay here then?”

Lucifer stiffened and looked up from his paperwork. “Don’t put words in my mouth, MC.”

“So you do want me to stay. Interesting~” MC said as they began to sweep the eraser shavings off their paper. “Well, if you want me to stay so badly, you could have just asked.”

“P-pardon?” Lucifer blinked a few times to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating. “You want to stay?”

“Since you’d be so sad without me, I guess I just have to don’t I?” MC stood suddenly and slapped their finished essay on Lucifer’s desk. “The sacrifices I make for this family, I swear!”

We stand with you, MC, sacrifice your sanity for your weird-ass familia.

Anyway, Lucifer was thrilled that MC wanted to stay with him in the Devildom, the problem was… MC’s other parent may not have been too keen to just give up their baby.

You know, the demon child they raised all by themselves, with no help from Lucifer because he didn’t know MC existed…

Someone get MC’s ren on the phone! Stat!

“Alright dear little brothers of mine, listen closely because I’m not repeating this.” Lucifer looked over the living room couches at the other six rulers of hell. Belphie was sprawled out on one of the couches and was drooling all over Beel’s lap, Satan was making a point to look as disinterested as possible and kept sneaking glances at the book he was holding, and Mammon was wrestling Levi dangerously close to where Asmo was filing his nails.

Sighing in defeat, Lucifer continued. If any of his brothers misbehaved he couldn’t say he didn’t warn them. “MC‘s parent will be coming to visit.”

Everyone’s attention snapped to Lucifer. Wonderful.

“They’ll be staying for a few days and will decide if it’s in MC’s best interest to primarily stay in the Devildom from now on.”

Asmodeus slowly raised a hand. “Luciiiiiiferrrr!”

“Asmo, is your question overly personal in nature?”

The Avatar of lust brought a manicured nail to his cheek and daintily tapped it. “Mmm… I don’t think so.”

“Ask.”

“How long were you and MC’s parent dating for? Won’t it be awkward to be around your ex?”

Lucifer dragged a gloved hand down his face. “It was a one night thing.”

“Really?” Asmo knitted his eyebrows in confusion. “It wasn’t a long drawn out forbidden romance? You must have had some Olympic swimmers down there!”

“Okay!” Lucifer clapped his hands. “Add that to the list of things Asmo is not allowed to say.”

“We have to take something off the list then…” Beel said through handfuls of chips. “The list’s full.”

“Fine,” Lucifer grumbled. “He can say [CENSORED] again.”

“Yippee! [CENSORED] [CENSORED] [CENSORED]”

The group collectively groaned as Asmo continued to spout his profane nonsense.

“What did I just walk in on..?” MC stood in the doorway to the living room, still in their PJs.

“Oh, MC, your parent’s coming over to stay for a few days.” Lucifer quickly explained.

MC’s face morphed from confusion to horror. “What does that have to do with [CENSORED]?!”

This house is a FUCKING NIGHTMARE-

Anyway, after the initial confusion/horror, MC got really excited and rushed off to get ready. Meanwhile, the boys solemnly swore that they would be on their best behaviour!

Everyone needed to convince MC’s parent that everything in the Devildom was perfectly safe and that their little hellspawn was in good responsible hands.

Mammon tried to come up with a plan in case MC wasn’t allowed to stay with them, and let’s just say it involved kidnapping. But like- a chill kind of kidnapping where MC would be totally fine.

This idea was immediately shot down in favour of Beel’s plan B.

Beel would just… eat MC’s parent. No biggie, right?

Lucifer shot that one down the moment he heard it.

The only accepted plan for if MC wasn’t allowed to stay was just letting them go. They’d visit the Devildom. A lot. Many visits would be necessary.

So, the hour of MC’s ren’s arrival had come, and the student council assembled to greet them.

Greet the human. The completely non magical human. Greet them and then let them see the Devildom…

Was this exchange program really that good of an idea..?

MC frantically attempted to do some last minute fixes to their hair as they sat themselves down in their seat in the Assembly Hall. Ugh… stupid hair…

“Why are you so nervous?” Satan asked. “Is our visitor a neat freak basket case?”

“No!” MC huffed. “They’re not! I’m just making myself presentable so they don’t think I’ve gone completely feral down here.”

“Well, feral no, crazy, yes. Have you seen yourself lately?” Belphie snickered.

“SHUT UP BELPHIE.”

“Would you all be quiet?” Lucifer snapped. “You’re all acting like children.”

“I am a child.” MC snapped back. “What’s Belphie’s excuse?”

Belphie’s retort was cut off by the portal opening and a figure leisurely floating to the ground. They had an open parasol in their right hand that seemed to be aiding their gentle descent, and a large container full of what smelled like cookies tucked into their left side. The moment their toes touched the floor, the human gracefully closed their parasol and gave the assembled demons a sparkling smile and a polite bow.

“Thank you for allowing me the honour to visit,” the human’s voice was as soft and sweet as Cotton candy. “It’s a pleasure to officially meet the princes of hell themselves.”

:D yay!

After floating down from the sky like Mary Poppins, MC lost all sense of propriety and ran over to tackle their ren into a hug. It was that kind of thing where you really miss someone but you don’t realize exactly how much until you get to see them again.

Lucifer was, of course, the picture of elegance and “this isn’t awkward at all”-ness.

MC’s parent didn’t even seem to be all that concerned with the fact that their baby daddy was, y'know, LUCIFER MORNINGSTAR. THE MOST POMPOUS FUCKWAD IN THE DEVILDOM.

Please don’t tell him I said that, he’s still mad about the Go Fund Me…

MC was absolutely ecstatic to finally show their parent how much they’ve grown in terms of their demonic powers and all the friends they had made, but MC’s ren was more concerned with how much they had grown in terms of their height.

“You’re just so tall now,” MC’s ren giggled as they fixed their child’s hair. “You’ll get things off of shelves for me, won’t you?”

“Yeah yeah,” MC said, rolling their eyes good naturedly. “Like you can’t reach anything in your kitchen.”

“Okay,” Mammon, Satan, Levi, Belphie, and Beel were lagging behind Lucifer, MC, their parent, and Diavolo. “Change of plans, we ain’t eatin’ ‘em, we’re keepin’ ‘em.”

“We were never going to eat them in the first place, idiot.” Satan sneered. “And what’s with the change of tune? You were ready to wage war on the human world fifteen minutes ago.”

��…cookies happened.” Mammon mumbled. He had only gotten one of the human’s totally amazing offerings before Beel proceeded to eat everything. The cookie was perfect… so delicious…

“I say we keep the human.” Beel put a hand on his stomach. “I want more human world cookies.”

“They’re so cute too…” Asmo cooed. “A solid 10/10, and that’s such a rare ranking coming from the only 20/10 in existence!”

“Asmo, your vanity never ceases to make me want to roll over and-” Belphie’s insult was interrupted by him passing out and letting out a cartoonishly loud snore. It was a good thing Beel was able to quickly catch and throw Belphie over his shoulders like a sack of potatoes.

“Asmo has a point, they’re just so totally moe! Kawaii to the highest degree! That parasol, the homemade cookies, it’s just like something from a slice of life anime!” Levi squee-ed.

“So it’s settled, we treat ‘em nice, then we get ‘em to stay.” Mammon nodded to the rest of his brothers, who for the first time in the Demon King knows how long, his little brothers nodded back in full seriousness. They were actually doing a Mammon plan! Holy shit!

So, the brothers liked MC’s ren, what about Diavolo and Barbatos?

Well, MC’s ren had heard all about Barbatos’ amazing cooking from MC and Barb’s totally outstanding reputation, so the two got along swimmingly.

Dia. Loved. That. Human. They’re cute???? They’re sweet???? They brought COOKIES???! They don’t seem to be afraid of him at all????? Please be the exchange student next year :D

Oh yeah… he made a rule that said they couldn’t summon someone with kids… it would be cruel to rip a parent away from their child…

But apparently not a child away from their parent cough cough

Other than the uncle squad, MC’s ren got to meet the Purgatory Hall gang too!

MC was being just the most adorable tour guide, but that didn’t stop Lucifer from having a miniature heart attack any time a demon even looked at MC’s parent the wrong way. If MC’s ren got attacked or felt threatened in any way shape or form, he could say bye bye to his time with the one person in the HOL that didn’t live to make him pop a forehead vein. The human seemed outwardly unconcerned with any Devildom oddness and was amicably chatting with Diavolo while MC pulled them from place to place.

“And that’s Hell’s Kitchen, they have good sandwiches, and that’s Madame Scream’s, they have really good macarons.” MC helpfully pointed out the places as they passed them.

A much to familiar trio of voices called out from down the street. Father dammit, why were they here..?

“Hello Lucifer, what are you all up too?” Ugh… Simeon…

“From the sight of the rest of your brothers skulking about, it appears like they’re acting as bodyguards.” Solomon…

“MC? Who’s that?”

Oh good grief… that nasally little voice… the chihuahua was near… Now… Lucifer was a respectable demon… respectable demons don’t tease children in front of the parent of their child…

“Hello chihuahua.”

DAMN IT HE COULDN’T HELP HIMSELF!

“I’m not a chihuahua you demon!” Luke yapped.

MC’s parent daintily tilted their head and looked over at MC. “Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friends?”

“Right, Luke, this is my ren, ren, this is a chihuahua.” MC grinned cheekily as they gestured between the two. Lucifer suppressed a laugh which resulted in a very ugly snort. It was a good thing the sound was drowned out by Luke’s exclamations of betrayal.

The chorus of “how could you?!”s and “I thought you were over that awful nickname!”s was put to an abrupt halt when the visiting human elegantly offered a handshake to the fuming angel.

“MC spoke very highly of you,” they chirped. “It’s very nice to meet you, Luke.”

Luke blinked a few times, then quickly straightened his posture, adjusted his hat, then shook MC’s ren’s hand. “It’s nice to meet you too.”

“That’s Simeon.” MC jerked a thumb in Simeon’s direction. “And that’s Solomon.”

“Luke got a whole introduction and we get that? Come on MC, I thought we were friends.” Solomon fake pouted at MC after giving a polite nod to MC’s parent.

“We stopped being friends after one of the potions you had me test out turned me into a-” as quick as lighting, Mammon had shoved his hand into MC’s face.

“A-ah, MC’s rememberin’ stuff wrong, nothin’ potion related happened to ‘em. Right, Solomon???!”

Taking the hint from Mammon, Solomon smiled and nodded. “Nope, nothing related to turning MC into a frog for a few hours.”

“Hm, well I’m quite happy that absolutely nothing frog transformation related happened.” MC’s parent said.

“Yeah, must’ve hit their head on somethin- YEEEOW!” MC had bitten down on Mammon’s hand and slapped it away from them.

“I did not hit my head on anything!”

“Yeah,” Beel nodded. “Nothing’s hit them since the Fangol ball.”

“The what ball?” MC’s ren asked.

“The Fangol ball that hit MC a few months back and broke their glasses.” Five of the brothers slapped their hands to their foreheads.

“Oh my…”

“Eh,” MC patted their ren on the arm. “That’s nothing compared to the giant snake at the retreat.”

“Oh! Do you mind letting me tell that story, MC?”

Lucifer was frantically signalling for Diavolo to stop talking but the crown prince was already beginning his retelling of the events. Luke would chime in with an anecdote from an even worse misadventure the two had gone out on every once and a while. This… this wasn’t going well at all…

MC’s ren was… weirdly chill about the whole thing…

“Oh, it’s so nice that you’re having fun, sweetheart. That reminds me of when I was young and your aunt Clytemnestra and I would go out and have adventures.” “Really? You went on weird adventures too?” “…what kind of adventures could possibly compare to being chased by a giant snake in an underground labyrinth..?”

The side characters ended up needing to abscond for various reasons and all that was left was the brothers, MC, and MC’s parent.

They made it to the HOL without issue, which is when Lucifer remembered that he did not put all the cursed objects out of reach… shit.

“Asmo… Asmo!” “What is it?” “Take MC’s ren out of the house in half an hour, keep them occupied in the living room!” “What? Why?” “I need more time to human-proof the house! Distract them, but no funny business!” “Dear brother, for the first time in a very long time funny business is the second thing on my mind! Wait… no, it’s the third… what have I become..?”

Asmo and Satan, super graciously by the way, led MC and their ren to the living room to distract- I mean entertain them for a bit!

Lucifer and the rest of the gang got to work moving certain things around and closing certain doors- shit where was Cerberus?! Did Lucifer forget to walk him that morning?!

So much to dooooooo…

So maybe bringing a human into Majolish and letting them roam around unsupervised wasn’t the best idea Satan and Asmo had, but it sure as heck was an idea. MC looked through shelves of hairpins and bracelets while their ren disappeared around a corner to look at scarves.

“We’re doing such a great job babysitting!” Asmo clapped his hands. “If MC had just been a normal human I bet they’d last the entire year under our care.”

“Hm, you might be right.” Satan smiled and nodded. “Humans are surprisingly entertaining.”

“Yes… speaking of, where exactly is the human?”

The sudden sound of metal slamming against flesh and the delayed sound of something incredibly heavy hitting the floor jolted Asmo and Satan from their conversation.

“Honestly, some people have no fucking manners!”

It was such a different voice than what Satan and Asmo were used to that the only thing that tipped them off to it being MC’s ren was the fact that MC began to giggle. MC’s ren stepped back into view carrying a metal staff that quickly transformed back to their parasol.

Asmo and Satan rushed over to check if their defenceless little human guest was okay, only to find some lesser demon passed out on the floor with an incredibly nasty bump on the side of their head.

“I’ve heard that humans are apparently quite delicious to demons but I didn’t expect someone to actually try and eat me.”

“I-um…” Satan sputtered, looking from Asmo to MC’s parent. “We’re uh…”

“You alright, ren?” MC called from over by the bracelet shelves.

“Yes, I’m alright.” MC’s ren gave the fourth and fifth born a calming smile. “No harm done, well, except to that poor bastard. I do hope I haven’t killed him… that would be such a nasty thing for the poor sales associates to find.”

Okay so maybe the defenceless human wasn’t so defenceless. That was a good thing… right?

“So where exactly did you manage to get your hands on such a weapon..?” “Ah, I come from a family of witches. This was a college graduation present.”

…doit doit seems legit.

The four made it back home just in time, Lucifer and the others had finished human proofing the house.

Yay!

The house tour went by smoothly, everything was all well and good until Beel and Belphie asked MC’s ren to make more cookies.

Oh god dammit the human said they would.

“Oh Beel, you shouldn’t eat the cookie dough raw… the eggs and raw flour will make you sick!” “Don’t worry, he’ll be fine. Besides, it’s best not to interrupt Beel while he’s eating.” “Yeah it might end like the custard incident.” “Custard… incident?” “MC and Mammon ate my custard and I ended up breaking the wall that connected to MC’s room.” “Hunger tantrums, am I right?”

After that it was Mammon and Levi’s turn to babysit. It went about as well as you’d think.

Levi explained some anime plot in an attempt to make it seem like the Devildom was totally safe and that MC and their ren could stay forever no problem, while Mammon desperately suppressed the urge to swipe the cool parasol.

Finally, it was time for the verdict. Would MC be allowed to stay in the Devildom..? Or would they go back to the human world..?

“Lucifer?”

The demon in question looked up from his paperwork and tried to nod in the most casual way possible. MC’d ren was standing in the doorway, Lucifer must have missed their knock. “Yes? Do you need something?”

MC’s ren smiled and nodded. “It’s about MC’s living situation going forward.”

Lucifer stiffened and got up from his desk. “Y-yes… what about it?”

“MC has expressed that they want to stay here full time with frequent visits to the human world.” The softness that their voice had earlier in the day was completely absent as the human stepped forward into the study and closed the door behind them. “I want to know what you think about that.”

“Well,” Lucifer cleared his throat and tried to shake off the stupid sense of nervousness that had wrapped itself around him. A weak little human’s decision should not make him so anxious! “I would like for MC to stay here as well, I think it would be best for them.”

The human raised an eyebrow and twirled their parasol in their hand. “Really now? In your year with them you truly believe you know what’s best for them?”

Lucifer’s eyes narrowed. “Yes. I do.”

MC’s ren went quiet for a few seconds before replying. “I see.”

“And that means..?”

“I knew this day would come, but I didn’t think it’d be so soon.” MC’s ren sighed, and for the first time all day, they actually let their exhaustion show. “I raised MC knowing that one day they’d end up in the Devildom. They’ve told me over and over again how much they like it down here…” the human took a deep breath and slowly shook their head. “If this is what they want… then I give my permission for them to stay with you.”

A wave of relief swept over Lucifer as he finally took a breath. “Thank you.”

“Mm… I’m going to have to use my favour though.”

The relief completely vanished as the Avatar of Pride’s blood ran cold. Memories flooded back from the one night the pair had spent together, the human had offered a cursed record to him that he had spent decades trying to find, in exchange, Lucifer let them have one favour. A favour from a demon was like a single pact order, Lucifer had to do literally anything this human wanted.

“Protect MC, even if it costs you your life.” The human’s words were careful and measured as Lucifer felt the order sink in. “You’ll do that for them, right Lucifer?”

Lucifer nodded as life flooded back into his limbs. “I would have done it without the order.”

So, the brother’s plan to make MC’s ren stay forever failed because they were going back to the human world with MC for summer vacation. Listen, it was needed, MC needed to see the sun lest they shrivel like a sad houseplant.

At least Lucifer technically had primary custody of his little heathen! Victory!

MC said their goodbyes to the friends they had made over the year as they prepared to leave for the next two months, it was filled with so many bone-crushing hugs that MC was surprised that their spine didn’t snap.

MC and Luke had lagged behind the much larger group as they made their way to the assembly hall. MC’s ren was dazzling the miniature crowd with stories of just how adorable MC was as a little kid. The half demon rolled their eyes and silently mourned the loss of any cool points they had gained over the year. Their little companion was oddly quiet, MC lightly nudged him and smiled.

“Aren’t you happy to be going home? You’ve been griping about being stuck down here the entire year. Don’t tell me you’re getting sappy, Luke.”

Luke puffed his cheek out and crossed his arms. “Of course I’m happy to be leaving, the Celestial Realm is the best place ever, the Devildom is completely terrible in every way.”

MC smirked and rolled their eyes again. Just let the little guy go on his rant…

“But… I am going to miss you…” Luke mumbled, MC’s eyebrows shot upwards as they turned their head to look at him. “Th-thanks for being my friend down here… MC. You’re… you’re really nice.”

To their absolute horror, MC felt a lump form in their throat. Oh dear Grandfather… the chihuahua was what broke them?! They quickly looked around to see if anyone was paying attention, then quickly pulled Luke into a hug. The hug was over as fast as it began, but it seemed that Luke didn’t particularly care and was more shocked at the sudden bout of affection.

“If anyone, and I mean anyone asks, I didn’t hug you.” MC murmured, quickly swiping at their eyes.

Luke nodded, a small smile spread across his face. “Got it!”

So the side characters left… *sniffle* everything’s okay… the DDDs work in any of the realms… they could still talk.

Soon, it was time for the final sets of goodbyes…

“Come on, Bean, we’re going to the human world!” MC tried to take the cat from Satan, who didn’t move a muscle.

“If you think you’re taking the cat from here, you’re delusional.” Satan’s smile didn’t leave his face, but the force behind his words was almost enough to make MC back off. Almost…

“My caaaaaat!” MC whined, they ended up getting lightly pushed away by Satan.

“Remember, the summer’s a good time to catch up on anime!” Levi advised. “There’s 24 hours in a day, and an average anime episode is 22 minutes long, you have loads of time!”

“I’ll keep up with my anime only if you promise to listen to the Death Note musical, Levi.” MC giggled and patted Levi on the shoulder.

“Remember MC, take care of your cuticles and your skin.” Asmo took MC’s hand and checked their fingernails. “They were an absolute mess before you got here, so I expect you to keep up your routines this summer!”

“Yeeeeeeeeeeees siiiiiiiiirrrrrrrrr.”

“Bye MC,” Beel handed MC a half opened cup of custard. “I almost ate it, but I didn’t. Make sure you don’t skip any meals this summer.

MC jumped up and gave Beel a quick hug. “Thanks Beel! I’ll be sure to enjoy the custard!”

“Bye, MC. See you next year.” Belphie stood awkwardly stiff, not exactly sure what to do. MC pursed their lips, then quickly wrapped him up in a hug.

“Bye Belphie, I hope all your pillow forts are structurally unsound.”

The avatar of sloth snickered and rested his head on MC’s. “I hope you get really comfortable and are fully ready to go to sleep, then realize you have to pee.”

MC gasped in fake offence and swatted Belphie on the arm.

Mammon put both his hands on MC’s shoulders, his face unusually serious. “Do ya remember what the great Mammon took painstakin’ effort to teach ya?”

“Payday loans are scams, witches are scary, bowline knots are the easiest to undo, don’t wear reflective sunglasses to a poker game aaaaaaaand…” MC grinned mischievously. “Any plan thought up by the Great Mammon should be subject to intense revision.”

“That’s ri- hey!” Mammon laughed and shoved MC towards Lucifer.

MC looked up at Lucifer, the pride demon looked down at them fondly. He reached out and gently ruffled their hair. “I’ll see you next year, MC.”

“Y-yeah…”

Lucifer crouched down slightly to get to their level and gave MC a smile. “I’m very proud of you, you’ve been an immense help this year. Thank you for everything.”

“Thanks for not being a stereotypical supervillain dad, father.” MC smiled softly and fixed their glasses. “Loveyoubye!”

MC turned and rushed to their ren’s side as Lucifer let out a soft chuckle.

“I love you too, MC.”

As Barbatos readied the portal to send the pair to the human world, MC couldn’t wipe the grin off their face. Geez, if this year was a metric mess of fun and insanity… what was the next year going to be like? The half demon’s grin morphed into a bit of a smirk. No way in hell their next year in the Devildom was going to be as insane as their first year.

MC almost giggled as they gave their family one last wave. That wasn’t the time to think about the future, besides, MC knew that it would take two insane chaotic humans to be summoned into the Devildom to even come close to the chaos MC managed to create, both on purpose and by accident.

And what were the odds of that happening?

——————

Authors Note: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA ITS DONE SEASON ONE IS DONE!

I wasn’t able to fit the Anti Lucifer League stuff into this one, I’ll put it in a separate fic later!

I NOW NEED TO WORK ON GETTING THROUGH SEASON 2 IN THE ACTUAL GAME. To get mildly serious for a second, thanks to everyone who has stuck around to listen to me spout my fic-y nonsense, you all are nerds (affectionate) and I love you.

#obey me #obey me!#obey me! shall we date?#obey me shall we date #Obey me Headcanons #Obey me fic #Obey me! Headcanons #Obey me MC #Obey me Lucifer #Obey me Mammon #obey me beelzebub #Obey me Belphegor #obey me leviathan #Obey me Asmodeus #Obey me Satan #Obey me Luke

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bitsandbobsofwriting · 3 years

Text

Long Lost Prince Part 2;

Merlin leads his people home and Arthur grapples with whether he should keep his feelings to himself or not.

Part 1

Just like Arthur promised, a portion of Camelot's army mixed with around fifty of Merlin's knights are marching towards the Dragonlands within a month.

Merlin and Arthur lead the way, Sir Thornway, Sir Leon, and Sir Mordred following closely behind. It was decided fairly quickly that Hunith and Gaius would stay in Camelot; they were desperate to get home, but they weren't fighters, and whilst the chance of attack was fairly low considering the army behind them and the two dragons circling ahead, Arthur and Merlin were unwilling to risk it.

At a quick pace, Arthur reckons they could've made the journey in a week, but the army is slow-moving, and it takes them almost three to reach the border. They don't hear a peep out of anyone as they move through the countryside, though Arthur does raise an amused eyebrow at Merlin every once in a while, as and when the Warlock chuckles at Kilgharrah whispering in his head about all the various pathetic mercenaries and bandits running away screaming at the sight of his silhouette against the clouds.

The Dragonland, in comparison to Camelot, was a very small kingdom, but it’s capital city was near the far border, backed by miles and miles of towering mountains. In one of the many sessions of reminiscing that Merlin, Thornway, and Kilgharrah have in the evenings, they discuss the mountains at length. They were mostly uninhabited by people, even before the purge, they were far too treacherous for those without a guide and strong magic, and even then the paths were still dangerous.

The great mountains were where the Dragon’s resided; in a network of twisting tunnels and great caverns carved with fire and magic. Merlin vaguely remembers being taken there a few weeks before... before they left. Thornway told him that retreating into the mountains was one of the back up plans, if Uther’s army was too big and there was no hope of escape through the countryside.

(Arthur frowned at that. He was frowning at a lot nowadays, but Merlin just squeezed his leg under the blanket they were sharing (Leon did NOT smirk and Arthur did NOT blush) and whispered, yet again, that he was not his father.)

The escape through the mountains was planned to be a last ditch effort though, even with the dragons leading them and their strongest sorcerers protecting them, the perilous paths, with their knife edge drops and loose rocks and harsh snow, would have taken too many casualties to count. Though, in the end, escaping through the countryside had been just as deadly.

Arthur also used the journey to think about what Leon had said. Though Merlin and The King stuck close by for the whole trek, conversation was sparse (though the silences were comfortable); Arthur was unsure how to bring up the inevitable change in their relationship, though he knows that, for his own peace of mind if nothing else, he should.

They were deep into the Kingdom, having passed all the now doubly abandoned outer villages (Arthur was right in thinking that two dragons and a marching army scared away all the various mercenary groups and bandits) and now only a day’s ride from the capital, that Arthur asked Merlin the question that had been plaguing his mind for weeks. The two of them were sat against a fallen log, the night flourishing around them. The silence over the rest of the camp was tense, the knowledge that they were close hanging in the air, but the silence between Merlin and Arthur was comfortable, peaceful:

“What are you planning on doing?”

Merlin took a noticeably deep breath and Arthur turned to him, trying desperately to keep the worried frown off his face:

“I don’t know. I didn’t really discuss it with ma, we just... wanted to get home, and work from there, see what happens I guess.”

Arthur nodded, gulping slightly before he responds:

“Do you think she wants the throne? Your mother? Or will you become King?”

Merlin chuckles, but Arthur clenches his hands and looks away at the humourless lilt the noise has:

“I’d love to see her back in her crown, on her throne, but it’s been a long time. She did everything with my father by her side, I don’t know if... if she would want to do it on her own. I don’t know that she would cope.-”

The Warlock turns to face Arthur, and it strikes The King how close they are when he can feel Merlin’s breath on his cheek. He turns to meet his gaze once more:

“-What would you do, Arthur? In my place?”

Arthur can only hold his stare for a few moments before he looks to his lap, shaking his head slightly:

“I don’t know, Merlin. Tell me what’s on your mind, I... I can’t promise that I’ll have the answers, but maybe saying things out-loud will help.”

Merlin nods as he shuffles in his spot slightly, and Arthur likes to think that he was moving closer:

“I... I’m desperate to get home. But at the same time, I waited. I waited for twenty years, I’ve built myself a life in Camelot, I’d... given up on ever returning home, and I was just about coming to terms with the fact that Camelot was my home now. And then... this. I have to lead my people back, I know that, I owe it to them, it’s my job to protect them and give them back their heritage-”

Arthur interrupts quietly:

“Your heritage.”

Merlin sighs:

“-yeah, my heritage. My mother, and Gaius, and my people, and... and I, we deserve to go home. But I was only six when we left, I never got all the lessons on how to be a Politician, a King. Yes, I’m the heir, yes, I remember home and the crown and being a little Prince, but I am not built to be a King, Arthur, I don’t want to- I can’t fail my people, but I fear I will. I... I’ve been putting up a brave front for my mum, for Thornway, but I’m terrified. I have no idea what I’m doing, Arthur. What if I mess up?”

Arthur allows a small smile to slip onto his face as he takes Merlin’s fidgeting hands in his own. He shakes his head as he huffs out a short laugh and Merlin looks at him incredulously:

“You couldn’t possibly, Merlin. I know you well, do I not?-”

Merlin nods his head vigorously:

“Better than anyone.”

Arthur fights the blush:

“-And I’m telling you, that you have nothing to worry about. You may not have had official lessons, but you have the mind for politics.-”

Arthur glances to his lap briefly as he takes a fortifying breath, stroking his thumbs over the back of Merlin’s hands, still clutched in his, and looking up to him again:

“-I had all those lessons. All that training, and practicing, and tutoring. But I was still so... lost when I became King. I don’t think I ever told you, Merlin, but the only thing that got me through was you, always by my side. Because I knew that you would never let me fail, because I trusted you to see my shortcomings and make up for them without fuss, without fault. And you did, without asking for any thanks, or recognition, like you do with everything. To this day, you think I’m a good King because of destiny, but that’s utter bollocks and I’ve always known it. I’m a good King, Merlin, because you made me a good man first. And on days when I doubt my own rule, I remind myself of how much faith you have in me, and it gives me strength, because I know you would never allow me to fail, and on the off chance I fall, I know you would catch me. Every good King who cares about his people has doubts, Merlin, but however much faith you have in me? I have the same amount, if not more, in you. You’ll do just fine.”

Merlin looks at him with wide, teary eyes, and Arthur flushes under the scrutiny. The King goes to say something, maybe a flippant joke to de-charge the atmosphere, but before he can utter even a word, Merlin throws himself at him, wrapping tight arms around his shoulders and burying his face in his neck. Arthur almost falls back, but he holds steady, chuckling slightly as he returns Merlin’s hug with equal intensity. Merlin’s muffled voice from his shoulder has Arthur tightening his grip:

“Will you catch me? If I fall?”

Arthur moves a hand up to cradle the back of Merlin’s head:

“You won’t fall. But I’d spend the rest of my life stood below you with my arms out ready, Merlin, if that gave you just a fraction of the belief in yourself that you should have.”

Neither pulled away for what felt like hours, and by the time Thornway wondered over to check on them, they had fallen asleep against the log, arms still firmly wrapped around each other.

He smiles mournfully as he drapes a blanket over them. You would have to be blind to miss the odd moroseness that had overtaken them both, and the old knight knew that his Prince was dreading having to leave Arthur, and that Arthur was dreading the same. They shuffle in their sleep, and Thornway freezes, worried that he had woken them, but when Arthur just mutters Merlin’s name and moves impossibly closer to the other man Thornway sighs. This is going to be... painful for the two of them, and he’s not quite sure how he can help.

After another day of travel, they find themselves moving through the capital city, towards the castle sitting at the foot of the mountains.

The army was left with orders to methodically clear the city whilst Arthur, Leon, Thornway, and Mordred headed straight for the citadel gates. Though the city had fallen into disrepair, the castle looked like it had barely been touched, even by the elements, and Thornway explained that powerful enchantments laid over the ancient building, preventing it from being invaded or damaged by even the strongest of armies:

“It was meant to be a stronghold, somewhere we could hide and keep our people safe in emergencies, but we knew if we did that we would have backed ourselves into a corner. Uther was taking over more and more of the city every day, if we locked ourselves in... we would have just starved. Trying to escape through the city and out into the wilderness was our only hope.”

Merlin nods absent-mindedly as he stares up at the main door:

“Can we even get in?”

His voice is quiet and shaky, and Mordred steps forward to put a hand on his shoulder as Thornway replies with a small smile:

“You’re the heir, the doors will always open for you, Little Falcon.”

Merlin replies with a weak smirk and flushed cheeks:

“You know, I’m not all that little anymore.”

Thornway barks out a laugh as he shakes his head slightly, ruffling Merlin’s hair as the younger man pouts:

“Well, you’ll always be littler than me.-”

Merlin goes to retort, but before he can, his knight steps back and gestures to the great doors in front of them:

“-Go on, it’s time for us to finally come home, I think.”

Merlin gulps and nods, and Mordred lets his hand fall back to his side as the older Warlock takes the steps two at a time, hesitating only slightly before he wraps his hand around one of the doors’ metal rings. It twists easily in his grip, and the door swings open. Merlin has to take a step back and cover his mouth with his sleeve as he coughs, the billowing clouds of dust being disturbed for the first time in two decades making it almost impossible to see into the dark hall.

It settles after a few moments and Merlin takes a deep breath, reaching behind him wordlessly and relaxing only when he feels Arthur take his hand. The blonde King gives his hand a comforting squeeze, and Merlin takes his first shaking steps across the threshold.

He walks through the dark corridors slowly, one hand tightly clenched in Arthur’s, the other trailing along the wall next to him. The rest of the group is silent as they follow him, and nothing can be heard bar their muffled steps over the dusty rugs, and the deep breathing of Merlin and Thornway.

Merlin seems to know where he’s going, so no one questions the corners he turns and the rooms he passes without second thought. The deeper into the castle they get, the darker it becomes, until finally Merlin stops, a long hall stretched out in front of him. His eyes flash gold and the torches lining the walls flare up, illuminating the corridor in golden light. Arthur turns to look at the Warlock beside him, empathetic tears gathering in his eyes as he sees tracks on Merlin’s cheeks.

Merlin turns to glance at Thornway, whose in a similar state, before closing his eyes and flattening his free hand against the wall, digging his fingertips into the cracks as his voice comes out quiet and raspy:

“I know these halls, this stone.-”

Thornway takes a deep stuttering breath, muttering Merlin’s name. Merlin steps away from the wall, looking back to his knight with a weak, teary smile:

“-Do you remember? Chambers filled with golden light, vast halls bustling with people and dragons and magic?”

Thornway gulps and nods, slowly moving towards Merlin and putting a hand on his shoulder:

“I remember.-”

He nods down the corridor, taking a deep breath and clearing his throat before asking:

“-You remember what’s down there?”

Merlin smiles and nods, squeezing Arthur’s hand and leading the group down the hall, obviously impatient to get to wherever their destination is, but unwilling to walk any quicker.

Leon and Arthur share a confused and slightly concerned look but don’t say anything, allowing Merlin and Thornway to lead the way. Once again, Merlin hesitates only slightly before pushing the door at the end of the corridor open. and the six of them gather inside the immense chamber. Like the rest of the castle, it was dusty, but untouched; unlike the rest of the castle, it was bathed in colourful light. The walls were high, the ceiling obviously stretching far above the surrounding rooms, and the afternoon sun shone brightly through giant stained glass windows.

Reds and blues and greens and every other colour imaginable were splashed across the stone floor, painting pictures of dragons and flowers and family, but everyone’s eyes skip over the colourful artwork, instead being drawn to the two golden thrones sat on a dais at the other end of the hall. Merlin lets go of Arthur’s hand, walking towards the thrones with wide eyes as the others stay back, watching with a mix of pride and grief. Thornway follows after a few moments and Leon has to put a hand on Arthur’s shoulder, shaking his head slightly when the King looks at him. Arthur clenches his hands and looks away, but stays by the door, wanting more than anything to be with Merlin through this but also understanding that it wasn’t his place.

Merlin finally reaches the thrones.

He wipes the thick dust from the armrests with shaking, but reverent hands before sitting down on the steps, slightly to the side of the golden seats. He runs his fingertips over the stone, remembering every bump and crack and texture, and Thornway stands behind him, in line with the thrones, putting a hand on his shoulder and muttering:

“Now this brings back memories.”

Merlin nods, looking up at him, tears no longer flowing, but still gathering in his eyes:

“I... I don’t remember much, but I still... know. I know this is where I sat, with you behind me, ma and dad next to me on their thrones. I remember dad promising that when I was older, they’d have a throne made for me, so I could sit with them.”

Thornway nods, slowly moving to sit beside him, ignoring the creaking in his bones as he lets his weight fall onto the stone steps:

“Hmm. foreign royalty and dignitaries thought it odd that the King and Queen let you sit in on meetings, even as a young child, but they were always adamant; they didn’t want to hide you away. You were always safe, of course, but they wanted you exposed to the people and the people exposed to you. I suppose they wanted to nurture a natural love and protectiveness of your people in you; how could they expect you to serve the Kingdom well if you were only doing so out of duty, and not genuine love?”

Merlin hums thoughtfully before smiling briefly up at Arthur, still stood on the other side of the room. When Arthur tentatively returns the smile, despite not hearing the hushed conversation, Merlin looks to Thornway next to him, bumping shoulders with a short giggle:

“Probably why I’ve always been so disrespectful to Arthur, everyone in here was equal, no matter what. I guess that’s why the treatment of servants and commoners was such a shock when I moved to Camelot, I don’t really remember much of home, but it definitely felt different.”

Thornway nods as Merlin stands, holding out a hand to the knight and pulling him to his feet. Merlin’s gaze moves around the room, though he stays rooted to the spot, and Thornway asks his question quietly:

“What do you want to do? Do you want to finish clearing the castle and the city first, or fetch your mother and uncle first?”

Merlin gulps before taking a deep breath, staring at the floor and saying in a small voice:

“I don’t know... what do you think I should do?”

Thornway chuckles and shakes his head:

“This is your decision, Little Falcon. You are the Crown Prince, this is your Kingdom, your city, your people, trust your instincts. What should be done?”

Merlin looks to Arthur once again, reminding himself of the King’s promise to catch him should he fall, before looking back at Thornway with a determined expression:

“Send Kilgharrah to fetch ma and Gaius. We no longer need him as a deterrent, and we’ll still have Aithusa. He can make the journey to Camelot and back in a week at most, knights, even on horseback, will take at least twice that. It’s been a while since either of them went flying, but they’ll remember soon enough, and I trust Kilgharrah to keep them safe. We can keep clearing the city and start rough plans for rebuilding whilst we wait.”

Thornway grins and nods proudly:

“Exactly what I would have suggested. See? You’ll be just fine.-”

Merlin returns his grin shyly, blushing slightly as he rubs the back of his neck. Thornway rolls his eyes good-naturedly before gesturing to the others:

“-Come, My Lord, we should let the others know and head out to send Kilgharrah off as soon as possible.”

Merlin pushes the older knight’s shoulder playfully at the use of a title, but Thornway just smirks and waves Merlin ahead of him.

Arthur, Leon, and Mordred were told of the plan as the group made their way out of the castle again, having to cover their eyes when they step into the bright sunlight. They all smiled fondly as they saw Merlin’s growing confidence, though Arthur had to stamp down the growing anxiety swirling in his stomach; he refused to be sad for himself.

Kilgharrah was flying back towards Camelot within the hour, and Merlin was separating the army into groups and assigning tasks with a strong voice and straight back, taking every question and suggestion in his stride and organising hundreds of people without issue.

Arthur knew that there was still a conversation to be had between himself and Merlin, though with every day that passed he questioned whether it was the right thing to do. He wasn’t oblivious enough not to notice the way Merlin always asked for his council, even when he didn’t need it, always searched for his eyes in the crowd when he addressed his people, but that didn’t mean that his... affections, were returned.

Everyone, even Thornway now, kept shooting him pitying looks, and he figured out fairly quickly that he wasn’t as subtle as he’d like to believe. Leon was the only one he could rely on to convincingly pretend nothing was wrong, and Arthur used that to back up his deliberate ignoring of his stupid emotions.

Six days had passed and the clearing of debris from the lower town was well on its way when Kilgharrah landed in the castle courtyard, his two passengers tense and teary. Only Hunith, Gaius, Merlin, and Thornway took the journey through the castle this time; the others continued to help with the work in the town, not quite feeling that they would be welcome on the emotional tour.

Hunith decided fairly quickly that she would move on to become Queen Mother. Merlin would be crowned King (though he put his foot down and insisted that it wouldn’t happen until everything was properly sorted, and the people were settled back in the city), and though Hunith would still be the most senior of the royals, Merlin would technically have the most power.

Arthur had mixed feelings about that.

As King, Merlin would be a lot busier, would have a lot more responsibilities, but equally, he would have much more control over the use of his time; somehow making it both harder and easier to organise visits between the two of them. Though Arthur, of course, didn’t mention such feelings, just pulled Merlin into another tight hug and congratulated him with a grin.

With the help of Merlin and Mordred’s magic, and the few sorcerers scattered throughout the army they had brought, clearing the town of debris and rebuilding what they could with whatever was left went fairly quickly. Soon enough, the blacksmith’s and an infirmary were up and running, and the farms were ready for work to commence, just as soon as the resources from Camelot arrived.

The castle, whilst it had been fully explored by Merlin, Hunith, Thornway, and Gaius, had yet to be opened up to others or cleaned properly, but no one mentioned it. The gang slept happily in homes rebuilt in the upper town, and accepted Merlin’s excuse of wanting to focus on the people’s infrastructure first.

It was a week or so after Hunith and Gaius had arrived, Kilgharrah and Aithusa had disappeared into the mountains with Merlin’s approval, and Arthur once again found Merlin stood in the otherwise empty, still dusty throne room, staring at the golden seats with his hands in his pockets and his face tense.

Years ago, Arthur would’ve been wrong in his assumption that Merlin hadn’t heard him approach, but just this once he knows that he’s right. Arthur had slowly become an expert on picking up Merlin’s ticks, and even in the low light of the evening the blonde could tell that Merlin had no clue he was there.

Arthur didn’t want to feel like he was intruding, so cleared his throat quietly, only walking closer to the other man when his head whipped around, smiling slightly when he saw it was just Arthur.

Arthur stepped up next to him, and they both stared at the thrones in silence, shoulders brushing ever so slightly. Everything had been so busy in recent weeks that, other than the conversation two weeks earlier, Arthur and Merlin had spent barely any time together, just the two of them; every other time Arthur had found Merlin alone in the throne room he had shut the door quietly behind him and left, too afraid to intrude, not quite ready to start a conversation. The conversation.

After a few minutes, he clears his throat again and speaks in a quiet voice, not looking to the Warlock next to him:

“What’s on your mind?”

Merlin responds almost immediately, but like Arthur, he speaks quietly and doesn’t move his gaze from the thrones:

“Nothing, everything. I’m... doing ok, I think.-”

Arthur nods with a small smile, but Merlin continues before he can say anything:

“-But I’m scared that I’m only doing well because you’re here. You have to go back to Camelot eventually and... it sounds stupid, but I... I don’t want you to go. I need you, Arthur.”

Arthur gulps, finally looking to Merlin’s sorrowful face, though the other man refuses to meet his gaze. He takes his hands out of his pockets, fiddling with them roughly, rubbing his knuckles together and scratching his palms harshly. Arthur clenches his jaw, taking one of Merlin’s hands in his own gently and running soothing fingers over the younger man’s callouses:

“I know what you mean.-”

Merlin looks to him in surprise, his eyes widening, and Arthur continues with a small smile:

“-I told you, Merlin, I’m only a good King because of you. I’ve never had to rule on my own before and I’m dreading going back to Camelot without you.-”

Merlin shakes his head roughly, but Arthur continues once again, before he can disagree:

“-No, Merlin, don’t argue, it’s true. I... I need you as well, I don’t want to be without you, and I’ve no clue how I’m going to cope with a week’s ride between us. Leon tried talking some sense into me back in Camelot, and I know he was right, that all relationships take effort and we’ll have to work incredibly hard to stay in each other’s lives in any significant capacity, and I’m absolutely willing to do anything to keep you close, if not physically then... otherwise, but I’m still...-”

Arthur sighs and looks away, his cheeks just a little bit pink as he continues quietly:

“-I’m still scared to be without you.”

Merlin gulps and squeezes Arthur’s hand in his own, waiting for the blonde to finally look up at him again. The Warlock smiles at the eye contact and Arthur returns it weakly as Merlin finally replies:

“The last ten years of my life have revolved around you, completely and utterly, and I know it’s selfish of me to... not want that to change. I know I’m staying here, with my people, as their King. I would never consider abandoning them, not really, but I desperately want to, just so I can stay with you. We... we’ll figure something out, find some way to communicate quickly. I’m magic incarnate, there has to be a way, I... I’ll make a way, if I have to.”

The tears in Arthur’s eyes finally overflow at Merlin’s determined tone, but before the other man can say anything about it, Arthur pulls him into a tight hug, clutching his cloak in shaking fingers and burying his face in his shoulder, for once feeling grateful for the extra inch in height that Merlin has on him. Merlin returns the hug without hesitation, closing his eyes against the tears, though not managing to stop them from falling as he quietly speaks, his voice thick:

“I promised that I would stay with you until the day I died, but I... I have to leave, I... I can’t-”

Arthur tightens the hug as he interrupts him:

“No, Merlin, you owe me nothing, you don’t have to explain. You’ve already given me my kingdom, now it’s my chance to return the favour. I would never ever ask you to leave this behind just for me.”

Arthur can feel Merlin’s body shaking with silent sobs, and he runs a hand through his hair softly, breathing deeply in an effort to hold in his own bawling.

They stand wrapped in each other for a while, neither willing to let go even when their tears dry up and their breathing evens out. Eventually Merlin rasps out a whispered:

“I don’t want to lose you.”

Arthur pulls back at long last, but doesn’t go far, leaning his forehead against Merlin’s and closing his eyes before replying:

“You won’t. We’ll take turns hosting Yule celebrations, and I can visit on your birthday, and there’ll be tournaments of course, and trade routes, and shared patrols near the border. I refuse to let you slip from my grasp, Merlin, you’ll never be without me, not for long anyway.”

Merlin huffs out a gentle laugh, and Arthur thinks the flutter of his breath over his cheeks and through his eyelashes is the most beautiful thing he’s ever felt. Both of them open their eyes, but they don’t move away from each other, even as they stare, becoming increasingly aware of the very little amount of space between them. Arthur’s brows crease slightly but he ignores the concerned question in Merlin’s eyes, instead lifting a hand to gently cup his jaw, gulping as Merlin’s expression falls into a soft smile.

The King takes a deep breath as he summons his courage, eyes filling with tears again as he clears his throat, whispering so quietly that it’s a miracle Merlin hears him, even with only inches between them:

“Merlin, I... you mean a great deal to... I mean I... -”

He cuts himself off with a quiet huff, and Merlin smirks at the slight blush dusting his cheeks, patiently waiting for him to continue. Arthur shuts his eyes tightly, taking another deep breath before opening them with a newfound determination. He meant it, he’d come this far, he was not going to let Merlin slip away:

“I love you, you are the single most important person in my life, and I would go to the ends of this world just to see you smile. I owe you my life, and so much more than that; you’ve been making promises and swearing oaths to my crown for years-”

Merlin interrupts him quietly:

“To you, to Arthur, not the crown, to you.”

Arthur huffs slightly and rolls his eyes:

“I’m trying to confess my undying love here Merlin, and I’m not very good with this whole... expressing shit, so shut up and let me finish.-”

Merlin snorts but stays otherwise silent, raising an eyebrow to prompt Arthur to continue:

“-Like I was saying. You’ve been swearing things for years, and now it’s my turn.-”

Arthur steps back, taking Merlin’s hands tightly in his own as he lowers himself to one knee, pressing his forehead to the Warlock’s knuckles:

“-I swear on my crown and in the name of Camelot, that I will always love you, that I will always be ready catch you, and that I will never stop putting the work in to make sure I don’t lose you, that you don’t lose me.”

The blonde can hear Merlin’s stuttered breathe and barely has time to process Merlin’s whispered-

“I accept your oath.”

-before he’s being pulled to his feet and urgently kissed.

One of Merlin’s hands settles on the side of Arthur’s neck and the other grips his hip. Arthur’s arms flail for only a moment in his shock before he moves to clutch Merlin’s collar tightly, closing his eyes and kissing back, pushing as much of his devotion into the action as possible and wanting nothing more than to sooth the stress-induced bite marks on Merlin’s lips.

They pull back far too soon, as far as both of them are concerned, once again resting their foreheads against each other as they catch their breath. Arthur’s face slowly morphs into a grin as he says:

“And to think I was stressing over whether I should tell you for weeks.”

Merlin rolls his eyes in response, snorting in amusement as he admits, much to Arthur’s chagrin:

“Believe me, I already knew, you weren’t very subtle. You’ve been sulking.”

Arthur lets out an incredulous huff and pulls back, still holding Merlin’s collar but staring at Merlin’s amused raised eyebrow with wide eyes:

“I am a King, Merlin, I do not sulk.”

Merlin chuckles:

“Well so am I, and yes you do.”

Arthur narrows his eyes slightly:

“Not yet you’re not. That’s besides the point, if you knew... why didn’t you say anything?”

Merlin’ face falls slightly, and if Arthur had to guess, he’d say that Merlin looked a little guilty. The blonde furrowed his brows but pulls his Warlock close again, stroking his jaw softly with his thumb as he waits for an answer:

“I... I love you, Arthur, more than anything, but... I wanted see if you would do anything about it. I knew I would do anything for you, but I needed... I needed to know if you thought I was worth the distance, the effort. If I said something first, I never would have known... I would always be second guessing if you were about to... to break it off, because you didn’t want to put in the frankly ridiculous amount of effort it’s going to take to keep things... good.”

Arthur smiles and shakes his head disbelievingly, landing a quick kiss to the tip of Merlin’s nose and smirking at the way his face scrunches in response:

“Well, now you do know. I will do anything, everything, to keep you happy and safe and loved. You will always be in my heart, if not by my side.”

Merlin smiles, and the two of them resolutely ignore the tears gathering in their eyes as he whispers his reply:

“As will I. I’ll talk to the Druids, Kilgharrah, Thornway, I’m sure we’ll be able to figure out some magical way to communicate.”

Arthur just smiles and nods, taking Merlin’s hands in his own once more:

“Ready to head to sleep? It’s late, and I know you’re tired.”

Merlin takes a deep breath, glancing to the thrones before walking towards the door, keeping Arthur’s hand securely in his:

“Yeah. Though unless we sneak past the others I doubt we’ll get to sleep for a while. Morgana’s been speaking to me in my head and teasing me for weeks and my mum keeps hinting at how politically beneficial a marriage between the kingdoms would be.”

Arthur doesn’t even try to hide his snort, but nods in agreement and squeezes Merlin’s hand, following him out into the star-lit evening with a newfound enthusiasm to see what the future will bring.

THE END OF PART 2!!!

I think I’ll write one more reeeaally short part, a ten years later sort of thing, just because I have a few more ideas about this, but no real huge plot points, just cute little things I want to add in but haven’t found space for yet.

This took a little longer than I expected to come out, but I hope y’all enjoyed it!!

(and yes, I may have taken a little inspiration from The Hobbit movies, sue me (pls don’t, I’m kidding))

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forehead-enthusiast · 3 years

Text

Checkmate

Pairing: Haechan x Reader

Genre: enemies to lovers, fluff but it gets slightly steamy at one point (still totally sfw)

Word Count: 6k

Summary: You and Haechan get engaged, because anything is better than the process of trying to get engaged. That being said, having a fiancé you hate isn’t that much better.

Author’s notes: remember me???????? I’m alive, yeah. I’m super proud of this fic, I think it’s my best ever, so please give it a read!!

Haechan inhaled the overwhelming scent of floral perfume, and barely managed to stifle a gag. His father arranged for him to meet more and more foreign princesses every week, and he wondered where the man even kept finding them. Were there even this many countries? The prince’s surroundings were beginning to blend into a blur of painted smiles and emotionless eyes. He cursed that stubborn old man in his mind, and questioned furiously why it was even so important that he find a bride any time soon. Still, no matter how much he despised it, he knew his father wouldn’t accept anything less.

He looked into the sea of lace gowns and resigned himself.

Maybe he’d just choose someone. Anyone. He smiled morosely, knowing all the women there were only after their shot at the throne anyway. They were here to use him, why shouldn’t he use them too? The apathetic thought left a bad taste on his tongue. Still, in his exhaustion at his circumstances, it seemed more and more reasonable the longer he considered it.

He searched throughout the crowd of giggling princesses, unable to distinguish between their faces.

One after another, they approached him, with candied smiles and words that were far too practiced. One after another, they convinced him a loveless marriage with someone half-decent was far preferable to enduring this a moment longer. One after another, they revealed themselves to be absolutely unbearable, and Haechan grew more and more desperate to find someone that didn’t make him want to throw himself off a balcony after three sentences.

You stood at the back of the crowd, prodded by impatient elbows and sneered at by women hiding their smirks behind fans. You rolled your eyes, unable to understand this need, this hunger to marry someone they’d never met. That was your problem, according to your parents. And your advisors. And your tutors. According to everyone, really. You’d been to so many different kingdoms, trying to seduce unfamiliar princes, but could never bring yourself to actually put any effort into it. The carriage that shipped you to each one was beginning to feel more like home than the castle you’d left.

You watched girl after girl leave the ballroom, looking thoroughly dejected. It was hard not to relish in their failure just a bit, but you dreaded whatever high standards this prince was going to judge you with. You had little to offer. Your background, your kingdom, your land- none could remotely compare to his. Your parents were completely insane to even think you had anything that would make you lucrative as a bride to him.

Maybe they’re hoping he’ll behead me. You chuckled.

Still, the crowd continued to thin, and you couldn’t put off meeting him forever. A few of the weaker-hearted girls nudged you forward, suddenly less eager to meet the sharp-tongued prince.

You sighed, and decided to get it over with.

Haechan rubbed at his temples, barely even looking at the girl who approached him now. He’d made up his mind to find a bride today, but his prospects weren’t looking so good. His eyes caught the hem of this princess’s dress. It was unadorned. He’d go so far as to call it plain. Many princesses were after his riches, but he’d never seen one that was so blatantly poor. Most at least tried to disguise their lack of wealth, so as to make them more desirable in terms of growing power. He half-chuckled, half-sighed. His gaze traced upward lazily, until it came across the first unsmiling face he’d seen all day. It shocked him so much that his hand dropped from his face, and he stood up instinctively.

“Your highness, thank you for allowing me to meet with you today-”

It was the most monotonous, disinterested introduction he’d ever heard, and his heart soared. You hadn’t even noticed he’d stood up. Incredible.

“Let’s get married.”

“I hope- excuse me?”

“Let’s get married. Can we go right now?” The question was directed to the attendant beside him, who sputtered at the prince’s sudden enthusiasm. No one, however, was more surprised at him than you. Your skirts were still clutched in your fists, your knees still bent in a curtsy. You couldn’t even manage to feel happy that he’d chosen you.

If anything, you felt angry.

He was rattling off instructions to his attendant about the wedding he’d already begun to plan, completely ignoring you. You hadn’t even responded to his proposal, if you could call his demand that. You tried to get in a polite word in time and time again, only for him to not even acknowledge you, until you got so sick of him talking you couldn’t stand it anymore.

“No!”

Finally, he turned to you.

“No?”

“I don’t want to marry you.” You ignored the consequences of your words, and avoided thinking about the awaiting rage of your parents.

The prince blinked.

Then he scoffed.

“Of course you do.”

You cocked an eyebrow, your expression not betraying how absolutely pissed those four words had made you. Instead, the first smile you’d shown him spread on your face. It was chillingly false, your eyes boring deep holes into his face as you sweetly replied:

“I’d burn down this castle before I married you, your highness. Good day.”

And with that, you turned and left the ballroom.

Haechan didn’t move for a few moments as he watched you stalk away, a picture of grace even in your anger. The women who remained and witnessed began to whisper, snapping him out of his shock. His head flicked around the room, trying to comprehend what had just happened. Then, just as you vanished around a corner, he took off after you.

He’d been turned down. How? Why? He was rich. He was influential. You were neither. He felt a nagging pang of guilt, but suppressed it. You were poor. His proposal was a generous offer, for you and your kingdom. You were the one losing out by rejecting him. So why? Why was he the one chasing after you? He cursed under his breath as he caught sight of your back.

“You! Wait up!”

You heard him calling, but only sped up.

“I will call the guards if you don’t stop this instant! I-I command you to stop!”

You did. Then you turned on your heel, with a glare that would send armies fleeing, and stomped towards him much faster than he knew a princess could. He flinched as you were suddenly toe to toe with him, taller than he expected. You seemed smaller when he was sitting on his throne. You sneered at his reaction.

“Do you need your guards just to take care of one woman, little prince?”

He flushed, but you didn’t let him respond.

“You don’t even know my name. I’m not, ‘you.’ I don’t know why you want to marry me, but if you want me to agree, maybe learn that first.”

“You-” Haechan fumbled, unused to someone being blunt with him. He flared up, unable to think straight.

“You’re lucky to get an offer like this, you know.”

He saw the way your eyes widened in indignation, but kept digging his own grave as if he’d find treasure eventually.

“You won’t get an opportunity like this again. And, for your information, I only want to get married so I can finally be done with all,” he gestured towards the direction of the ballroom you’d both just left, “this.”

Despite your anger, his reason struck a chord within you. Not that that made your tone any less cutting.

“So I’m supposed to be grateful that you’re using me?”

“We’re royalty. We’re all getting used by someone, aren’t we?”

You bit the inside of your cheek, and he could tell you didn’t find the idea all so repulsive. He pressed forward.

“You’re tired of it all too, aren’t you? Or do you want to keep getting shoved at princes? We’d both get our parents off our backs. It’s a good deal.”

It was frustrating, but your desire to stop meeting spoiled princes was beginning to outweigh your immense dislike of this one. And as much as you hated it, he was right when he said you wouldn’t get an offer as good as this one ever again. Maybe that’s why he chose you, you supposed. He knew you couldn’t afford to say no. (Not that that had stopped you.) It just angered you that he saw you as someone so desperate, so needy, so pitiful.

“...Fine.” You stuck out your hand in impersonal assent. “But. I don’t want to marry you.”

“Yeah, me neither.”

“I’m not done, little prince.” He restrained his scowl and motioned for you to continue. “Let’s just get engaged. That’s enough reason to end all the marriage meetings, and then if it turns out I really just cannot stand you, we’ll call it off. Fine?”

“Fine.”

He shook your hand firmly.

Despite the way you both glared at each other, neither of you could deny how pleased you were with this arrangement.

While you sent word to your family, he went directly to his, who were thoroughly, almost obnoxiously happy that he’d found someone. He forced a grin and made up some lies about how he’d fallen for you at first sight. They weren’t exactly excited about your less than impressive background, but weren’t about to reject the only girl who’d managed to catch their discerning son’s eye.

Within a day, it was announced throughout all your fiancé’s kingdom that he’d found a woman to wed. You managed to laugh about how all the other princesses must be incredibly jealous of you at this moment, but couldn’t quite get over the fact that you were one foot into a lifelong commitment with the rudest man you’d ever had the displeasure of meeting. It was a troubling internal conflict. On one hand, he was the worst. On the other, the same could be said for just about every other prince you’d ever met. So really, it was an overall win that this one didn’t expect you to love or fawn over him.

At least, that’s what you repeated to yourself as you received the list of engagement events you were expected to attend alongside him.

“Do we really have to do this?” You groaned.

“Just shut up and smile, they’re about to see us.”

You reluctantly did as he said, forcing an exuberant grin onto an unwilling face. Your carriage turned into the courtyard, and crowds cheered wildly, as if they actually cared about your wellbeing in some way. You waved gently, relieved your upbringing was so ingrained within you that you could play your role without ceasing your fantasies of punching your fiancé in the face. As you reached your places of honor, Haechan offered a gallant hand to help you down, and you almost admired how well he played the part of a loving gentleman.

It was such a truly lovely banquet being thrown for you, it almost made you feel bad for lying. Haechan seemed to be thinking similarly, and, forgetting to be vindictive, leaned over to whisper jokingly in your ear.

“Poor fools actually think we’re in love.”

You laughed brightly without thinking. Both of you then remembered you hated each other, and stared at each other in shock before looking away sharply. You waved again, happy to be doing something that made sense to you. The hordes of celebrating nobles clapped and called out their congratulations again as soon as they saw you move, not wanting to get on the bad side of what they assumed was their future queen. That was a pretty nice feeling, and you accidentally smiled sincerely.

Haechan, still stunned by the sound of your real laugh, wasn’t prepared to see your real smile. His eyes widened. It was more beautiful than he expected, and didn’t threaten him with cavities the way every woman in his life’s did. If they were processed white sugar, you were honey with all the real sweetness in the world on your face. He hazily tried to remember when he last smiled genuinely. You turned to him with a gleam in your eye, and he took your hand before rationality could persuade him otherwise.

The smile dropped off your face, and your gaze flicked to your intertwined fingers, then to his expression, which seemed even more confused than yours somehow. He looked boyish and bashful, and you wondered if your haughty fiancé had a far more charming twin.

Lucky for Haechan, the crowd cheered yet louder at the sight of your supposed affection, and he tilted his head towards them as if to say, See, that's why. Normally, you wouldn't have believed it was part of his plan, but it was easier that way. You let him lift your entwined hands in some playfully bragging way, and rolled your eyes.

“Alright, so I get the bed.”

“That’s funny. No, I get the bed. It’s my kingdom!”

“You are not being very gentlemanly right now.”

“And you didn’t seem like the kind of girl who’d enforce those kinds of antiquities.”

You scowled, and Haechan looked smug, which only intensified your frustration.

“Fine. Then let’s decide fairly, little prince.” You loved to call him that, just to see him pretend it didn’t irk him. “If I beat you in chess, I get the bed. And vice versa.”

“...Fine, small princ- annoying- um- pret- dum-”

You couldn’t help but grin at his attempts. “Nice try, but I’m not immature enough to be annoyed by a silly nickname.”

Your fiancé grimaced and got out the chess board.

Hours later, you were still playing the first game of chess.

“Y/n… Can we… Can we…” Haechan yawned enormously, which of course prompted you to as well. “Can we maybe… call a truce for tonight? It’s a big bed. We have to be up early for a garden party.”

You wanted to rejoice in his surrender, but your eyes were teary with exhaustion. Instead of the easy win you expected, you’d been in the longest game of your life. It seemed like you two were well matched for one another.

As opponents, of course.

“Fine… But just- just for tonight. We’ll play again tomorrow.”

And with that, you both crawled into the truly extravagant bed, falling asleep before your heads hit the pillows.

Many nights passed, with an unfinished chess game at the end of each. It grew into something of a habit, a nightly chess game, always accompanied by bickering, of course. Neither of you ever managed to truly best the other, with every game ending the way the first did. As they continued, the bickering smoothed into mocking conversations, and sometimes you weren’t even mocking each other, but a common enemy. You would never admit it, but the pair of you started laughing together more often than you did at each other these days.

On some fateful Tuesday, for the first time ever, you saw a clear move to checkmate. The king was unguarded. For the first time, he was vulnerable. It was glaringly obvious, and you snuck a glance at your opponent’s face to see if it was a trap, but were taken aback when you found him already staring at you. He didn’t look triumphant or concerned, but he somehow looked… nervous. Or maybe expectant? And then you realized. He was far too good a player to make an error like this one. He was offering you a choice, from one royal with too much pride to admit they enjoyed the other’s company to another. It would be easy to end this game right now, and banish him to the floor.

You chose another move, and the game continued.

“So what’s on the agenda tomorrow?” You asked, with a tone more befitting of a business partner than a fiancé. The two of you had gotten pretty used to the whole routine of feigning adoration, and typically planned cute moments to perform in advance.

Haechan looked over at you and sighed in a way that might have been more amused than exasperated.

“Would it kill you to sit like a lady?”

You looked down at yourself, eating a biscuit you’d pocketed from today’s lavish banquet, with your legs criss-crossed as you lounged on the bed in your nightgown. The white fabric was hiked up above your knees to accommodate the posture, and catching all the crumbs that fell.

“Aren’t I?”

Haechan couldn’t mask his amiable laugh at that. You felt strangely proud when you made him truly laugh. It was one of the few times his shoulders really relaxed, and he looked like the cheerful boy he might’ve been without the pressure of royalty on his back.

“So… what’s on the agenda?”

Haechan didn’t answer right away. He was still looking your direction but seemed zoned out.

“Haechan?”

He flinched, always shocked when you used his real name instead of a mocking nickname.

“W-what? Oh, we’ve got a ball.”

“Ugh… Boring. You better not leave me alone with all the gossiping hags.”

“Yeah, sure. Uh, for real, could you sit properly?”

“Whaaat, I’m comfy.”

“Seriously.”

That irked you. You were just sitting, and while you hadn’t fully realized it, Haechan was someone you'd grown comfortable being yourself around. You didn’t need another person in your life telling you the way you behaved was wrong, and against your will, you had begun to expect more from him. You felt something too close to heartbreak as you wondered if he was just another person who disapproved of you.

“No, I don’t want to.”

“It’s not a big deal, why can’t you?”

“Because you’re right. It’s not a big deal, so why do you seem to care so much?”

“Can you just do it?!”

“No! Didn’t you get on me for- for ‘enforcing those antiquities’ or whatever? Now you’ve got a problem with the way I sit or how I dress-”

“It’s not- it’s not like that!”

“Then what?!” You flared up at him further, as did he, but he seemed less angry and more... agitated. You laughed mockingly. “Whaaaat are you shy seeing my legs or something-”

“YES! They’re- they’re. Um. Well…” He looked at the floor, and you could’ve sworn you heard him whisper, “pretty,” before he flicked his head back up and stammered the marginally less embarrassing, “distracting.”

Your anger instantly dissolved when he confessed that, and you flushed in a way you didn’t know you could. You stared at the ground, tugging your nightgown gently down. You’d always hated being treated like a lady, but you’d never been treated like a woman, and you found you didn’t hate it quite as much. This might’ve been the first time in either of your lives that the two of you were ever actually lost for words. Neither could formulate some witty remark or snide comment, and you just boiled in the unfamiliar atmosphere neither of you sought to create.

“Uh,” Haechan broke the silence masterfully. “I-I think I’m going to turn in early.”

“Yes. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

You might have climbed in bed early- no chess game for the first time in ages- but you both woke up exhausted. Four feet apart, two fiancés had stayed up late replaying the night in their minds and subsequently panicking.

“G-good morning.”

“Good morning.”

The day whirled by, with most of it being spent simply getting dressed for the evening ball. You spent most of the day slapping your face and reminding yourself of how you used to act around him, and when you heard a knock at your door, you were ready.

He told himself he was, but he wasn’t.

Haechan took a deep breath and let his gaze trail up from your skirt to your face, and he stiffened. He’d grown used to his fiancé looking beautiful in the luxurious dresses she wore daily- even though it stunned him more than he’d admit the first time. This dress was no different, no more extravagant, no, but the pink tinge on your cheeks was a beauty he couldn’t have imagined.

“You look… decent.”

He celebrated internally for managing to say something an unflustered him might have said, although some tiny part of himself wished he could pay you a compliment normally.

Your sigh slid into a laugh, and you found your rhythm in your rapport again.

“And you look just adorable, little prince.”

He glared, but was relieved to hear the dig. He offered you the crook of his elbow, and you clapped your hands to your cheeks once more before taking it. He flinched at the sharp sound, and observed your cheeks grow red again from the impact.

“Youch.”

“It’s not that bad, honestly. I’ve been doing it all day to wake myself up.”

Haechan hummed a response. He couldn’t form words; all his brainpower was focused on figuring out why that statement had just disappointed him so. As he rounded the corner towards the ballroom, though, he shook it from his mind.

You entered the ballroom to the usual thunderous applause. Haechan led you down the immaculate gold staircase, and you clung to his arm, the perfect image of a lovestruck princess. No one noticed you holding on a little tighter than usual tonight. The band struck up a song, and you took the hands of possibly the only person you'd ever considered a friend. He led you to the center of the floor and began to waltz. It was always a satisfying feeling to watch the crowds make way for you. You looked everywhere but at your partner, and aimlessly wondered if you’d even been in this ballroom before. Just when you thought you’d seen every room in the massive castle, you’d be led to a wing you didn’t even know existed. The idle thoughts occupied you, which was probably for the best, since it meant you didn’t notice the way Haechan was looking at you.

The dance ended, and you went separate ways to entertain people who made you feel like your brains were melting. Seriously, one day your mind was just going to leak out your ears and spill onto the polished floors. It was amazing how you could spend hours talking to one person night after night, but half an evening with these sycophants made you contemplate faking your own death.

Finally, your reprieve came in the form of an attendant, whispering in your ear that the crown prince was requesting your presence.

“So sorry ladies, my future husband and I are just inseparable.”

They gave you condescendingly knowing looks, their eyes practically screaming, Just wait a few more years, child, you’ll tire of each other. You had to turn away quickly so they didn’t catch you sneering at them. Whatever. You wouldn’t be with him in a few years anyway, you would have gone your separate ways by then.

Right?

Something about that thought didn’t feel right. Not even sad, just… not right. You thought rapidly as you let your attendant guide you. What was your original agreement? If I realize I… Wait… If I end up still hating him, then the engagement’s off? Those were the terms. Which meant, if you didn’t hate him, then inevitably you’d end up mar-

“Y/n!”

You looked up sharply, not realizing you’d crossed the ballroom already. However, even when looking forward, you didn’t see the person who’d just called your name. Your eyes flitted about, searching for the familiar face. You took a few steps in no particular direction, massively confused, and then suddenly terrified when a hand reached out from behind a curtain and pulled you to join its owner. Not the type to lose composure and scream, you clenched your jaw so tight it almost broke until you saw your fiancé's face shrouded in the shadows of the velvet drapes.

“What took you so long?”

His question wasn’t at all rude, as it once might’ve been. It was one of genuine relief to see you, as if you were his solace amongst all the fools at the ball. You met his eyes for maybe the first time this evening, and they were bright and warm and looked at you the way no one ever did. Like you mattered. Like he wanted you there. Not the facade you put on for everyone, he wanted the real you.

Oh God, I don’t hate him at all.

“Earth to y/n?” He chuckled as you snapped to attention. “Finally, you’re here. Is this the worst ball yet or what?”

“Yes! It’s seriously unbearable.”

“I knew you’d agree. By the way, have you still been slapping your face? You shouldn’t in front of guests, they’ll think you’re crazy.” He teased you over your red flush without giving it a second thought. You hadn’t touched your cheeks in hours. The realization only made you blush even more. He leaned in close, and you stood stock-still with surprise.

“Do you want to vanish for a while?”

“What?” The absurdity of the idea finally overwhelmed all other distractions from your mind. “How can we leave, we’re the guests of honor?”

“Please, nobody cares. They’re all busy trying to climb the social ladder anyway. Besides, we’ve got this great hiding spot.”

You stifled a laugh. “Yeah, squeezing between a window and some drapes is what I call ideal.”

“Hey, it’s got, like, enough room for us!”

That was a bit of hyperbole on Haechan’s part. You both barely fit in the narrow space, and you thanked the stars you hadn’t worn a larger hoop skirt tonight. Suddenly you were back to evading making eye contact again. A hush fell over you as you thought about how incorrect his statement just was, and you both grew acutely aware of how you couldn’t position yourselves in any way that would allow you to put some distance between your bodies. You cursed yourself for not postponing your life-shattering revelation about the man before you until after this little endeavor. Haechan’s mind raced as he saw the red on your skin remain even in the dim light.

You could only avoid each other’s gazes for so long.

He locked eyes with you, and you envisioned pieces moving across a board, your king running out of ways to escape its fate. There was only one end, and you were starting to love the idea of surrendering. You whispered harshly in the sarcastic way that felt comfortable to you, still too prideful to admit your defeat.

“So are you going to kiss me, or am I going to kiss you?”

Haechan answered by pressing a palm to the back of your neck and pulling you towards him perhaps too eagerly. A second later, you’d both pulled away, frantically looking around to see if anyone was peering in on you both. You relaxed when you confirmed no one has discovered you.

“This isn’t... a good time, Haechan.”

“I could not agree more. Way too risky.”

Neither of you waited a moment more to lunge towards each other again. His lips found yours roughly, his breath already ragged with overworked patience. You grabbed his lapels, no less desperate for this moment, your lipstick smearing onto him. Your fists crushed his boutonniere, and his fingers wove into your hair and ruined the curls. There was no party beyond the curtain. You and him were alone, both desperate to memorize the taste of each other, and nothing else mattered but that. His lips parted, and yours followed suit. His tongue just brushed your lower lip, and you felt a thrill run down your spine. Your arms wrapped around his neck unconsciously, trying to get closer to him than was possible, but nothing could stop you from trying. You caught his lip between your teeth, your instincts running wild, and you wondered how either of you had endured up until this point. Now that you’d gotten a taste of each other, it seemed almost impossible not to get addicted. He gripped your hair, his other arm wrapping around your waist and not letting go. It slid down to grab your thigh and wrap it around him, your dress’s layers barely inhibiting him. Every inch of you was so aware of where it made contact with him, and you hungered for more. All facades were shed. You were both just heat and teeth and desire, without a shred of nobility between the two of you. You’d never experienced anything so perfect.

The two of you finally parted, your lips wet and the rest of you looking disastrous. He pressed his lips to your cheek, getting your own lipstick on your face, and you pulled his palm up to kiss it over and over again. Too breathless to continue and too worked up to just stop, you let the clock tick by as you left soft kisses all over each other.

“What are we going to do?” You whispered, half concerned but half amused. Between sentences, you still found places on his face yet unkissed, and remedied them. “We can’t go back out looking like this.”

“What are you talking about? I look great.” You were both too elated to remember you should be worried about your predicament, but he did seem genuinely proud of the pink smears adorning his face and neck, the teeth marks framing his lips, the fierce creases in his lapels. He brushed his fingers on your cheekbones, and looked even prouder of the mess he’d made of you. It felt like a dream to be touching you like this. Even more unreal to know that he was the cause of your disheveled hair and your chapped lips. He may or may not have imagined a moment like this before, late at night when he couldn’t stop his mind from wandering, but it was buried in the back of his mind and nowhere near as euphoric as this reality.

“No, but seriously, we can’t go out like this.”

“No yeah, for sure, you’re absolutely right.”

You managed to escape thanks to the tight-lipped attendant who’d led you to a curtain concealing a prince in the first place, but found yourselves rather tight-lipped too. Once you’d both washed off the lipstick and the teeth marks faded, you didn’t know how to face each other. You just crawled into bed and discreetly squirmed as you thought about all that had happened. What was more embarrassing, that you realized you might, maybe, possibly, have feelings for each other, or that the other person might know about them? It was already late when you turned out the lights, but you both stayed up longer, plagued by worries.

They must be so smug since I was all over them, I’m such an idiot.

God, I can’t believe how intense that was. What if they hated it? What if I was bad at it?

Did they only kiss me ‘cause of how much I was kissing them?

Are we like… friends? They probably don’t hate me, so…

That was really unbelievable.

I think I might really… feel something for them.

I hope they feel the way I do.

The hurricanes of concerns led to a restless night, and a mortifyingly awkward day afterward. You couldn’t even look at each other, let alone speak. Even the servants seemed to notice the tension, and you could hear them giggling when they’d disappear into the corridors. You tried to tell yourself that that was great, that it really sold your act as a couple of lovebirds, but that just embarrassed you all the more. Your fiancé was just as tormented, the blush that was sparking gossip reaching all the way to the tips of his ears.

Eventually, someone had to break the silence. If not with words, then with the slamming of a chess board down on the usual table. And that’s exactly what you did, not that who slept in the bed was something that still concerned either of you. No, now it was just routine, something you enjoyed and shared with each other, and something you were going to use to discuss your current feelings.

“C-come play, little prince.”

Even the nickname didn’t manage to get him to flare up. He walked over, still with the air of importance that was second nature to him, but his pounding heart almost echoed against his ribs. You set up your black pieces and he took the white. He moved a pawn towards you.

“So…”

“Yeah.” You slid a piece across the board. He nodded, his cheeks burning. You both knew what you had to say and what the other person was going to say, but that only made it all the more difficult to verbalize.

“I guess I don’t hate you. As much as I used to.” You said hurriedly, your voice forcibly steadied.

“Oh, what an honor.” Haechan’s snarky response was accompanied by a trembling hand moving a rook. He yelled at himself internally, and attempted to be as honest as he could. “I… suppose you’re not unbearable.” The biting words didn’t sting, nor did they flow the way they once did. It saddened both players, even though it had only been a day since you both had been without the banter of your best friend. Slowly, you started to regret the night before, the ecstatic memories being clouded with the fear that you might lose the most important person to you because of it.

“I-”

“Oh, sorry, you start-”

“No, you-”

“No-”

“Okay, fine!” You huffed, accepting the initiative. You pushed your rook straight forward. “I… have always hated the idea of getting married. Everything about it- the formalities, the responsibilities, the princes, ugh. Awful.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“I’m not done, okay!” Pieces shuffled around the board as you tried to organize your thoughts. “If I… had to marry someone…” Your sentence trailed off, and Haechan leaned forward, ears itching to hear the conclusion. You stared at the board, and he steeled himself. It would’ve been a blow to his persistent pride if he just waited for you to say everything.

“I’m…” What did he need to say first? His mind blanked, and he just let the words fall from his lips. “I’m sorry.”

Your eyes widened, but remained fixed on the game. “For what?”

“For not listening to you. The first day we met. I didn’t… treat you the way I should’ve. I’m sorry for that. But I’m… also glad it happened. If I’d acted differently then maybe you wouldn’t be in front of me. That would be, uh, not ideal. But I’m sorry.”

“Um. Thanks. I’m glad it happened too. Otherwise we might still be pretending to be well-mannered in front of each other.” Haechan snickered, and you did too. You could feel your shoulders relaxing, and he could feel himself growing bolder. He moved his queen across the board, closing in on his target.

“Man, where would I be without my unladylike, insufferable fiancé?”

“Probably whining like a child to some other pitiful creature who deserves better.”

The clouds in your minds began to clear as you exchanged snarky remarks. It felt right- pretty words didn’t like to be forced from your lips. He smiled. You looked up, your line of sight lingering on the lips you knew well before finding his eyes. You left your king unguarded, ready for it to be captured.

“I guess I wouldn’t mind marrying you, little prince.”

“Do it then.”

You swept the unfinished game off the board, feeling like you’d won, and he met you in the middle. He kissed you, barely more composed than the night before, but you had no problem with that. The two of you smiled against each other’s lips, incredulous that somehow you had found someone to love, something you used to believe was impossible. Little bursts of laughter interrupted the kiss as giddiness took over.

“Didn’t I say something like I’d burn down this castle before I wed you?”

“Just let the wedding planner know,” Haechan sighed with joy as he gave in to the temptation of your lips again.

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im-in-vin-ci-ble · 3 years

Note

Heyy could I possibly request f!OC x Mark, in which the OC is Red Rush’s daughter who also inherited his powers. Set before the events of episode one maybe at a Guardian’s work party or smth. Mark and OC are hitting it off in a ‘Idk what’s going on my dad just works here’ solidarity during the party; while her doting and protective father Josef is keeping an eye on them, unsure about how he feels about his favorite sidekick growing up on him. Maybe Olga and Debbie try to be matchmakers too lol

A/N: okay well this is CUTE AF, I love this sm thank u for requesting <3 also josef and olga are married here, no one dies (yet) and everyone is happy!!!

Pairing: Mark Grayson x Fem!OC

Rating: T

Warnings: mild swearing

The annual Guardians of the Globe Founder's Day party was never really Zasha's scene. It mainly consisted of the Guardians and the Global Defense Agency's families, and more often than not, she was the only one in her age group. Her true purpose there was to really just pay her respects to the people — including her father, who people knew as Red Rush — who protected the planet.

This year's Founder's Day event was different, however, as Omni-Man finally accepted the party invitations he'd been ignoring for years. Although there were jokes that he had accidentally RSVP'd to the party, or that his wife had accepted the invite behind his back, everyone seemed happy, and still pleasantly surprised, when he and his family walked in.

Sitting down with a non-alcoholic beverage in her hand, she watched as everyone shook hands with the powerful Nolan Grayson and his loving family. Zasha's mom, Olga, walked over to say hello and immediately dragged the three to where Zasha and Josef were. The two male superheroes first exchanged pleasantries, followed by Olga forcing her daughter to get up so she can properly be introduced to the teenage boy standing across from her.

"Zasha, hi," Debbie said with a wide smile as she gave you a warm hug. "This is my son, Mark. I don't think you two have properly met yet."

He extended his arm, "Oh, hi, uh, I'm Mark," he replied with a sheepish smile.

"Hi, I'm Z," she said as Olga gave her a soft push to move her forward. The young girl's eyes threw daggers at her mom before politely shaking his hand, "Nice to meet you."

"Are you all hungry? They've got a lot of food," Olga told the Graysons, leading them and Josef, who squinted his eyes at Zasha and Mark, over to the buffet table.

Zasha and Mark looked at each other awkwardly and exchanged nervous smiles. He began to rock back and forth on his feet, shoving his hands into his pockets as he attempted to think of what to say.

"So uh, how's... superhero training?" he asked.

"Uh, good," Zasha answered, nodding her head. "We managed to take down Titan yesterday so that was pretty cool."

"Oh yeah? That's great," Mark exclaimed. "How about, um..." he scratched the back of his head, "Is the, i-is the drink... good?"

She looked down at her cup and clicked her tongue, "You know for a party that's sponsored by the government, you'd think they'd have better catering."

He chuckled, "If I knew this was going to be a boring party with adults and toddlers and no good food, I would have at least brought a snack and some comic books."

Zasha sat back down and looked up at him with a smile, "Well you better take a seat, buddy, because the next few hours are going to make you wish you were being hurled at buildings instead."

She gently patted the seat next to her and Mark accepted the offer. "Do you go to these things a lot?" he asked.

"Unfortunately, yes," Zasha replied. "You are so damn lucky your dad never wants to come to a Guardians event."

Mark laughed, "You know what, I used to be really jealous of all the families who got together during these events but right now, I'd do anything to just go home." He looked around and sighed, "I don't even know most of these people."

"Me too, and I've seen their faces at least thrice a year ever since I could remember," she agreed. "Actually, I think this is the first solid conversation I've had with someone at these things."

"Really?" he asked in shock.

"Really," she answered, taking a sip of the bland orange juice that now mostly tastes like water. "Most of the guys who are my age that have attended aren't really cute, nor are they interesting, so meh."

Mark's head snapped up at that remark and he felt the warmth rush up to his cheeks. "The other guys aren’t... cute and not... interesting?"

"Hell no," Zasha laughed. "Have you ever tried connecting with a person who has no special abilities but know you're a superhero? It feels like talking to a wall."

He crossed his brows, "What do you mean?"

She sighed and leaned forward, "They usually ask me what being a superhero is like, but when I tell them that I managed to take down a man with rock for skin, it's like I'm a freak."

"You're not a freak, Zasha," he replied. "And any guy who feels that way about a girl who's trying to save others sounds like a shitty person."

"And they're not even cute!" she added.

"And they're not even cute," he repeated after her with a laugh.

Zasha sighed again and sat back up. She looked over at him and briefly examined his face, "Well it's a good thing you are."

Josef turned around and watched as the 17-year-old boy chatted up his daughter, as well as literally take his seat at the table.

He held on to Olga's arm and leaned in, "I don't like what I'm seeing over there."

Olga turned to look then laughed at her overbearing husband. "They're just talking, Josef," she said. "It's not Zasha's fault she can enjoy a pleasant conversation and you can't."

"Mm..." Josef groaned, "I don't like it."

"Don't like what?" Debbie asked from behind.

Olga walked over to her and excitingly yet subtly pointed at Zasha and Mark, who were now facing each other now laughing. "Josef's worried that Zasha won't have time to be his daughter anymore if she ever started dating boys," she explained to Debbie. "You know he scares off every single boy Zasha introduces to us? I'm worried she'll never have a boyfriend!"

"She doesn't need a boyfriend, Olga," Josef chimed in grumpily, crossing his arms as he watched the two like a hawk. "No one will be good enough for Zasha anyway. She can literally outrun all the boys she dates."

"So are you saying that my Mark isn't good enough for Zasha?" Debbie asked with half a smile, momentarily shutting Josef up before he nervously tried to form a sentence. "I'm just teasing, Josef," she followed, winking at him and almost warning him not to underestimate her son.

Olga chuckled, "It's good for them to bond. They're both teenagers and superheroes, if they ever date at least they won't have to worry about keeping secrets."

"Whoa, wait," Josef exclaimed. "They just met, who said anything about dating?"

His wife rolled her eyes at his remark. "We should, what's the term... hook them up," Olga said. "Debbie, ask Mark what's going on and I'll ask Zasha."

Debbie agreed to the plan and walked over to Mark and Zasha while Josef huffed in annoyance but stayed in his position; there was no way in hell he was going to keep his eyes off of them.

Debbie offered Mark some food from her plate but he kindly declined. "Good choice," she said. "For a party paid for by the government, you'd think they'd have better food."

Mark laughed and nodded in agreement, "That's what Z said!"

"Oh really?" Debbie replied with a playful smirk.

Mark and Zasha looked at each other as if they were sharing an inside joke before Olga called her daughter over.

"Sorry, mama is calling me," she told the Graysons as she excused herself.

"So..." Debbie trailed off, raising her eyebrow at her son whose cheeks were rosy red.

"Mom, please don't make it weird," Mark begged.

"You and Zasha seem to be hitting it off."

"I begged you not to make it weird," he groaned, covering his face.

"I was just asking!" Debbie said with a giggle. "Why are you being so offensive?"

"I'm not, mom, I'm just... ugh," he groaned again. "Please don't say anything to Josef and Olga. Don't make it weird."

"I won't, I won't," Debbie reassured him. "Are you gonna ask her out though?"

"Mom!"

"Okay, okay, I'm leaving," she said with a hearty laugh, nodding at Zasha who was walking back to her seat.

"Sorry about that, my mom was being strange," Zasha said. "Everything okay?" she asked Mark, who now looked like he'd been slapped over and over again.

"Yeah, yeah! Great! Everything's great!"

She smiled at him but Mark leaned over and kept his head down. Another moment of awkward silence fell upon the two; Zasha looked around while tapping her toes and Mark's sight was glued to the floor. From the corner of his eye, he could see his mom and Olga delicately signalling at him to make his move. He covered the sides of his face and continuously mouthed "No," but the two were unrelenting. He took a deep breath and finally sat back up, and looked over at Zasha who was still pretending to casually look around.

"Hey, uh, Z?"

She quickly looked over at him with wide eyes, "Yes?"

Mark looked behind her head and watched as Olga and Debbie were giggling and whispering to each other, like a bunch of high school girls who just saw their best friend talking to their crush.

"Uh, I'm hungry."

The smile on Zasha's face was quickly replaced with a look of confusion. "Okay... and?"

"Oh! Um," he cleared his throat, "do you... like burgers?"

Zasha giggled and nodded, "I do like burgers."

Controlling his urge to fist pump, Mark cheekily bit his lower lip and moved a little closer, "You wanna head out and grab a bite?"

"Uh..." she turned around and watched as Olga and Debbie quickly nodded their heads, her mom giving her a sign of approval to leave the party. "Sure, I'm starving."

Josef looked on as the two of them stood up and began to make their way to the exit. Sighing in defeat and sadness, he called them over to the place where he's been stationed at since the Graysons arrived.

"Papa, we're just gonna get something to eat," she informed him nervously, knowing his scare tactics when it came to the guys she introduced him to.

Josef's eyes softened as the sight of his little girl, who he knew and finally accepted was growing up. She was making her way into the world and as much as he wanted to always protect her, he knew that she was just as smart and as capable to start doing it herself.

He took his daughter's hand and held it tight, "Okay, call me if you need a ride home."

"I will," Zasha said, giving him a kiss on the cheek. "Love you, papa."

"I love you too," he replied with a smile that was immediately erased when he focused his attention to Mark. "Bring her home by 11:30, and no sneaking into her room by the window," he ordered the teenage boy sternly.

Caught by surprise by the sudden formality, Mark straightened his back and nodded. "Uh yes, y-yes sir, Red Rush, sir."

"Papa!" she exclaimed. "No more scare tactics."

"I'm sorry," he chuckled, "that was the last one, I promise."

#damn my daddy issues came out here #HARD #mark grayson x reader #invincible x reader #invincible fanfic

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morwensteelsheen · 3 years

Text

so @tinacharles and I have sort of been having this conversation about the varying levels of culpability of all the men in Éowyn’s life re: her abject fucking misery, which got me to thinking about how that discussion would play out in-universe.

I know it’s pretty popular (and not incorrectly so, imo!) to have Éomer being fairly distrustful of Faramir, but I think it's underplayed just how much ammunition Faramir has to be out-and-out fucked off with Éomer on Éowyn's behalf.

Part of that understatement is a desire, I reckon, to see all the named Rohirrim as basically innocents, manipulated beyond aid by Wormtongue, and functionally helpless until Gandalf and the Three Hunters show up, but that's a take that is, imo, too reliant upon what we get in the movie canon and not reliant enough on what's actually written in the text! The point of Théoden's downfall is that it is his pride and his hubris (and not any magic!) that is his undoing, and it is Gandalf's reminders that his responsibilities are greater than the weight of the injuries to his pride that "brings him back" so to speak. The ability to stop fucking around exists at all moments within Théoden, there is no magic, no great battles, not valiant rescues involved, it's just about him putting his big girl panties on and dealing with his own life. But because there's a tendency to see too much of the movie canon in these characters, their relative culpability in Éowyn's immiseration is largely erased, which is incredibly unfair both in terms of treating these characters with the nuance they deserve, but also in terms of treating Éowyn's misery with the seriousness it deserves!

And a key element of this is Éomer's complacency/culpability in all of this. I often quote the conversation between Gandalf, Aragorn, and Éomer after the Pelennor about Éowyn's ~fundamental unknowability~, but I think it is, uhhh, pretty fucked up that Aragorn, Faramir, and Gandalf are all able to spot out Éowyn's deeply destroyed mental health within minutes of coming into contact with her (and yes, it is true enough that they're all powered-up slightly by magic-ish things) while Éomer, who has spent literally his entire life around her, doesn't really have an inkling of what's actually going on in her interior life. That's really upsetting to me, and is no doubt deeply upsetting and isolating for Éowyn, who has basically no other people in her life until Faramir shows up (you know, after she literally tries to kill herself!).

More than that, when Gandalf and the Three Hunters show up and immediately break Théoden free of his pity party, we don't get a sense that undermining Wormtongue has any actual political repercussions—Hama (👑) immediately names Éowyn as the favoured heir to the throne, which says that she's got a substantial amount of organic support where and when it matters. Yes, it's true they immediately have to go fight Saruman's forces in Helm's Deep, but Helm's Deep is a pretty unique battle in the books for how "small" it is in terms of coalitions: the Rohirrim fight that sucker almost entirely unaided! So if a consequence of unseating Wormtongue had been facing down Saruman's lot on the battlefield (assuming that he would have been prepared to do so at any point before the canonical Battle of the Hornburg), we know that the Rohirrim could have handled it, and what's more, they might have been in an even better position to have handled it, because Théodred would have likely still been alive, alongside however many men they lost at the Battle of the Fords of Isen. A lot of words to say: there's really no indication that there was a danger, per se, to beating Wormtongue's ass down; but we do know that there was some obstacle. Tolkien goes pretty far out of his way to hint that it's a lack of will that's doing most of the work there. As readers, I think we're all mostly content to ignore this element of Éomer's complacency because we do largely see Éomer at his best and most noble, but I think we do a real disservice to both his and Éowyn's characters for not dealing with that more intimately.

Anyways, my original point is that I think Faramir has really good reason to be quite grumpy with Éomer and I think he'd actually probably be supported in that frustration by Éowyn, who would almost certainly be pretty chuffed to finally have someone fighting her corner after so many years. I don't know exactly how Faramir's frustration would manifest—almost certainly not with the level of vitriol and overtness that his frustration with his father manifested itself, but I do think he would be very good at making sure that Éomer is keenly aware that Faramir is Unhappy about his actions/lack thereof. That, I think, adds a really interesting dynamic not just to Éowyn and Faramir's personal life, particularly as they're off starting their lives together, but also their political life, given that Éomer is the new King of the Riddermark, shown to be exceptionally close with both Aragorn and Imrahil, and, of course, is later married to Faramir's cousin—some of Faramir's last living family.

Edit: just picked up the books to double check some stuff so adding cites beneath the cut

On Théoden's 'malady':

"the influence over him that Gríma gained when the King's health began to fail. This occurred early in the year 3014, when Théoden was sixty-six; his malady may thus have been due to natural causes, though the Rohirrim commonly lived till near or beyond their eightieth year. But it may well have been induced or increased by subtle poisons, administered by Gríma. In any case Théoden's sense of weakness and dependence on Gríma was largely due to the cunning and skills of this evil counsellor's suggestions."

From Unfinished Tales, V. The Battles of the Fords of Isen.

On Éomer Missing The Fucking Point:

"But Aragorn came to Éowyn, and he said: ‘Here there is a grievous hurt and a heavy blow. The arm that was broken has been tended with due skill, and it will mend in time, if she has the strength to live: It is the shield-arm that is maimed; but the chief evil comes through the sword-arm. In that there now seems no life, although it is unbroken.

‘Alas! For she was pitted against a foe beyond the strength of her mind or body. And those who will take a weapon to such an enemy must be sterner than steel, if the very shock shall not destroy them. It was an evil doom that set her in his path. For she is a fair maiden, fairest lady of a house of queens. And yet I know not how I should speak of her. When I first looked on her and perceived her unhappiness, it seemed to me that I saw a white flower standing straight and proud, shapely as a lily, and yet knew that it was hard, as if wrought by elf-wrights out of steel. Or was it, maybe, a frost that had turned its sap to ice, and so it stood, bitter-sweet, still fair to see, but stricken, soon to fall and die? Her malady begins far back before this day, does it not, Éomer?’

‘I marvel that you should ask me, lord,’ he answered. ‘For I hold you blameless in this matter, as in all else; yet I knew not that Éowyn, my sister, was touched by any frost, until she first looked on you. Care and dread she had, and shared with me, in the days of Wormtongue and the king’s bewitchment; and she tended the king in growing fear. But that did not bring her to this pass!’

‘My friend,’ said Gandalf, ‘you had horses, and deeds of arms, and the free fields; but she, born in the body of a maid, had a spirit and courage at least the match of yours. Yet she was doomed to wait upon an old man, whom she loved as a father, and watch him falling into a mean dishonoured dotage; and her part seemed to her more ignoble than that of the staff he leaned on.

‘Think you that Wormtongue had poison only for Théoden’s ears? Dotard! What is the house of Eorl but a thatched barn where brigands drink in the reek, and their brats roll on the floor among their dogs? Have you not heard those words before? Saruman spoke them, the teacher of Wormtongue. Though I do not doubt that Wormtongue at home wrapped their meaning in terms more cunning. My lord, if your sister’s love for you, and her will still bent to her duty, had not restrained her lips; you might have heard even such things as these escape them. But who knows what she spoke to the darkness, alone, in the bitter watches of the night, when all her life seemed shrinking, and the walls of her bower closing in about her, a hutch to trammel some wild thing in?’

Then Éomer was silent, and looked on his sister, as if pondering anew all the days of their past life together."

From Return of the King, VIII The House of Healing

#lotr #meta #this counts as a meta right?#faramir #éowyn #éomer #théoden #excessive tagging is for my blog organisation i am SO sorry

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goldentournesol · 3 years

Text

The Receptionist and the Profiler (Six)

Chapter Six: Lifted Burdens

(Spencer Reid x f!Reader)

Series Masterlist

General Masterlist

The word reverberated around her brain for days after she heard it. Her brain was mocking her and she knew it.

Girlfriend. Girlfriend. My girlfriend.

Over and over again.

A heartbroken Y/N went home that day to an extremely livid Penelope. Y/N was the one calming her down instead of the other way around.

“How could he be so stupid?! I mean, he’s a genius, but he’s still the stupidest person I’ve ever met! Oh my God, I’m gonna kill him! A girlfriend?! He’s out of his mind!”

And although Y/N agreed with every single word Penelope’d said, there was little she could do about it now. She had shown Ashley around just like she had with every other new agent. It would have been a lot easier to hate her if she wasn’t so...nice. You know, even though her father was a serial killer and all.

She was so normal. And Spencer seemed happy around her. That’s all she could ever ask for, right? So why was it still so painful every time the three of them were in a room together? Why was avoiding all the team members’ apologetic stares as they witnessed a moment between the couple turning into a sport? Well, she knew exactly why, but she didn’t really want to give that thought the time of day.

Derek was almost as livid as Penelope when he’d learned of the new relationship. It took everything in his power to not chew Spencer out.

Spencer, on the other hand, was convinced that this was the only way he’d ever get to get over Y/N. Besides, she’s married now, what’s everyone so upset for? Is his happiness too much to ask for? Although, he did find it odd that Y/N wasn’t wearing rings on any of her fingers. He would have thought that a newlywed wife would have been much more excited to show off her ring. It was also quite strange to hear that Anderson transferred to a different unit. But he stopped himself from thinking about her too much anyway. Stopped himself from thinking about how much her eyes stopped twinkling as much as they used to. Or how her smile always seemed a little less bright than he was used to.

Stop, Spencer. You have Ashley now. He reminded himself.

Ashley was a nice girl. They’d met a few times before they began dating. He first met her when Rossi took him to the Academy to speak with some of the recruits who were interested in joining the BAU. Then, after that, he’d ran into her while he was guest-lecturing at her university. She’d been taking extra classes to get her degree faster and ever since then, they’d kept in contact. They’d met again while Spencer was on his medical leave. He had practically begged Rossi to take him to any lectures. Despite being a homebody through and through, Spencer had had enough of sitting at home waiting for his knee to heal. He needed to get out of the house and do something. Ashley had been the one to suggest a date and Spencer was shocked to say the least, but he accepted. Who was he to deny a pretty girl a date when the love of his life was already married?

Coming back to work was exciting to say the least, even if he wasn’t authorized to go into the field yet. The rest of the team still had to go though, which made the bullpen kind of eerily quiet.

He tried to spend most of his time in Garcia’s batcave to be able to be a part of any video calls with the team, despite the fact that Garcia could barely look at him without wanting to crush the rest of his bones (it’s all in the name of love, she swears). Him being in Garcia’s cave made it practically impossible for Y/N to go in there as often as she normally would. She’d normally spend her entire breaktime with her, they’d chat, eat, and watch kitten videos on repeat. But now Dr. Genius was occupying her space there and it left Y/N sulking out in the empty bullpen.

Now, Spencer wasn’t completely oblivious to the way the team was acting around him. He’d noticed a decrease in Penelope’s affectionate terms, he’d noticed Derek’s disapproving stares, even JJ was being short with him. Maybe it had something to do with him dating the new agent.

“Hey, Garcia?” Spencer asked from his seat next to her, he was currently going over a case file as she sorted through VICAP.

“Yes, Reid?” She asked, obviously not paying attention.

“Do you guys um, not like Ashley or something?” He asked tentatively, fiddling with his pen between his fingers. That got her attention because she turned in her chair and looked at him.

“What gave you that idea?” She asked with signature Garcia concern.

Spencer shrugged and pursed his lips together, “I don’t know, you’ve all just been acting super weird since I got back and every time I’m with her around you guys it’s super awkward.”

He saw Garcia take a deep breath and she slumped her shoulders, “No, Reid, we do like her a lot. I guess you can say we just weren’t expecting it. I mean, you’d just gotten shot and then came back with a girlfriend, it was kind of...surprising.”

“Why is it so surprising? Is it so surprising that someone actually finds me interesting?” Spencer almost scoffed, that had come out way meaner than he’d intended.

“No, of course that’s not what I meant, you know that!” She exclaimed, tears already threatening her eyes, “It’s just...we all thought it would...y’know, take you a while to get over Y/N.” She tiptoed around what she really wanted to say. Spencer held back a roll of his eyes.

“Well, I am. So...so you can all stop being so weird. Besides, what does it matter how long it takes me to get over her? She’s married now, remember?” Spencer said, not even trying to hide the bitterness behind his voice.

Garcia’s face drained of all emotion all at once, “What?”

Spencer analyzed her expression before shrugging, “What?” He asked, feeling like he was missing something.

Suddenly, she began laughing in disbelief, “No, no, no. There’s no way.”

Spencer’s impatience and irritability grew, “What are you talking about?”

“Spencer! Y/N has been living with me for the past 3 weeks, you big idiot! I’m not saying anything more to you. You need to be talking to her right now, not me.” He felt as though his brain took ages to process what she’d told him.

“What...why would she be living with you?” He asked, his brain raking through all the possibilities. Garcia shook her head and refrained from speaking to him for the rest of the day. The dread set in as he realized.

He’d only seen Y/N at her desk whenever he had to leave the batcave for something. Most times she’d just send him a polite smile but they rarely engaged in any conversation. Her energy has been cut in half lately.

Near the end of the day, Spencer trudged all the way to the kitchenette on his crutches to make himself a fresh cup of coffee. While reaching up to grab his mug, he tried to balance on his crutches but was still very wobbly. The result of his wobbliness was a shattered mug on the floor of the BAU’s kitchenette. Spencer winced at the sound and sighed a deep sigh.

He heard quick footsteps to where he was, “Is everything okay? Are you hurt?” Y/N stood in front of him, taking in the scene. He hadn’t heard her voice in days, it was the closest thing he’d felt to relief hearing from her again.

“I-I’m okay, I just dropped a mug while trying to make a cup of coffee.” He huffed frustratedly, upset that his mobility was compromised.

“Spence, next time you can just ask me or something--or someone else, it doesn’t have to be me, but I mean, I don’t mind doing it, if you asked.” She stumbled lightly on her words, cheeks reddening. Spencer smiled in response and nodded, touched at her kindness, “Now, step back and let me help you clean this up before someone gets hurt.”

Spencer took a step back, the feeling of guilt overwhelming him as he watched her pick up the pieces and sweep the floor, “I’m sorry...about that. You didn’t have to help me out, thank you.”

Her face cracked a smile and Spencer felt the hunch in his shoulders loosen slightly, “Come on, it’s really nothing. How’s the um, knee?” She pointed slightly as she brought down another mug and began to fill it with coffee for him.

He sighed, “It’s not great. It hurts sometimes, like a lot, but it could have been worse I guess.” He shrugged, unable to keep his eyes off her captivating face. If he thought the science of reading microexpressions was interesting, reading her face was on a whole other level.

“I’m sorry, Spence, I really hope you feel better soon.” She spoke while adding the perfect amount of cream and sugar. He could tell that there was something weighing on her heavily as she seemed to drift further away as she watched the swirls of the cream dance in the mug.

“Thanks, Y/N/N. Um, what about you? Are you okay?” He asked, noting the way she immediately snapped back into shape almost as if she’d been caught slipping. Her facade was back on as if it hadn’t slipped for a nanosecond.

“Yeah! I’m great.” She smiled, not meeting his eyes, Spencer was about to ask about her current living situation when she spoke quickly, not leaving a pause, “How about I walk this back to your desk for you?”

“Um, you don’t have to do that. I can take it.” Spencer frowned, feeling already guilty enough.

She giggled slightly, purposefully glancing at both his hands wrapped around his crutches, “Got a third hand I don’t know about, Spence?”

Spencer grinned in defeat, realizing what she meant, “Right…” He sheepishly began to walk back to his desk, is Garcia needed him she would call. She set the cup down and flashed him a smile before turning around and walking right back to her desk where she stood for a few seconds as if contemplating something then continued on in the direction of Garcia’s office.

“Garcia...I did something bad.” She confessed sheepishly stepping into the office and closing the door behind her, feeling somewhat like a child who hadn’t followed instructions.

Garcia turned around in her chair, “Oh no, sweets, what happened?”

“I talked to him…” She flopped down onto the chair next to Garcia’s and pouted. Garcia couldn’t hide her smile and shook her head.

“And…?” Garcia looked expectantly at her.

“I don’t think I can ever get over him, Pen.” She suddenly frowned, picking at a frayed thread on her skirt.

“Well it’s not gonna happen overnight, sugarplum. Tell you what, why don’t we have a girls night out when the team gets back tonight. Maybe you could get a little lovin’.” Garcia added suggestively but Y/N rolled her eyes and huffed playfully in response.

“Yes to girls night, no to getting any “lovin’”, I don’t think my heart can physically handle anything else.”

“Ughh, alright. But um...there’s something you should know…” Garcia began.

“What is it?” Y/N pushed.

“So...you know how Reid is a certified genius and stuff...yeah...he’s quite possibly the most obtuse man I’ve ever met.” Garcia spoke.

“Yes, we know this, what is it, Pen?” Y/N asked, growing more impatient and anxious.

“I found out today that he had absolutely zero clue that you called off the wedding.” She said.

“What do you mean? How did he not know?” Y/N almost laughed at the absurdity.

“I guess no one told him. I think we all got so caught up with him getting shot that no one told him. Y/N, I’m telling you, up until 1:22 pm today, he thought you were married to Grant Anderson.” Y/N almost grimaced at the mention of her almost-husband.

“Well, what good is it now, he’s got little miss Ashley, who, by the way, IS NOT invited to girls’ night.”

But she was, of course she was. But it wasn’t just her, oh no, the entirety of the BAU had invited themselves out.

Everyone was stuck in their own little conversations around the table and Y/N felt like the odd one out. She looked up from her glass to see Rossi and Hotch deep in conversation, Derek and Penelope were in the middle of a story to which Emily and JJ were listening intently, and finally, the cherry on top, sitting directly across from her, was Spencer and his precious Ashley sitting practically glued at the hip with his arm around her shoulders. This was supposed to be a girls’ night out, and here Y/N was, feeling as miserable and insignificant as ever.

“I’ll be right back.” She said to no one in particular as she got up from the table, not that anyone noticed or heard. Spencer caught her leaving out of the side of his field of vision but Ashley quickly began telling him another story. Y/N had almost made it out of the bar when a familiar voice stopped her.

“Y/N, hey!” She turned to see none other than Anderson himself, looking quite put together and smiling very largely at her.

“Hey! Um, you out here too?” She smiled awkwardly and looked around for his friends.

“Yeah, came out for drinks with the guys from the White Collar Crimes division. Hey, you should come say hi.” He nodded his head towards a table full of men. Y/N glanced back at her table and saw that no one was looking for her so she shrugged and agreed.

She sat at the table and they all immediately brought her into the conversation, which made her mood lift significantly.

Had Grant always been this funny? She thought. As the guys settled down after their stories, Grant turned to Y/N.

“Can I get you a drink?” He offered nicely and she thought about it. She spent 11 years with this man, what could one drink possibly do?

As they sat at the bar and chatted, Y/N noticed that Grant was being extra gentlemanly and just...nice.

“So, yeah, this is my life now.” He tilted his beer at the table they were at previously.

“They’re really nice guys, I’m glad you’re happy at work.” She smiled and nodded. Grant smiled back and studied her for a moment.

“Um, so...I was wondering...I mean, do you...are you still sure about all this?” He gestured between them, “It’s just that we get on so well and I um, really wouldn’t mind doing it all over again for you.” He ended his sentence with a genuine smile.

Y/N’s smile faltered from a grin to a sad smile, her eyes flitting across the bar to look for Spencer, who had been keeping a close eye on her since she left in case she was in trouble. Their eyes met for a moment but nothing longer.

“Yeah, I’m sure.” She nodded with finality. Grant followed her eye-line and felt some jealousy stirring up inside.

“Wait--is this all about Reid?” Grant stared at her incredulously.

“What?! No! Of course it isn’t. We weren’t working out, I already told you.” She defended quickly, but Grant was unconvinced. He gave her a look and she avoided his eyes, “Me and Spencer are just friends, I promise. We kissed like, once, it didn’t even mean anything.”

“You kissed? When?!” Grant’s eyes immediately filled with rage, looking across the bar.

“It doesn’t matter, look, can we just step outside for a second, get some fresh air?” She tried to reason with him but before she knew it, Grant was out of the bar stool and marching his way over to the BAU’s table. Y/N followed him quickly, trying to minimize any damages.

“REID!” Grant yelled in the small bar, quickly alerting all the agents. Spencer’s worried eyes flitted to Y/N’s.

In one swift motion, Grant lunged forward to attack a still-seated Spencer, eliciting a frightened yelp from Ashley next to him.

But thankfully, Derek was much quicker than Grant and effectively took him down yelling, “What the hell is wrong with you, man?”

Hotch and Rossi visibly relaxed upon watching Derek drag a livid Grant outside the bar. Mortified, Y/N grabbed her things and ran out, unable to meet any of their eyes. She flagged a cab and tried to stop the sobs from tumbling out of her.

Needless to say, the next month was the most awkward month she’d ever been through. Anderson was lucky he’d only been suspended without pay and not actually arrested for attempted assault of an FBI agent. She was downright mortified after what had happened at the bar and had fully retreated into herself, having finally moved out into her own apartment. Her pickiness ended when she realized she couldn’t stay with Garcia anymore.

Even JJ had tried multiple times to set her up with one of Will’s friends, but Y/N always refused. Invites to bar nights were turned down and ignored. Her days consisted of waking up, going to work, coming back home, pretending to unpack but in reality avoiding it and ending up sitting on the couch with a pint of ice cream. The entire team felt for her, but Spencer especially felt for her as well as felt like an absolute moron. Not about what had happened at the bar, he didn’t really care if Anderson had beat him up, maybe he deserved it for making her feel this way.

He watched curiously from his desk as Derek and Penelope walked through the glass doors of the BAU and stood at her desk. Penelope placed a heavy cookie tin on the raised part of the receptionist’s desk, the sound making Y/N look up from her computer.

“Morning, lil’ mama.” Derek grinned at her.

“Morning, D. Hey, Pen. What are you two up to?” Y/N’s gaze shifted between them suspiciously, “And what’s this?” She referred to the cookie tin.

“Oh, you know, just your favorite homemade chocolate chip cookies.” Garcia said with a smile. She watched as Y/N’s face lit up and immediately reached for the tin but Penelope held it securely.

“Uh-uh-uhh,” Derek taunted with a smirk.

“What? Why can’t I have the cookies?” Y/N huffed.

“These, my love, are a bribe and I’m not afraid to admit it.” Penelope said with a dramatic upturn of her chin.

“Oh no.” Y/N said.

“Oh yes.” Derek and Penelope both said. When Y/N rolled her eyes and was about to refuse, Penelope opened the top of the tin and Y/N took a peek and was hit by a whiff of heavenly chocolate chips.

“Fine, I will listen to your offer, but no promises.” She tried to stay strong even though the scent of the cookies was already driving her mad.

“We thought you might say that, which is why the entire tin is the bribe.” Derek said smoothly and Y/N’s jaw dropped.

“That is low, chocolate thunder!” She exclaimed and Spencer unwillingly smiled at her reaction.

“Anyway, you get this entire tin of cookies IF you agree to come to Rossi’s tonight.” Penelope offered and Y/N paused to think about it.

“I don’t know, Pen…” Y/N began.

“Come on, pretty girl, we miss you. You haven’t been out in ages.” Derek tried. Y/N’s heart pulled in her chest, maybe she did miss them too.

“Alright, fine, fine! I’ll come.” Y/N crossed her arms, trying to hide her smile as Derek and Penelope celebrated with a hug and a cheer, “Now, give me these!” She stood and grabbed a cookie, quickly taking a bite and visibly melting back into her chair from the taste.

“See? I told you that would work. No one can say no to my cookies.” Penelope whispered to Derek as they separated to begin their days.

She finally got some motivation to empty her bags and boxes when she returned to her apartment. It was mainly because she had to look for an appropriate outfit to wear. Ever since she’d moved, she’d been picking out her work clothes and pajamas from her suitcases, rewearing all the blouses and skirts that don’t need ironing, but it’s time to start taking care of herself again. Perhaps she felt like the clothes she was wearing didn’t belong to her anymore, she decided that she’d take herself shopping soon. After a relaxing shower, she picked out a black satin blouse and tucked it into a pair of fitting blue jeans.

Arriving at Rossi’s, she took a deep breath before ringing the bell.

“Ciao, bella!” Rossi graciously greeted, hugging her tightly, “We’re all so glad you could make it. Come on in, dinner is almost ready.” Rossi’s warm greeting eased the anxiety that bubbled in her chest. She was also greeted warmly by everyone in the room when she walked in. Penelope pulled her to sit next to her immediately.

“You look stunning!” Penelope complemented, making Y/N blush.

“I agree, you are looking hot as hell, mama.” Derek chipped in, making her laugh.

“Oh, hush, you two.” Y/N rolled her eyes and accepted the glass of wine that Emily offered her. She sipped on the wine, glancing at Spencer over the rim of the glass. He caught her eye and sent her a small smile. Y/N sent him a small one back before feeling herself shut down as everyone around her started conversations. She hadn’t noticed just how much she depended on Spencer for conversation in outings with the BAU until his attention was taken away. He would always stick to her side but now he had someone else’s side to stick to. With no Anderson and no Spencer, she really had to fend for herself. All night, she felt this indescribable weight on her shoulders. She did everything to try to get rid of it.

Soon, one glass of wine with dinner turned into two, then somehow turned into two rounds of whiskey. Before she knew it, she was up dancing with Derek and Penelope in the middle of the garden. They all had migrated into the backyard after dinner, where most people were chatting and eating dessert.

“Spencer, are you listening to me?” Ashley’s voice cut through Spencer’s daze.

“I’m sorry, what?” Spencer turned to her, he’d been caught up watching them dance, secretly wishing it was him she was grabbing onto for support instead of Derek. If it wasn’t for his damn knee, he would have joined them in dancing.

“I asked you if you wanted another slice of cake.” Ashley said, with a small smile on her face. She was nice, but she wasn’t her.

“Oh, no thanks, I’m good.” He shook his head and reverted his attention to the dancing trio. She was finally smiling, he hadn’t seen her smile that wide in so long. Her laugh was heard across the garden and somehow it seeped right into Spencer’s bloodstream. The familiar feeling of jealousy creeped up on Spencer as he watched her twirl herself in and out of Derek’s arms.

“See? Aren’t you glad you came out tonight?” Derek smiled as she twirled back against his chest.

She nodded and smiled, a tad bit too tipsy, “Yeah, I guess.”

Penelope grinned and pulled her away from Derek, “Alright! Quit hogging her, I wanna dance with her too!” Y/N laughed and wrapped her arms around Penelope, burying her face in her shoulder.

“Thank you for everything, Pen.” They swayed and Penelope squeezed her harder.

“Anytime, sugarplum.”

“Alright, I’m just about beat. I need some dessert.” Y/N said, pulling back and dragging them both to where everyone was.

While eating dessert, she watched as Spencer continued to converse with Ashley and felt her blood boiling beneath her skin. Or maybe that was the alcohol, she wasn’t sure. It was like a cloak of clarity cascaded upon her. Before she knew it, she was standing in front of everyone and speaking loudly, loud enough to halt the ongoing conversations. With her eyes on Spencer, she only ever had her eyes on Spencer.

“Spencer, I called off my wedding because of you. And now we’re not even friends. You were my best friend, the closest person to me. I don’t know what happened, but I miss you. I don’t want things to ever be this weird between us again. And--and I shouldn’t have been with Grant, I know that. There were so many reasons not to marry him, but the truth is I was ready to ignore every single one until I met you. I asked myself why I waited so long to get married and I thought I just wasn’t ready but I knew I didn’t want him,” she paused to swallow, her tears blurring her vision, “I want you. And now you’re with someone else, and that’s fine. She’s wonderful and she makes you happy and that’s fine,” A few tears escaped and she realized what she was doing, “and I think I’m drunk and I shouldn’t be driving home so if someone could drop me off that would be great.” She dropped her plate on the table and quickly made it inside, leaving a group of agents completely stunned.

And just like that, the weight she’d grown so accustomed to seemed to dissipate from its place on her shoulders.

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dontbipanicjonsa · 3 years

Text

Dutiful Sansa Stark

Plus some extra stuff about perceptions and POV traps

Read under the cut-

Tyrion

"No," Sansa said at once. "You . . . you are kind to offer, but . . . there are no devotions, my lord. No priests or songs or candles. Only trees, and silent prayer. You would be bored."

"No doubt you're right." She knows me better than I thought. "Though the sound of rustling leaves might be a pleasant change from some septon droning on about the seven aspects of grace." Tyrion waved her off. "I won't intrude. Dress warmly, my lady, the wind is brisk out there."

He was tempted to ask what she prayed for, but Sansa was so dutiful she might actually tell him, and he didn't think he wanted to know.

xxx

He wondered what Sansa would do if he leaned over and kissed her right now. Flinch away, most likely. Or be brave and suffer through it, as was her duty. She is nothing if not dutiful, this wife of mine. If he told her that he wished to have her maidenhead tonight, she would suffer that dutifully as well, and weep no more than she had to.

Littlefinger

A true daughter would not refuse her sire a kiss, so Alayne went to him and kissed him, a quick dry peck upon the cheek, and just as quickly stepped away.

"How . . . dutiful." Littlefinger smiled with his mouth, but not his eyes.

xxx

She hugged him dutifully and kissed him on the cheek. "I am sorry to intrude, Father. No one told me you had company."

"You are never an intrusion, sweetling. I was just now telling these good knights what a dutiful daughter I had."

"Dutiful and beautiful," said an elegant young knight whose thick blond mane cascaded down well past his shoulders.

That's a lot of dutiful.

On the surface it seems like these two situations- one with Tyrion and one with LF- parallel each other; creepy, older men interested in Sansa think she's too 'dutiful' because she suffers through their attentions. However, when we dig deeper it becomes clear that the two situations actually contrast in subtle ways.

Tyrion

Tyrion calls her dutiful, but what duty is she fulfilling? She actually fails to fulfil her biggest duty to him i.e. having his babies (ew).

Or rather, she refuses to do her duty to him.

"On my honor as a Lannister," the Imp said, "I will not touch you until you want me to."

It took all the courage that was in her to look in those mismatched eyes and say, "And if I never want you to, my lord?"

His mouth jerked as if she had slapped him. "Never?"

Cue me falling ever deeper in love

This is a powerful scene. Tyrion is willing to give her an inch, but she goes and takes a mile. She could have just said "yes, I'll let you know when I want you" and then never let him know, but instead she said that. His plan was to postpone the consummation, but now she’s taken the opportunity to tell him that if she had her way, they would never consummate their marriage. He can still go through with it, but with this one statement (knowingly or unknowingly) she's put the onus of choice on him. He can still touch her, he can still consummate the marriage- but Sansa will never want him to. It’s still her ‘duty’ to suffer through it, but now any future sexual contact between them is undoubtedly in the non-con category.

That doesn't sound like Sansa is just reluctant to do her duty, it sounds like she's rejecting it.

In fact, Sansa is basically never shown to think about her 'duties' as his wife. Eating lunch with him may be her 'duty', but she isn't doing it for that reason. She's doing it because what other choice does she have?

Honestly I'm not sure where he even gets the idea that she's oh-so-dutiful, because as far as I can tell, she's really just doing the bare minimum she can get away with doing as his political-prisoner-child-bride.

Sansa does not, for a single second, give a flying fuck about her duty to Tyrion and I love her for it.

And yet, Tyrion's my-dutiful-wife false belief is what allows her to get away with planning her escape. Tyrion fails to be suspicious of her even when he absolutely should be re: that first quote.

So-

Tyrion likes to think Sansa is dutiful (for some reason).

Sansa is not dutiful.

Sansa doesn't seem to be aware that Tyrion thinks she is, but it works to her advantage nevertheless.

Littlefinger

Now in Littlefinger's case she really is playing the dutiful daughter.

This time, fulfilling her 'duty' as his daughter is in her best interest, because it acts as an excuse to avoid what he really wants from her. It's basically the reverse of the Tyrion Situation.

So-

Littlefinger thinks Sansa is dutiful because she is.

She's acting dutiful on purpose (to diffuse his sexual attraction (ew) towards her).

Clearly, it's working to her advantage.

Now, onto the extra stuff-

We have this-

Dontos chuckled. "My Jonquil's a clever girl, isn't she?"

"Joffrey and his mother say I'm stupid."

"Let them. You're safer that way, sweetling.

xxx

"The g-g-godswood, my lord," she said, not daring to lie. "Praying . . . praying for my father, and . . . for the king, praying that he'd not be hurt."

"Think I'm so drunk that I'd believe that?" He let go his grip on her arm, swaying slightly as he stood, stripes of light and darkness falling across his terrible burnt face. "You look almost a woman . . . face, teats, and you're taller too, almost . . . ah, you're still a stupid little bird, aren't you?

xxx

"There's to be so much, my lord. I have a little tummy." She fiddled nervously with her hair and looked down the table to where Joffrey sat with his Tyrell queen.

Does she wish it were her in Margaery's place? Tyrion frowned. Even a child should have better sense.

Sansa goes under the radar so well in KL because people think she's too stupid to do anything. Again, we see Tyrion, an overall smart guy, fail to be suspicious of Sansa's very suspicious behavior nevermind that she IS a child you asshole because he thinks she's stupid.

So-

People think Sansa is stupid

She's not stupid. We also don't see Sansa actively encouraging that perception, which makes sense because-

she doesn't need to. They do that all by themselves and

she's too busy believing she really is stupid, poor kid

3. It works to her advantage anyway.

Which leads me to-

"I forgot, you've been hiding under a rock. The northern girl. Winterfell's daughter. We heard she killed the king with a spell, and afterward changed into a wolf with big leather wings like a bat, and flew out a tower window. But she left the dwarf behind and Cersei means to have his head."

xxx

"Your Grace has forgotten the Lady Sansa," said Pycelle.

The queen bristled. "I most certainly have not forgotten that little she-wolf."

xxx

"The dwarf's wife did the murder with him," swore an archer in Lord Rowan's livery. "Afterward, she vanished from the hall in a puff of brimstone, and a ghostly direwolf was seen prowling the Red Keep, blood dripping from his jaws."

So-

People thinking Sansa murdered Joffrey with her witchy wolf ways.

She didn't.

???

I am SO looking forward to see where this goes.

More extra stuff-

This entire post grew out of me obsessing over this post.

It got me thinking that out of the six core characters, Sansa is the most observed one. We see her in real time through the chapters of other POV characters the most. I counted. My count can be up or down by about one or two chapters, but I have Sansa pegged at around 15 chapters, followed by Tyrion at 11, then A*ya (around 9), then Jon (around 8), then Bran (4), and then D*ny (0). This is exacerbated by the fact that Sansa has some of the least number of POV chapters of the 'core six'. This means that-

We see Sansa more (or at more than others) from other POVs than her own. In other words, we get to be in Sansa's head less and in other characters' head thinking about her more (unlike most other main characters).

This plays a BIG ROLE in her POV trap, which is pretty much the opposite of D*ny's POV trap in terms of both what it is hiding and how

Perception and reality play a very obvious and direct part in Sansa's story, both her own perceptions and others' perceptions of her.

The Vale arc changes everything though. Now suddenly-

She's surrounded by an entirely new cast of people

She's the only POV character in the location

She has an entirely new identity with none of the same pre-conceived biases attached (though there sure are other pre-conceived biases that go with her identity)

This has happened with other characters as well (Tyrion in ADWD, Arya in every other book), but the impact it has on our perception of her is unique. It's basically reversing everything her POV trap was previously built on.

Now, she is her own worst critic. Now, the thoughts that other POV characters have of her (Tyrion, Cersei) are increasingly muddled. Is she a murderous sorcerer, or a stupid little girl? Was she dutiful, or a scheming traitor? The correct answer is-

she was none of those things. Everyone is just....trapped by their own PoV?

#sansa stark #meta #anti sanrion #anti littlefinger

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julyarchives · 3 years

Text

Don’t You Hear Me Howling? || (M) || 08

Finding out you are a female Alpha sparkled some rivalry inside your pack, and resulted in you losing your best friend and your life turning upsidedown, so leaving for college was the fresh start you needed. Years later, you are about to finish your degree and suddenly this past comes back to mess with your head.

→ Pairing: Yeo One x Female Reader | Kino x Female Reader

→ Genre: A/B/O AU; Omegaverse; College AU.

→ Words: 3.8K

→ Contains: mentions of alcohol; wolf shifting; some Alpha-Alpha tension; Y/N making out with a special guest 👀; smut; Jealousy

→ A/n: Thus was supposed to be posted yesterday, but we sort of got lost in the calendar, so here it is now (oops?) we hope it isn't too lame and you guys like it! Also, as mentioned in the warning, there is a special appearance heheh.

→ Index: 01 • 02 • 03 • 04 • 05 • 06 • 07 • 08

As much fun and easygoing as things were for you, you felt glad for the holidays break. You got out of the cab and breathed in deeply, inhaling the scent of the reservation forest that boarded the neighborhood.

Every year your pack has their own ritual to celebrate your ancestors during the holiday, and you were actually looking forward to participating this year, after missing it since you started college, for many personal reasons - and one of them included a very difficult talk with your parents. Also, so much has happened this semester that being in the small city allowed you to breathe some fresh air and organize your thoughts.

Your parent’s received you immediately as you went through the front door, with big hugs and wide smiles.

“It’s so good to have you home” your mom patted your head, her small frame making her reach high to do so.

“Let me take your stuff to your room” Your dad grabbed your luggage and turned around to take them upstairs

“Oh, it’s fine, I can take them” You tried to stop him, but he pretended he didn’t listen. But you knew he loved feeling like the man of the house. You redirected yourself to your mom “I think I could use a shower and a nap, the trip was too long.”

“Of course, honey, I’ll call you for lunch.”

You crossed paths with your dad in the doorway, who offered a small smile. He wasn’t very fond of small talk, so that was usual of him. You closed the door behind you and sat on the edge of the twin bed centered on the room. You looked around and took in the scent of your old home, which immediately brought back so many memories.

Before you left for college, you and Changgu were on bad terms, so there weren't pictures of you together anymore, but you could still see the tape marks on where they used to be glued on your old vanity mirror. You also remembered perfectly which drawer you have tucked them away, the one that you were currently staring at, contemplating taking a look at them. In the end, you just shook the idea off of you and followed what you’ve told your mom.

The day was rather quiet and peaceful, the big event being held in the night, and the talk you were dreading could wait after the celebrations. Your parents had visited you in college a couple of times, and you have visited them too, but it was rare, never for the holidays, so they prepared a special family lunch and you couldn’t deny that you had a good time being around them.

All the pack had gathered in a big clearing at night to celebrate, and the bonfire already burned high. You could feel all the attention shifting to you as you arrived, your dominant scent overpowering everyone else's, and you held yourself high.

The day you left the city you promised yourself to never get close to this pack again. They’ve ignored you and diminished you as an Alpha, and you knew this place wasn’t for you. They were all surprised to see you back, they could barely hide it, but every time you made eye contact with someone, they quickly turned away avoiding you.

You didn’t hide, not ashamed of you or your choices, but it was rather uncomfortable, the tension almost palpable in the air. You quickly grabbed your phone and texted Wooseok.

“ Please tell me you headed back town for the holidays”

To which he quickly replied

“I actually came to a friend’s house, I’m not there, sorry :(“

You sighed. The cold weather wasn’t so bad, the cool breeze was blowing softly and the fire kept the place warm if you got close enough. Your parents stopped along the way to say hi to their friends, but you followed closer to the bonfire, where your eyes quickly met the current Alpha.

For a moment you had forgotten he was Changgu’s father, but seeing him immediately brought the information back to you. They looked alike so much, the same eyes full of expression and sharp jawline. He was staring at you, not so happily, and nodded when you looked at him. Your expression could be sour, you weren’t sure how much you were holding back, but you respectfully nodded back.

He sustained the stare a couple more seconds, so did you, but soon he was calling everyone’s attention. Everyone gathered close and his wife stood by his side. That’s when you saw Changgu, getting close to his father with a stoic expression on his face.

You shoved your hands in the pocket of your jacket and offered a half-smile when he noticed you. At first, he seemed confused but returned the gesture

“Brothers and sisters” The senior Alpha called “tonight we celebrate the ones who have left us. Our ancestors passed us their wisdom,” He spoke firmly and slowly, looking around at everyone. “Their strength lives in us, and so we honor them with our nature.”

There was a long speech about union and tradition that to you it sounded too much like hypocrisy since the traditions would include you, supposedly the next Alpha of the pack, to be standing there as a successor. You did not bother, because you expected nothing else.

The leader of the pack was the first to turn. His skin shredded, giving space for the long dark brown and silver fur to grow as a howl echoed loudly, bringing out everyone’s instinct, but especially your Alpha ones, and soon you had shifted.

This was one of the reasons you wanted to come. Being in university has you taking suppressants daily, so letting yourself run free was like getting rid of tight clothes that restricted your movements. You howled loudly to follow the collective chant, an ode to the departed ones, a hymn for the pack, the freedom of instinct.

The pack’s Alpha ran in the front, leading everyone with his big frame. Changgu followed him, and it’s been so many years since you’ve seen his wolf form that you felt surprised. He was bulky and big, his posture very imponent, and you stopped to admire it for a second.

The run was freeing. The wind hiding your wolf nozzle, pushing your fur back, your paws hitting the dirt. You needed that, and just letting yourself act on your instincts was the best thing you could grant yourself at that moment.

Reaching the highest point of the forest, the collective howling restarted. You stopped right next to Changgu, whose wolf eyes watched you intently, and in wordless communication, you howled together, allowing the instinct to speak for yourselves.

…

After the traditional pack run, a feast was hosted by the Alpha, usually in his house, which was big enough to fit everyone comfortably in the large backyard.

Everyone happily celebrated what was the closest to a wolf Christmas, with an abundance of food for everyone. You sat with your parents at the assigned table, attending the event quietly, holding yourself back just enough to not drag any more attention than you were already getting. Mr. Yeo, the Alpha, customarily greeted every individual, and when he approached you and your family, you stood up and bowed respectfully.

"Thank you for having us" your father shook his hands

"It's my pleasure," Mr. Yeo politely answered, "I didn't expect your daughter to come."

He talked about you like you weren't there, and you were pretty sure that was purposefully meant to challenge your position.

"I came to pay respects to the tradition, sir" you opened a forced smile. A damn good one. "Can't let that behind me."

His eyes snapped in your direction with intensity, letting the impassive expression on his face falter for a second.

"Of course" he smoldered, masking it with a smile probably just as fake as yours.

To him, you represented a threat to his family's legacy, so it wasn't a big secret that he isn't very fond of you.

"I hope you enjoy the party," he said to you and your parents altogether, but redirected the last sentence at you "if there's anything you need, just tell me and I can provide."

"Of course, thank you so much" your mom answered gladly. She followed her leader with passion and always tried to be in good graces with him, so she's always been strict in the sense of community tradition and formalities.

"No need to thank me, ma'am" he smirked "that's just an Alpha job"

The provocation was like a punch in the gut. Ever since you were revealed an Alpha, Mr. Yeo tried to do everything in his power to deprive you of your given rights inside the pack. He raised Changgu to take his place and hated your guts for ruining his plans. He was a man of power and didn't appreciate when someone threatened that position.

"Y/N…" your mom called you with a warning tone to her voice.

You didn't notice how you were instinctively growling, low enough for only people close to the table to hear, but your Alpha emotion was strong enough to cause some heads to turn in your direction.

Mr. Yeo, of course, smiled in victory from a distance, happy to make you look bad in front of the community.

"You really don't care that he does everything to undermine me, do you?" You said to both of your parents.

"Honey, he's the Alpha." Your mom said calmly "everything he does is to protect you. Is the best for everyone."

"You do know I'm an Alpha too, right?" You scoffed, rolling your eyes.

They both stayed quiet. You looked at your dad, hoping he would say something in your favor, but he just complies with your mom's orderly silence.

"Yeah, thanks," you said, standing up and leaving.

Growing up you used to love being with your pack these kinds of celebrations were your favorite time of the year. But now everything changed and suddenly you felt so misplaced that you felt like you didn't know anyone anymore. You knew all your neighbors, and their kids who went to school with you, but now they were almost complete strangers to you.

You grabbed a bottle of beer and looked around for the only familiar face you could find there. Changgu was not running Alpha errands with his dad, so when you found him he was surrounded by a group of girls, apparently younger than you, swooning at every charming smile of his, and you could just see how much he adored all the attention. You chuckled at his fuckboy attitude and the poor deluded girls who had a crush on him, hoping to get the son of the Alpha in love with them.

"Y/n?" You heard your name being called, taking you always from your thoughts.

The boy who called you was tall and slim, a long-ish hair half up in a ponytail and he looked happy to see you.

"Hey…?" You said with uncertainty, trying to figure out why he looked so familiar, but you just couldn't remember his name

"Hyunjin" he chuckled "I don't know if you remember me, but we went to school together."

"Right, Hyunjin, of course, I remember!" It finally clicked to you. Hyunjin was an omega, a few years younger than you but you two used to share some clubs in high school, but he didn't look so… hot. "You look so different, sorry it took me a while to recognize you."

"Yeah," he laughed shyly, scratching the back of his head. "I haven't seen you since you left for college. You look great"

His flirtatious half-smirk was very obvious and you actually thought he looked quite cute.

"You look great yourself" you bit your bottom lip, looking him up and down "But yeah, I kind of focused on graduating rather than coming here."

"I'm glad you're here now." He fully smirked this time "wanna go somewhere quieter? I'd love to catch up with you"

You felt hesitant at first, and you looked back to find Changgu again, and this time one of the girls was grabbing his arm, running his hand all over it. You wanted company for the party, and since Changgu was busy flirting, why shouldn't you do the same?

"Of course, let's do it." You took one last sip of your beer and linked arms with him.

He guided you around the house to the front porch, where you rested your elbows and watched the quiet street. Hyunjin had his back against it, looking at you.

You two actually did some catching up, and even exchanged numbers. You found out Hyunjin also went away for college, but he always came back for the holidays and breaks, and stuff like that, but nothing you were really paying attention to.

"You know, I have to confess something." He said, straightening his posture "I sort of had a crush on you, back in the days"

"Really?" You laughed softly, amused at the sudden confession. "Why didn't you say something, then?"

"Ah," he clicked his tongue. "Everyone knew you only had eyes for Changgu."

You rolled your eyes involuntarily.

"C'mon, everyone knew that, and Changgu didn't let anyone get close to you"

You were actually surprised to hear that since this wasn't something he ever told you but explained why you weren't popular with boys in high school.

"Well," you stood up and stopped directly in front of him "I don't see Changgu anywhere now, do you?"

Hyunjin grabbed your waist, pulling you closer to him, and your hands held the collar of his jacket.

"I guess I should shoot my shot, then" he licked his lips, alternating looks between your eyes and lips.

"What are you waiting for, big boy?" You challenged him.

He reached forward, kissing you rather urgently. His plumpy lips felt soft against yours, and he was a really good kisser. He pulled you against him, and you intertwined your fingers on the loose hair behind his neck. He gasped when you tugged on it, and you grinned into the kiss for getting a good reaction out of him. His hands sneaked down your waist, boldly squeezing your ass as the kiss got more intense, and he earned a shy hum of satisfaction out of you.

The noise of someone clearing their throat interrupted you two, making both of your heads snap in its direction, but neither of you really letting go of each other.

"Y/N" Changgu called you rather sternly, with a matching frown on his face. "I need you to help me deal with some stuff"

You sighed.

"Looks like some things didn't change, did they?" Hyunjin whispered just for you to hear,

"I'm not done with you yet." You whispered back, nibbling his earlobe.

"Now." Changgu interrupted again.

You pecked Hyunjin's lips before detangling from him, only then noticing that his hands were still in your ass.

"Text me, ok?" You said to him loudly as you followed Changgu inside the house.

He walked large steps and didn't bother looking behind to see if you were following.

"You couldn't have picked a worse moment to need me to deal with some bullshit, could you?" You whined, but he still paid no attention to you "all night, I was there doing absolutely nothing, and when I finally started to have some fun you decided I was important enough to attend whatever this is."

You babbled but still, he didn't respond, and you just kept following him around corridors in the big house, finally entering a dark room

"What is so important anyway that you had to call me so urgently-"

Changgu interrupted you when he pushed you against the door, making it slam loudly, his lips crashing against yours with a certain vigor.

At first, your eyes widened in surprise, and you pushed him back to look at him, but his hold on you didn't loosen up.

"What the fuck, Changgu?"

"Just," he stopped to think, breath already heavy in anticipation "shut up"

He resumed kissing you, and this time you rolled with it because, you couldn't deny, kissing him was something you ever saw yourself getting tired of. He pressed his whole body against yours, grinding on you making you gasp every time his thigh in between your legs rubbed against your clothed core.

"Fuck, Changgu" you said when he attacked your neck.

You pull the hair on his nape, making him look at you

"Is that what this is about?" You asked, forcing yourself to think straight "you can't bear the thought of me fucking someone else?"

Rather than answering, Changgu just growled, making you laugh ironically

"So you can flirt with all those pretty girls out there," you raised your eyebrows, "but I can not hook up with people? As if, Changgu"

You weren't as mad as much as you were enjoying taunting him for being so desperate to have you his.

"Just shut up, for fucks sake" he rolled his eyes and picked you, only to throw you on the bed behind him.

You finally recognized Changgu's old bedroom, with the light that came from the window above it. It was different, with no more posters taped to the wall or the action figures he liked to collect. It was a simple room with minimal decoration now.

"Gonna break another bed, wolfie?" You teased "I don't think daddy would be very happy to know you're fooling around with the Alpha"

He growled loudly, hooking his hands around your legs and pulling you closer to him, your bottom hitting his knees, which were pressed against the mattress. He leaned down and viciously kissed you, nibbling and ducking your bottom lip.

"You know, you're way hotter when your mouth is shut" he panted in between kisses.

Having turned into wolves mere hours ago had all your instincts right under the skin. The dominance, the connection between you and your Beta, the lust. Everything was on edge and you guessed that's why Changgu was so desperate.

He unbuttoned your jeans and pulled them down with your underwear in one swift motion while you took off your shirt, revealing your bare breasts underneath it. Changgu licked his lips and chuckled cockly when he ran a finger down your slit, showing you how wet you already were.

He took his shirt off, but didn't bother with his pants, and leaned back down to lick a long stripe of your juices, brushing softly on your clit on the way.

You moaned weakly.

"I'll show you why you're better here than with the what's-his-name out there." He said in a low husky voice.

He kept his hand around your legs and captured your sensitive nub in between his lips, making you buck your hips and grab his hair in response.

His back muscles were on display for you and it was hot to watch it contract and relax as he moved in between your legs.

"You're so eager for me, aren't you?" You teased him again and he hummed, sending vibrations down your core. "Do your worst, let me see if you're worth my time"

He leaned back up and you hated the loss of contact, but he quickly spun you around and pulled your hips up exposing your ass to him, and a harsh slap sting on your skin, accompanied by his deep growling that he didn't seem to have control over, and you yelped at the burning pain.

You heard him fumbling with his belt and soon he was entering you with no warning, making you bury your head in the pillow to muffle a loud moan. He didn't give you any time to adjust as he pounded into you fast, showing his desperation. He angled his hips just right to hit the perfect spot inside you to make you scream.

For a second you were afraid someone would hear you, but the backyard was not that close to the bedroom, and you tried to suppress your noises the best you could. Changgu seemed to be out of control with the way he hissed and moaned, your name falling out of his lips here and there.

A sloppy rushed fuck was not on your plans tonight but, fuck, it felt good. Changgu was getting sloppier by the minute and you just knew he wouldn't last long. You reached in between your legs and circled around your glistening clit, realizing you were in no better state than he was.

The closer you felt to your high, the more you squeezed your walls around Changgu's member, and the louder he moaned.

"Are you trying to get us caught?" You managed to say "such a loud wolf."

He didn't respond, too focused on fucking you, but he didn't get quieter.

You fastened your movements and had again your head buried in the pillow, moaning freely as you reached your orgasm, your whole body vibrating in pleasure. Changgu started thrusting faster, gripping your hips harder and pulling you against him to meet his thrust, and soon enough you felt his seed dripping down your thighs, strangled noises caught in his throat as he rode his high.

You relaxed your body when he pulled out of you, laying down with your stomach against the mattress, crossing your arms under your head for support. Changgu threw himself by your side, facing the ceiling and panting, looking fucked out already.

"Jealous wolf, aren't we?" You tapped his chest, provoking him

"Shut up" he chuckled

"How many girls did you fuck in this bedroom anyway? You were quite popular with the ladies back in high school. I bet they all died to be in Yeo Changgu's bedroom" you mocked a dreamy-girly voice.

"Do you really want to talk about who I fucked in high school?" He chuckled.

"Well, someone had to get laid, right? Since I couldn't because someone told boys to stay away from me." You smirked at his embarrassed expression

"Hyunjin is such a snitch, he was never good enough for you" he rolled his eyes and looked away.

"And who is? You?" You scoffed

"I didn't hear you complaining when you were screaming against the pillow just now"

You slapped his chest and he laughed loudly

"Jerk" you mumbled.

"Guess you can go back to your pretty boy out there", he said in a teasing voice, "if you're still interested, that is".

"So cocky, aren't you?", he laughed at your mocking expression.

"Maybe. But we still have festivities to attend".

"Unfortunately".

You got dressed in comfortable silence and after a few minutes, you were good to go. Changgu stood by the door and smiled at you before opening it and waving for you to walk by him. As you walked out, a satisfied smile took over your face and you only hoped people wouldn't notice the smell of sex on you too much. You and Changgu parted ways and for a second you let the whole tension of your body relax during the holiday. Just for a while.

#ksmutclub #smut #changgu x reader #omegaverse #changgu smut #pentagon changgu #pentagon imagines #pentagon imagine #kpop pentagon #pentagon #pentagon smut #kpop scenario #kpop scenarios #kpop writing #kpop smut #kpop story #kpop fanfic #kpop

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autumnsart22 · 3 years

Text

Kidnapped: Feitan x fem reader💀

Little angsty fic for my torture gremlin 🤪

Tags: Brief description of torture, mentions of sex and violence, almost rape scene (not with Fei)

You didn’t think you had ever hated anyone more than Feitan Portor. He was cruel, arrogant, and selfish, taking every opportunity to humiliate you and get on your nerves. Unfortunately, he knew exactly what to do to piss you off, and there had been more than one occasion when your arguing had gotten you two in very tight spots during missions.

It didn’t always used to be that way. When you had first joined the Phantom Troupe, you had actually been pretty good friends with him, closer than most of the other Troupe members. But over time he had become cold and cruel, turning his back on you and becoming your tormentor instead.

Which was why you were pissed off at Chrollo for pairing you up with Feitan for the next mission, but the Troupe leader insisted that you worked well together when you weren’t constantly arguing...which was rare. And unfortunately, this was going to be a big heist.

Tonight you would be infiltrating the underground auction in Yorknew city to steal all the goods up for auction. It was a large job, especially facing off against all the mafia bosses, and you had to look the part in order to blend in. You were done up in a pretty red dress, your hair swept up to reveal crystal earrings and your lightly done makeup. Honestly, you were kind of feeling yourself, which was unusual because you didn’t usually care about how you looked.

Feitan walked silently beside you as you made your way from the Troupe’s hideout in the direction of where you would be entering the auction. He was dressed up as well, wearing a black tuxedo and missing the usual bandana over his face, which you knew made him uncomfortable being so exposed. You might have tried to be nice if he’d not given you a once over when he saw you, a sneer pulling up his face as he scoffed. So instead of politely ignoring him, you grinned coldly and said, “You look like shit.”

“You look like whore.”

Your hands curled into fists, but you managed to not punch him. You did look slightly whory, but that was the point. You wanted to tempt all the big business men into spilling their riches into your waiting palms, even if it meant flashing a bit of bare leg and cleavage. The little gremlin didn’t have to point it out though.

It was easy getting inside the auction, and soon you and Feitan were mingling with the guests as you waited for the event to begin. Feitan scanned the room with narrowed eyes, searching for our main target among the many rich mafia bosses throughout the area: Teika Rubin.

As the son of one of the largest syndicate bosses in Yorknew city, Teika was set to inherit almost 20 million Jenny once he took over the business. He was at the auction in place of his father, and he currently held a diamond worth at least 5 million Jenny--more if you sold it right--in order to sell to a private buyer. It was your job to get him alone so that you could steal it.

“He there,” Feitan murmured, his hair brushing your ear as he gestured towards the back of the room. He was right; at the center of an excessive number of bodyguards was Teika himself.

He was young, maybe around twenty four, but you could tell by his eyes that his age didn’t mean inexperienced. You honestly had expected a pampered rich boy, but this was different. Cruel, smug, and powerful. And, if the way his eyes scanned the room with careful observation skills was any tell, smart. Not a good combination. Your mission may have been a bit harder than you expected, but there was no way you were going to tell Feitan that.

“I’ll get him alone, but make sure you follow us.”

You didn’t wait for a response as you slid away into the crowd.

It ended up going exactly as you wanted. You spilled a drink on yourself and one of his guards, and like the charming person he was, Teika offered you a change of clothes. It only took a few sultry looks and suggestive words before he had you pinned up against the wall of one of the private rooms, shoving your dress up as he checked the clock.

“I think I have enough time,” he said, smiling slightly. “Don’t worry, I’ll pay you well for this.”

What had Feitan called you? A whore? You pushed that thought violently from your head as Teika started to kiss down your neck.

You shuddered, clenching your teeth as he slid his hands along your thighs, your dress riding up almost to your hips. You were willing to do whatever it took to succeed in this mission and not let the rest of the Troupe down, but it was hard to force down your disgust and fear.

Even if you wanted to escape, you weren’t sure you’d be able to. You didn’t have any weapons on you, and your Nen wasn’t exactly a combat tool. You were able to see the near future of yourself and people you loved if they were in life threatening danger, but although the power had gotten you out of many tight spots, it had holes. For example, if your opponent was just aiming to injure rather than kill, then you were completely in the dark.

Plus, Teika was powerful. You didn’t know what his Nen power was exactly, but Chrollo had confirmed that he could be considered around the same level as a Phantom Troupe member in terms of combat ability.

Please, Feitan, hurry.

The syndicate heir held your throat tightly as he went to tug your dress from your shoulders, and a small whimper of panic escaped your throat.

And then Teika was being thrown across the room, slamming into the wall as you slid to the floor, gasping for air. Feitan stood over you, his eyes blank as he surveyed your rumbled hair and the way your dress had ridden up.

“Let’s go,” he snapped, and you straightened your shoulders, snatching the knife he tossed you out of the air.

Teika was quick to give up the jewel in his possession when he realized that all of his guards were dead, but he didn’t seem very upset about it. In fact, the manic look in his eye was almost gleeful as he watched you exit the room with Feitan.

“Phantom Troupe,” you heard him mutter as the door clicked shut, and you set about locking him in there.

“Why don’t we just kill him?” You asked, but Feitan didn’t even look at you.

“Take too long,” he finally grunted.

It was true. You could already hear the sound of gunshots coming from the main auction hall where Shizuku and Franklin were taking care of the rest of the mafia bosses, and soon the entire place would be swarmed with law enforcement and other mafia members. A fight between Feitan and Teika would be so destructive and long that it would cause more harm than good.

“Thanks for coming in time,” you said as you walked side by side towards the back of the building where you were going to meet the other Troupe members.

Feitan snorted. “Seemed like fun.”

Your mouth fell open, and you gaped at him. “I was just doing my part.”

“All you good for anyway,” he muttered, and you froze.

“What?”

Feitan crossed his arms, turning to you. “You useless.”

“Y-you-” You were struggling to speak. You were used to petty insults, but this was different. He was dead serious. So you said the first thing that came to mind. “You’re just jealous.”

Instantly, Feitan’s eyes flashed and turned lethal. “Jealous? Of what? You nothing but a burden to the Troupe with your arrogance and annoying personality. You weak, and the only thing you can do is…” His eyes trailed significantly down your short dress.

You thought such things on the daily, but hearing them from him in particular made it worse. Tears filled your eyes unprompted, but you weren’t going to cry. Instead, you straightened your shoulders and turned your back on him, walking away without another word. You weren’t sure you could forgive him this time.

------

3 hours later:

“Where Y/n?” Phinks glared at Feitan as he met him outside of the auction hall, but Feitan only shrugged. “Is she ok?” He pushed, and the short Troupe member flipped him off.

“She left.” He finally said.

Feitan hadn’t been able to get your hurt expression out of his head, the tears shimmering in your eyes. He had never seen you cry before, or at least not because of him. He had gone too far.

He had just been so enraged, seeing you pushed up against the wall by someone who wasn’t him. And then you had let out the sexiest sound he had ever heard, as if you were enjoying yourself, and he had lost it. He hadn’t meant to take it out on you--he never did. But that’s always what seemed to happen.

“What did you do?” Phinks said in annoyance. Phinks and Shalnark had been trying to get Feitan to confess to liking you for years, and had eventually resorted to getting him blackout drunk. Shalnark had pretended to boast about seducing you, and Feitan had gone nuts. That was all the confirmation they needed.

Since then, they had both tried to get him to confess to you, or at least not act like he hated you. But the issue was, Feitan wasn’t going to be weak over some girl. He wouldn’t allow you to take priority over the other good things in life, like torture, murder, and stealing. Caring about someone meant putting yourself at risk for them, and Feitan wasn’t willing to make that sacrifice, not even for you.

But damn, that dress. He had had to talk himself out of dragging you back inside and forcing you to change, so that no other person except for him would ever get to see you in it. Perhaps his feelings were purely physical; that would be perfectly normal. But it didn’t explain why he wanted to be with you all the time, or why he enjoyed how red your face got when you were pissed at him, or why he loved watching you get all animated while telling a story, even as he pretended not to listen.

But this time he could tell that he had gone too far, and you weren’t going to forgive him easily. Shit. He hated the idea of apologizing, but he hated the idea of you ignoring him even more. Maybe this one time he would put his pride aside…

Feitan began to walk a little faster as they approached the Troupe’s hideout, but he froze as they entered the abandoned building.

There was blood everywhere. It covered the floors and was splattered along the walls, as if a major fight had gone down. In the center of the gore was a black screen.

Machi emerged from behind some of the rubble, her eyes dark as she approached. “I just got back, but it looks like this was the work of one of the syndicates. I don’t know how they found our hideout though, or why they’d come when it was empty.”

“Where’s Y/n.” Feitan’s voice was soft, fury dripping from every word. Maybe she hadn’t come back to the hideout. Maybe she would be walking through the doors soon with Chrollo, and Feitan could apologize.

As if in response to his question, the black screen flickered, and footage of a grey, concrete room appeared. In front of the camera was a familiar young man, and Feitan’s mind went blank.

“I’m assuming that you’ve returned to your base by now,” Teika Rubin grinned, adjusting the camera. “I hope so, because this is live footage and you’ll miss the show!”

The rest of the Troupe members had gathered around the screen at the center of the room, silently assessing as Teika stepped back...to reveal you.

You were tied to a chair and blindfolded, but you wrenched violently on the bonds holding you. “You disgusting shithead,” you snarled, and Teika backhanded you across the face.

Feitan couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe.

Teika continued lightly, “As you can see, I have your lovely member here with me, and we’re going to be spending some quality time together. If you want her back, you will return my money.”

“How did they get her?” Nobunaga growled, fists clenching.

“They must have some sort of tracking Nen user. Or--”

“Does it matter?” Feitan interrupted. “We go--”

He froze as he watched Teika pick up a knife and drench it in a familiar amber liquid. It was an extremely rare mix that Feitan had used on a number of occasions with tricky patients, and it always got them talking almost instantly. The pain from a single drop was almost enough to knock someone unconscious. Feitan had tried a bit on himself once out of curiosity, and even he had been surprised at how awful the experience was.

Teika was smiling sadistically as he lifted your arm, pressing the knife against the skin of your wrist and sliding upward. Your scream was almost enough to make Feitan throw up as he watched you jerking against the hold of the chair.

The short Troupe member had fantasized about hurting you a number of times, especially after Machi had accidentally let it slip about your masochist preferences. He had barely been able to keep his hand out of his pants for weeks after that, getting turned on every time he saw you. The number of times he had stood in front of your door in the middle of the night, wondering if he should just give in and fuck you, was almost ridiculous. But tying you to the bed, choking you until you cried, or whipping you until you were cumming everywhere was different from this.

Feitan was literally shaking with fury, and he didn’t say a single word as he strode away, your screams still echoing behind him.

“Where are you going?” Shalnark asked, but Feitan didn’t turn.

“I get her back. Kill them.”

No one stopped him.

It didn’t take him long to track down where you were being kept. Chrollo had been keeping track of all the main syndicate bases, so it was just a matter of narrowing down which one the doomed heir would be using. The entire search took less than an hour, and then Feitan was headed down the hall, killing everyone in sight as he looked for you in the rooms.

Teika was still talking to the camera when Feitan slammed into him--clearly he hadn’t expected to be found so easily. You were slumped in your chair, unconscious, and your arm was a bloody mess.

Feitan was so angry that his Nen came almost instantly. “Pain packer,” he hissed, wrapping himself and you in powerful armour to protect against his attack. “Rising sun.”

The room erupted.

-----

You woke as Feitan carried you through the molten hell that used to be the syndicate compound. All around you, you could hear the screams as people burned to death, but all you felt was a nice pleasant heat.

“Fei?” You murmured, and you felt his arms tighten around you.

“Here.”

“I’m surprised you came,” you managed.

“Tch.” He paused, and then he muttered, “I always come for you.”

It wasn’t an apology, but you knew this was as close to one as he could handle. You relaxed against his chest. “Ok.”

You closed your eyes, but you heard him from above you as he said, “Don’t walk away again.”

It may have sounded blank and cold as always, but you could see the panic in his eyes at seeing you wounded. And by the heat of the sun around us, he had been utterly enraged that you’d been kidnapped.

Perhaps you could forgive him after all.

#feitan #feitan portor #Hunter X Hunter #xreader #fanfiction #fandom #fanfic #anime #angst

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miraculousluvbug · 3 years

Text

WINGLESS | Ch. 5

***New to Wingless? Start at Chapter 1!

CH. SUMMARY: Plagg panics because Lila's the devil incarnate and Lila learns that Gabriel Agreste is far stupider than he seems.

Adrien fondly flicked through the pages of The Pun-thagorean Theorem (Making Math Funny!) textbook. Plumes of dust wafted up his nostrils, causing his eyes to squint and his mouth to contort into the longest face known to man to avoid a hacking fit, but he smiled afterward nonetheless. The book was withered beyond measure, sure, but within its decaying jacket, it held the fleeting whispers of a previous life. A life before his mother went missing. When she enjoyed teaching him math with puns and pieces of candy while his father clung to the confines of closed doors. When her jokes graced the halls and her smiles left behind a fog of golden joy in her wake.

Adrien’s heart thudded with longing.

But he was determined to push back the feelings he had kept buried deep, deep, deep within his heart. So deep that he often forgot they were even there until they reared their ugly heads like a Hydra from the deepest recesses of the sea. Every time he thought he dealt with it, thought he had cut off its head and could breathe for just a second, two heads sprouted in its stead, determined to grip him by the ankles with their jagged teeth and force him to drown in his debilitating lack of self-worth.

He shook his head violently, as if that could shed him of his intrusive thoughts.

Hopefully, this book would help Lila. And then she’d leave. And then he could skip the anime and just take a fat nap. Keeping the Hydra at bay was exhausting.

Correcting his posture, Adrien approached his classmate, noticing straight away she had moved to his desk chair. Odd. But he was willing to roll with it.

Ha. Get it? Desk chair. Roll with it.

He pursed his lips, trying to hold back his laughter at himself.

Kagami had called him a clown, but Ladybug, as it turned out, appreciated his sense of humor. And if Lady-friggin’-bug--Commander of Wit and Creative Mastermind--thought he was funny, he must have been a damn comedic prodigy.

Plagg recognized that love-struck look on Adrien’s face and had to physically restrain himself from making barf noises.

“Are you ready to start, Lila?” Adrien said. Oblivious to Adrien’s whereabouts, Lila started and spun to greet him. (Was he always that quiet on his feet?)

“Adrien! You found the book.”

“Yep! Why don’t you take a look at it before we start?” Adrien smiled as he passed the book to her.

Lila returned the smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. Adrien idly wondered if she had ever meant a smile in her life. She pinched the book between her thumb and forefinger as if it were a moldy sock. “Wow, Adrien, this book is so . . .”

A silence lingered as Lila racked her vocabulary for a word less insulting than crusty.

“Old?” Adrien offered, tilting his head.

Lila tittered unenthusiastically. “Yes, old.” She draped the book onto Adrien’s desk and poked at it. “How long have you, um, had it?”

“It’s been in the family a while.” Adrien hesitated. He didn’t really want to mention his mother to Lila. Lila was poisonous. She spun every piece of information she caught into a sticky web of lies like it was second nature. He didn’t know if he could stomach hearing lies about his mother.

So he bit down on the story of his mom before it could tumble from his lips. Even though he so badly wanted to tell anyone who would listen. His father never afforded him the opportunity to speak about her. His friends at school avoided the topic like the plague.

Come to think of it, Marinette was the only one of his friends who tried to help him see her movie that fateful day the press tried to pass her as his girlfriend. (Which he wouldn’t have minded, honestly, but she always seemed hellbent on them being just friends, so he accepted it.)

Ladybug, the other important person in his life, saw his mother on his desktop during that one akuma attack and commented on her smile. Those two girls (er--women? Which term was more respectful?) were the only people he truly felt safe around. Safe enough to turn his back on the Hydra he always kept a watchful, tired eye on and just enjoy the breeze of the ocean as it caressed his cheeks and messed up his perfect hair.

No, the subject of his mother wouldn’t scare them away. They could handle it.

But Lila was no Ladybug, and she definitely was no Marinette.

Behind them, Plagg was practically pulling his antennae out. It had been at least eight, maybe ten minutes since the akuma alert and his kid was none the wiser. And it really didn’t help that he just saw Ladybug and Rena Rouge pass by Adrien’s gigantic glass wall in a blur of red and orange.

But it was hopeless! He couldn’t get the message to Adrien without being seen!

Or . . .

Or could he?

“‘What’s Pythagoras’ favorite instrument?’” Lila read aloud. Her eyes darted over to the blonde leaning against the desk beside her. He bit his lip and his eyes were doing something weird. She had never seen that emotion on him.

“Go on,” Adrien pushed, his eyes practically sparkling. Huh. Was that emotion . . . eagerness?

She cleared her throat and turned the book upside down to read the answer awaiting her at the bottom of the page.

“‘A triangle.’”

Adrien giggled. What he wanted to do was slap his knee and let the whole world know he found it funny with a booming laughter that rivaled Tom Dupain-Cheng’s, but he knew that was un-gentlemanly.

Lila quirked an eyebrow.

Adrien sobered immediately. “You know,” he tried. “Since a triangle is an instrument and the theorem is about right triangles.”

Lila’s stare was unrelenting.

Adrien coughed. “So the triangle is his . . . favorite instrument.”

Lila stared for a bit longer than necessary before letting out a glaringly obvious fake laugh. Adrien was more offended that she thought that laugh was believable than that she didn’t find the pun funny at all. “Ha. That’s, like, so funny, Adrien. I can tell already that this book is going to be a big help.”

Adrien’s shoulders drooped a little. He hadn’t expected her to fall to the ground in ceaseless mirth, but he hadn’t thought her to be such a brick wall either. “Right. Well, why don’t we start with number one? Do you have your notebook or do you need a spare piece of pap--?”

The sound of the television coming to life cut Adrien’s question short. Lila’s eyes bulged out of her head and the sight would have been comical had it not also meant that Plagg was being a nuisance. Again.

But honestly, when was he not?

Lila burst from her seat and sprinted to the television. “Were you standing on the remote or something?” Lila queried, her voice high-pitched and grating to Adrien’s ears.

Adrien scratched the back of his neck. Think, think, think . . .

“Um, my room is haunted?”

Lila gawked at him wordlessly, gripping the back of his sofa. “You posted something about that on Instagram, but I thought you were, I don’t know? Making it up?”

Because you would be an expert on that, right, Lila?

Adrien plucked the remote from the coffee table and pointed it at the television, his thumb barely brushing the power button when the words from the newscaster reached his ears and sent chills down his spine.

“New akuma . . .”

“Ladybug and Rena Rouge on the scene . . .”

“Chat Noir yet to be spotted . . .”

Adrien’s heart skipped a beat. Furrowing his brow, he ran to his phone and ogled its empty notification list. Why hadn’t he received an akuma alert? Was the Ladyblog acting buggy?

Adrien had to come up with an alibi and fast. Lie like the wind, Bullseye.

He scooped up his cherished pun textbook and shepherded Lila to his bedroom door despite her protests. “I’m so sorry, Lila! I, uh, just remembered I have to practice piano for an extra hour today.” The television droned on about the deadly, unstoppable, mind-controlling, threateningly large, new akuma behind him. The hair on Adrien’s neck stood up with every added adjective.

“You’re not seriously sending me out into the city where the akuma is?” Lila exclaimed.

Oh. The thought hadn’t occurred to him.

“Um, sorry, Lila, but I’m sure you’ll be fine! You’re Ladybug’s best friend, right? She’d never let anything happen to you.” Adrien smirked inwardly at that. Lila was failing miserably at hiding her disgust for his spotted partner when he shut the door--politely--in her face.

Quickly, he propped up his phone on the piano and navigated to his voice memo app.

“I deserve extra cheese,” Plagg drawled, hovering to the side of Adrien.

“For nearly exposing yourself to Lila?” Adrien remarked bitterly.

Plagg narrowed his eyes. “No, for figuring out how to get your attention when Lila was clearly undermining you!”

Adrien stopped dead in his tracks. His finger hovered above his latest piano recording while his mind raced. “What do you mean, Plagg? I didn’t get an akuma alert. That’s not her fault.”

Plagg scoffed. “Uh, you did get an akuma alert. That--that menace got rid of it!” Plagg folded his arms across his chest, clearly much angrier than he would ever admit. “She got rid of the notification so you wouldn’t see. Even when she doesn’t know she’s doing it, she’s sabotaging Ladybug! You can’t let her in your room anymore, Adrien.”

Adrien stiffened. So Lila was far worse than he gave her credit for. He wouldn’t underestimate her again. Harmless snooping, he could live with. Interfering with him protecting his lady? Unforgivable. She did that when he was Chat Noir and he thought he had learned his lesson.

Apparently not.

“We’ll talk about this more later, Plagg,” Adrien finally decided. A moment later, the soft melody of a piano piece danced around the room. His eyes wandered to the whiteboard on his wall that had twelve tally marks souring its otherwise pristine surface. Plagg followed his gaze and looked back at his kid with a frown and drooping brows, tail and antennae betraying his melancholy.

Adrien pointedly ignored Plagg’s Pity™ look. “Ladybug’s already cleansed an akuma twelve times without needing my help. Let’s not let there be a thirteenth. Claws out!”

Meanwhile, from the other side of Adrien’s door, Lila simmered, jaw clenched, mouth dry. She didn’t have an inkling why Adrien had concocted such a ridiculous excuse, but she was ninety percent sure it had something to do with Ladybug.

It always came back to that impudent roach.

Lila dragged her feet all the way to the main staircase with every intention to vacate the Agreste premises, but a quick sweep of the mainroom revealed the bodyguard was nowhere to be seen. And interestingly enough, neither was that dreadfully stoic assistant Adrien was so fond of. Come to think of it, she hadn’t seen her when she first entered.

Empty. The room was deliciously empty.

And Lila had never seen the inside of Gabriel’s office.

Smirking, she decided she would have to correct that.

Just in case she got caught, Lila inconspicuously flitted around the room in an attempt to appear like she wasn’t on a mission. She fawned over trinkets and leisurely “admired” the boring paintings accosting the walls before her twitching fingers rested on the door handle.

She waited with an ear pressed against the wood. Silence had never tasted sweeter.

The room was . . . well, it left something to be desired.

Wasn’t Gabriel supposed to be a fashion icon?

His interior design made her want to gouge out her eyes with a plastic spork.

Lila gingerly let the door fall into place behind her, the hinges creaking only slightly (a billionaire or whatever he was could afford to professionally oil his door, she assumed) before her feet carried her to a mustard yellow tapestry. The woman adorning it she recognized was Adrien’s mother. The photos of Adrien to her right were all edited from photoshoots. Perfect. Unblemished.

Lila supposed she could overlook Adrien’s pitiful sense of humor. Adrien was still great eye candy, and his reputation made him an even tastier prize.

The scent of cologne and disinfectant mingled, battling each other for dominance and the result was only a bit nauseating. Orange light seeped in from the windows, the tendrils of luminance touching everything in the room but the wall with the tapestry. It was golden hour apparently.

Unable to help herself, Lila brushed her fingers along the edges of Gabriel’s touchscreen, searching, searching. Ah. There. A ridge. A power button, perhaps? With the tip of her fingernail, she pressed it and . . .

Of course, the thing would be password protected.

Maybe Adrien’s birthday?

Wait. Did she even know Adrien’s birthday?

Lila shrugged and turned on her heel. She was curious, but odds were she would never be able to guess Monsieur Agreste’s password. Unless . . .

Slowly pivoting to face the screen again, she tried typing something crazy and, albeit, a little stupid.

There was just no way. It was a waste of time to even try.

She tapped a green enter button.

The waiting screen consisted of the outline of a butterfly slowly being filled in and then repeating. Interesting. She wouldn’t have pegged Gabriel to be a butterfly guy. But if she thought about it really, reeeeally hard, she could just barely recall a few designs Adrien had modeled that sported a butterfly-like logo.

But whatever. This butterfly waiting screen meant nothing. There was still no way.

There was absolutely no way the password to the great fashion mogul Gabriel Agreste’s personal computer was “password.”

Was there?

She idly tapped her nails on the screen, the clack-clack-clack echoing around her in the frustratingly barren room. The anticipation ate away at her until . . .

Bingo. The screen unlocked, and the light shining on Lila transitioned from the black of the waiting screen to the blue of a schematic.

Lila snorted. “Seriously? I’m no Max but even I know that’s the most brainless password known to man.”

Closer inspection led to a fascinating revelation. The schematic wasn’t actually for a building or even a design. There were photos of her classmates and their . . .

Their hero personas? Interesting. Could he have been planning a Superhero line? How did he even find out their identities?

Wow, there was Nino as Carapace and that one girl Kagami as Ryuko. Max as some horse-looking hero she honestly had never seen in her life. Kim as a monkey. Unsurprising. Some guy with blue highlights who she’d only seen around Marinette. And Alya . . . as Rena Rouge.

Lila clenched her fists. Her nails left indentations in her palms.

She didn’t have time to stew over this infuriating morsel of information, however, before the floor beneath her began to tremble. Wasting no time, she sprinted to the middle of the room and was surprised to find the floor now still. Had she imagined the earth quaking?

What sounded like mechanical whirring had her spinning on her heel to face the painting. Her jaw dropped to the floor at the sight of a hole in the previously-unmarred tile. From the dark pit rose one bonafide, Barney-colored supervillain, his back facing her.

“Nooroo, dark wings fall.”

Instantly, a waterfall of purple and white glitter illuminated the room. The light was so intense, Lila had to lift her arms and shield her retinas. Her heart thudded wildly against her ribcage.

Any sane person would have run away at the sight of a supervillain in their classmate’s mansion.

But not Lila.

Lila quite liked Hawk Moth. She more than shared his distaste for the superhero duo and was overjoyed whenever he graced her with the opportunity to fight them as an akuma.

She was even more overjoyed to find out her boss and Hawk Moth were not just cut from the same cloth . . .

They were the same cloth.

The man otherwise known as Gabriel Agreste stood before her, hands clenched into tight fists at his sides.

His shoulders were hunched up to his ears as he grumbled, “Blasted children. I’ll get your Miraculous one of these days--”

“Um, Master?” a tiny voice interrupted.

Lila had never seen such a thing. Was that a bug? A fairy?

“What is it, Nooroo?”

Upon Nooroo’s silence, Gabriel turned around and was incapable of hiding the shock on his face when he found Lila Rossi trespassing in his office.

“How much did you see?” he demanded, scowling.

Lila tittered behind her hand. “Even if I hadn’t seen everything, Hawk Moth, I’d still be asking you what on Earth that thing is.” She jabbed a manicured finger at Nooroo.

Upon seeing his computer on and unlocked, Gabriel lifted his chin and sneered at the fifteen year old girl who had evidently outsmarted him.

Understanding, Lila shook her head. “You really are a boomer,” she mused. “‘Password’ is the least intelligent password you could have picked.”

“I thought it was clever, Master,” Nooroo meekly added.

Desperate to get control of the situation, Gabriel folded his hands behind his back and stood until he was at his full height. “So now you know.” He dared not move from higher ground. “I can’t imagine you thought it’d be smart to confront an adult man who’s shown he has nothing to lose.”

Lila raised an eyebrow. “Don’t you have, like, a son?”

Gabriel’s gaze was unrelenting.

Lila almost pitied the oblivious blonde boy. “Whatever. I just wanted to snoop around your office. I couldn’t have possibly dreamed a juicier secret. Paris’s beloved and esteemed fashion designer doubling as its masked terrorist?”

Gabriel bristled.

Feigning nonchalance, Lila perched upon one of Gabriel’s long purple benches and crossed one leg over the other before leaning an elbow on her knee and resting her cheek in her palm. Mischief twinkled in her eyes. “Scandalous.”

“I could make your life a living hell, young lady,” Gabriel began, but Lila held up a hand, halting him in his tracks.

“No need to get defensive, Monsieur. You have nothing to fear from me.” Lila stood then and crossed the room to stand on equal footing with Gabriel. While the top of her head was far beneath the man she addressed, her confidence made her a formidable contender. She leaned forward and peered up at him. “In fact, I want to help.”

Gabriel’s fingers twitched. He knew she liked getting akumatized, but this was unexpected. His initial reaction was to shut it down. This should have never happened. He had to ensure her silence but keep her far from involved.

His curiosity, however, got the better of him. He was a businessman at heart, after all.

“Help how?” he pressed.

Lila smiled crookedly.

Hook.

“You’ve akumatized me before and we’ve caused great chaos together.” Lila fiddled with one of her foxtails as she circled Gabriel. “Can you imagine if we actually strategized an akuma?”

“Are you implying my previous akuma were unplanned?”

Line.

“Not at all!” Lila mended, already sensing that Gabriel’s pride was a sore spot. “But you catch your victims when they’re unhinged, laden with their own emotions. How many times has an akuma put their own needs before yours?”

Lila turned her back on Gabriel then and moseyed toward the benches once more. She let her hand trail along the fabric of the cushions, waiting for him to take the bait . . .

“I’m listening.”

Sinker.

“What if your akuma’s goals were aligned with yours? Everything would be calculated. Predisposed. And--” Lila couldn’t prevent the smile from bleeding into her voice “--I’ve never had a sentimonster assist me before.” Lila stopped moving but remained facing the window. The sun was nearly set now.

Heels clacked against the tile. Approaching. Lila steeled herself.

“I don’t suppose you’ll join my assistant and I out in the gardens, Mademoiselle Rossi?”

Lila grinned from ear to ear. Oh, she could just imagine the taste of Ladybug’s fear when she loomed over her, fingers pinching her earrings and just ripping them from her lobes. Would the joy blooming in her heart be overwhelming, like a banana overpowering the flavors in a smoothie? Or would it slide down her throat like her mother’s hot chocolate? Rich, creamy, satisfying, and scalding all at the same time . . . but faintly nipping at her vocal cords from the traces of cinnamon?

Was it unbecoming to hope Ladybug’s ears would bleed?

“I would love to.”

Unbecoming or not, it was her greatest desire, from both the deepest and shallowest crevices of her soul.

-----

I just released Chapter 7 over on AO3, so if you're itching for more, go check it out here and leave me some love in the comments. Comments are jet fuel for my creativity 🥰 Follow me for updates and check out my Instagram where I post art!

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 years

Text

Secrets ~ 1

Warnings: noncon sexual acts later in series

This is dark!Bucky and dark!Steve and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: A buried family secret comes to light thrusting you to the forefront of an old alliance.

Note: Bruh, other series are still going. At least one update a week for existing series in future, I promise! Probably more.

This was semi-inspired by The Princess Diaries but obviously we’re not going highschool.

Thank you. Love you guys!

As always, if you can, please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

You found it hard to focus on the lecture. You copied the slides without processing the words. You couldn’t tear your mind from the unusual stranger. The one who had slipped from the room not ten minutes earlier. The one no one else seemed to notice; even the professor as she outlined the fall of the Roman Empire.

You did because you were early every week. You sat in the same seat, pulled out your notebook and pen, and put your phone on silent. You’d worked too long to screw this up. Years of saving and scrounging just to pay the application fee, bursaries awarded for your volunteer work and nearly forgotten extracurriculars from high school.

So, you noticed. The man sat in the back row with not a possession before him. Silent, discerning, and to be frank, a bit too old for the student body. Even you, after several years away from academics, thought so. You used the reflection in your phone screen to watch him and when he stood and left without cause, you angled it after his departure.

Perhaps he had come to the wrong room. Or maybe he had got the wrong time. He could be an older student or a guest speaker. Whatever he was, he was gone and you needed to focus. You didn’t have much time outside of class to revise your notes. Between your job at the campus bookstore and your intern position at the museum, you didn’t have time for anything beyond a few hours sleep.

You packed up as the lecture came to an end. Tuesdays, Professor Halren went over the week’s material and Thursdays you had a class discussion on the assigned articles. Basic, simple, but at least eighty pages of reading a week. You climbed the steps between the rows of tables and passed through the upper doors. The east entrance down the rear stairwell was the quickest exit.

You tossed your bag in the passenger seat of your crummy used Honda, parked in front of the burger joint several blocks away from campus parking. It cost you more to park on-site than it did for the beat-up contraption itself.

You drove to the museum and got out, your lanyard around your neck denoting you as a volunteer. You usually worked the help desk or handed out pamphlets for upcoming tours. Most of the time it was quiet enough for you to study in between visitors.

Sheila was the curator on duty that night. She kept to her office, saying she trusted you to direct the rare patrons who arrived on a Tuesday night. As expected, it was dead. You wandered around with textbook in hand, occasionally looking up to check that you were alone.

There was a man by the chart of Greek gods and their relations. A spiderweb with no end. You closed your book and quietly set it down on the nearest bench as you kept an eye on the man. It was him, the one from the lecture hall. A frightening coincidence. He leaned closer to the diagram then turned away, walking, no marching along the wall and rounding the corner into the next section.

Your heart was beating; in confusion and fear. You followed, carefully not to let your shoes click as you did. As you reached the next corridor, he was nowhere to be seen. You continued on, around corner and corner, on and on, looking up and down the walkways. He was gone.

You came back to the bench where you left your textbook. You glanced around one last time and opened it. Behind the cover was a ribbon, a tricade of red, white, and blue, a star emblazoned three-quarters of the way up embroidered in gold and silver. You’d seen it before but none so new as this.

You held it up and felt it between your fingers. You closed the book again and tucked it under your arm. You went to the next wing; medieval history. You walked along the timeline of European kingdoms, below each was a display of royal families of each.

The same ribbon, aged and frayed, laid beneath the kingdom of Astrania, marked by the house of Rogers. A long storied bloodline thrust in and out of power by civil wars and politics well into the twentieth century. A country that stood still, one of the few who still lauded a monarch, as famous as the Windsors in England and beyond. The last vestiges of long lost era.

You shoved the ribbon in your pocket. It was likely a souvenir from some commodified tour of the country. A forgotten novelty sold for pennies and shoved into a used textbook. You shrugged and headed back to your usual spot among the ancient civilizations. Strange things happened. That was life.

👑

You spent your few hours before midnight writing up your rough draft for Life and Death in Ancient Greece then finally crashed. You slept on your back, uncomfortably; a heavy, exhausted sleep. You woke to voices. Your mother’s and another. One you didn’t know.

You checked the time, it was barely seven in the morning. You grumbled as you sat up. Your mother’s tone set you on edge as her voice rose. You stood and crossed to the door. You turned the handle slowly, listening through the crack of the door as you eased it open.

“You get out of my house.” She snarled. You’d never heard her sound so vicious. “I am not that person anymore. I never was.”

“You can hide behind a name,” The deep voice replied evenly. “It doesn’t change your real one.”

“My father is dead, his name died with him.” She hissed. “I won’t tell you again to leave.”

“Or what?”

“I’ll call the police, asshole.”

“I’ve been sent here under the banner of diplomacy, what are they gonna do?”

You stepped out as the argument continued, your mother growing angrier as you tiptoed down the hallway to the kitchen. She grabbed a frying pan from the dish rack as you stopped in the doorway and she waved it at the man standing on the other side of the table.

“I’ll just have to make you,” She warned. “Now go--”

“Mum,” You rubbed your eyes. “What’s going on?” You looked to the man as he turned to look at you. It was the same man from the day before. You recoiled and pressed yourself to the wall. “Who is that?”

“No one. He’s leaving.” She edged around the table and drew back the frying pan.

He didn’t move. She swung and he caught the pan as his palm deflected it away from his head. He wrenched it away from her and tossed it away.

“Sit down, your highness,” He glared at your mother as he clanked the pan against the table.

You frowned and looked at your mother. Her eyes glinted at you and she shook her head.

“You will not tell my daughter what to do,” She scowled. “Not in my house.”

“You can send me away now, but I’ll be back.” He looked around the kitchen. “Looks like you can afford a fine lawyer, indeed.”

“Lawyer?” Your mother spat.

“There’s a contract, Princess,” He sneered.

“There is no kingdom left. No crown, no throne.” Your mother neared and grabbed your wrist, drawing you to her. “My daughter does not belong to anyone.”

“Your own father signed the accord. We paid our dues, even after his fall, we expect you to fulfill your end of the contract.”

“My father is dead,” She pushed in front of you, shielding you from the man. His square jaw twitched and his blue eyes glimmered defiantly.

“As his heir, you would acquire his responsibility. She is his first born granddaughter.” The man asserted.

“She has no title.” Your mother insisted. “You can see we have no wealth, no holdings. We are displaced; we are common.”

“Princess Karissa of Ecklun,” The man addressed your mother, “Her daughter, Duchess of Brey. You needn’t land to uphold your titles… and your obligations.”

“The contract is old. Outdated.” Your mother countered. “There are other duchesses. Real ones.”

“The contract is legal still, it has been upheld to this point and there is no clause for annulment. Unless of course you have the funds to buy out the agreement.” He challenged. “Fifteen million, with interest.”

Your mother was silent. He hand squeezed your wrist.

“I never received any of these payments you claim to have made,” She said.

“In a trust, as stated in the contract, to be accessible upon the day of marriage.” He declared. “If you insist, however, I can return with my legal council… and a military escort.”

Your mother let out a long breath. She released you and shakily pulled out a chair from the table. “Sit,” She gestured you forward and drew another chair out. “I’ll entertain your… discussion.”

You stepped forward and sat and she did too. The man across from you lowered himself into another chair and set down his briefcase on the floor. He reached inside and drew out a bundle of papers. He slid them across to your mother.

“If you’d like to look over the terms,” He smirked. “You’ll see all is as I said.”

“He couldn’t find another bride?” She spat as she ignored the contract.

“Not legally.” He insisted and looked at you. “Forgive me. I didn’t introduce myself, your highness. James Barnes, I am a representative of the Astranian court.”

“I don’t--” You blinked. “I don’t understand what’s--”

“Yes, apparently your mother has created a convincing ruse here in this… slum,” He sighed. “What do you know of your grandfather?”

“Don’t talk to her.” Your mother snipped. “Talk to me.”

“She must know--”

“I will explain. That is my responsibility. My right.” She sneered and grabbed the papers.

She flipped the first page, then the second, she continued as she hastily read through it. You peeked over her shoulder but she kept turning away to block you. When she finished, she turned it face down.

“You signed it, Princess,” The man said.

“I was sixteen.” She said. “I was still a child.”

“You were a married woman.” He returned.

“A girl forced into a ring.” She slapped the paper. “And you would have me do the same to my daughter?”

“You already did,” He said plainly. “And she is older. Quite a few years, in fact.”

“It took you years to find us,” She grinned. “You think you’ll be as lucky again?”

“You are being watched. You have been watched.” He pushed his shoulders back. “We have waited long enough.”

“Can someone tell me what the fuck is going on?” You said.

The man, Barnes, looked at you. Appalled.

“I will,” Your mother squeezed your arm. “Mr. Barnes.” She turned back to him, her head held high. “Might you allow me some time to prepare?”

“To run?” He challenged.

“If we are being watched as you say, that should not be an issue,” She sniffed. “You must understand the circumstance.”

“I do understand your negligence,” He raised a brow. “One day. That is all I can allow you.”

He left the contract and stood. He took his briefcase and nodded to the table. “A copy for your records.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a card and flicked it onto the document. “My information should you require it.”

He bowed his head and turned to leave you. The door opened and closed loudly as he strode out the back door. You sat, perplexed, and reached for the contract. Your mother caught your hand. She turned to you and drew your hand back with her.

“Honey,” She said softly. “I need you to listen to me. Just-- don’t talk, just listen.”

“Mum, I--”

“You’re going to hate me. I know that hate, I felt the same for my own father. I would not blame you for hating me even more than that.” She said grimly. “But please, there is much I need to tell you. That I should’ve told you before.”

“I don’t-- I don’t understand.” You sputtered.

“So just listen,” She pleaded. You nodded and your stomach bubbled nervously. “You’ve heard of Ecklun? You were always so fond of history.” You confirmed and she continued on. “And Astrania. Occasional allies until the dissolution of the former… but that all doesn’t matter.”

Your mother hung her head.

“My father knew the tide was against him. He tried to rally his reinforcements, he made promises to those he thought could help. He was the king, you see? He was dethroned, we were all thrown out of the country. I tried to… stay with him. Tried to make him move on but he wouldn’t. So after I had you, I left. Your father didn’t want to let go either and he refused to come with me.”

She touched her cheek and shuddered.

“It was all gone so I thought that meant it was over. Everything. The promises, the debts.” She shook her head. “I tried so hard to start over. For you. But… Your grandfather promised you to the heir of Astrania to fund his personal guard. The same that ejected us from our home.”

She twined her fingers together then pulled them apart. She gulped before she found her voice again.

“That heir is now in power,” She could barely look at you. “And you… you are to be his wife.”

“I-- no, they can’t-- it--”

“I thought I could stop it. I didn’t think they’d want it still but-- I always hated how backwards it all was. Bloodlines, lineage, privilege… It was all so ridiculous.” She huffed. “I-- tried. I failed.”

“You ran once, we can--”

“That man found me. I am not foolish to think he did not come with back-up. I have seen what happens when you undermine others. I have seen the ugliness of it. I can’t say what’s worse; to let them have you or to refuse and suffer further. You don’t know how-- I was stupid enough to think I could ever outpace them.”

You gaped at her. Shocked, angry, sickened.

“And now I can’t stop them.” She uttered.

“You didn’t tell me,” You breathed. “You should have told me.”

“I’m sorry--”

“I have school, work...I… No, they can’t. I have a life!” You stood and the chair wobbled.

“Honey, please,” She got to her feet. “I know how it feels. Trust me. My father, he did the same--”

“So what? Family tradition?” You scoffed. “They can’t make me. I’m staying. I’m going to school, I’m working. I’m not--”

“You don’t have a choice.”

“I won’t go!” You shouted.

“They’ll make you.”

“How?”

She looked at you. Her face was grim, her wrinkles more apparent than ever before. She didn’t need to say.

“They can’t--”

“They’ll find a way.” She muttered. “They always do. I’m so so sor--”

“So I’ll make them drag me,” You said. “I’ll fight it.”

“It’s treason--”

“It’s the twenty-first century!”

“Not there. It’s not the same as here. There’s no one to stop them.”

You didn’t know what to say. You hit the table and swore. You stormed from the room and slammed your door before you fell onto the bed and screamed into your pillows.

It was a dream. It had to be a dream!

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witching-hour · 4 years

Text

Best Friend [Jax Teller x Reader]

REQUESTED BY ANON 20,21,22 from 100 prompts with jax teller x reader plz

REQUESTED BY ANON Hi! Can I request a jax teller x reader with something along the lines of the reader being jax’s best friend and getting into a fight with a crow-eater because she’s jealous? Thank you luv

(A/N): so since you both had somewhat similar requests, i decided to use the second one’s synopsis with the prompts from the first one. i did change the first prompt a bit, though. “I was so stupid to make the mistake of falling in love with my best friend” (20). “Because I love you, you asshole!” (21). “Come over here and make me” (22)

SUMMARY: the reader let’s her jealousy over her best friend consumer her, which causes her to get in a fight with a crow-eater

TW: violence, blood

THE music was loud. Very, very loud. You could barley hear your own thoughts over it, and were surprised how you haven’t gone deaf yet. Sitting at the bar in the Clubhouse during one of the notorious Friday night parties the club loved throwing, was how it looked like you were spending your night.

Opie was sitting at a table in the corner of the room with Lyla on his lap, smoking a joint that was being passed around with Bobby and Tig. You saw Juice get dragged off to the dorms early on with two sweet-butts that managed to capture his attention. Happy was tattooing a nomad, Quinn, who had stopped in town to visit his fellow patched brothers. Chibs was on the other end of the bar speaking with Gemma and Nero over the shortbread she made the other night during a family dinner. And Jax—you didn’t know where he was.

Probably getting his dick wet with some random crow-eater or sweet-butt on the lot. You scowled at the mental picture your brain was creating. Charming’s favorite playboy was at it again. Wonderful.

Sure, you could admit you were jealous that Jax had slept with almost every woman in Charming except you, which you should have held pride for for not being just another notch added to the Prince Charming’s belt. Yet, you didn’t. You made the stupid mistake of falling in love with your best friend. What a cliche, (Y/N). Your mother would be laughing at you right now.

You couldn’t help it. Jax wasn’t even trying and he’d managed to swoop you up from under your feet. With his infamous panty-dropping smile and perfect teeth, even with him being a smoker—which he also made hot for a habit you found disgusting. His grown out, slicked back blonde hair which matched his personality perfectly. Man, how you wished to run your hands through it. His broad shoulders and arms were enough to make you drool. And that six-pack hidden under his layers of t-shirts, flannels, and his kutte...you were done for. With all that, you definitely knew that man was packing some serious heat. Plus all the talk from all the the women he’s been with over the years.

His physical features were more than appreciated, but they weren’t the ones that reeled you in. It was the way he wore his heart on his sleeve. How he was so calm and collected in the most life-threatening situations, calculated. How protective and compassionate he was. His loyalty for his family, brothers, and friends. His undevoted love for those he cared about, because you learned when Jax Teller loved, he loved hard. The way he was with his son, Abel, made you swoon each time you saw them together. He was an amazing father, there was no doubt about it. Especially when he pushed the club into legitimate business in the name of the boy, who looked and acted so much like him, and to honor the father that was taken from him too soon. He sought out the dream his father envisioned, and executed it.

Jax was a bad boy, but a good man at heart. He had done unspeakable things, you knew that. The same hands he used to stroke your cheek, or to hold your hand, or to hug you, were the same hands that had been coated in the blood of his enemies. And was it stupid of you to say you weren’t scared of a man so violent and with the power to hurt another being? Maybe. But maybe it was the gut feeling you had that told you were safe with him. That he would never hurt you, and always protect you.

He was your best friend. Of course he would protect you. Of course he would hug you. Of course he cared about you. He loved you. He’s said it before. Just not in the context you always hoped for.

Glaring down the bottle of beer you had had in your grasp, caught the attention of Lyla who had gotten up from Opie’s lap and zigzagged through the crowd looking for you. Once she saw you alone at the bar, she frowned.

The minute she found a place next to you, she didn’t hesitate to ask you what was going on in that head of yours. “Are you okay?” She may not have been innocent when it came to her work, but she acted as sweet and polite like she was. She was an angel and your female best friend, like a sister.

“Yeah, I’m good.” You sighed. No you weren’t good. Thinking about your (male) best friend’s adventures with women that weren’t you, was not something that would put you in a good mood.

Her eyes ran over your face again, letting a sympathetic half-smile rest on hers. “Jax, again?”

“Mm,” you nodded sarcastically, a tight-lipped grin taking its place. “How’d you know?”

Before she could reply, you felt the air in the room shift. Her gaze left you and fell in the doorway that led to the dorms for patches. Jax walked through, his usual cocky and cool vibe flooding in as he took long strides to where you both stood. And neither of you missed as the infamous porn-slut no one could stand stroll out behind him. Ima Tite.

Your jaw clenched, slightly shaking you head in disbelief. He actually slept with the so called “rancid pussy” he and the club nicknamed her. Out of every woman to throw themselves at him, he settled with the daily used whore. You weren’t one to use such degrading terms for women, especially pornstars and prositutes because not all of them had a choice or they saw it as the only option to support their family, but Ima was not Lyla, or most of the girls you had become friendly with at Diosa. Lyla was genuine and kind. She did what she did because she was raising three kids and was expecting more since she just gotten off her birth control pills.

While Lyla upgraded from sucking dick to directing it, Ima had stuck to ground zero. Lyla became the sole producer and director of Redwoody Productions, and you couldn’t be more proud of her. She even worked Nero’s escort business as his assistant manager. Ima, on the other hand, wanted any and every guy up in her cooche. Especially the Jackson Teller: President to the Sons of Anarchy and Prince of Charming.

But really? Ima fucking Tite.

You felt Lyla’s hand rest comforting on your shoulder as her ex-coworker adjusted her top. The porn-slut not being subtle at all about it either. She ran her pinky down the corner of her mouth when she noticed you two at the bar, smirking tauntingly. She strutted to a pack of crow-eaters and sweet-butts that wanted to hear all about what she managed to snag. You scoffed under your breath, turning around in your seat and taking a long swig of your beer, letting the burn of the alcohol settle within you.

Jax noticed the tension in your posture, cocking an eyebrow up in curiosity and concern. He made his way over, standing in between the seats you and Lyla sat in. “Hey,” he glided his hand across your back in an attempt to comfort you, “everythin’ alright darlin’?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” You replied, sounding stiff and defeated, making him shoot a glance to Lyla questioningly.

Lyla didn’t want to lie to Jax. She only wanted the truth to come out about how both were secretly in love with each other so this high school nonsense would dissipate into thin air already. But being the good friend she was, and knowing you would do the same for her if roles were reversed, she covered your back. “Yeah, it’s just getting late. You know how she gets.” She laughed, flipping a piece of hair over her shoulder, and seemingly selling it to the biker.

“I’m just tired, Jax. I’ll probably head home in a little bit.” You added.

He didn’t look entirely convinced, but seemed to buy your bullshit for the time being. “You want me to give you a ride home?”

Not the ride you want....

Down girl!

“No, that’s okay. I’ll probably hitch a ride with Gemma and Nero. It looks like they’re heading out soon anyway.” You nodded your head towards his mom and business partner.

He looked dejected at your decline at his offer, but covered it up as soon as it showed with his usual mask of a neutral expression. You always jump up at the opportunity to ride on the back of his Dyna, always taking the long routes so you didn’t have to get off so soon. “You sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure.” You replied with a small close-lipped smile, noting that his face had fallen for a split second. Lyla too.

He nodded hesitantly, giving you one last look of concern before sauntering over to Opie, Bobby, and Tig.

You sighed when he sat down with the guys and shaking your head when you faced Lyla once more, “Fucking Ima.”

“I doubt he did anything with her, (Y/N/N).” She tried to assure you.

“Please,” you scoffed with a roll of your eyes.

“Jax isn’t into her. He’s made that clear time and time again.” She continued. “None of the guys like her.”

“Maybe because he was using his upstairs head at the time, Lyla. When it comes to pussy, Jax only thinks with his dick.”

She was stunted. That was true. As much as she loved Jax like the brother she never had, he could be an asshole when it came to girls and relationships. She heard the stories about Tara Knowles, and had met the girl briefly a couple of times, but both times she was judged and commented on for her line of work. Jax and Tara were immature teenagers infatuated with each other to the point of toxicity. They wanted the other to be something they weren’t, and were pulled in opposite directions. They both grew up since then, but when put together, they were stuck in the memories they created long ago, bringing out the worst in each other. Jax was a cheater and hypocrite, while Tara was a green monster wrapped in high morals that clashed with his lifestyle. They were not meant to be together.

But you and Jax were. You brought out the best in him. Made him want to be a better man. Hell, you pushed him to turn the Club around, go legit. You were the only woman to make him fall to his knees, and everyone around the two of you saw that, even Jax. But not you.

“And that’s Ima—she’s borderline delusional when it comes to Jax.” Lyla argued. “Trust me, (Y/N), no one’s touched that since CaraCara burnt down.”

You only gave the ex-pornstar a sideways glance before taking another sip of your beer, causing your friend to give up, despite her exasperation with the situation. You changed the subject, asking her how the newest RedWoody film was coming along. You both chatted about her work until a crow-eater you noticed was chatting with Ima earlier ended up standing in front of you and Lyla.

She had dark hair with cheaply done red highlights, an eyebrow piercing, with a tattoo sleeve of the adult horror version of fairytale characters up and down her arm. You would have complimented the tattoos if she didn’t have the snarky and taunting look on her face. Her shirt was two sizes too small, and squeezing her exaggerated breasts so hard you thought they were gonna pop out of her top. Her shorts were daringly close to letting her ass hang out, and the usual three inch wannabe biker boots adorned her feet like every other crow-easter or sweet-butt in the Clubhouse.

She stood there not saying a word, making you and Lyla share a look. Trouble.

You rolled your eyes, only anticipating what could possibly go down in the next couple of minutes. “Can we help you?” The question was filled with an annoyed attitude, you knew that, but did you care? No.

“Yeah, actually you can.” She smiled with a sickly-sweet tone you only knew meant you were gonna be ripping out those red highlights from her scalp. “Stay away from Jax. My girl, Ima, is finally reelin’ him in, and she gonna be his Ol’ Lady real soon.”

You could feel the entitlement she wore as a crown hit you in waves. Your anger only sparking and spreading through your body. You matched her smile sarcastically, and tilting your head at an angle that anyone who knew you knew you were about to snap. “Thanks for the info, sister. Bye now.” You’ve had enough of this bullshit tonight. You just wanted to finish you beer and go home to your nice warm bed.

“Did’n you hear what I said? That was’n news. It was a warnin’.” She narrowed her eyes in threatening way, but to you only seemed mockingly comical because did she really believe you were scared of her? Ok. “Jax is off the market from your nasty ass cunt. Steer clear or else.”

“Oh shit...” Opie’ coughed on the blunt, shoving it in Bobby’s hands. “Jax!” His hand swatted his best friend repeatedly, motioning to the tension forming on the other side of the room.

Jax looked away from Tig, getting annoyed from being hit. “What the fuck, Ope?” His gaze followed his VP’s line of sight and widened when he also caught wind of the shitstorm brewing, and staggering to get up. “Oh fuck!”

“Or what? You’re gonna unleash your cat claws?” Your patience was wearing thin, and this girl was just not taking the hint to leave. “Bitch, I’m tired and wanna go home; take a nice long shower and go to bed. Not deal with your fake tits and bad attitude.” You rolled your eyes once more, reaching behind you and grabbing your beer from the bar. “If Ima’s delusional ass has a problem with who her imaginary boyfriend of the week hangs out with, then she can take it up with him.” You sent her one last smile before taking a swig from the the bottle.

The steam was flooding in thick streams out of her ears. The crow-eater’s jaw clenched and hands balled into fists.

You smirked behind the bottle up to your lips. You weren’t one to back down from a fight, but you also weren’t one to create conflict. You offered the bitch the easy way out, but she kept coming for more. She wants a cat-fight, you’ll give her one.

Her tell was the way her jaw twitched. It gave her straight away when she swung her arm up to throw a sloppy right hook. You ducked under her arm, holding your bottle by the neck and swung it towards the side of her head, and causing the bottom half to break on impact. She let out a loud cry as she tripped over her feet, her hand flying up to touch the now bleeding side of her head.

“You bitch!” She shrieked.

“Takes one to know one, darlin’.” You quipped, looking down at the broken bottle in your hand.

She let out another yell, lunging for you, but Lyla jumped in and pushed her into the bar away from you, causing two more from her little crew to flank her side in defense.

“She could have a concussion!” One squealed dramatically.

“Crazy bitch! Why’d you hit her head with the bottle, you could’ve killed her?” The other seethed.

You rolled your eyes at that. So. Damn. Dramatic. “Why’d her head hit my bottle, she wasted a perfectly good beer?”

Lyla elbowed you in the side in warning, making you toss the broken bottle to the side with a shrug. The three women glared at you two. One even had the courage to walk up to Lyla and spit at her feet. Your blood boiled at the action, so you gripped the bitch by her engine-red hair and yanked her head back harshly, throwing your fist back and knocking it right into the center of her face.

You don’t remember what happened next after your first collided with her nose, but you felt a pair of strong arms wrap around your waist, and pulling you up off the floor. When your vision zoned back in you saw Opie with his arm around Lyla protectively, and Tig, Happy, and Kozik grabbing the crow-eaters that decided to pick a fight and escort them outside.

As you struggled against the person who still held you while you eased off the high from destruction, you heard a rough voice tell you to calm down.

Jax.

You stopped your attempts to fight him off; the adrenaline slowing down. You huffed in defeat, turning your head to look up at the man who was only staring down at you with a cocked eyebrow. You were in trouble.

“Shit.”

While the prospects cleaned up the mess you made, Jax escorted you upstairs to his dorm. You knew he wasn’t pissed or upset with you, most definitely amused, but you knew he was gonna question you about what went down. It was SAMCRO’s house, and he was the president.

He opened the door for you, allowing you to step inside first. You sat down on the corner of his bed as he closed the door and and disappeared into the bathroom.

Jax came back into the room with a partially damp rag, peroxide, and a couple gauze wraps. You cringed as you looked down at the back of your hands and took notice of how bruised and bloody they were. Your knuckles looked like you went toe-to-toe with a brick wall. You flinched as you flexed your hands, stretching and curling your fingers, hoping that none were broken. You heard a couple cracks but it seemed to be from the cramps already forming as the only pain that seared was from the cuts and darkening bruises.

He kneeled in front of you, dropping the peroxide and bandages next to you on the bed, and keeping hold of the rag. “Mind tellin’ me how you goin’ home turned into this?” He asked as he gingerly took one of your hands in his free bigger one, gently dabbing the warm, wet towel to your knuckles, earning a hiss from you at the contact.

“I was just enjoying the rest of my beer, and I was interrupted and a bitch’s head broke the bottle.” You snarked, hissing once more when Jax pressed a little harder on a cut on your middle finger. “Damn it, Jax!”

“Ok, smartass. Wanna try that again?”

“She was talking shit and my fist high-fived her face.” You couldn’t help but let the sarcasm flow. “Ow! Jackson stop it!”

“Quit being a smartass.” He warned you. “You’re smarter than this. You wouldn’t get into a fight over some crow-eater openin’ her damn mouth.”

“Oh, that’s rich. You’re gonna patronize me over fighting? Really, Mr. SAMCRO President?” You scoffed in disbelief as he attended your other hand.

“Well, then what did she say?” He retorted, grabbing the disinfectant from next to you.

“Nothing important.”

“If it was nothing important, why did it cause a damn brawl in the middle of the Clubhouse?”

You jumped from your seat on the bed, not containing the anger that was bubbling inside you from his persistent questions. “Because I love you, you asshole! And it hurt that I didn’t see you all night at a party that you invited me to, only to finally see you with the fucking porn-slut of all people! I thought you hated her?! Apparently not!” Your hands were flying up to meet your anger and exasperation. Once Jax stood at your level, you shoved a finger into his chest, “And it didn’t help that some bitch was trying stake Ima’s claim on you for her! Oh, and I tried not to fight her because she wasn’t worth it! I was just gonna go home but she wouldn’t leave me alone! She was asking for it! Fucking ask Lyla if you don’t believe me! Then her backup showed up and it all went to shit! I am so sorry it was inconvenience to your night!”

Once your rant was over and you were catching your breath, your glare only sharpened as you saw a smirk resting on his face. You furrowed your brows. Why the fuck is he staring at you like that? It only broadened as he took in your expression. Leave it to him to read you like an open book.

“I love you too, you smartass.”

What, now? You blinked rapidly, drawing blanks at what he said. You had to backtrack through every statement you made through your entire rant, only to pause, your face contorting from realization to shock to embarrassment. “Oh, fuck me sideways with a golf club.”

He licked his lips, glancing away for a split moment before shrugging. “I’d be more than willin’ to darlin’, but I wouldn’t use a golf club.”

Your eyes screwed shut as your lips drew a flat line, cringing even more into yourself, and wishing you could go crawl under your blankets at home. Oh, fuck. I said that out loud, didn’t I?

You peeked an eye open and groaned loudly, covering your face with your sore hands. “Quit looking at me like that!”

“Come over here and make me.”

SOA TAG LIST: @cutekittylexie @talicat713 @woahitslucyylu @xx--day-dreamer--xx @sweetpeaflower01 @rebelwrites

#jax teller x reader #jax teller #jax teller one shot #jax teller imagine #jackson teller #jackson teller x reader #soa #sons of anarchy x reader #sons of anarchy #soa imagine #soa one shot #sons of anarchy imagine #sons of anarchy one shot #samcro #samcrow

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wlntrsldler · 4 years

Text

where’s my love (fred weasley x malfoy! reader)

PROMPT: Y/N Malfoy is allowed back to live with her family in Malfoy Manor after spending 6 years studying at Ilvermorny. She’s the black sheep of her family and now that she’s attending Hogwarts, she’s doing everything in her power to drive her father mad. Nothing else drives her father crazy than a Weasley, so why not date one? (fred weasley x malfoy! reader; fake dating au)

WARNINGS: none for now.

WC: 2.4K+

prologue

where’s my love masterlist

HP Masterlist

CHAPTER 1

“Remind me again why we’re buying my materials for school three months before we actually start term?” you groaned, walking beside Draco through Diagon Alley.

He rolled his eyes, “Father hates getting caught in the whirlwind of everyone trying to get their items at once. He prefers shopping early in the year.”

“I don’t understand why he has a say when he’s not even here,” you mumbled, moving aside as people pushed past you. You took a look around, faintly remembering walking down these streets when you were younger. You sighed, stopping to the side to let two men holding two abnormally large carts of Merlin knows what, between you and Draco. “Didn’t even bother seeing me. I’ve been home for a week.”

Draco felt his shoulders drop, not having the heart to tell you that Lucius would leave the house before you woke to avoid you. He knew you didn’t like your father much, but Draco also knew that family is the most important thing to you. Lucius was still your father, of course. He pulled you by your arm, “Come on. Get a move on.”

You linked your arm through his, ruffling his perfectly styled hair. You chuckled as he swatted your hands away, groaning about how it took him ages to get it that way. You grinned up at him, watching as he smiled with his teeth, sparkling in the light. “Where are we off to first, my dearest brother?”

“It’s up to you,” he shrugged, “You tell me. Has the States given you a sufficient education?”

“I’ll have you know I’ve found a fascination with Transfiguration and wandlore,” you said. “You think I’ll get to continue my studies fairly at Hogwarts? I mean, I’m assuming they don’t get transfer students in their final year.”

“Hogwarts is… alright, I suppose,” he kicked around the pebbles that littered the streets. He stopped in front of a store, a bit familiar to you— Ollivander’s. “Some teachers are gits, sometimes, but I’m sure you’ll survive. It’s not the best, but it’ll suffice.”

You nodded, understandingly. You looked up at the sign, pointing up at it, “Why are we here? I already have a wand.”

You subconsciously touched the wand in your back pocket, already memorized the ridges. You grimaced, thinking about how you never truly felt like your wand was yours. Of course, you picked it out when you arrived in America, but you were too young to truly understand it. You remembered choosing the wand half-heartedly and largely basing it on how pretty it looked. That’s why you became so fascinated with wands. After hearing all your classmates gush about how they love their wands, like it was simply an extension of themselves, you began to wonder why your wand never made you feel that way.

“Nowhere better to learn about wandlore than with Ollivander,” Draco shooed you inside the store, stepping back a bit. “Go on, I have to see if the books I ordered have arrived. I’ll catch up with you soon.”

“Thanks, Dray.”

Draco smiled as he waved goodbye, his figure retreating into a dark alley. You had an uncomfortable feeling in your stomach, one that only came around whenever Draco was lying to you. You shrugged the feeling off, knowing that it wouldn’t be wise to confront him so soon since your arrival. You didn’t even know if he’s truly hiding something from you anyway. Draco would tell you if there was something wrong, wouldn’t he?

Of course he would, you finally decided, twisting the doorknob to enter the shop. The man with long, white hair was turned away from you, opening various drawers and pulling out different items. The bell above his shop rang, startling him. His eyebrows furrowed, trying to see who would come into his shop so early into summer. Usually, his shop was pretty quiet until a week or two before the train left for Hogwarts.

Curious, he leaned over the counter, a polite smile on his face, “How can I help you?”

“Hi, I was just..” you trailed off, not really knowing your true purpose of being in the shop. Sure, you were interested in wandlore but is it appropriate to just walk into this man’s shop and start asking him questions? Not likely, but what else were you supposed to say. You gulped, “I.. I suppose, I just have a few questions about wands, if you don’t mind. My brother says you’re the best person to ask.”

He grinned, eyes lighting up at the compliment. Ollivander prides himself in his work and he loved talking to anyone and everyone who dared to listen. “Of course it is! Say, who’s your brother?”

“Draco,” you stated, walking closer to the counter. “Malfoy. Draco Malfoy. I’m his older sister.”

“Dear Merlin,” Ollivander’s eyebrows shot up, a large smile on his face. “Y/N Malfoy? Blimey, it’s been years since I last saw you.”

You ducked your head, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear, “You remember who I am?”

“Well, absolutely!” he cheered, stepping out from behind the counter to give you a hug. “You used to run past my shop whenever your mother had to do some shopping. I remember you tapping against the glass window with the biggest smile on your face and you wouldn’t leave til I said ‘hello’ back,” he chuckled, holding you by your shoulders in disbelief. “I can’t believe how grown up you’ve become.”

You frowned a bit, looking up at him sadly, “I’m sorry, I can’t seem to remember doing that.”

He flicked his wrist, saying it was no big deal. He returned to his spot behind the counter, ushering you to sit on the stool that he placed in front of him. “No worries, you were young. I would be more surprised if you did remember it. I think you stopped coming with your mother after you turned seven. Matter of fact, I think your family stopped coming to Diagon Alley all together after that. Didn’t see not one Malfoy until your brother started Hogwarts.” He paused, “I always did wish I got to help you pick out your wand for school.”

“I bet if you were the one to help me, I’d have a better wand,” you laughed, pulling out the wand from your pocket. You twirled it around between your fingers, “Father sent me off to the States when I became of age. Got all my supplies on my own.”

“Does it not feel right?” he asked, taking the wand from your hand. He inspected it, “Sycamore wood with a unicorn hair core. That’s interesting.”

“How so?”

“Typically unicorn hair core wands remain attached to their first owner, but it seems this wand and yourself have never created a bond to be broken in the first place,” he placed the wand in your hand, getting up to look around the shop. “I’ll bring out a few wands for you to try out.”

You stood up abruptly, quickly shaking your head, “Please, sir. I don’t want to be a bother. I’m sure you have other things to worry about.”

“Nonsense, I’ve been waiting to find you a wand since you were a wee baby. Please, this is more for me than it is for you.”

You laughed at his words, raising your hand up in surrender, and taking your seat again. You patiently waited for him as he rummaged through his stocks of wands, staring at the stacks of wand boxes that reached the top of his ceiling. You called out to him, “I really appreciate you doing this, Mr. Ollivander!”

“It’s my pleasure,” he sat down again, this time with three wands in his hand. “Try these.”

He eagerly placed the first wand in your hand. You took it, wrapping your hands around it. Nothing. You sadly smiled, placing the wand back into the box, “Is that Laurel wood with a unicorn hair core?”

Ollivander nodded, handing you the next wand, “You know a bit about wands?”

“I’ll admit, I’m fascinated by wandlore. That’s why Draco sent me here,” you tried out the next wand, “Laurel wood with a dragon heartstring core?”

“Indeed, not a match?”

Embarrassed you shook your head, “It's better but I’m afraid it’s not. I’m sorry, Mr. Ollivander.”

He handed you the third one, “Don’t apologize. Every wizard and witch should have the right wand for them.”

“This one is the closest I’ve felt to a wand, but I still don’t think it’s right,” you hummed, admiring the detail on it. “Vine wood with a dragon heartstring core?”

For a second, you could’ve swore his face paled when you rejected the third wand. He gulped, getting up to return the three wands to their rightful places. You thought he’d given up, and rightfully so, after the three wands he introduced just didn’t fit you. But then he came back with a sole wand in his grasp, hands shaking a bit when he handed it to you.

If you weren’t so entranced by the wand he presented to you, you would’ve noticed a shift in the air. Ollivander was nervous. He’s only given out a variation of this wand a few times in his life and each time he did, a piece of him broke when they accepted it. He gave you the box, “Here. I was hoping I wouldn’t have to show this wand to you but it seems the perfect fit.”

You looked down at the wand, unfamiliar with the wood it’s made out of. You touched it and instantly, you felt sparks in your body ignite. This was your wand. This was always your wand. A large smile made its way to your face as you lifted it up. It was beautiful. You looked at him, confused as to why he was afraid to hand it to you, “I’ve never seen this wood before.”

“It’s Cypress wood. It’s rare,” Ollivander started. “It’s been said that this wand only matches with the most noble of witches and wizards.”

“Noble?” you questioned, looking at the wand. “That’s quite a compliment, wouldn’t you say? Why did you not want to show me this wand?”

“What’s the fun in telling you that?” he chuckled sadly, “You’re interested in wandlore, correct? Learn about the history of it. That’s your homework from me.”

You cocked your eyebrow, confused on why the air in the shop suddenly turned heavy. “That’s a deal.”

“George, I don’t understand why we’re here again,” Fred groaned, walking down the familiar streets of Diagon Alley.

“Don’t you wanna see the shop?”

“We see it every week,” he rolled his eyes, but followed George down the familiar path anyway. “It’s not like we magically gained enough money to buy the lot now.”

The two boys walked past the different shops, trying to stay out of everyone’s way. Diagon Alley before the start of the school year was rather peaceful. There weren’t any anxious first years running around everywhere trying to make sure they had everything. Although, ever since they started their little business, they realized those same first years were their biggest customers. Sure, they usually got scolded by their parents for wasting their money on Weasley products over spare parchment, but Fred and George believed that that wasn’t their business anymore.

As they walked by Ollivander’s, Fred couldn’t help but stop and look into the shop, spotting the most beautiful girl he swore he’d ever seen in his life— you. You were sitting in front of Ollivander, twirling a wand around with your fingers. He didn’t realize he stopped completely until he heard George’s irritated footsteps stomping over to him.

George hit Fred on the back of his head, “Gee, thanks for leaving me to walk on my own, Freddie.” Silence. He snapped his fingers in front of his brother, trying to pull him out of his trance, “Earth to Fred?”

“Stop it,” he mumbled, shooting an annoyed glare at his twin. “Can’t you see I’m busy?”

“Yeah, busy staring at-” George turned his attention to whatever — or rather, whoever— got his brother’s attention. His eyes bulged out of his eyes when he saw you. “Blimey, now I see why you’re staring. She’s beautiful.”

“Yeah, obviously.”

“Who is she?”

It took Fred a while to respond, his brother’s words not fully registering in his mind until a little later. He was too enchanted by you, especially the way your entire being lit up once you touched a wand that Ollivander gave to you. You grinned up at him, your lips mouthing words Fred couldn’t truly decipher. All he could think about was how beautiful you were.

He started to think about if he’s seen you before. Surely if you went to Hogwarts he would’ve noticed you. Godric, everyone would’ve noticed you. He concluded that you definitely didn’t go to Hogwarts. Were you from Beauxbaton? You were more than beautiful enough to be part Veela. But if you went there, wouldn’t you have made an appearance during last year's Triwizard Tournament?

“So who is she?”

“I don’t know,” Fred breathed out, “But even if I did know, I wouldn’t bloody tell you.”

George laughed, “No worries, brother dear. Although I do deserve some payback since you took Angelina to the Yule Ball, knowing full well I fancied her, I won’t try to make a move on your little crush.”

“Bold of you to assume she’d even look in our direction, Georgie,” Fred sighed, backing away from the shop, but not taking his eyes away from you.

Before George could say something back, another voice made the two boys jump.

“Weaslebees.”

Fred turned to look at the source of the voice, internally cursing when he saw the familiar mop of blond hair in front of them. Draco stood tall with his arms crossed over his chest, his signature smirk on his face. Fred and George squinted their eyes, throwing daggers in his direction.

“Shut up, Malfoy,” Fred sneered, stepping closer to George. “What are you even doing here?”

“I should ask you the same thing,” Draco rebutted, “Planning a prank on poor Ollivander are you? When will you realize nobody actually enjoys your shenanigans?”

“Nobody asked for your opinion.”

Draco rolled his eyes, shoving past the two boys. He pushed the door to the shop open, already forgetting his encounter with the Weasleys, “Y/N, you ready?”

From the outside, they heard your sweet voice echo, “Yeah, one second.”

The twins looked at each other, a puzzled look etched on both their features. How did you know Malfoy? As George pushed Fred to continue walking, eager to see the lot they hoped would be theirs soon enough, Fred couldn’t help but think about you.

Y/N, he thought, she seems utterly perfect.

There’s nothing in the world that could make him believe otherwise.

A/N: thank you so much for your support for this series! the chapter after this one starts off really funny actually, so i hope you guys enjoy the sort of comedic aspects of this series. also, so sorry this is kinda starting off slowly but i just wanted to set the scene a bit before they actually meet.

also, the meaning of the wand will be revealed later on! so if you’re not familiar with it, i promise it’ll make sense later.

TAGS:

@youreverydayzebra @cappsikle @themeanestlittlewitch @pillowjj @britishspidey @you-make-children-cry @treestarrrrrrrr @girlbabyvelez @pigwidgexn @celine-floresie @yucksiedoodles @bilesxbilinskixlahey @fantastic-fans @alliegc28 @mitchiri-nek0 @madcrazy50

#harry potter #harry potter fanfic #harry potter series #fred weasley #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x yn #fred weasley fanfic #fred weasley x malfoy!reader #draco malfoy #george weasley #frances writes #frances song fics #where's my love fic

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