#oh also the staff retreat next week is going to make me want to die i hate assessments what a literal invention of the devil | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

warrioreowynofrohan · 4 years

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Stormlight Archive Character Thoughts - Kaladin

I’ve got piles of thoughts about the Stormlight Archive, and I want to start getting them written down in the lead-up to Rhythm of War.

For people who haven’t read The Stormlight Archive yet - spoilers! (For the first three books only.) If you’re interested in reading the books in future - or, for that matter, if you’re not interested at all and would rather not have them clogging up your dash - you may want to apply some kind of filter to skip these posts.

Kaladin is easily one of my favourite characters, and a lot of that comes from how deeply he cares about people, even people he doesn’t know, and his astounding level of determination. More than any other character in the books, he has to fight for every inch he gets, he has people placing roadblocks in his path literally every time he takes a step forward, and he powers through it all.

Let’s recap. First, at only fifteen years old, he joins the army to protect his younger brother, only 13-years-old, who has been forcibly conscripted due to the town’s brightlord having a grudge against Kaladin’s family. It’s like a sadder version of The Hunger Games, where he can’t even volunteer in place of his brother, just go with him and hope. Soon after their conscription, his brother is forced onto the front lines and killed in front of him.

Kaladin keeps going. He excels in the army and is made a squadleader before he is out of his teens. He spends all his pay bribing officers to send young people who are unprepared for war to his squad, and he protects them; he bribes the support staff to prioritize his men when taking injured soldiers from the battlefield, so they will live. He becomes a legend to his men, who call him Stormblessed. His men are slaughtered by a Shardbearer, a terror that no ordinary soldier could hope to overcome. Kaladin kills the Shardbearer. His commander, the one lighteyes Kaladin still trusted, steals the Shards, slaughters his men to cover it up, brands Kaladin as a slave, and sells him.

Kaladin keeps going. He tries, time and time and time again, to escape, alone or with others. Sometimes he succeeds, briefly. But he is always recaptured, his companions killed. He breaks. He thinks he’s given up. Despite having given up, he tries to save another ill slave, offering medical advice on how he can be save. The slave-traders kill the man anyway. Kaladin is sent to the Shattered Plains as a bridgemen, an existence that is nothing but a painful journey to inevitable death.

He keeps going. He decides, against all odds, to save the men of his bridge crew, who are too beaten down to even want to be saved. He tries to order them to train; they ignore or laugh at him. He tries to inspire them to train; they look at him like he’s crazy. The man in charge of the bridge crew hates him and wants him dead, but is also afraid and in debt; Kaladin puts some of the minimal pay he recieves into bribing him to leave him alone. He tries to buy antiseptic to prevent injured brudgemen from dying of sepsis. He can’t. It costs more money than he will ever have. When the crew go on brudge runs, he stands in the most dangerous place, where he is most likely to die. He runs onto the battlefield, unarmed, to rescue wounded bridgemen from his crew. He heals them as best he can with his limited resources. When the commanders refuse to bring the injured men back to camp because their lives have no value to them, he finds a way to bring them back. The commanders refuse to feed the injured men. He gives up his own rations to feed them, but he’s going to run out of food, money, and medical supplies.

He keeps going. Acting on information from the apothecary, he gets his men assigned to heavy manual labour (which doesn’t make them happy with him) outside of camp and gathers antiseptic from a grass that grows there, to tend his men’s wounds and to sell to the apothecary for profit. He works nights to extract the antiseptic, with the help of a couple other members of his bridge crew. He keeps trying to train his bridge crew so they’re stronger, more practiced, and less likely to die on bridge runs, but many are still too beaten done to have anything to do with it. When he goes to sell the antiseptic to the apothecary, the apothcary tries to cheat him and buy it for a pittance.

Kaladin sees through it the apothecary’s deception, pushes him, and gets a decent price. He uses the money to buy food for his men, Rock makes them stew, and the group finally start to bond. The next day, when he starts training, most of them are willing to participate. Throughout this time, bridgemen kerp getting wounded, keep dying on runs. If this continues, there won’t be enough people left yo carry the bridge. This is intentional on the part of the commanders: they want him to fail, want to deny him any more crew members to replace the ones he’s lost. And then, when he demands more men and can pick one - he picks a one-armed man. Because the man would die immediately in any other bridge crew, and Kaladin is still the person who, when he was a squadleader, had unprepared soldiers sent to his squad so he could keep them alive.

He keeps going. He trains his squad to carry the bridge at their side, so they can use it to block arrows and not be defenseless on bridge runs. He tries this on the next run, because it’s the only way they won’t all die. It works. It also causes the army’s attack to fail, because enemy arches fire at the soldiers and the other bridge crews instead of his crew. And he’s finally told why his men are sent running into battle unshielded and unarmoured. Killing them distracts the enemy from soldiers who have value. He’s been labouring and striving with all his strength to save men whose only military purpose is to die. The commanders string him up in a highstorm to die.

Miraculously, he lives. And he keeps going. Secretly, he begins training his men to fight, in the slim hope that they can excape from the camp, fight off pursuers, and find freedom. On top of this, he starts rescuing and healing wounded men from other bridge crews. Because their lives have value, and no one else values them. And finally, they have a chance to escape - if they walk away and let a losing army be slaughtered by its enemies.

They turn back. A group of people who, months ago, were hopeless, apathetic, and waiting to die, sacrifice their chance at freedom to save men they do not know, soldiers of armies who have never shown any value for bridgeman lives. Men who barely know how to use a spear fight in a battle, a battle against unbelievable odds. (In organizing the retreat, Kaladin manages to take command of men who are stratospherically higher-rank than him, through sheer force of will and level-headedness.) And they win. And thanks to this, they win their freedom. Kaladin’s begun to realize he has powers he doesn’t fully understand.

He’s given immense new responsibilities. Where one he was in charge of maybe thirty or forty bridgemen he’s now in charge of hundreds of brudgemen and soldiers. He learns to identify other leaders. To inspire. To delegate. He considers telling Dalinar about his new powers, and then, just as he’s almost decided, the man who murdered his crew and branded him as a slave comes to the camp, and Dalinar wecomes him as a dear friend. Kaladin tells Dalinar the truth. Dalinar tells Kaladin he has no proof, and all the evidence and testimony is against him; and to all appearances, Dalinar does nothing. Dalinar appoints the man as the new head of the Knights Radiant, the group that Kaladin’s powers genuinely make him one of.

Kaladin keeps going. Despite all of this, he throws himself into a fight against four Shardbearers to protect Dalinar’s son, a man Kaladin doesn’t even like. Against all the odds, he wins. Sering a chance for justice, he demands the right to duel Amaram, his betrayer. Instead, he’s thrown in prison and narrowly escapes the king having him executed (note: Kaladin had previously risked his life to rescue the king from posdibly the most dangerous man in the world). For the second time, he has defeated a Shardbearer, an act that is supposed to instantly make you one of the highest-status people in the kingdom. For the second time, he’s been betrayed and punished for it instead. And then he finds out that the king is also responsible for ‘exiling’, to Kaladin’s hometown, the brightlord respinsible for his brother’s death.

And this is the point where he breaks and decides he’s okay with the king being assassinated. And then, because of that decision, he loses his new abilities and he loses Syl. And he still keeps going, and fights (and kills) a monster out of nightmares to save someone he doesn’t particularly like, and nearly dies doing it. And then, over a space of weeks, he pulls himself together, realizes he was wrong, and stands in defence of the king while still severely injured, about to pass about from blood loss, in a fight he has no chance of winning.

And, oh yes, he does all this while having clinical depression (in addition to some serious situational depression due to the absolute hell that his life is for a lot of the time).

Yes, I’ve skated over a lot of things here, and the involvement of a lot of other characters, but when you put all this together it is amazing. And that, not his powers, is what makes Kaladin a wonderful and intensely admirable character to me. His bond with Syl, and his abilities, are a result of the person he’s continually chosen to be, against constant, unimaginable obstacles. They’re not something that was just handed to him. Do I love his epic moments? Yes. But they work because they’re grounded on the foundation of everything else he’s chosen to be and do.

(I’m hoping to do a separate post focusing specifically on his arc in Words of Radiance, and on Moash’s arc, because there are a lot of nuances there that I want to dig into.)

And in Oathbringer, I love his scenes with the Singers in the first part. He meets people who he expects to be monsters, who both legend and personal experience has told him are monsters, and he empathizes with them and helps them. Because they need it, and because he cares. And I believe that on the long run, that will be a major and important strength, not a weakness. Throughout the books he’s struggled with the question of how you draw a line between the people you’re supposed to protect and the people you’re supposed to kill when there’s no obvious moral difference between the one and this other. I think that’s going to be resolved, and that his capacity for empathy, inspiration and leadership is going to be involved in helping the humans and the Singers to find peace.

#the stormlight archive #brandon sanderson #kaladin stormblessed #character thoughts

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oh-obrien · 4 years

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Midnight (B.B.)

Pairing: Bellamy Blake (AU) X Original Female Character

Warnings: Mentions of underage drinking and smoking

Word Count: 5,121 (she’s a little short to start off)

Part: ONE

Author’s Note: Welcome to my first Bellamy mini series that I promised would be a college AU because i have zero (ZERO) self control!!! Buckle up for the fluff y’all! Dw some of your other The 100 favorites also make an appearance!

“Good morning, Penelope,” Penny jumped when she heard someone in the hallway, especially since that someone said her name. Other than the Resident Assistants the buildings were still supposed to be empty for another week and a half. Athletes hadn’t even moved in yet. “Oh can’t take a joke still, Penns?” Bellamy Blake approached her, his backpack slung over his right shoulder, the handle to a rolling suitcase in his left hand and a stupid smirk on his face. His stupid signature ‘Bellamy Blake’ smirk, she hated it.

Penny rolled her eyes and went back to hanging up the last few decorations on her first bulletin board of the year. She had picked a ‘Welcome to the Jungle’ theme for the first portion of the semester. The idea had come straight off Pinterest and she would not be ashamed to admit that if anyone questioned her inspiration, but she also knew that the freshmen would love the design. It tended to be a hit, especially since she had used it twice before. (‘Oh yeah I’m totally using WTTJ again, #justRAthings’, she had sent her best friend the night before while cutting out all the pieces she would need).

She had even made safari animal themed door decorations to match. “I also still somehow got stuck in the same building as you again this year,” she walked into her open door to put her tape and left handed scissors away. “Which means I am the only girl on staff in this building this year,” she shook her head. “Because this building is co-ed this year and has a larger guy ratio and I ran into the others yesterday,” she let out a small sigh of defeat.

Bellamy leaned on the frame of her door while he watched Penny gather her belongings, “oh c’mon Penny,” he smiled, “I’m not that bad.” Penny picked up her backpack, filled with most of the small essentials she would need for the week-long retreat their university had sponsored for freshmen resident assistants. “We’ve made a pretty good team the past two years, what’s one more?” Bellamy watched Penny tuck her keys into one pocket on her backpack before she grabbed her own suitcase out of the corner of her room, tucking a metal water bottle into the other pocket on her backpack. “Besides, we can make the common room bulletin board together again!”

“You just use me for my Cricut so you don’t have to walk all the way to the office to cut shit out,” Penny pointed an accusatory finger at him. She carefully tucked one of her lacrosse sticks into her bag after seeing Bellamy had brought his along, she assumed the others would too then.

Bellamy held his hands up in defense, “on occasion it is easier to use your Cricut I won’t lie!” He laughed before reaching back to make sure his lacrosse stick hadn’t fallen out of his backpack. “But I also use you for your study buddy purposes, once again I’m not that bad!” He helped her to press the last few leaves she needed to hang up on to the bulletin board. Bellamy had opted to go for a sports theme for his hallway, but Penny always had better hall themes, freshmen guys were easier to please. When it came to themes, Bellamy didn't have to think hard.

“You’re right Bell,” she let out a long sigh and saw the boy next to her smirk in satisfaction while he shoved his head back into his phone again. “It’s your residents you don’t know how to control that are the real problem.”

Bellamy tripped over his own feet after hearing the statement Penny had made, “my residents are the problem?” he jogged to catch up with her. “I have no idea what you’re talking about!” Penny just shook her head while he fell back into step with her after regaining his footing. Always graceful on the lacrosse field, never off.

“Like it wasn’t one of your residents that fell down the stairs, absolutely plastered I’ll remind you, the first weekend of the semester last year and cracked their head open?” She shook her head while they reached the campus center. Pulling open the door, she held it for Bellamy before following him in. “Or your residents who got caught with pot last year?” Bellamy held the next door open this time, “and it all happens on the weekends I happen to be on duty. How convenient.”

The pair reached the room where freshmen RA’s needed to check in and Bellamy pulled a black ballpoint pen out of his pocket, signing himself in before handing Penny the pen. “Okay,” he clicked the pen closed when Penny handed it back, “but you and I both know I can’t make them stay in every weekend, and beats me where they get the weed!” he tucked the pen back into his pocket. “I actually wanted to start this year off on a good foot you know?” He asked Penny while they sat down at one of the tables in the room. “A nice get away into the mountains, with limited cell service, no gym, no video games and like two of my teammates,” his tone dripped with sarcasm.

“You got a job over the summer for after you graduate, a really good one, you already did start the year off right,” Penny huffed before setting her phone on the table in front of them “Congrats by the way,” she offered the sentiment.

Bellamy’s smile grew at the mention of his job with the Central Intelligence Agency that he would officially start once he graduated in May. “Oh yeah-” he ran his fingers through his hair, “that.”

“Oh yeah that?” Penny mocked. “Bellamy, that is an amazing opportunity! You should be proud of yourself for that,” she added at the end. Penny had landed quite the internship herself the past summer, interning for the New York City District Attorney’s office, but she didn’t like to talk about it much, not enjoying having all the attention on herself.

Luckily, working with Bellamy for the past two years, she knew he shared many of the same feelings. The mutual awkwardness had allowed the two to become comfortable talking about their accomplishments with each other. Much of the campus just knew that Bellamy would be one of the men’s lacrosse captains for the third year in a row and wrote him off as a jock, Penny had been able to get to know him a deeper level though. The two had become quite good friends their sophomore year when they were put on a RA staff together, and their friendship only continued to grow from there.

Penny also felt her small crush on the boy growing stronger over the two years they had already been on a staff together. She and Bellamy had not only worked on the same staff for two years but had also been going back and forth between being first and second in their graduating class, it would be a game of hundredths of a GPA point by the end of the year. Neither truly cared about where they ended up, but it had often come up in conversation between the two.

“Okay and getting asked to apply to Yale Law, Texas Law, Duke Law and UC Berkeley Law isn’t an accomplishment?” He smirked at Penny from across the table. “Y’know I paid attention in training last week when you were talking to Tiff right?”

“Jerk,” Penny laughed lightly while taking a sip of her water bottle. “But yes, I had an almost perfect LSAT score, I’m dying to get into Texas hopefully.” She looked up to Bellamy. “So-”

He cut her off with a long groan, “what?” He dragged the word out in the tone of a whine.

“Jez,” Penny held her hands up, “I was just going to ask if you met any nice girls while you were out in D.C!” Penny laughed lightly when she saw his cheeks heat up a little bit, another groan falling past his lips.

“I mean,” Bellamy shrugged, “the girl who happened to be on my workout team was nice, we talked for a while after we left,” he glared at Penny when he saw her smile grow. “If you let me finish,” he sighed, “it just wasn’t as compatible as we first thought and I’m going to die a college virgin!” He let his head fall into his hands and Penny couldn’t help the small laugh that fell past her lips.

She watched Bellamy lift his head up to watch her through the lenses of his glasses. “You say that like it’s a bad thing or something,” she crossed her arms over her chest. “You also say that like you haven’t had any girls basically drool over you?”

“It-”

“Isn’t,” she shook her head and gnawed on her bottom lip for a moment. “It isn’t a bad thing Bellamy. So what? You’re a Virgin. Me too, and I’m sure a ton of other people on campus are also! That and girls talk about you all the time at lacrosse games” She waited for the boy across from her to answer.

“Wait you are?” He asked, his nose scrunched up in confusion and a slight quirk to his right eyebrow.

Penny snorted through her nose, “uhh yeah!” She let out a long sigh. “You do realize that rumor freshman year was just a rumor right?”

Bellamy didn’t say anything, unaware the claims classmates had made about Penny had actually been a rumor. He remembered a few weeks before spring break their freshman year Penny had cooped herself up in her dorm, lacrosse practices and she only left to go to classes and grab food if she didn’t have anything she wanted in her room. She had mysteriously left campus for spring break early, even taking a few midterms early to do so, and eventually claims started circulating around that she had gotten hit with a particularly bad case of Mono, more commonly known as the kissing disease.

Upon hearing that rumors had started floating around that she had caught it from an upperclassman she had been seen with at a few frat parties, Bellamy decided the drama would be none of his business. Penny had returned from spring break, still run down, sickly and unusually quiet. She didn’t make an effort to address any of the claims, instead choosing to fly under the radar for the remainder of the year.

“Seriously Bellamy?” She shook her head and let out a long sigh. “My doctor thinks I just caught it from someone who had it sneezing or coughing around me. I hadn’t kissed anyone since my sophomore year of high school at that point. It really sucked to hear some of the things that were said in my absence,” she just sank further into her chair.

Bellamy pulled his beanie back on before speaking, “I’m sorry Penns,” he mumbled. “I hope you know I didn’t subscribe to any of that bullshit, I just didn’t really know you then.”

“It’s fine,” she mumbled while chewing on her lip. “Just sucks it ruined my reputation. I went home originally because the doctor here refused to test me for mono because I wasn’t sexually active or involved with anyone in any way. My doctor at home wanted to test me for Mono and a few different Thyroid things as soon as she could, that was why I left early. She knew that if those came back negative it would have probably been some type of blood cancer, we didn’t want to take any risks.”

“Then why didn’t you- why didn’t you clear it up when you got back?” Bellamy wondered out loud. He hadn’t realized the seriousness of the situation and Penny had never mentioned it before, Bellamy had just assumed she left early to be sure she had the easiest recovery possible.

Penny just gave him a small smile, “because,” she shrugged. “It was fun to see how far it traveled, what people had to say about me once they thought I was fucking around with a frat president as a freshman. Jake is actually one of my older brother’s best friends from home.” She referred to the boy who everyone thought she had been with.

“At least people let it go,” Bellamy told her with honesty. He had felt quite bad when the rumors were flying around, but at the time, other than their shared introduction to management class, he didn’t have any connections to her. Once he had been put on a staff with Penny his sophomore year, he learned she was often quite fun to be around and happened to be one of the most determined and driven individuals he knew, other than himself of course.

Their sophomore year, the pair would often spend late nights together in the common room, working on their homework together. Neither really knew much about the other’s major, but they had a similar music taste and an even more similar work ethic. It had been quite easy for them to get along. Bellamy also knew both their residents quietly ‘shipped’ the pair, often asking if Penny was his girlfriend because if she happened to be, it would be ‘really cute’. It had been during finals their spring semester, sophomore year that Bellamy realized maybe he did have some feelings for his co-worker.

The night before their last finals that year they had ordered too much take out from the Chinese place in town and hunkered down in Penny’s room to do last minute studying. Penny had been complaining about her first upper level accounting class while Bellamy tried to memorize all the different ethics codes he needed to know for his final. After taking their finals and finding out they had both received ‘A’s’, they became official ‘study buddies’.

Junior year saw the pair again in the same building as resident assistants, and it again gave them a new batch of freshmen who ‘shipped’ them. There had been multiple nights where residents locked themselves out of room while one, or both, of the pair happened to be on duty and when the freshmen knocked on the door an individual who didn’t live in that room happened to answer. After Bellamy had answered the door to Penny’s room once, revealing one of her residents looking to get back into their room, he had later gone to print something and found the girl talking to one of his residents. “They’re so together!” He recalled the girl telling his resident followed by a small “oh shit,” when she realized Bellamy had heard. He decided not to tell Penny about it, or confirm or deny the statement her resident had made. Instead, Bellamy carried on like he usually did, hoping his feelings for Penny weren’t obvious to her.

Now here the pair sat, senior year, in the same situation, neither able to share their feelings for the other yet. “My favorite seniors on staff!” Carrie, the director of resident life at the university, came up to greet Bellamy and Penny. “Your residents always give such great reviews! We just had to put you on the same staff again this year after neither of you wanted to take a higher position,” she gushed. “And Bellamy congratulations on the job!”

Penny watched Bellamy’s cheeks start to turn red, crossing his arms across his chest and trying to sink further into his chair, “thank you, Carrie,” he mumbled.

“Oh Bellamy you should be proud!” Carried told him with a smile on her face.

“I literally told him the exact same thing!” Penny sat up straighter and threw a playful glare at Bellamy. “The boy is a genius and refuses to acknowledge it for some reason!” Penny watched Bellamy roll his eyes before he turned to face Carrie.

“I’m excited for my last year, a little bit surreal but I’m still excited,” he picked up his phone when it buzzed on the table. Penny watched him pull his bottom lip between his lip before he started typing out an answer, his thumbs moving fast across the screen.

Penny looked up to Carrie who had shifted her attention away from Bellamy, “how’d your summer go then, Penns?” Carrie asked, opting to sit down in one of the extra chairs at the table. Bellamy still seemed very much tuned out to the conversation occurring and Penny sighed.

“Good! I loved my internship, I’m just a little bit stressed about after college,” she started picking at the polish on her nails. “I mean, I have the LSAT scores to get into law school no problem, I just wish I had it locked down already, my life just feels flimsy right now.” Penny had her life planned out since she was in middle school. She would go to an amazing undergraduate university, ace her LSAT s and then go off to law school after her senior year of college. She had also hoped to have a long-term relationship within the time period, but that clearly hadn’t worked out.

“Well,” Carrie started, “your life is anything but flimsy. You are one of the most motivated people I’ve ever had on my staff and I know you aren’t some one who would slack off on your future plans.” Bellamy looked up from his phone when he heard Penny mention she felt unprepared for after college. He knew he had gotten lucky with the guaranteed job, but the last person he expected to be stressed about after graduation plans would be Penny. “You have nothing to worry about, honey.” Carrie stood up and gave Penny a hug before addressing both of them again. “If you two want you can get first picks on the bus for seats !”

Bellamy saw Penny offer a small smile of thanks to Carrie before she stood up, tucking her phone into the back pocket of her jean shorts. “You ready?” She asked Bellamy who just nodded and stood up, sliding his backpack on to his shoulder and grabbing the handle to his suitcase. The pair rolled their suitcases down the empty hallways of the campus center, looking into the eerily empty conference rooms while they passed them. “It’s always so weird being here early,” Penny mumbled.

“Yeah it is quite strange,” Bellamy responded, “but I like it, especially in the mornings getting to just sit outside and relax.” Bellamy enjoyed taking time to himself most mornings, getting up early enough to make himself a cup of coffee and review any work he needed to before beginning his day. “There’s a couple squirrels I have just about eating out of my hand,” he laughed lightly.

“The infamous squirrels,” Penny smiled, “I see them on my runs in the mornings usually.” Similar to Bellamy, most days Penny would wake up early and try to get a workout in. In the early half of the fall semester and most of the spring semester she could get a run around campus in before classes, during the colder months she would be stuck in the gym in the mornings.

Pushing the button that would open the doors to the campus center, Bellamy hummed in acknowledgment of Penny’s comment. “Speaking of running,” he chucked, “aren’t you the senior captain this year?” Bellamy knew that Penny played on their university’s women’s lacrosse team and had gone to support her and his other friends on the team at most home games in the past, he had even gone to a few away games.

“Yeah,” she smiled to herself, “I’m actually really excited for it too! I kinda came in not the best on the team at it, then I tore my LCL freshman year, but I’ve definitely improved tenfold. And you’re the captain of the conference champion men’s lacrosse team?” She looked at Bellamy and laughed while they walked down the walkway that would lead them to the coach bus they would be taking into the mountains.

“First off,” Bellamy dramatically sighed, “stop that, and yeah I’m captain again,” he shrugged the position off. “I’m also the Recruitment Chair for Sig Chi,” he added. Bellamy had been one of the last people Penny ever expected to be in Greek Life, but her sophomore year she had bumped into him at Zeta’s formal and her jaw had nearly hit the ground.

Penny pointed at the letters on her long sleeve and laughed, “no way you’re a Sig Chi?” She asked the question in the same voice she had that night. “In all seriousness though, I despise recruitment,” she mumbled, “I’m VP of finance for Panhell this year though, for some reason I got talked into running for the position.”

“Hey, it’s worth it for Greek Week,” Bellamy reminded her when they reached the coach bus. The pair noticed the driver sitting in the driver's seat, a newspaper rested on the wheel and the door open. “Ready for the next week?” He smiled while tucking his suitcase under the bus.

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Penny sighed while Bellamy offered to take her suitcase.

✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚*❋ ❋ ❋*˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧

Almost as soon as they had gotten on the bus, Penny had put her headphones in and opted to catch up on sleep. She wrapped a throw blanket she had bright around herself and dozed off. She did not need to be awake for a three hour drive through the absolute middle of nowhere. She got to see it every time she drove to school or home from school, she could go without seeing it again.

All too soon she felt a gentle nudge against her shoulder and slowly opened her eyes, pulling out one of her headphones in the process. Bellamy sat next to her, a sleepy smile on his face and his hair messier than usual. “We better be close if you’re waking me up, Blake.” she let out a long yawn after stretching her legs.

“Like twenty minutes,” Bellamy shrugged while he ran a hand through his hair. “Figured you’d want a minute to actually wake up, though.” He looked rather comfortable himself, his hoodie pulled up higher than usual around his neck and a sleepy grin on his face. He seemed pretty cute even.

Penny carefully tucked her first headphone back into the case it belonged in before reaching under her blanket and pulling her phone off her lap, groaning as cold air got under the blanket. She noticed a number of notifications from the group chat she had with all of her girlfriends and unlocked her phone, turning the brightness down rather quickly afterwards. Scrolling to the top of the conversation she noticed a picture of her and Bellamy asleep in their seats; her head resting on his shoulder and his on top of her’s. It had been sent by Harper and she let out a sigh of defeat. She had forgotten Harper had also been placed into freshmen staff for the year, granted she worked in a different building, but all first year Resident Assistants had been put on the same bus.

‘So they’re just gonna keep doing this shit?’ Harper’s message read.

‘I doN’t LikE HiM!’ A message from Raven followed.

‘Ten bucks they fuck on the trip’ Lexa.

‘I’ll double it.’ Clarke.

‘Ew that’s my brother and suite-mate you’re talking about!’ Octavia had added.

Penny opted to scroll past the nonsensical messages before she saw a screenshot of another conversation sent. She opened it and noticed it had been sent in a group titled ‘Saturdays are for the BOIZ’, absolutely disgusting first off. It had been sent by Monty, Harper’s boyfriend and captioned ‘so they’re not dating?’ and she rolled her eyes.

‘They’ve only been eye fucking since my freshmen year.’ John Murphy had sent the message. Murphy had been one of Bellamy’s first residents and now he served as one of his frat brothers and closest friends.

‘Clarke said 20 they fuck this trip.’ Monty again.

‘Uhhh 40???’ Finn, Raven’s boyfriend.

‘Why are you placing bets?’ Nathan Miller, at least someone would be on her side.

‘Oh shut up Miller!’ Murphy once again. He had always been a shit stirrer, but he had proved to be fun to party with and a very loyal friend.

Penny closed the picture and checked she had service before typing out her response, making sure Bellamy had been paying no attention to her. ‘We’re not fucking!’ she closed the group chat, not wanting to deal with the girls at the moment, before looking to the front of the bus. Tiffany, the first year RA Coordinator had stood up and had a smile on her face.

“As you all know!” She started, “we’re here for a week for a leadership and team building skills retreat,” a number of groans filled the bus, Bellamy’s included. “You and I both know those activities will take up only a few hours of your days, the rest is yours and if alcohol is involved I don’t want to know!”

“What’s alcohol?” Penny recognized Jasper’s voice and rolled her eyes. She knew he smoked quite a bit of weed, often with Monty, but didn’t know he had gotten the first-year resident assistant job until she had bumped into him during move in. He worked in her building on the opposite side, but would definitely add much needed excitement to their staff. His personality most likely helped him get the job, he also worked with the Orientation Team, freshmen loved him.

Tiffany let out a long sigh before looking up at those on the bus again. “Any of you know who went on the Greek Life Leaders retreat last year are going to be familiar with this site,” Penny let out a quiet sigh and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Those of you who did that trip also know that these cabins are pretty small…” Tiffany trailed off at the end.

Penny had been Vice President of Zeta last year and had gone on the GLL trip with her organization’s President. The cabins they stayed in had a small kitchen, a bathroom, a tiny living area and one bedroom with a king bed. Sharing a bed with one of her closest friends hadn’t been hard, but she didn’t know who she would room with this trip. Anyone on resident life staff she felt close enough to room with would be of the opposite gender or already rooming with someone else most likely.

“I know I’m going to regret this,” Tiffany said more to herself than anyone else, “but you can pick who you’re rooming with. It’s two to a cabin!” She had to practically yell the last part over the conversations that had already erupted on the bus.

Penny pinched the bridge of her nose before looking around the bus, but it seemed everyone else already had a partner to room with. She caught Harper and Lexa’s gazes from the row across from her and Lexa winked. ‘Get fucked!’ Harper sent in the group chat and Penny just shook her head, putting do not disturb on.

“So,” Bellamy trailed off. “I know we both went on that retreat last year and know the whole roomies situation here.” Penny laughed at his use of the word roomies. “If you’re fine with it, I’d be down to room with you.” He shrugged after speaking. He seemed a lot more jittery than usual, Bellamy tended to be one of the most cool and collected people Penny knew.

Penny just nodded, “I’m fine with it! Big bed anyway, hopefully I won’t have to kick you out,” she flashed Bellamy a smile. The two fell back into silence afterwards and Penny took the opportunity to look at her phone again. Scrolling past the nonsensical messages she noticed one form Raven that stood out. ‘Now is probably a good time to tell you that we have a group chat called ‘Pellamy’ where we place bets on when you’ll actually get together.’

‘Don’t tell Bellamy!’ Clarke’s message followed.

‘He knows but doesn’t know that you know he knows that you know!’ Only a message that hard to read could come from Lexa.

‘Absolutely Superb!’ Penny settled on before getting Lexa and Harper’s attention so she could flip them off.

“Watch the profanity!” Bellamy quickly covered her finger with his hand which sent all four of the friends into a fit of laughter. “There are children like Jasper on this bus!” He made sure to speak loud enough for the boy who sat two rows in front of them to hear what had been said.

Penny sat up straighter in her seat to see Jasper turn around and glare at Bellamy. “You only had to babysit me at one party, Blake!” He flipped Bellamy off in return. The four other friends started laughing before Tiffany told everyone to quiet down again. Starting at the top of the list alphabetically she began asking for who would be rooming with who for the duration of the trip,

“Bellamy my dear?” She gave Bellamy a sweet smile.

“Suck. Up.” Penny leaned over to whisper in his ear, resulting in Bellamy pinching her upper thigh in return. “Fuck!” She rubbed at the red spot he had left on her pale skin, he knew how easily she bruised.

Looking over to Penny quickly to confirm their earlier decision she offered him a nod, “I guess I’ll subject myself to Miss Penelope for the week,” he let out an over dramatic sigh afterwards. “I’m stuck on staff with her for a third year, what’s another week rooming with her.”

“Don’t call me Penelope!”

Tiffany just shook her head while she wrote Penny’s name next to Bellamy’s, moving on to the next person afterwards. Penny tucked her legs underneath herself again before pulling her blanket tighter around herself, trying to keep the old air out as long as she could. “So like is this you two saying you’re a couple or?” Raven dragged the last word out while she looked across the aisle to where Penny and Bellamy had both shoved their heads back into their phones.

“No, not this again!” Bellamy’s tired voice groaned out while Penny answered by letting her head thud into the glass window next to where she sat, a quiet ‘ow’ slipping out afterwards.

Bellamy snorted out half a laugh while Raven and Lexa high fived each other, laughing as Lexa announced she would be rooming with the other girl. “This is going to be a long as fuck week,” Penny sighed.

“Yes, yes it is Miss Penelope.”

“It’s Penny!” She smacked Bellamy’s upper arm, the sound that resulted being louder than intended.

#bellamy blake #bellamy blake imagine #bellamy blake fanfiction #the 100 #the 100 imagine #the 100 fanfiction #bellamy blake x oc #college au #the 100 au #the 100 college au #ANNA WRITES #btw the 100 owns me right now

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flyingkiki · 5 years

Text

Curiosity, 2/?

Oh, hohoho. I am so gone. These two are giving me tingly happy feelings. We needs to build our TimRae army.

####

Raven had shitty family members, Tim noted. Not that it needed to go into his files on her because they already established that with her father, but seriously. Her demonic brothers were assholes, to say the least. He grunted as he swung his staff with all his bodyweight into the demon’s back, saving Batman from loosing an arm. But, fuck, man.

Basically, this is what’s happening:

Some cult, an offshoot of the Church of Trigon, has made its way into Gotham. For the past few days, they’ve been haphazardly opening portals and luring in demons into the city. They were under the belief a new lord of the underworld would bless them. Unfortunately, none of the demons that came into the world were demon lords – just angry demons out for some blood.

And, as it later turned out, after a half-sibling who killed their father.

Raven faintly wondered where she got her luck. All she wanted was to have some peace and quiet for the week – things were going surprisingly well in Jump. But no, some assholes had to play church and worship demons. What the fuck. She grunted and blocked an attack from one of the more gnarly demons, and flipped over it. She sent a ball of black energy to its back just as it was about to turn to her, and she watched as the demon skidded across the ground.

Raven briefly looked over her shoulder, making sure Red Robin and Batman were still alive somewhere in the forest clearing. Good, they still were. She faintly wondered if she should take them out for dinner as a peace offering for having to deal with her shitty family. Raven watched them struggle with a bigger demon – did these demons grow over the past few days? She furrowed her brows. Grunting, she turned back to the demon she was fighting and frowned.

“Sister,” red eyes glowed and the demons arms twitched, as it stood in front of her. The demon growled, fangs baring and it looked ready to pounce again.

“I hate my family,” Raven breathed, hands glowing and with a chant let go of a large blast of black energy.

“You killed father,”

Raven’s eyes widened as she listened to the first coherent sentence from the demon. They never really said anything, aside from sister. This was a first.

The demon growled, noting her opening, and pounced Raven. Fangs bared and claws sharp, it made a swipe at the smaller girl.

Raven grunted as she barely dodged the attack. She felt hot claws dig into her back and blood trickle down her side. She inhaled sharply as searing pain flashed through her body and she stumbled away from another attack. This was not good.

“Die,” the demon growled and started to run towards her.

“Raven!”

She faintly heard Tim in the background but her eyes were focused on the demon that was charging towards her. This whole situation was pissing her off. This stupid cult should have never started trying to bring demons into the world. Her brothers should just fuck off. And if she got her hands on one of the cult members, she’d –

The demon yelped as Raven’s soul self rose from her body. Her energy pulsed, anger and frustration running through her system. Her demon brothers should not be here. They should be no where civilians. She growled as her eyes glowed red, and her soul rose higher. Inky tendrils flooded the clearing, crawling over the floor and towards the two demons who were frozen to the stop.

Tim’s eyed widened as he watched Raven turn into her soul self. She rose off the ground, black energy pulsing through the air and black tentacles slithering across the floor towards the two demons. He inhaled sharply as her red eyes glowed, her face hooded and a shadow if a raven looming over her. He had never seen Raven use this kind of power before in battle, his heart hammered in his chest as a black tendril slithered just past his boots and towards the demon he and Batman were fighting earlier.

“Don’t come back,” Raven growled and with pulse of black energy, the demons were engulfed in the black tendrils. There were loud howls of pain and the tendrils crushed the demons into the ground. Black dust billowed in the air before slowly settling on the ground. The black tendrils slithered on the ground for a moment, before retreating back into Raven’s cape. Nothing was left of the demons.

“Raven,” Batman stepped next to Tim, watching as Raven lingered in the air. Her eyes continued to glow red as she stared at the pentagram on the forest floor. She turned to Batman, red eyes furrowed.

“They’re gone,” Batman supplied, waiting on guard for Raven’s next move.

Red eyes blinked and they flashed white. Familiar large purple-blue eyes stared down at Red Robin and Batman and she let out a soft gasp. The black energy around her disappeared and she landed unsteadily on her feet. She sent them an apologetic look.

“Sorry you had to see that,” she mumbled. She glanced at the pentagram before adjusting the hood over her head.

Batman nodded, eyes narrowing as he surveyed the scene. The cult members that summoned the demons were long gone after making a run for it during the battle. His frown deepened. This cat and mouse chase had to stop soon.

“You’re bleeding,” announced Red Robin, looking at the blossoming red patch over Raven’s right shoulder.

She forgot about that. Drawing her left hand underneath her cloak, Raven pressed her hand against the torn flesh. She winced. This might take a while to heal. “It’ll heal,” she said.

Tim frowned. He knew about her healing abilities, but he also knew that the display of massive amounts of energy can slow down her healing process. “Let’s go back to the cave,” he said. “Ride the Batmobile with us,”

Raven made a face. “I’ll fly,” she said and began levitating.

Batman frowned. “You lost blood and your energy is low. Better just ride with us,”

She waved them off and spun on her heels. Like hell was she going to ride a car in a shape of a bat. She knew they’d drive like Dick – like lunatics. “See you at the cave,” and without waiting for their reply, she flew off.

Batman frowned. “Stubborn,” he clicked his tongue.

Tim chuckled. “Seems pretty familiar,”

They arrived at the Batcave in record time and found Alfred making his way down into the med bay of the cave with some medical supplies and a steaming cup of tea. Alfred stopped and watched his two charges jump out of the Batmobile and remove their cowls. “Miss Raven is in the med bay. She arrived a few moments ago and we’ve been working on cleaning her wounds. Some of the cuts ran in deeper than expected,” he supplied as the trio walked towards the med bay.

Tim nodded, long black hair falling into his eyes. Pushing it back, he offered Alfred a soft smile. “Thanks, Al,”

Raven looked up from tending to her wounds. She had peeled off the top of her uniform, leaving her in a utilitarian black sports bra. Her bloodied cloak hung over the end of the bed she sat on. A bloodied sterile gauze was in her left hand, fresh from wiping away some of the blood from the back of her shoulder. “Hey,”

Bruce noticed the bloodied gauze. “Are you alright?”

Raven shrugged. “I’ve had worse,” she said. She thanked Alfred when he set new supplies next to her. “My family doesn’t like me all to much. I can pretty much say the feeling is mutual,”

“Do you think they are after you?” Bruce asked. “The demon you fought looked keen in killing you,”

Raven rolled her eyes. “Most people, and metas, would like to see me gone once they know who and what I am,” she sent a knowing smirk at Bruce, remembering the first time she met the Justice League and asked for help. It wasn’t a warm welcome, to say the least. She shook her head when Bruce continued to stare at her. “Honestly, no. I don’t think so. I’m not really very welcome in the family after we killed Trigon. We’re just dealing with a ragtag team of cult members and blood thirsty demons who find themselves on earth for the first time with no idea what to do expect kill,”

Bruce nodded. He sighed and pushed himself away from the medical cabinet he was leaning against. “Okay,” he began. “We’ll keep our ears close to the ground and listen for any new activities. I’ll coordinate with Oracle and see what we can do,” he said and began making his way out of the med bay. “Rest and get your energy back,”

“Understood,” replied Raven, watching Batman leave.

“Need help?”

Purple eyes slid over to Tim, her stare heavy and calculating. Raven reminded Tim a lot of Bruce, he could barely read her emotions. He eyed the bloodied gauze in her hand and took a small step forward, faintly wondering if he was stepping over boundaries. She was after all, half naked and they barely knew each other. Emphasis on the half-naked.

Raven watched Tim take another step forward, a tentative smile playing on his lips. She could feel several emotions coming off of him – concern, interest, curiosity, attraction. Raven blinked. Tim was so different from all the other Robin’s she met. Dick was a mix of seriousness with a strong intent of proving himself, he was strong willed, guarded, and such a hardheaded asshole sometimes; Jason was a wild mix of chaos and charm, and Damian was, well, Damian. The young boy was practically a storm of emotions. But Tim, Tim of all the Robins was a sea of calm in all of the chaos that goes around them – despite of the amount of caffeine he kept on drinking. She knew that he was the smartest of the Robins; an excellent strategist – she could practically feel how fast his brain works. Yet, he was so different from all the wildly active Robins she knew in her life. This intrigued Raven.

She titled her head and offered Tim a small smile. “Okay,”

Tim paused briefly, surprised that she would let him help her. Nodding, he stepped behind her on the med table and took a look at the three wounds that ran along her shoulder blades. He whistled at the sight of the gaping wounds. “Yikes,” Tim made a face. “Remind me to never get on the bad side of your family,”

Raven snorted.

With nimble fingers, he finished cleaning the wounds and set out to stitch them closed. He noted a few other scars that ran down her back and sides and disappeared into her uniform. He faintly wondered where they were from and what stories they told. These were not in her medical files. He always taught she could just heal herself completely.

“Sometimes, when I’m too tired, my healing process is slower than normal. Sometimes some scars stay,” said Raven suddenly, tilting her head just a little bit so she could see Tim over her shoulder.

Tim paused, blue eyes widening in surprise as they connected with amused purple eyes. His needle hovered close to her skin. “Huh? I –”

Using her good hand, she tapped the side of her head. “You think pretty loudly,” she quirked her lips. “Also, empath.”

“Oh!” Cheeks warmed, blue eyes averted from her amused purple ones and Tim focused on closing the wound on her shoulder. “Sorry,”

Raven shrugged, a small amused smile playing on her lips. “It’s okay,”

Tim concentrated on finishing his patch up job, trying to slow his thoughts down. After a few more moments of silence and after finally, finally, taping the last gauze over the wound, Tim was done. “I’m sure Cyborg does a better job at the tower,” he said after stepping away from the bed.

Raven looked at her shoulder briefly and hummed softly. Cyborg did a better job, but Tim didn’t need to know that. She looked up at Tim and tilted her head. “Thanks for the help,” she said and hopped off the table. She looked at what remained of her torn leotard and wondered if it was even worth trying to slip back on. She let out an exasperated sigh. Just her luck.

Tim watched Raven struggle to put her torn uniform back on. He averted his eyes briefly when he caught sight of her sports bra. Also, abs!

“Oh, wait. Here,” he said trying to hide his flustered voice and quickly turned on his heels, rummaging through one of the medical cabinets. Making a triumphant sound at the back of his throat, Tim turned around and grinned, offering Raven a grey t-shirt.

“I keep this here for emergencies,” he said as Raven took the offered shirt.

Raven chuckled softly and slipped on the oversized Superman shirt on her. She practically disappeared into the shirt as it hung over her body and fell mid-thigh. It was nice and soft, very comfortable. She looked at the worn Superman logo and she lifted an eyebrow at Tim. “Nice merch,”

Tim laughed, desperately trying to ignore how cute (?!?!) Raven looked in his shirt – she looked so small! “We taught it’d be nice to annoy Bruce once in a while,” he said. Blue eyes twinkled. “Jason has a full wardrobe and, uh, boxers,”

Raven rolled her eyes, amused still. “Of course he does,” her lips quirked a bit in a little smile. She picked up her torn robe and nodded at Tim. “Thanks for the help, Tim. I’m going to rest now,”

“No problem. Good night, Raven,” Tim watched as Raven walked out of the med bay, movements slow and graceful. As he watched her, he quickly squashed down any thoughts of how good she looked in his shirt. Tim swallowed and looked away, instead focused on putting away all medical equipment they just used. Notes, Tim, notes. Raven’s healing process is slower when she is drained. May leave scaring when healing slows down. Scars dip down the small of her back and tiny waist – oh god.

“Good night, Tim,”

Tim paused from returning the antiseptic and saw Raven pause briefly at the doorway and glance at him briefly before slipping through it. Tim blinked.

So much for taking notes, Tim.

#TimRae #RaeTim #Red Robin #Raven #TimRae Fanfiction #TimRae Fanfic RobRae #tim/raven #teen titans #fanfiction #rachel roth #Curiosity TimRae

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jamiedc-they-them · 4 years

Text

One day of peace (Platonic)

You pulled the plug that was connected to the falcon. Dropping it to the ground. Waving your hand behind you to tell the Resistance member that was helping you to turn the thing off. Let the other members have at least a small moment of peace.

Rey had to lean back to doge your hand. She couldn’t help the amused smile on her face as she did so. She only waited for you to notice her presence. She seemed to have misjudged that poorly, however. As you simply went around the ship. Checking everything. Your sister’s smile growing as you went about your business.

“Alright, I think we’re good. Tell me if Rey’s coming.” She rolled her eyes, clearing her throat. You stilled at the sound. Slowly turning to her, knowing that you wouldn’t be able to get away from this one. That your moment to surprise her was ruined.

“Hi.” She greeted, her tone teasing. You did a false smile, one where your teeth showed. She grimaced a little at it. But, still, her smile remained. It only grew softer as you slowly thought of what to say back.

“Hi....” She raised her eyebrows at you. Waiting for you to continue. You seemed to be moving in slow motion. The way your lips went to say words but ended up giving up halfway through. The way you seemed genuinely stuck on what to say didn’t help the silence. Was it awkward? No, not really. But it was still a silence.

Rey kept waiting, never once talking to break your cycle of silent communication. She finally notice your hand behind your back. She looked from it to you with an expectant gaze. You knew you were busted at this point.

Sighing, you showed her your hand. A bracelet being held in it. You threw it to her. She caught it with ease. She looked at it, in the middle there was a small petal on the front. One from the many flowers that were in the current hideout of the Resistance. She looked at it, spinning it around her hand. She placed it on her wrist. Checking that it would stay. You’d both made things for each other enough times to get it right. Still, didn’t hurt to check.

She looked from it to you, unspoken question being communicated to you. You sighed, a little hurt by how she didn’t know what day it was.

“You really forgot?” Your words made her think. Eyebrows scrunching as she did so. Mind racking over what it could be that she was forgetting. Before...

Oh....

Oh..........

She softened, realizing what day it was. She looked back up at you with guilty eyes. The guilt mounting as she saw your timid figure playing with (his/her) fingers in an anxious manner. She walked towards you, giving you a quick hug as a silent apology.

You were quick to return it as a way of forgiving her. Pulling away from the hug. She gave you an apologetic smile. You only shook your head with a soft one of your own.

“I didn’t –”

“It’s ok.” You said, knowing that she was going to apologize once again for not getting you anything. You didn’t need her to get you anything. She’d already saved you at the start. That was more than enough. After all, if she hadn’t. Then this day wouldn’t be special at all.

“You never did tell me how you came across me in the desert?” She sighed at your question. She’d never told you before. There was never any need for her to in her eyes. She’d found you and that was it. But she knew that you were bound to be curious. And, this just happened to be that day.

So, instead of making you something. She decided that this would be the best way to somewhat make up for it.

She held her hand out to you. You were quick to take it. She started leading you up the ramp of the falcon. Taking you to the cockpit. You both sat down, looking up at the sunset above you.

“It was just like this. Sunset. You remember the first ship I took you to?” You nodded your head as your relaxed in the chair. Content with finally fully hearing this story. The closest you’d seem to get to an origin.

Rey had barely made it out in one piece. So many close calls and she had almost nothing to show for it. Nothing to trade for food. That would be the second night she’d go by without nothing.

Then she heard something. A muffled cry. She turned, trying to locate the source of the noise. She heard it again. This time with a man’s voice nearby. He seemed to be trying to goad something out.

As she approached, she saw that it wasn’t something. It was someone. A terrified (boy/girl) who hid away from the man. He was trying his upmost to get to you. Probably to trade you for food. To get something out of you.

She was quick to act, finding a small rock. She launched it, the rock hit the sand, the noise gaining the man’s attention. He turned from you, looking out to the empty wasteland beyond. Still, there could be something else out there.

She watched him walk away, before making her move. She barreled down the hill. Sliding to a crouch in front of the place you were in. A small piece of rubble. She reached her arm in. You backed away as if she were the man from before.

She couldn’t think for long; she heard the man coming back.

She was quick to disappear. But she’d be back. She needed to get you out of there.

It was the next day that she had returned. You were still there. She didn’t know how long you had bee there for. All she knew was that she needed to get you out as soon as she could. No one deserved to live the type of life you were living. Especially someone as young as you were. Living in constant fear of the unknown and of the world.

She had managed to gain some food that day. It was her first streak of luck in a small while. She had gotten a decent amount as well. She knew that she could afford to split some of it up and give it to you. Being alone was terrifying in this place. At least, she hoped, with you it would be more bearable. At the very least, she wouldn’t be alone anymore. And that had to worth something, right?

She crouched next to your makeshift home. Probably one you hadn’t chosen. You slowly crawled towards her. You kept your distance, but it was progress. Slow progress, but progress none the less. She held out some of her portions. You looked from it to her. She nodded, telling you that she really had meant it. Carefully, you reached out. Taking the food and retreating backwards.

As said before, it was a quick moment. A quick show of trust. She couldn’t but help but feel a small amount of accomplishment for the day. Not only had she got a good haul and was then allowed to eat because of it. She’d also started to win you over.

Maybe this would work out after all.

She’d keep coming back. Offering you what she could. Slowly, you would hang around longer before going back to your spot in the shadow. She never pushed you. Not wanting to scare you away and undo all the progress she had been making over the previous. The next week was when you made a big move in your growing trust.

You were being hounded again, this time by bandits. They wanted you to sell to Unkar Plutt for some portions. They were desperate. And desperation drove people to sometimes do things they wouldn’t if they were in any other given situation. It was a do or die world. They chose that you would have to be the sacrificial lamb if they were to live.

“Leave (him/her) alone!” She yelled, feeling more confidant than usual. She grabbed a rock, launching it at one of them. It had hit its target. They had turned to her. She knew she was probably in over her head. But she had to get you out of danger.

She had led them into a ship she had been to numerous times. She led them to a part that held more danger than the rest of the ship. This one was pitch black. Filled with a large drop that would kill anyone who would be unfortunate to plummet down it.

She had lept to her rope, climbing it to make it to the ceiling. The others ran in. One falling over the edge. The others all paused as they watched him go. Before they heard the impact. His screams abruptly stop. Rey held her breath as she saw the others look around in fear.

They’d given up, declaring her not worth it. Declaring both of you not worth the trouble. Not worth their lives. She’d swung back to the platform and descended the ship. She grabbed her makeshift sled, sliding down the hill. Feeling the rush of the wind run through her hair as she reached the bottom. It was the small things that made her keep her optimism. That sled was one of them.

Returning to your spot, she saw that you were gone. Her panic flared. They may have lied; they may have gotten you and taken you. She ran back to her self-claimed home. Running home to find her staff that she had just finished building.

Entering her home, she found she wasn’t alone. You were there, running your hand along the wall that she had marked. She watched you as you seemed calm. Your eyes holding a sense of longing to them.

“Hello.” She called out, you jumped and turned to her. Eyes wide. She was quick to raise her hands, “It’s alright, I’m not going to hurt you! I’m not going to hurt you.” She promised you. She’d hoped that other the last few months she had proven that to you.

Judging by your reaction of letting your guard down slightly, it seemed to of worked. Internally, she let out a sigh of relief at your action. She was so close now; she had nearly achieved her goal. She was nearly not alone. She nearly didn’t have to go through this wasteland alone.

“There’s a spare room. You can take that, if you want.” Her voice betrayed some of her feelings of anxiety. Along with a slight amount of hope that you would agree.

You did. You nodded your head. A smile appeared on her face.

That was the start of your friendship.

“Well, you know the rest.” She finished, she turned to you. Seeing you with a smile, your eyes glistening. She could tell there was something on your mind. She only waited for you to speak your mind, “You did all that for me?” She was a little taken aback by the question. She nodded, “Of course I did. I’ve never regretted it once.”

You both shared a smile at the truth in her words. She meant it; her tone was honest. She always was around you.

“Hey.” You both turned to the new voice. Seeing Poe leaning against the doorway. Looking between you both with a smile, “What you doing?” He asked, having heard a decent amount of your conversation.

You both shared another fond look with each other before turning back to your friend, “Just celebrating something, is all.” Rey answered for you both. Poe nodded.

“Well, in that case, guess we should all do it, right?” Rey seemed on board with the idea. Looking at you, she saw that you weren’t entirely sold on it. She reached out, grabbing your hand and waiting until you turned to her.

“We can celebrate our new family as well. Have two in one day.” Her smile increased as you grew one of your own at the suggestion.

So, that was how you both spent the night. Celebrating your time with your new family.

Neither of you would trade it for the world.

#rey #rey x reader #platonic reader #star wars x reader #rey imagine #star wars imagine #rey star wars

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mostlywritersblock · 4 years

Text

Dracula 2019 fic

Part 1

****

Is this a dream?

Of course it is.

You’re drinking my blood.

But my blood is deadly to you.

Yes.

So you’ll die.

So will you.

After all this time

Did you think I’d let it hurt?

****

Dracula awoke.

It was disorienting, not because of any lack of vision but simply because he had awaken.

Something he’d thought he’d never do again.

By all rights, he should be dead.

Well, dead-er.

He was laying on his back, comfortably mind you, staring up at the ceiling when a familiar voice punctured his thoughts.

“I thought it might happen today, or rather I’ve been telling myself that for the past two weeks.” The woman from the foundation spoke.

Bloxham was it or something other?

“Just so you’re aware it’s been a total of 19 days since your attempted suicide”

Attempted suicide? Is that what happened?

“Your lawyer has been dutifully notified of your condition and current occupation of our facility. For more economical reasons I’m sure you can see why you’ll be staying here instead of a hospital until we can safely monitor your progress and rehabilitation.”

Progress? Rehabilitation? What was wrong with him?

“What is wrong with me?” The statement came out far weaker than he intended, and by god was that really his voice? Such a pitiful thing!

Bloxham stared at him blankly. “I just told you, attempted suicide.”

She stepped out of view but he could still hear her. “Now that you’re awake I’ll have the doctors come examine you. Try not to hold back on anything, the more information you provide the better.”

A series of scenes played out suddenly before him, ripping his focus away from the present to-

A flash of light, so intense, like the sun itself-

The sun.

Agatha.

He could hear retreating footsteps.

“Wait.”

Bloxham hesitated. “Yes?”

“Aga-Dr. Helsing. Zoe, where is she?”

There was a long pause.

“She’s alive, I’m not allowed to say anymore on the subject.” And she briskly walked out of the room. Dracula listened as the soft hiss of the door sealed behind her.

Ah.

So he was back in the glass cage. Wonderful.

****

The doctors poked, prodded, and took blood samples for a sum of 75 hours before Dracula got fed up and snapped one of their necks. The rest quickly fleeing the room as he viscously bit into the dying mans jugular. It was delicious.

Keep dangling a carrot in front of a starving rabbit and they’re bound to take your finger along with it.

****

The blood seemed to have done some good, and he wasn’t the only one to notice. The next following days consisted of Bloxham gathering up as many volunteers as she could to start giving him blood. It wasn’t the greatest thing ever but he felt he should play by the rules just for a little while longer.

Just until he had regained his strength.

****

By the gods. He was going to go mad of boredom. He’d requested -what - at least a dozen times by now, for some form of entertainment. A book, magazine, some new eletro-technological gizmo. Anything. But it was as if his request fell on deff ears. Which wasn’t possible. Which meant they were ignoring him.

Dracula sighed dramatically. He’d also requested for his lawyer, though he now supposes that won’t be happening anytime soon either.

****

He kept seeing her.

Not in his dreams - because, well, that wasn’t really possible at the moment- but in the shadows of his cage.

Agatha.

He hadn’t heard anything more since he’d first asked about her. It was as if the topic of one Dr. Zoe Helsing was taboo, classified, unmerited information that he was definitely not privy to.

No matter. He was counting down the days now.

Soon.

****

He’d surmised he’s been held prisoner at the foundation for a total of 39 days, 14 hours, and 45 minutes when the alarm sounded throughout the corridor. An unnecessary red light bouncing about the walls.

He slid the key card into place and a mechanical hiss sounded as he pushed the the final door open.

Fresh air rushed to great him. Along with twenty or so armed guns.

Dracula didn’t bat an eye as he rushed them. The sun grinning down on him when he slaughtered them all.

***

All that time in the foundation and no one had been one step closer to discovering how he was still alive. The one mystery he was actually hoping they’d solve before he jumped ship. Oh well. Now to find the real answers, with the only person who could possibly provide them.

He hoped at least.

****

He was surprised to find that Zoe was not actually where he had expected her to be.

He had thought, naturally, that with all the secrecy that obviously whatever information they had was not of the positive sort. Meaning he assumed he’d find her half dead in a hospital riding out the tale ends of her cancer.

Not. Outside a cheap flat lounging in the shade with a beverage smelling strongly of alcohol.

When Zoe finally noticed his chilling presence she gifted him with a small smile.

“Took you long enough.”

*****

He was to say very bluntly. Not pleased. Not pleased at all to discover Zoe did Not in fact have all the answers.

He was pleased however to note that she had miraculously been somewhat cured of the cancer. A miracle they were both certain he had a hand in doing.

Another piece of the puzzle yet unsolved.

She’s currently undergoing chemo, a last ditch effort by her doctors to make sure the cancer never comes back. But Zoe says everyday she feels a little stronger, a little less like the poison is in her veins.

Dracula supposes he’s happy for her.

Happy to have the company now that they’re not constantly at each other’s throats.

But he’s still a vampire, a fact they’re both acutely aware of as time passes by.

Dracula leaves sometime in the night, Zoe’s warm body curling into the space he previously occupied.

It’s not goodbye. But he needs sometime to collect his thoughts and -

He needs to feed.

****

Zoe finds him not even two days later.

“You know running off in the middle of the night is not going to solve any of your problems.” She states taking a seat in his temporary domicile.

Dracula rolls his eyes, “It doesn’t unsolve them either, Zoe. I’m driving myself mad with explanations, scenarios that make no sense and facts that don’t add up.”

He paces a few steps. “By all accounts I should not be here. I should dead, not undead.”

“Careful it almost sounds like you’re regretting being a vampire.”

Dracula frowned. “You know that’s not what I’m saying. I just wish to understand, nothing like this has happened before.”

Zoe sighed, “ Look it’s not like you went around drinking sick blood all the time, or for the length you drank mine. Who’s to say you can’t die from it. Maybe it just severely weakens you, like a vampire kryptonite.”

“Like a vampire what?” Confusion crossed his face as he tried to distinguish the strange word. And here he’d thought he was doing pretty well in this century.

“It’s Superm- you know what I’ll get you the comic sometime. Anyway, we really don’t know what kind of effect sick blood may have.”

Dracula scoffed. “Oh and me practically dying isn’t effective enough for you?”

“Not when you can come back good as new, no.”

Dracula smiled dangerously, “There’s the cold nun we all love to hate. Don’t suppose you’re hoping I’ll try it out again and stay dead next time.”

“One can only hope.” Came the distinctive foreign reply.

“Well I’m not, so there’s another dead-end for you.” He sneered. Zoe took in a deep breath

“Look, I want to get to the bottom of this just as much as you do, but you ran away from the one place that could possibly offer some kind of scientific explanation.”

Dracula released a low growl, “I’m not going back there.”

“I’m not asking you to I’m just-“

A loud buzzing filled the room, Zoe frowned sharply before tearing into her purse to dig out her phone. She glanced at the screen briefly before answering.

“Yes? What is it now?”

Dracula stared intently at his shoes trying not to grow impatient.

“Again? This is the third time this month, yes I know he escaped twice thank you Margo. Yes. Yes he’s with me. Yes I’ll tell you. Look, now isn’t a good time, I’ll call you later. Tell Florence to just reschedule their meeting, I won’t be in tomorrow. Thursday? Fine, yes, whatever works. Yes, goodbye.” Zoe let out an exhausted sigh as she lightly slammed her phone face down onto her lap.

“Trouble in paradise?”

“Trouble you caused.”

“Oh what have I done now?” Dracula mock pouted

“The contributors - our sponsors are reviewing the foundation, again. Apparently the fact that you escaped twice puts us under strict scrutiny.”

“Ah, I don’t blame them, for the price they’re paying I’d put your organization under strict scrutiny too.”

“It’s your bloody fault!” Another deep breath, “And it isn’t my organization, I just help run it.”

“What happened to early retirement?”

“I’m not dying now, why should I give up when we were really starting to see a breakthrough.” She quipped sarcastically.

Dracula chuckled, “Point taken.”

****

Turns out running an organization that your not legally obligated to run takes a lot of time and effort, both of which Zoe was finding hard to balance, especially with an over demanding, narcissistic, ego-centric vampire breathing down her neck. Oh and she also wasn’t trying to kill him, or capture him, or run test on him this time.

So.

There was that.

Zoe figured her sudden lack of animosity towards the man remained largely on the fact that he saved her. Or rather drained the sick right out if her.

So now she can’t help but feel a little obligated to offer aid in this troublesome mystery. Even if that means lying to half her staff the whereabouts of Dracula’s location.

However, the animosity spikes at certain moments too.

They usually coincide with Dracula’s feeding habits.

*****

TBC

#I’M SORRY IF THERE ARE SPELLING ERRORS #I tried my best but I wrote this weeks ago at like 3am #dracula #agatha van helsing #dracula 2019 #johnathan harker #part1 of idk #takes place after the last episode bc I was not happy with said ending #my boy harker gonna get a better story this time just you wait and see #this is probably going to be Dracula/Harker eventually js #but maybe Zoe/Drac if you squint reaaall hard #zoe van helsing

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writethelifeyouwant · 5 years

Text

Leningrad- Chapter 1

Life moves on and so should we. -Spencer Johnson

The pavement slipped by beneath his feet as he trudged towards the snow-dusted red awning on the busy New York street. Blaring snaps of hip-hop music faded in and out as cars pushed through the slush and mud coating the roads. It was bitterly, bitingly, cold but he was only marginally aware of the numb feeling creeping from the tip of his nose to the rest of his face until he turned under the awning and a stifling heat rushed through him.

Inside, the humidity that restaurants get when they're overcrowded during the winter engulfed the newcomer but he didn't make any moves to remove his winter clothes. After glancing towards the right corner of the room he pulled his scarf tighter around his face and hunched down in his coat, as if he was preparing to once more step out into the wind. Instead, he started moving purposefully through the restaurant, towards the lighted signs proclaiming the entrances to the restrooms and the kitchens, respectively.

As he passed the doors to the kitchen and turned down the hall to the men's room he observed that the cash station for the wait staff was currently occupied by two young women in ill-fitting white collared shirts. They were not who he was looking for. He ducked into the bathroom, checked that he was alone, and waited.

Through the crack between the door hinge and its frame he could hear the two waitresses complaining about the lack of tips their tables had been getting that day. He peered through the infinitesimal gap and saw them print their receipts and begin to retreat back towards the main dining room. Then, as he had hoped, he heard a faint greeting as they passed another waitress on her way to the cash station.

"Hi Anya."

"Hey guys."

Another waitress in the same unflattering uniform approached the cash station and began to enter the necessary information to run the customer's credit card. The man quietly exited the restroom and reached into his large fur-lined overcoat, pulling a small hand gun from an inside pocket. Angling his body so his back faced the entrance to the hall, he carefully placed the gun against the girl's waist.

"Anya," he spoke in a low, calmly controlled voice. "Will you please walk with me to that fire exit?”

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

“Oh, Penelope, this is exactly what we needed. Thank you,” Kate sighed as she snuggled down into her seaweed wrap.

“Of course! My crime fighting beauties deserve their beauty rest. And I really needed some tension released.”

“Fight with Sam?” JJ asked sympathetically, taking a sip of her white wine.

“No, but it might turn into one soon if he doesn’t learn a few more facts about the female anatomy.” Penelope huffed.

“Ooh, that bad?” JJ asked.

“I don’t think I’m asking for anything out of the realm of possibility! Google can tell him plenty if he bothers to look.”

“And have you tried telling him any of these tips yourself?” Kate laughed.

“Not in… so many words,” Penelope’s face noticeably reddened in acknowledgement of her embarrassment. “But he seemed so confident going into…” she waved her hands randomly in front of her to fill in the words she didn’t want to say. “I don’t want to make him question everything else about his life he thinks he’s good at!” The girls giggled at Penelope’s flustered explanation.

“Pen, if you don’t want to die of sexual frustration you’re gonna have to tell him. I would think you taking charge wouldn’t be too out of the ordinary for him.” JJ wiggled her eyebrows at Penelope, taking another long drink of her wine. Penelope huffed in amusement.

“I had to have the same conversation with Chris when we started dating. He was only briefly mortified before he applied himself very enthusiastically to righting that wrong.” Kate shared, grabbing her own wine. “Totally worth it.”

The girls all giggled and continued to chat and sip at their drinks as they enjoyed the much needed relaxation, cocooned in their respective body treatment wraps. The bubbly atmosphere popped when three text tones rang out in near concurrence.

“Well, this was fun while it lasted,” JJ sighed.

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

Spencer walked into the conference room with his large mug of coffee and plopped himself into the swivel chair at the table, spinning a complete three-sixty before he settled his drink next to the file in front of him, pushing his curly hair back out of his eyes.

"Reid, man, you have got to get a haircut," Morgan laughed.

"Really?" Reid self-consciously ran his hands through his, admittedly unruly, hair again. "I kind of liked it like this…" His voice trailed off as he anxiously thought back to the last time he'd had an awful haircut and had caught some of the students at the academy laughing about it as he passed them on his way up to the lectern. No one had done that lately, he thought maybe he had rectified the situation.

"Don't listen to him Spence," JJ cut in. "I think it looks good like this."

"Seriously JJ?" Morgan scoffed good-naturedly. His ribbing tone made it obvious he wasn't taking the whole situation too seriously, he just wanted to wind Reid up.

"Oh yeah! Skinny guy, curly hair, forgot to shave; that look's hot right now." JJ and the team cracked up as Spencer blushed but also looked shyly pleased with himself.

"You said it sister," Garcia piped up as she hurried into the conference room with her unicorn mug and her personal clicking device. "Unfortunately, I am here to give you a look at something much less pretty. We have a missing girl."

Garcia positioned herself by the screen and brought up two photos of young, blue-eyed, mousy haired girls. They were severely unattractive license photos but Spencer could tell the girls would have been pretty under normal circumstances. The next pictures Garcia brought up were even more unattractive.

"Three weeks ago in the lovely but crime filled city of New York," Garcia started, "our girl on the left, Lina Mills, was found in her apartment, shot once execution-style in the back of the head. Police connected her murder to that of our first victim, Katerina Russo. She was found in her apartment about six months ago, same thing one shot to the back of the head." Garcia grimaced and quickly looked away from the very high definition photos of the girls staring into space with blood running down into their eyes.

Morgan was flicking through more of the crime scene pictures on his tablet while she was talking. "These girls weren't killed in their apartments, there's not enough blood."

"You're right," Rossi mused, "he has to have a secondary location where he kills them. But why bring them back to their own apartments? That seems unnecessarily risky."

"It's very risky," Reid added, "It looks like these girls were missing for at least a week before they were killed according to the police reports. There would have been enhanced surveillance around their homes but he still got their bodies back in without anyone stopping him.”

“Both girls also show evidence of torture and starvation according to the ME reports. That must be why he’s keeping them so long. It’s about the time he spends torturing them, not how he kills them.” Kate volunteered.

"Was there any evidence of sexual assault?" JJ asked mutedly as she scanned through the reports on her own tablet.

"No there wasn’t," Hotch answered as he strode into the room, simultaneously hanging up his cell phone. "I just got off with the NYPD confirming our invite in. They called us about this girl," he pointed at the screen as Garcia brought up a third picture of a young, pretty girl with light brown hair and blue eyes, just like the previous victims.

"Her name is Anya Hamlin, she's 18, just started at NYU. Her boss reported her missing when she disappeared half way through her waitressing shift this afternoon."

"How do they know this girl was taken by the same unsub?" Morgan put in.

"Anya and the last victim, Lina, took a few classes together at NYU. She was one of the girls they interviewed when Lina went missing.” Hotch grimaced.

"Okay so this guys is definitely working on a specific target list then, going after girls in the same group," Rossi spoke up. "Did they have any connection to the first victim?"

Garcia answered, "not that NYPD has found but I'm digging into it right now sir."

"Alright, well, keep us updated on the plane Garcia. Wheels up in 20 everyone.”

#criminal minds fanfic #cm fanfic #criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #dr. spencer reid #romance #fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #ffnet

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lakinda5654 · 5 years

Text

~~~~A Girl and A God~~~~ Chapter 26- Returning

—————————————————

A Girl and A God is a RATED M Loki Fanfic with an original character, Alexa, who is taken in by Tony Stark after the revelation of abilities of her own. There’s sex, romance, heartbreak, action, fluff, angst, all that good stuff. Full description in blog, and a jump-to-chapter list if you just want the smut or the cuteness bits. Enjoy <3

Chapter Summary: Alexa returns to Avengers tower, but when she gets there, something is missing...

Contains: Violence, blood, traumatic

Word Count: 2,012

~Previous Chapter~~Next Chapter~

~~Beginning of Story~~

—————————————————

The last night continued the same as the one before it, this time with Tony there. He observed and made sure Alexa was comfortable and stress-free.

Finally, it was almost dawn of the last night. She was successful, and she didn’t obliterate the Canadian countryside. It felt good, she could now definitively blame her foster parents for that night. She was still in control, at least partly.

Whenever the moon would set each morning, it was like being able to take a full breath after 12 hours of panting. Her veins would return to normal, her heart would stop pounding. She could relax. Best of all, she could go home to Loki. She missed him so much, and the 3 days felt more like a full week of time. It was as if his touch had planted a garden on her skin, that was now left without water and was drying up.

Finally, it hit. She let out a sigh as the surging power left her body, and she was back to normal. Her entire body relaxed and she slumped down onto the bed.

“Are you good werewolf?” Tony asked through the speaker.

She nodded, and rose to walk to the com button. “I’m more than good, I’m done. We can go home now.”

“Alright!” Tony sounded excited but also relieved. The one wall of her cell vanished, letting in the fresh cold morning air. It smelled of fir trees. The helicopter was ready to go. She packed all her things into her bag, which didn’t take long because most of it she had kept inside anyways.

Tony and Banner put their bags and a hard suitcase of tech readings from the trip into the helicopter. And with that, they were off. She was so excited to see Loki again that it actually ached in her chest. The faint start of soul sight had begun, and curiosity overwhelmed her. What it would be like to be able to see his feelings when she returned to him...

As they flew, she put her hair into those two braids, the ones that reminded Loki of his Helmet. She wanted to be perfect for him.

Soon, skyscrapers replaced fir trees, and the view of the city once again took her breath away. As soon as they landed she threw her words at Stark. “I’m going to go to my room to rest for a while!” Before he could respond, she had jumped off the helicopter and ran into the stairwell.

She burst the open the door to her room and let it slam behind her. Out of breath, she looked around. He wasn’t in the main room. She opened the bathroom door without knocking, and he wasn’t there either.

He must be in his cell, that’s where he should be anyways... she assured herself. She dropped her things and headed straight to his cell.

Her heart sank. He wasn’t there. Him or his illusion. She desperately punched in the pin to open the door and searched for the bracelet. It was gone too.

She felt her heart race. They had been caught. Tony had to have known, but he hadn’t said a word of it to her. Alexa ran up the stairs, trying to think. Where is he?

Soul sight. If she focused hard enough, maybe she could sense him when she got close. The power was still weak, as it had just begun, but this seemed like her only option. She hurried down hallways and entered every unlocked room she could. There was nothing. Until she reached the main room.

She sensed a gathering of people in the room close by, and the feeling in the room was… difficult. It was anger, disgust, and fury.

Oh god. She ran up to the wall, searching for a door. She heard yelling, it sounded like Thor’s yelling, but the words were too muffled to make out.

Finally, she found a side hall that lead up to the door of the room. She busted through it, and she took in the sight in front of her.

Thor was standing in the back of the room, yelling at the love of her life, who was on the floor on his knees. Blood stained and trickled down his swollen face. His hands were bound behind his back. He was helpless. Thor was hitting him, throwing devastating blow after blow at his victim. It was as if Thor had lost all self-control, whatever Loki had done had sent him into an unstoppable rage. She could see Thor’s soul, and it was angrier than anything she’d ever seen. He was yelling at his brother, but she was so shaken she couldn’t even hear his words.

The rest of the Avengers were standing idle, averting their eyes or turning away. As if this was justified, but they couldn't bring themselves to watch it.

Loki couldn’t protect himself, and Thor was relentless. He kept yelling and releasing his anger through his punches to Loki’s body and face. Her love’s soul looked broken, weary, and hopeless. Only a few had seen her enter, and Thor wasn’t among them.

“LOKI!” Alexa screamed. She felt herself sprinting to him. For a brief moment, he looked back at her. His broken emerald eyes met hers before a heavy blow to his temple knocked him to the ground. Alexa threw herself over him. It felt like she’d gone deaf. She heard muffled words and yells of others, but she ignored them. Loki's curled, beaten, unconscious figure was on the floor facing her. She felt her arms and legs wrap around his. She took his bloodied head and tucked it into the crook of her neck. Her sobs came like waves. They were loud, and she knew it. She wouldn’t listen to anyone- she wouldn’t hear Thor’s yells. For a moment, she felt someone trying to tug her away. She refused to leave him, and held on tighter- letting out a yell as loud as she could. There weren't words, she couldn’t form any. She screamed out between her deafening sobs until the hands retreated. She surely looked like an insane, tantrum-throwing child, but she didn’t care. Her skin could feel the wetness of Loki’s blood seeping through her shirt.

Alexa didn’t know how long this went on.There would be hands on her, trying to move her, some trying to comfort her. None of them received anything but a scream. She managed to form the word ‘no’ a couple times, but that was it.

After a while, she heard silence. The room was empty, or at least almost empty according to her soul sight. She took a moment to back up and lift Loki’s head from her shoulder. The clotting blood was sticking to her shirt and to her braids- the braids meant for him.

She tucked his head back down. Her sobs had stopped, and now she was just gently weeping. Guilt took over her. I didn’t keep him safe. Though at this moment she didn’t know what she could have done differently, she only knew she felt responsible. “I’m sorry...” she whimpered into his blood-stained ear. “I’m so sorry.” She brushed his sticky hair off his face. “I love you.”

After a few minutes of this, she finally looked up. Her soul sight was correct, the room was empty, all empty except Tony. He was waiting patiently in a chair about 7 feet from her. Her glare was weak and filled with tears. “What do you want?” She spat at him.

“Alexa we are just trying to protect y…”

“I would rather die than have this be the cost of my so-called protection.” Her words were venomous, but she was still trying not to cry.

“Can you please let me explain? For a moment? And I will let you explain your side of what’s been going on?” Tony asked in exasperation.

Alexa glared at him, turned away, and held Loki’s body closer. Tony apparently took that as a yes, because he began his story.

“Today when we were on our way back, I got a call about what happened from Steve. He said that this morning when the staff went to bring him a meal, they saw Loki with something he should not have had.” He explained. “Loki was in his cell, sleeping with one of your T-shirts.”

This caused Alexa to let out a small sob. He missed me.

“I know, creepy, much more creepy is how did he even get out.” Tony continued. “So Steve brought him out to question him. He also found he’d also gotten the bracelet off which is a miracle in itself- I have no idea how he managed that. And he wouldn’t say how he did it.” He let out a sigh. “So, the group had a meeting this morning, trying to see if anyone knew anything or had any ideas. Peter was very obviously keeping his head down and they got it out of him. How he’d seen what appeared to be by his description, Loki trying to rape you. And that you’d told him that that wasn’t happening and to keep it a secret.” He paused. “So… I’m sorry Alexa. We don’t believe him. You’re young and have never been in a relationship. We thought he was using you to escape… but this… it’s beyond what we thought he would do. When Thor heard what Loki had done to you, he was beside himself. He was so ashamed of his brother and angry to the point where you saw him today. He ran in to where the others were continuing to question him and what you saw here started up.”

Alexa cried softly throughout his story. They will never believe me. My side of the story doesn’t matter, because I am a young, naive girl, and he is the god of mischief.

“Well not that this matters, but he loves me and I love him. It wasn’t rape, I consented completely. But clearly, you guys don’t believe I have the ability to give him consent.” She continued in tears. “I’ve been keeping him in my room. You know what we’ve been doing? I’ve been cooking things for him to try. I’ve been showing him TV shows and movies. I’ve been helping him fall asleep and we’ve been playing with our powers. I showed him how to play go-fish. We fell in love, and I’m not wrong Tony. For Christ’s sake, I can see his fucking soul. I can see when people are lying. He’s not manipulating me. He’s in love with me, and I’m the first person that has even tried to love him back without reason other than to care for him.”

Tony was silent for a moment. “When you have soul sight you can detect lies?”

She nodded. “And sure. I haven’t been able to see him since we started this whole mess, but I can see him now. And he misses me, he’s hurt and he’s afraid. He’s in love” she said. “And I didn’t need soul sight to know that.”

Tony sighed and put his head in his hands. She then pulled Loki from her shoulder and carefully set his head onto the floor, then stood up.

Tony seemed to be lost in thought and didn’t notice. Hopefully, her reasoning had helped her case.

She interrupted his thoughts. “I want him in my room so I can take care of him.”

“Alexa…” He was clearly about to protest, but the look on her face let him know it wasn’t up for debate.

Tony sighed. “Ok, but a guard is to be present the whole time.” he asserted. He then directed his tech assistant to call the team for a meeting in the dining hall, and summoned some guards to carry Loki to Alexa’s room.

#loki #loki fanfiction #loki fanfic #marvel #mervel fanfic

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joonie-beanie · 6 years

Text

Oh, Baby (Namjoon x Reader) Pt. 20 (Final)

[Pt 1] [Pt 2] [Pt 3] [Pt 4] [Pt 5] [Pt 6] [Pt 7] [Pt 8] [Pt 9] [Pt 10] [Pt 11] [Pt 12] [Pt 13] [Pt 14] [Pt 15] [Pt 16] [Pt 17] [Pt 18] [Pt 19]

Pairing: Namjoon/RM x Reader Rating: M Genre: Smut/Mafia-ish AU

Words: 6,324

Summary: You were only supposed to have seen him twice. Only twice, no more, but now you’re getting dragged into situations you never wished for and Namjoon just keep showing up.

A/N: I’ll keep my somewhat sentimental Author’s Note for the end. For now, read on, and I hope you all enjoy~

“Good evening, and welcome to the 5 o’clock news. Tonight, we’ll be running a special news report on the two murders that occurred 5 days ago, at Jeon Enterprise’s Seoul location.”

You and Jungkook pause, looking up at the television hanging on the wall of the student lounge. Around you, others pause in their studying, attention turning to the male newscaster on the screen.

“I’m sure as many of you have heard, the CEO and founder of Jeon Enterprises himself was one of the victims—the other being a previously prevalent figure in the mafia, a man known by the name Jaehyuk. The murders took place on the night of the Jeon’s annual charity ball, and according to the official police report which was finally released just last night, it seems that Jeon and Jaehyuk ended up being killed by each other’s parties.”

Jungkook meets your hesitant gaze—a look of should we get out of here?—but Jungkook simply shakes his head and turns his attention back down to the pile of Psychology homework on the table in front of you. After having missed nearly two weeks of class, the two of you have a lot to catch up on.

Simply wanting to get all this work done as soon as you can—you turn your attention away from the report and continue reading through the questions of the assignment you and Jungkook are currently working on.

“From what we know, Jeon was shot first, in his private suite up above the main ballroom area by one of Jaehyuk’s subordinates, who had snuck into the ball along with him. When a staff member of the event heard the fired shot, this staff member pulled the fire alarm in hopes that everyone would evacuate the building and no one would be further injured.

“Following this, one of Jeon’s security staff found Jaehyuk attempting to escape through the rear exit—away from the main crowd—and Jaehyuk was forced to retreat back into the ballroom until, subsequently, the guard ended up firing two rounds when the man presented a gun and refused to be taken into custody.”

“What about Jaehyuk’s party? Someone shot Jeon, correct? Where did his men go?” another news reporter butts in, arms crossed and brows furrowed. The male summarizing the police report shuffles some papers around in his grasp.

“According to the guard who was later tracked down to give his statement, Jaehyuk’s men were not around when he found Jaehyuk attempting to leave the scene. His best guess was that Jaehyuk’s men bolted as soon as things started to take a turn for the worst.”

“Sounds like something the mafia would do,” a third personality speaks up, clearly more easy going than the other two. “Get the job done and abandon their boss to fend for himself.”

“Is the security guard the only account the police are going off of?”

“No, the police say their report is mostly based off what was observed by the staff member who pulled the fire alarm, and two other individuals who had been attending the party, and had been the last to leave the ballroom.”

“And who are these witnesses?”

Despite your effort to focus on the task at hand, you end up quickly reaching to grab your cellphone, which is splayed across the table beside your notes, as the screen flashes to life. A new notification—a text, to be precise.

You pause as you note the contact from which you’ve just received a message. Your heart goes through a small cycle of hope and dread—and then you finally open it.

“Due to the mafia involvement in this crime, as well as a request from Jeon Enterprises Board of Directors to keep their identities private, at the time we have no names or faces to put to the accounts this report is based off of.”

Your eyes scan the message—a simple two words, but tears well in your wide, surprised eyes, and you turn the device to face Jungkook. When he doesn’t notice, you reach over and pat his arm repeatedly, the boy looking at you, confused, until he notices that you’re holding up the message for him to read.

Min Yoongi:

He’s awake.

Jungkook’s eyes flit to you, and you both look shocked, but can’t help it when smiles break out across your faces.

Grabbing your papers, you both hurriedly begin packing your bags, and luckily the news report is interesting enough to keep all eyes from turning to the two kids who suddenly look like they’ve forgotten about their shift at work and are trying to haul ass.

“Speaking of witness accounts” the more easygoing personality speaks up. “I heard the camera footage from the hotel that night was destroyed, which is why the police are trusting these three witnesses so much.”

You and Jungkook stand up, grabbing your bags and you, your crutch, and bustle out of the study room—but the sound of the report follows you. It’s as if all of Seoul has tuned in to listen.

“Indeed, when returning to the hotel to retrieve the footage from the night of the crime, not only was the tape destroyed but a majority of the security hub, in whole, had been damaged to a nearly unrepairable state. Many believe this is likely where Jaehyuk’s men may have disappeared to—another possibility—but without the tapes we can’t say anything for sure. Right now, all we can do is trust in the words of the people who actually saw these events occur first-hand.”

“Seems suspicious to me,” the second, least convinced reporter grumbles, but the main reporter simply straightens out his papers again.

“Whatever you may think or feel, this is the official report the police have released to the public, and with two bodies identified, the witness accounts, and a request from a mourning family to simply let things be, this case has been closed.”

Jungkook hits the button for the elevator, taking your bag off of your shoulder and slinging it over his own. You nudge him with your hip, all smiles, and Jungkook can’t help but grin.

After a few seconds, the elevator arrives and the two of you step inside, descending down to the 1st floor of the building. When the double doors slide open, the report is still ongoing.

“However, speaking of the future of Jeon Enterprises, tonight Jeon Junghyun, the eldest son of the family, will be holding a public conference to explain the next stages of their business. Of course, all of us here at the station are praying for the mourning family, and wishing them well during any changes that may come their way.”

“Hey there, slow down,” Jungkook comments as you hobble ahead, a little reckless with how much weight you’re putting on your injured leg. “Jin hyung is gonna be pissed if we get there and you’re bleeding through the bandages. You know he’s not gonna let you leave later without checking on your wound.”

“Jungkook, I know I’m smiling right now, but I’m also this close--,” you lift your fingers and show him how they’re extremely close to touching, “—to crying too, so unless you want me to start sobbing in public, right here, and make you look like an abusive boyfriend or something of the sort, just let me be.”

Jungkook laughs, holding the door open for you as you both make your way outside.

“Don’t let Namjoon hyung hear you say that, he’ll beat my ass.”

At that, you laugh as well.

A minute later, having made it to the nearest parking lot, Jungkook pulls out his keys and unlocks his car—the tail lights flashing. After Jungkook’s brother had come up from Busan, he’d immediately greeted Jungkook with a hug and proceeded to grant him more freedom than his father had in years—which included the use of a car, so he would no longer need to be carted to and from school, like some kind of trapped child of royalty.

Jamming his keys into the ignition, Jungkook revs the car to life, carefully glancing around as he backs out of the spot. You, too, keep watch out the passenger window as he drives. It’s not that you don’t trust him, but simply that Jungkook hasn’t had much experience driving due to his father’s old-school ways.

Leaving campus grounds, the two of you venture into the main part of the city. Avoiding the skyscrapers and the hub of businesses at the city’s center, you instead stick near the edge of town, traversing the slightly congested streets until a familiar building comes into sight.

Jin’s apartment.

Pulling into a parking space, Jungkook turns the engine off and then glances over at you as his hand moves to undo his seatbelt. He can spot how anxious you are—and it’s not all negative—but it’s obvious that your emotions are being pulled in so many directions. However, he chooses to say nothing—at this point you just need to see him—so instead he simply steps out of the car and moves around to make sure you safely make it over the curb.

Side by side, the two of you make your way into the building, taking another elevator ride up to Jin’s floor. Jungkook’s the one who knocks on the door, and you take a deep breath which fails to help calm you.

After a few seconds, the handle twists and the door is pulled open. Jin, a medical mask draped around his neck, smiles at you both.

“That was quick. Yoongi said that he’d text you as he was leaving, but that was seriously fast. Are you sure you didn’t see him on your way out?”

“Haha, hyung, always so full of jokes,” Jungkook rolls his eyes, and Jin laughs at himself, motioning you both inside. You shed your shoes in the doorway, and then pause, eyes turning up to the doctor. Feeling your stare, Jin blinks and turns his attention to you.

“Do I need to step into some kind of disinfectant chamber first? If I bring outside diseases in will he die within minutes?”

Jin hides his smile behind his hand.

“Like I’ve told you already—he’s stable. He came out of his coma about 20 hours ago, but I had to make sure his wound and vitals were alright before letting anyone know.”

“Wait, so you’re saying he’s already been awake for almost a day?!” you say in surprise, and Jin holds up his hands.

“Things can change sometimes, I didn’t want to make a false announcement and have you all on my doorstep only for there to be more bad news.”

“I guess that’s understandable,” Jungkook mumbles considerately, and Jin huffs. He poses his hands on his hips, looking down at you both.

“Let me remind you, he’ll still need to rest for a while. He’s not 100%. He’ll need therapy for his right arm, and may never have the same mobility in it again. Chronic back problems, blood clots, finger numbness…these are all possibilities with this kind of injury,” Jin explains, and then pauses when he sees your and Jungkook’s faces falling.

“But…the important part is that he’s alive, and he’ll be fine otherwise. There’s no longer any immediate threat to his life.”

At that, the two of you sigh with relief and Jin smiles fondly, lifting a hand to card it through his hair.

“He should still be awake, if you want to go in and see him.”

“Can I?” you ask, hopeful and nervous at the same time. Leaning onto your crutch, you glance over at Jungkook. He shrugs, throwing his hands behind his head.

“You need some time alone with him, and I’ve got an hour or two left before I need to leave. Don’t worry about me, I can talk to him when you’re done making-out, or whatever.”

You blush, reaching over to smack him. He laughs, and Jin does too, until he suddenly pauses, eyes turning serious.

“Ok, but really,” he says, leaning forward and sternly putting a hand on your shoulder. “I know how he is—but he can’t have sex or do any strenuous activities for a while longer yet, so--!”

“Oh my god! I hate you guys!” you blush, ducking down and moving past them. “He just woke up from a 4 day coma, all I want to do is make sure I’m not dreaming!”

“Just go,” Jin says, waving you away, and you huff but continue into his home. Familiar with Jin’s apartment by now, you weave through the living room and then turn down the hall, continuing forward until you’re stood in front of the closed door that Namjoon is currently behind.

Following the night of the ball, you’d awoken to Jungkook’s sullen face, and he had explained to you exactly as Jin had explained to him. Namjoon had survived surgery to remove the bullet, but due to the delay of immediate treatment, the trauma had exceeded the amount his body could handle, and he had fallen into a coma.

Jin had explained that the chances of him never waking up were very small, and more than likely he would naturally wake up from it in a few days, once his body had begun to heal from the wound. This news, to say the least, had been bitter sweet. Namjoon was ok, but…not exactly.

Luckily, to all of your relief, as the days passed Jin had reported seeing improvements in his condition, and finally after 4 days he’d woke up. Still injured, still needing more treatment, but alive, and that’s what mattered.

Biting your lip, your eyes wander down to the handle of the door, and you hesitate to turn it. Sure, you want nothing more right now than to rush inside and confirm with your own eyes that Namjoon is alright. The last time you’d seen him he’d been surrounded by beeping medical equipment helping to keep him alive, and now…

Now…

“Y/N?” you hear him call, and you freeze, startled. “You’re there, right? I can basically sense your anxiousness,” he chuckles softly. “But…I’m okay. You can come in.”

Taking a deep breath, you reach forward and grip the handle, pushing the door openly slowly. In the white sheeted bed, Namjoon is sat up, blonde hair black at the roots, the right side of his bare chest wrapped with fresh dressings.

You meet his eyes, and relief floods you. Tears tickle your lashes as they threaten to overflow, and Namjoon smiles at you fondly, however—

His eyes move down as he spots your crutch, and then the leg that you’re keeping the weight off of. Smile dropping, he looks up at you again, hand raising to point at the injury.

“What’s that?”

You blink. “What’s…what?” you look down at your leg, which had been injured the night of the ball. “Did you…not…know?”

Namjoon scowls, sitting up straighter as he attempts to yell over your shoulder.

“WAS THIS SOMETHING JIN SHOULD’VE TOLD ME ABOUT BUT CHOSE NOT TO?!”

Jin’s response is immediate and full of sarcasm.

“SORRY I WAS TRYING TO LOOK OUT FOR MY PATIENTS HEALTH AND NOT TELL HIM ABOUT A MINOR INJURY HIS GIRLFRIEND GOT BECAUSE IF I DID I KNOW THAT HIS BLOOD PRESSURE WOULD SKYROCKET.”

Rolling your eyes, before Namjoon can think of anything to shout back, you reach behind you and shut the door. When you turn around, Namjoon is pouting. You breathe a laugh.

“What’s with that face?”

Sighing, Namjoon raises his good arm, as if waiting for you to walk up and hug him. His soft side makes your cheeks flush happily, and you limp forward, gently sitting on the edge of the bed and wrapping your arms around him. The hug is almost feather light, but you don’t want to risk messing up any of his healing wounds.

“Are you okay?” he asks you when you lift your palm to cup his cheek. Smiling, you shake your head.

“Compared to what you went through my injury is nothing, Namjoon.”

“Still,” he frowns, placing his hand on your thigh and looking down at your leg. “What happened?”

You sigh. “After you were shot by Jeon, we all went back to the ballroom, and when our guard was down Jaehyuk woke up. He tried to shoot you when he saw you were already injured, so I yelled out, and I guess he redirected his anger towards me. I just got grazed!” you quickly add in when you see his face darken. Huffing, you smack his thigh, and he jumps in surprise.

“Jaehyuk is already dead, you idiot. Don’t go getting all angry planning your revenge or whatever.”

“The guy fucking held you captive for a week and then shot you, I’m allowed to be mad at him, even if he’s dead, okay?” Namjoon huffs, and you roll your eyes again, but nonetheless stroke his cheek and lean up to kiss him.

Your eyes shut, and Namjoon raises his good arm, his palm cradling your jaw as he deepens the kiss. There’s no sense of demand, no want to drag the gesture further or deeper. It simply is a kiss shared between two people who at the moment feel nothing but love, and relief.

“Are you actually okay?” he whispers against your lips, thumb stroking your skin as he pulls back, and you frown.

“I…I’m fine. I just…want to get away from everything that happened last week, that’s all.”

“I understand,” Namjoon nods, and then sighs. He angles his head back, eyes locking on the ceiling.

“I also kind of…understand if you don’t want to be with me anymore. I thought that…you know, after the last ‘date’ we had that I could make it work—that we could make it work—but…of course, as soon as I’d thought that you’d been kidnapped. This is all my fault. I know it, and I’m pretty sure you know it too. I want to protect you with all of my power, from now on, but I…I don’t know what will happen. I can’t promise that—”

“Hey,” you interrupt, placing your hand atop his own. He glances down, watching as your fingers intertwine with his, and then looks up to see your kind smile.

“I haven’t given up on you yet, Kim Namjoon…,” you squeeze his hand, eyes turning slightly sad. “Since the beginning of all of this…it’s been…a rocky ride, hasn’t it? But…I can’t say I regret any of it. Of course I never wanted to be shot, and kidnapped and dragged into all of this, but along the way I made friends, and I met you, and fell for you and…you risked your life trying to get me back. You…didn’t have to do that, Namjoon…”

“I really did,” he responds, lips pressing to the crown of your hair as you hunch over, shoulder shaking as you attempt to fight off the tears that continue to flow whenever you think about your fresh wounds.

“There was absolutely no way…no way in hell that I would’ve just let you go like that. I was prepared to die that night if I had to, but I’m honestly glad I got off with just a bullet wound and a short comatose…imagine dying and never getting to see your cute face again, oh man.”

“You’re outrageous,” you sniffle, free hand lifting to wipe at your eyes and nose, and Namjoon smiles.

“So…are we still giving us a chance then? And don’t say yes because you feel obligated since I came to rescue you, or something like that. I’m a changed man—no longer about that petty love. I want the real thing, ya know?”

“I fucking hate you, just shut up already,” you laugh, and Namjoon decides that kissing you again is the only way to properly get himself to stay quiet.

3 hours later, in a conference hall within the same building the crime had occurred, Jeon Junghyun steps up to a podium, hundreds of reporters lining the room.

Off to his side is his little brother, Jeon Jungkook, and a few other executives from their company. All have their arms politely crossed in front of them, faces void of emotion, and as Junghyun adjusts the microphone, the entire room hushes.

Glancing up, a small smile breaks out on his handsome face.

“This is a little strange, isn’t it? You’ll have to forgive me if I say something unusual, typically it’s my father that handles these kinds of things.”

A few people laugh before realizing why it is his father isn’t around anymore, and the laughter quickly dies.

“No, it’s okay,” Junghyun says, “it’s important to find humor in things and to be able smile at during times like this. While our family and company may be mourning the loss of a CEO, partner, and father, we plan to continue moving on and bettering ourselves in the best way we can.

“That being said,” he shuffles some papers around, “today I have chosen to hold this press conference, with the main intent being to inform the public of what our company will be doing next, following this terrible occurrence.

“Succeeding the dead of my father, and the realization that he may have been tied to the mafia in some way, which resulted in his untimely death, our company plans to continue digging and making sure to rid any illegal connections and ties that had been crafted due to my father, without any of the rest of us having been aware. This will likely be a timely process, but in order to regain the trust of the public and our stakeholders, as the new CEO of the company I promise to absolutely do my best to make sure nothing like this ever happens again. Our company seems to have strayed from our beliefs without my knowledge, but with my father’s passing comes the opening for a multitude of changes, and as a company we plan to make the best of this opportunity.

“For now, seeing as we are still grieving the recent loss, I don’t have any major progress to report. Our company and its employees will be taking a short time more to mourn before returning to our regular business. Once that occurs, a team will be put together to locate and crack down on any illegal activities that may be tied to our business. With all of this being said, I have no other news to report.”

Immediately hands fly into the air, reporters shouting questions at the new, young CEO of the company. A member of Junghyun’s team steps up, asking calmly for reporters to quiet down, and stating that Junghyun will answer only a handful of questions before leaving.

Off to the side, Jungkook watches with silent admiration as his brother handles the press and their questions better than he ever could. While Junghyun was originally the heir to the company as the eldest son, due to some ethical differences between him and his father, Junghyun had been moved to handle the Busan branch, with the title of heir being passed to Jungkook—the son still at home, and still at Jeon’s mercy to shape into the ideal child.

To both Jungkook and Junghyun’s relief—having had a fairly good relationship their entire life—Jungkook ended up having a spirit and a defiant personality perhaps ever stronger than Junghyun, which left their father unable to brainwash either one of his sons into being the perfect heir.

As soon as Jungkook had learned of his father’s betrayal of Namjoon, and had begun scheming with Namjoon’s crew to rescue you, he’d brought up the idea of contacting his older brother. Also opposing of his father’s reign, Junghyun had agreed to take care of the aftermath so long as their father ended up being killed on that night.

While things hadn’t gone exactly as planned, it was nothing Junghyun couldn’t handle, and he’d kept his promise—taking care of the security tapes, paying off guards to act a part in the lie you’d told the police, and keeping your, Hoseok, and Jungkook’s names away from the press. He never mentioned the possibility of Namjoon, Yoongi, Taehyung, or Jimin being at the ball. He had tied up any loose ends, and somehow managed to keep suspicion low at the same time.

If not for his brother, Jungkook’s not sure where he’d be right now. Or any of you, for that matter.

“Guess I’ll have to get used to that more,” Junghyun sighs as he steps into the elevator alongside Jungkook. It’s just the two of them, the press conference having ended a short time ago.

Jungkook watches his brother as the elder loosens his tie.

“You never did like public speaking, did you?”

“Mostly because I never got to say what I wanted when dad was around,” Junghyun mumbles, and then pauses, staring a Jungkook with squinted eyes.

“I figured you don’t care, but…you’re not like…secretly super upset by dad dying and me talking shit about him, are you?”

Jungkook actually snorts. “I was the one who watched him get shot. And if you don’t recall, the last thing he did before dying was beat me and disown me, so.”

“Ahh, that’s right. Truly an asshole until his last dying breath.”

When the elevator arrives on the top floor, the two step out together and head into the penthouse. However, as they kick their shoes off on the landing, Junghyun hums thoughtfully.

“How’s Namjoon doing?”

“Oh, I forgot to mention it, with the conference going on and everything, but he woke up from his coma yesterday,” Jungkook informs him. “I guess he’ll need some physical therapy to get his shoulder and arm back in working order, but other than that Jin hyung says he’s doing well.”

“That’s good. You should give me his number soon, so I can contact him. Once he’s back in commission I’m thinking about asking him for a partnership.”

Jungkook almost falls on his face. “Didn’t you just say downstairs that you plan to revamp the company and cut all ties with the mafia?!”

Junghyun blinks innocently, posing a hand on his hip and turning to face his younger brother.

“I do plan to do that, but I also know without the underhanded method dad has been using for years, our business would be in a bit of a pinch. So, we weed out all the illegal partnerships, cut ties, and then once the public has commended us for our efforts, we give all our business to Namjoon instead. After all, he saved you, and your friend, right? The girl I met when I arrived in Seoul? Dad betrayed him, and I’m sure Namjoon will lose business if anyone finds out he’s been injured, so I figure forming a partnership with him will be in both of our best interests.”

“Oh my god…you…,” Jungkook says, stunned. His brother, in the end, is just as conniving as his father. At least this time Jeon Enterprises and RM Investment Corporation will finally be on the same side.

3 months later

Namjoon has you up on the kitchen counter of his apartment, panties on the floor and his face between your thighs when your phone begins ringing. You groan in disappointment, the fingers you have tangled in his now-brown hair tugging at his roots, asking him to let up so you can answer the call.

However, Namjoon only reaches around you and takes a handful of your ass in both his palms, dragging you farther forward so he can keep your clit trapped against his mouth. You moan, gripping his hair tighter as your orgasm inches closer and closer. You don’t want him to stop either, but you may need to take this call.

“Babe, it could be Yoongi,” you breathe shakily, pleading with him, and with a sigh Namjoon loosens his grip on you and pulls back. He licks his wet lips, dark eyes staring up at you and hair handsomely disheveled. Your pussy throbs at the sight of him, and you really don’t want to get up to take this call, but—

With the number of rings allotted before the call goes to voicemail quickly approaching, you hop off the counter and bustle towards where your phone is resting on the kitchen table.

“Hello?” you answer, a little breathless, and you smooth the apron you’re wearing down against the front of your thighs.

There’s the sound a car door slamming followed by a small curse. You blink, worry filling your chest.

“Yoongi oppa?”

“Oh, you picked up. Thank god.”

The car starts up, and the tires squeal a little as Yoongi races away from where he had been parked.

“I need you to remind me where it is I’m supposed to drop this package for Junghyun. I’m not familiar with their Busan locations yet, and I accidentally left my papers at Minnie’s apartment.”

“Cute,” you comment, and you almost hear Yoongi roll his eyes.

“If you could hurry up that’d be nice too,” he speaks as you move to kitchen island counter, where multiple business papers are scattered over the surface. “The dumbass security guards Junghyun sent with me bitched out before they got the entire shipment, so I had to sneak back into warehouse and grab the last box. Unfortunately, another company was moving in their own shit as I was there, and, long story short, they saw me. I don’t know if they’re coming after me or not yet, but I’d just like to get the fuck out of here.”

“I got you…,” you mumble, trapping your phone between your shoulder and ear as you quickly sort between the documents. As you do so, Namjoon quietly sneaks up behind you, and when his hands grip your ass tightly, you accidentally gasp into the receiver.

There’s a beat of silence on the line as your cheeks flush, and Yoongi realizes what’s going on.

“Were you and Namjoon having sex when I called?” He almost groans, scowling disdainfully at his phone. “Seriously, Jin only told him 2 weeks ago that his wounds were finally healed enough for him to start having sex again. Have you gone to class at all since then?”

“Of course I have!” you respond, embarrassed, and try to press your thighs together as Namjoon’s hand moves to cup your pussy, his lips pressing soft kisses against your neck and shoulders. Your bite your lip to keep from moaning as two of his fingers slide into your soaking walls.

“Here I f-found—stop it, oh my god—I found the address, can you pull it up on GPS?”

Yoongi pulls away from his phone, squinting at his screen, and clicks on the speaker button before moving to open up his GPS app.

“Can you put me on speaker?”

“Y-Yep,” you stutter, leaning your elbows forward to rest against the counter top. Behind you, Namjoon grins, continuing to fuck his fingers into you.

Yoongi sighs, peeved.

“Namjoon…I know…the last 3 months have been hard for you…but while I’m trying to get directions from your girlfriend on an assignment I’m doing on your behalf, can you maybe like…chill, for two fucking minutes.”

The only response Namjoon gives him a noncommittal hum, and Yoongi gives up.

“Y/N, the address please.”

You tell him hurriedly, listening as Yoongi punches the numbers and letters into his phone and confirms that it’s a legitimate address.

“Thanks, I’ll let you two get back to it.”

“This is all because of Namjoon, not me--,” you begin to say when all of the sudden Namjoon reaches his free hand past you and presses the ‘End Call’ button with a simple, “bye hyung!”

With that taken care of, Namjoon immediately gets back to what he’d been doing before. His hand slips beneath your apron, moving to fondle one of your breasts. He tugs and pinches at your taut nipple for a short while, soaking in the sounds you make for him, until suddenly both of his hands leave you. Instead, he begins pressing kisses to the curve of your spine, and you hear him rustling with the belt on his jeans.

“Why can’t you just control yourself for 3 minutes,” you laugh, resting your cheek against the cool tile of the tall island. Namjoon grabs your hips, canting them backwards, and you feel the head of his cock rub between your folds. “It’s not like you didn’t orgasm for 3 months, I gave you handjobs and blowjobs…”

“It’s so not the same,” he says indignantly, groaning as he pushes his cock between your walls. “Besides it’s not like Yoongi cares—just consider this payback for we walked in to find him and Jimin—”

“You’re so petty,” you interrupt him, but reach one of your hands back, grabbing onto his forearm. “Anyway, stop talking and just fuck me already.”

“Your wish is my command, babe,” he grins, and the reaches forward, shoving your hips back against him. He starts off at a moderate pace, listening as you moan at every thrust. You brace yourself up on your forearms, pressing your ass back to meet him half way, and Namjoon curses.

“Fuck you have no idea how hard I got just from eating you out,” he growls, and you gasp when he suddenly loops an arm around your torso, just beneath your breasts. His other hand lifts to your neck, fingers curling around it and pressing into the spots he knows will make your head light and pussy throb.

“N-Namjoon,” you moan as you’re forced to arch your spine, at his complete mercy as the new position simply allows him to plow up into you. And he takes full advantage, rattling your body with each jolt of his hips. Your mind begins to go white with bliss, eyes fluttering shut and lips parting in a moan that isn’t quite vocalized.

Namjoon feels your pulse racing against his fingertips, and your pussy tightens around him. The sensation causes him to groan, his orgasm, so, so close, and he leans forward until his lips caress the shell of your ear.

“Are you gonna cum for me, baby?”

“C-Can I?” you stutter, head swimming as your pleasure spikes, and Namjoon grunts in affirmation, his mouth sinking down to the crook of your neck.

“Yes, cum now. I’m right there,” he admits, teeth nipping your flesh, and with a broken moan your orgasm hits you. Your walls pulse around his throbbing cock, and Namjoon hisses, his seed spilling into you as his fingers fall from around your neck.

Sated, warm breaths fill the room, and Namjoon brings both his arms up to hug you from behind. His lips press small kisses behind your ear, and you giggle.

Wiggling in his hold, you turn to face him, and move your arms to drape around his neck. You smile at him fondly, cheeks flushed.

“I love you,” you say, and Namjoon’s heart flutters. Three words he never gets tired of hearing from you.

Leaning down, he kisses you properly.

“I love you too, babe.”

At that moment, again, your cellphone buzzes. This time it’s a text message, however, and from Jungkook nonetheless. Without opening it, you already know what it’s about.

“Ah! I’m late!” you hiss and bolt for the bedroom, Namjoon shamelessly watching your ass as you run out of the kitchen. “This is all your fault!”

“Mine?” he quotes, moving to lightly clean himself up before he pulls his pants back over his legs.

“Yes, yours! I’m supposed to be downstairs right now so I can meet Jungkook and goo to the study group on campus with him!”

“Oh, that’s tonight?” he wonders aloud, and reaches over to check the date on the home screen of your phone. “Huh. I guess it is.”

“Asshole,” you grumble, stumbling out of the bedroom now dressed in a pair of yoga pants and a t-shirt, your backpack flung over one shoulder. You stop in the kitchen to snatch up your phone, kissing Namjoon on the cheek.

“Your punishment is cleaning the dishes by yourself. I should be home by 10.”

“Wow, harsh,” he pouts, turning to watch you as you slide to the entryway and force your shoes onto your feet. You laugh.

“You’ll survive~ You big baby.”

Namjoon rolls his eyes, and then remembers something.

“Jimin may be over when you get back. He said something about dropping off a report and planning a move, or something like that.”

“No Hobi or Taehyung?”

“Tonight is the night Hoseok typically goes out drinking with Jin. And Taehyung isn’t back from Mokpo yet.”

“Ah, that’s right. Well, if I don’t see him tell Jimin I said hi,” you respond, and with one last smile in Namjoon’s direction you turn and open the front door. It slowly creeks closed behind you, and Namjoon leans back against the counter, eyes wandering to the patch of white ceiling above his head.

Never in his life did Namjoon imagine he would reach a point of feeling so happy, and fulfilled like he does now. What had started out as a misunderstanding and a coincidental second meeting had turned into series of events that had inflicted upon Namjoon an array of emotions he had never expected to feel. Confusion, anger, sadness, relief…you had gone through so much no thanks to meeting him, yet here you were, months down the line, in the beginning stages of sharing your life together.

His enemies had become his friends. His business was busier than ever, and despite the lifelong pain that would continue to accompany his healing wound, it was all worth.

“Oh, baby,” he sighs, contentment soaking into the fiber of his very being as he imagines your cute face within is mind, and he smiles.

Definitely, definitely worth it.

~おしまい~

Date Started: January 22, 2016

Date Ended: January 18, 2018

Total Word Count: 84,943

A/N: Hey, thank you guys all so much for taking the time to read this series. A lot changed since I started writing it. Oh, Baby started as a one-shot that turned into a series solely based on the fact that so many people asked for there to be more. I had my ups and down with the series--there were periods where I didn’t update it for a long time--but I made it to 20 chapters, like I originally intended, and hopefully you guys enjoyed them all :’)

Officially, this is the last chapter of Oh, Baby. If there are questions you have, or loose ends that you want answers to, feel free to send me an ask! I’d be happy to answer any questions about the series that come my way. So don’t hesitate to ask! :) (I also made a Q&A post with some ideas of questions to ask, in case you’re not sure what to say, but want to know more ^^)

Again, thank you all so much. I hope you enjoyed it.

#oh baby #namjoon x reader #bts mafia au #bts reader insert #bts smut #jungkook fic #jimin fic #taehyung fic #hoseok fic #yoongi fic #jin fic #namjoon fic #namjoon smut

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aswithasunbeam · 6 years

Text

An Elusive Peace, Chapter 7

[Read on AO3]

Rating: T

Summary: For Hamilton and Eliza, peace was supposed to mark the end to their separation and the beginning of domestic bliss. But Hamilton’s ambition and the challenges facing the new nation quickly interfere. Happily ever after may not be as easy to attain as they once hoped.

Ham gives a very important speech, and then they adopt a new baby...

February 1787

Steam wafted from the silver coffee pot as Eliza finished pouring the freshly brewed beverage. She’d never much cared for coffee, especially not the way Alexander drank it—piping hot and strong, with not a cube of sugar or drop of milk to soften the taste—but she did enjoy the smell in the mornings. When she placed the top on the pot, the scent of freshly baked bread and sizzling bacon quickly replaced the coffee.

“I can see to the rest, ma’am, if you’d like to go up now,” Judy offered with a sunny smile as she flipped a strip of bacon over.

Alexander had hired the young woman a few weeks ago after hearing her plead for assistance at his last meeting of the Manumission Society. Her former master had freed her upon his death, but his son, a Major Turner, was doing his utmost to ignore that particular provision of the will; the ensuing controversy had made it nigh impossible for the poor girl to find honest work. Although it strained their budget to add another member to their household staff, Eliza was more than happy to have her help with running the house and managing three willful children.

“Thank you, Judy,” she replied amiably. “I suppose I should set Philip to his reading, and I’m sure Mr. Hamilton will be wanting his coffee.”

She placed the coffee pot and the basket of bread on a tray and mounted the stairs. As she came to the top, she heard Pip chattering on about something along with the distinct sound of a newspaper page being flipped. Angelica’s tinkling giggle filled the space between Pip’s enthusiastic conversation.

When she entered the room, Pip’s chatter had given way to a series of grunts, and he was squatting on the floor with his arms hanging loose between his legs. “Philip, what on earth are you doing?” she asked as she set the tray on the table.

Pip answered with a series of short ‘oo’ sounds as he leaned his weight on his knuckles and scooted forward. “Monkey,” Angelica giggled, turned sideways in her chair and clapping her little hands together with delight. Alexander had peeked over his paper to watch Pip as well, his eyes alight with amusement.

“So, will you, Papa? Please?” Pip asked, pushing himself upright again.

“Tomorrow, perhaps. If you’re good, and do just as Mama says today,” Alexander replied, with a fond sort of exasperation in his tone. Pip must have been pestering him about something while she was downstairs seeing to breakfast.

“What is it you’re getting if you’re good today?” Eliza asked.

“I get to see the monkeys,” Pip said excitedly.

Ah. She ought to have guessed. One of their neighbors, further up Wall Street, had acquired the exotic pets recently. Pip had spotted them swinging in a tree last Sunday, when the family had taken a walk after dinner. Alexander had lifted Pip to sit on his shoulders so he could watch the creatures play, and their son had been obsessed ever since.

“Well, the first step in showing me what a good boy you are is to get to your reading,” Eliza told him, nodding towards the Bible on the sideboard.

Pip’s shoulders slumped dramatically, but he obeyed, trudging towards the sideboard, retrieving the Bible, and shuffling to her side to begin his morning reading. Eliza poured out Alexander’s coffee as Pip began his halting oration. Alexander thanked her softly when she pushed the cup forward towards him, and she began slicing and buttering the bread for Angelica and Alex. When Judy came up to serve the tea and the plates of Johnnycakes and bacon, Eliza allowed Pip to resume his seat at the table for his breakfast.

Little Alex had squeezed the pieces of bread she’d sat on his highchair into balls, and he began to throw them onto the ground. Pip and Angelica were both snickering, which made the baby grin. “Oh, Alex,” Eliza sighed, taking the bread away and replacing it with a few pieces of Johnnycake. That, at least, the child began to gum with interest.

Alexander was looking pensively down at his plate when she looked over at him again. The Johnnycakes and bacon were untouched, and his son’s antics didn’t seem to have caught his attention. He was worrying about the speech he was to deliver in the Assembly this afternoon, she intuited.

“Was there anything of interest in the paper this morning, sweetheart?” she asked, hoping to distract him.

“Hm?” He looked up, frowning. “Oh, just more news about the farmers rebellion in Massachusetts.”

“The state militia still hasn’t put it down?” Eliza asked. The farmers, led by Daniel Shays, had been actively and violently protesting the high taxes laid upon them by Massachusetts since the autumn. The grievance had a painfully familiar ring to it.

“The General Court has declared Massachusetts officially in a state of rebellion, and General Lincoln defeated Shays’ retreating forces somewhere outside Petersham,” he reported.

Eliza’s eyes widened at Lincoln’s name—the great General had been the one to accept the surrender of Cornwallis’s second at Yorktown. His association with quashing a rebellion jarred her. “General Lincoln is involved now?”

Hamilton shrugged.

He was far from indifferent to the situation, Eliza knew; he was just exhausted from having been warning people about the possibility of such a problem for years. Back when he’d first been sent to Congress, he’d campaigned for the central government to have a meaningful taxation power, not only so that it might make a start on its own debt, but also to help equalize the debts owed by the individual states. Instead, Congress continued without such powers, and printed worthless paper money to pay its obligations to soldiers and citizens. Massachusetts had raised the tax burden on its poorest citizens to as much as forty percent to try to retire her own debt, and also insisted on being repaid in specie, rather than the paper money. The result was a full-fledged rebellion.

Pip made his monkey sound again as Eliza came to grips with this latest news, and Angelica followed along. Alex made a grunting sound and pounded his little fists against the wooden tray of his highchair, determined to join in the fun. Her husband brought his hand to his mouth, obviously attempting to cover his amusement.

“All right, children,” she cut in to the ruckus firmly. “If we’re done eating, it’s time to wash up and begin our lessons.”

Pip shoved half a bread roll in his mouth. “I’m still eating,” he claimed, voice muffled by the food.

“Then eat,” she directed. “And we don’t speak with our mouths full, do we, Philip?”

“No, Mama,” he agreed, mouth still full of bread.

Eliza closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

“I think I’ll head out now,” Alexander announced, taking a last gulp from his coffee cup. “I have a meeting with a client at my office this morning before I go over to the Assembly session.”

His plate had barely been touched, Eliza observed again.

He rose from the table and gave each of the children a tender kiss on the top of the head. He paused when he came to Alex, and rubbed his thumb over the baby’s chubby cheek tenderly to wipe away a spot of sticky jam. “I love you, my little lambs. I’ll see you tonight.”

“Bye, Papa,” Pip waved, a piece of bacon hanging out of his mouth this time.

Eliza followed him out into the entryway.

“Are you all right, sweetheart? You hardly ate anything.”

An embarrassed smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “I’m fine. Just…a little nervous. You know how my stomach gets.”

She pulled him into a gentle embrace. “Your speech is wonderful.”

“Thank you.” His arms closed around her in return. “And thank you for staying up with me last night to finish it. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Of course,” she said. She bit her lip, considering her next question. “Is the public permitted to sit in the gallery today?”

He tensed in her arms. “I…I think so, yes. Why?”

“I thought I’d leave Judy and Polly with the children this afternoon so I could come watch.”

A heavy sigh fell from his lips. “I’m going to lose, Betsey.”

“You don’t know that, honey. You’re very persuasive. Perhaps the Assembly will see reason.” He’d worked so hard on that speech, infusing it with logic and passion in equal measure. “Given the fresh news about Massachusetts, I don’t see how they can do otherwise.”

He chuckled. “Logic and reason mean very little to these men. The import tax would bolster the central government, and Clinton would rather die than give away an ounce of his influence. Were I not loath to disappoint my constituents, I wouldn’t bother defending the act at all.”

Eliza rubbed his back and pressed her lips to his jawline. “I’d still like to see you speak, even if you lose the vote. Then you’ll know you have at least one supporter.”

His head tilted to the side and down so he could catch her lips with his own. “Thank you, my angel. I’ll look forward to seeing you.” He then extracted himself from her arms and donned his hat and coat.

“I’m so proud of you,” she assured him as he pulled open the front door.

He smiled weakly and stepped out into the cold, bright morning.

The gallery was more full than she’d imagine, the crowd composed almost entirely of men who were hooting and hollering at each other in a manner that reminded her very much of her five year old son. And, much like her son, her presence and steady gaze seemed to chasten them. She swept down and across the gallery to find a seat in the front row, leaving a more orderly and composed crowd in her wake.

“Ma’am,” a man on the bench near her greeted, making to rise despite the traveling desk he had set up on his lap. She waved him down and sat beside him. “Mr. Childs, ma’am, of the New York Daily Advertiser.”

“Mrs. Hamilton,” she introduced herself, smoothing her skirt as she settled into her seat.

The reporter nodded. “Your husband is meant to give quite the speech. I’ll try my best to do him justice in my account.”

She smiled politely, though she’d yet to see any account of her husband’s speeches that did him justice. There was something about the conviction and earnestness of his delivery that simply couldn’t be captured by the written word. Her gaze fell to the floor of the Assembly, and she saw her husband sitting down, studying the notes he’d made last night.

Alexander seemed to feel her stare after a long moment, and he looked up with a small, tender smile. She waved subtly and blew him a kiss, which he pretended to catch. She laughed. Some of the tension in his shoulders seemed to ease, making her doubly grateful she’d insisted on coming today.

The chairman banged his gavel at the front of the room, calling the meeting to order. “Good morning, gentlemen. Today we consider further the act granting to Congress certain imposts and duties, and specifically the clause regarding the grant of power to Congress to levy such taxes.”

Alexander rose from his seat.

“The chair recognizes Mr. Hamilton from New York City.”

“Thank you, Mr. Chairman.” Her husband crossed the room and stood straight-backed at the podium before the Assembly, his piercing gaze roaming across the rows of delegates, as though drawing them all in before he began to speak. A noticeable hush fell over the room, except for the sound of quills scratching steadily as the newspaper men began to copy down her husband’s words.

“Mr. Chairman, There appears to me to be some confusion in the manner of voting on the two preceding clauses of this bill,”* he began, voice clear and firm. Eliza settled in to listen, watching with fascination as he seemed to gather passion with each word. As he spoke, he began to pace, his gaze moving from one man to the next as he walked. The mass of powdered heads below moved with him, back and forth before the podium.

He’d added a piece last night where he quoted directly from the Declaration of Independence to bolster his claim of constitutionality. He hadn’t written those words down when he decided to add them; he knew them by heart. She’d heard the words so many times, but to hear her husband speak them now, they felt fresh, and new, and impossibly moving. The men around her were all nodding, captivated.

As he came to the end of the of his argument regarding the constitutionality of the bill, his voice rose, impassioned. “If the arguments I have used under this head are not well founded, let gentlemen come forward and shew their fallacy. Let the subject have a fair and full examination, and let truth, on whatever side it may be, prevail!”*

No one stood to argue with him. No one dared.

He continued on for more than an hour, his chest working visibly and color rising in his cheeks as he built the foundations of his argument, stone by stone. Properly funding a central government posed no danger to the public liberty, he argued, and given the state of the country’s finances, the measure before the assembly was absolutely necessary to the continued existence of their country. New York had become the Atlas of the union, he claimed, and to leave the system as it was would be an act of political knight errantry.* Soft laughter emanated from the crowd at the image, just as he’d intended, and she saw Alexander smile faintly. Still he pushed on, making his points with zeal. Heads bobbed around the room as he made point after point.

Alexander’s knuckles were white against the podium as he worked towards his conclusion. “What will be the situation of our national affairs if they are left much longer to float in the chaos in which they are now involved… if there are any foreign enemies, if there are any domestic foes to this country, all their arts and artifices will be employed to effect a dissolution of the union. This cannot be better done than by sowing jealousies of the federal head and cultivating in each state an undue attachment to its own power.”*

A stunned silence reigned.

Alexander was breathing hard, absolutely spent from the effort. When he stepped down, she saw him bend at the waist and hold on to the nearest table. She worried suddenly that he would faint, given how little sleep and food he’d had over the last day. But he pushed himself up again after a moment and made his way to his seat under his own power.

“Is there to be a rebuttal?” the chairman queried, stepping up to the podium again.

Another long beat of silence passed, before one of the delegates rose from his seat. “I move for an immediate vote on the clause in question.”

Eliza felt her heartbeat quicken in her chest. Had he done it? Had he convinced them?

“I second,” another voice called.

“A motion for an immediate vote has been duly made and seconded,” the chairman called. “The vote shall now be taken.”

“Yea,” the first delegate cried.

Eliza smiled and clasped her hands together on her lap. Oh, he’d done it. She tried to catch his eye. He was sipping from a glass of water, his face tense.

“Nay,” the third man voted. And the fourth. And the fifth.

The smile leached from her face.

No. No, no. He’d worked so hard. No one had even bothered to rebut him. They knew they couldn’t compete with his words, with his ideas.

“The clause is defeated by a vote of 36 to 21. The assembly will now consider—”

She fixed her attention on her husband. His face had regained some color, at least, she noted. He’d known he’d be defeated, but the fact that no one had even bothered to try to argue against him galled her. Why should he entangle himself in petty politics at all, when this was the result?

His gaze traveled up to the gallery and landed on her.

She made herself smile at him. “I love you,” she mouthed silently.

His expression went soft, and he gave her a little nod.

“They couldn’t even muster a counter argument,” Eliza complained that evening as Alexander removed his coat and hat.

“They didn’t need to,” he sighed, resigned. “I told you I would lose, Betsey.”

“It’s just not fair.”

“It’s politics. It’s not meant to be fair. And it doesn’t matter anyway. We’ll be meeting in Philadelphia in May to overhaul the whole system. Let Clinton have his way for now. It will be out of his hands very, very soon.”

She held her arms out to him, and he sank into her embrace.

“I worried you were about to faint when you finished.”

“I just needed a moment to catch my breath.”

She frowned, unconvinced. His health, always delicate, felt especially tenuous when he began to overextend himself. It had been her initial concern when he went to the convention last fall, and so it remained. “You should go change into something comfortable. We’ll get some good, hearty food into you, and then you can have a proper rest.”

He pulled back from her and grinned. “No.”

“No?”

“I refuse to stay home and wallow in my defeat. Troup told me he has extra tickets for the theater tonight. Let’s get dressed up and go out.”

“Are you sure? You seem tired, sweetheart.”

“Tired? Me?” He took her by the hands and spun her around. “Perish the thought, my dear. Besides, between my practice and the New York Assembly, and you looking after the children, we haven’t had a proper night out in far too long. It will be fun.”

She couldn’t help but laugh; his good humor was contagious. “If you insist.”

“I most certainly do.”

“Papa!” Pip appeared in the entry to the parlor, bouncing eagerly on his toes. “Papa, I was really, really good today. Really! I listened to mama, and did all my letters and my sums. So can we go see the monkeys tomorrow?”

Alexander laughed and bounded forward to scoop him up. “I may give you to the monkeys. You and your sister. You should be raised amongst your own kind.”

“We’re not monkeys, Papa,” Pip protested.

“Are you sure? You sound like a monkey.”

“No I don’t.”

Alexander tickled him under the armpit, and he squealed with laughter. “Hmm, you’re right. Maybe not a monkey. Maybe you’re piglets?”

“No,” Pip giggled.

Eliza shook her head fondly as she headed upstairs to change for a night out. After selecting a dress and quickly fixing up her hair, she returned to find the animal game apparently still going. Her husband was on all fours with both Pip and Angelica on his back, and Pip was urging, “Giddy up, Papa!”

She leaned against the doorjamb, smiling at the scene.

Eliza tucked her hand into Alexander’s elbow and used her free hand to hold her skirts up from the snowy sidewalks as they hurried into the theater. The doorman pushed the door closed behind them as soon as they entered the lobby. Two fires glowed at the far end of the room, and she sighed at the warmth.

As she handed her cloak over to be stored, she heard a murmur of excitement ripple through the crowded lobby. She glanced back, assuming someone of importance had arrived. To her surprise, most eyes were trained on her and her husband.

Robert Troup was standing nearby, and he seemed to be encouraging in the interest in Alexander. When Alexander finished checking his coat, Troup called out, “Let’s hear it for Ham, the great man himself!”

A round of huzzahs followed, with almost the entire lobby partaking. Eliza laughed, shocked, and looked around to see Alexander blushing furiously. Troup stepped up and slapped Alexander on the back.

“Glad you came, Ham,” Troup said. “There’s talk of making you governor, after that speech of yours. You’d be a good improvement over Clinton, that much is certain.”

“It was hardly worth all this fuss,” he demurred.

“You were wonderful, darling,” Eliza interjected.

He laughed, clearly still uncomfortable, but he thanked her softly.

“There’s a few people eager to speak with you, if you wouldn’t mind,” Troup added.

Alexander glanced at her.

“Go ahead, sweetheart. I’ll go keep Mrs. Troup company,” she urged, kissing his cheek. He was quickly swept away into the crowd. Watching him for another brief moment, she looked around the lobby and spotted Jennet standing near the stairs to the box seats.

“Your dear husband is the man of the hour,” Jennet observed, taking her by the arm as she came closer.

“So I see. He certainly wasn’t expecting all this,” Eliza replied.

“He should have been. The whole city’s talking about him. He may have been unsuccessful today, but he’ll have plenty of support for whatever he can accomplish in Philadelphia this summer. Or so Troup keeps saying.”

Eliza smiled weakly. She was proud of him, truly, and glad he had so many supporters, but she wished people’s hopes for the nation weren’t resting quite so heavily on her husband’s shoulders. Jennet seemed to sense the hesitation, and she wrapped an arm around her shoulders companionably.

“Let’s go up to the box. The boys will join us eventually.” They walked up the staircase together, and Eliza took a program from an attendant outside their curtain.

She waited, and waited. Troup slipped in as the show began, but Alexander wasn’t with him. “He’ll be along,” Troup assured her in a whisper as the actors took the stage.

The first act had nearly ended before Alexander slipped into his seat at her side. He leaned close, his lips ghosting over her cheek, before he whispered, “I need to talk to you.”

“Now?”

He nodded.

Her stomach clenched. Had he accepted another government position? “All right,” she agreed, standing up and following him out into the hall.

His hand curled around hers, and he led her down the hall to a little deserted alcove.

“What is it, sweetheart?” Please, not another appointment, she pleaded silently.

“I just ran in to someone downstairs. Do remember Colonel Antil?”

She frowned, then nodded. They hadn’t seen him in some time, not since his poor wife had passed away, about two years ago. “How was he?”

Alexander shook his head. “Not very well. He’s not been coping well.” His hand squeezed hers tightly, as though he could ward off the same fate for her by holding on to her tight enough. “I suggested he come to the meeting of the Cincinnati tomorrow to request aid. He’d like to move up north to try to make a go at a farmer’s life.”

She waited, curious as to why he felt the need to immediately report this conversation to her.

“I invited him for dinner tomorrow at our house, as well.”

“That’s fine, honey,” she assured him. They had a leg of lamb she’d been planning to prepare anyway. There’d be plenty of food for a guest.

“They had a little girl, do you remember? Frances. Fanny. She’s just two.”

“I do,” she agreed, though she hadn’t remembered the little girl’s name until now.

“He can’t take such a little babe into the wilderness with him. I was hoping…” he trailed off, his gaze on the floor.

Eliza squeezed his hand. “You were hoping?”

He looked up at her. “I know it’s a lot to ask. We have three little ones already, and you do more than the lion’s share of the work. But…I was hoping we might offer to take her in. Just temporarily, while he gets settled.”

It was a lot to ask. As darling as their three children were, they were also a handful. But her heart went out to that poor little girl. If Antil couldn’t care for her properly, if she’d be in danger going with her father up north, how could Eliza refuse?

Alexander looked so earnest as he waited for her answer. He’d always had a soft spot for children in difficult circumstances. Much of it stemmed from his own difficult childhood, she knew, and his immense gratitude to Thomas Stevens for taking him in when he had no obligation to do so.

“Of course we can,” she agreed.

“You’re sure. We needn’t say anything if you’re not comfortable. Completely comfortable. It’s your choice.”

“I know,” she assured him. “We’ll offer to take her while he gets settled. What’s one more monkey in our little menagerie?”

He laughed. “You’re an angel.”

She rolled her eyes. “So you’ve said.”

“I mean it. A genuine angel.”

He leaned close, his lips hovering near hers. She wrapped her arms around him and let her lower lip drop open so the tip of her tongue could touch his. A soft moan fell from his lips. His hand started to wander from her lower back towards her bustle.

“Not here,” she whispered, pulling away reluctantly. The effect he had on her, she thought, blushing retroactively. Her mother would have fainted outright had she heard her daughter was standing in the middle of a public building kissing a man, husband or not. He made a discontented noise as she removed his hand from her back. “Keep that up, Mr. Hamilton, and we’ll have more than one little monkey joining us.”

He grinned. “From your lips to God’s ears, my darling.”

*From New York Assembly, Remarks on an Act Granting to Congress Certain Imposts and Duties, 15 February 1787.

#hamilton fanfic #an elusive peace #alexander hamilton #eliza hamilton #hamliza

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gobbochune · 7 years

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A Witch is a Witch

((personal story for a friend))

There had been much excitement when word had first spread that the new arrival had been located. Famously, she had been a tricky one to find. Usually a week or two after a witch drew her final breath the Queen would know where to find her successor, but the search for the witchling had extended almost a full year.

Mumbles and rumors spread throughout the palace as to why this might be. Perhaps the Queen’s reign was coming to an end, a rare occurrence but it did happen, or maybe the soul seed was having trouble picking the next witch. Candessa had been famously flightily and indecisive after all, the witches could imagine her soul making loops around human villages unable to choose a successor.

Whatever the reason for her tardiness, when her location was finally made aware to the Queen all the witches practically fell over each other for the honor of retrieving her. It wasn’t just morbid curiosity over what had made her so hard to find, but some level of sympathy as well. Each of them remembered the ache witchlings feel for the Witches Palace, looking to the sky in its direction with a burning desire but no inclination as to where or what they wanted. The poor thing, feeling that yearning for a full year had likely driven her mad.

Unaware of what exactly they would find after such a late retrieval, the undertaking was comprised of six as opposed to the usual four. Three of the kindest witches with soothing words and a gentle touch, six of the fiercest to make whoever had imprisoned the witchling for so long pay for her suffering.

The retrieval lasted three days, three days of chaos in the levitating palace. Usually the days it took waiting for the new arrival were spent taught with anticipation, whispers of what the new arrival would be like. There would be speculation as to her ethnicity or age, Jellabe always swore that the arrival would be the first male witch in over five hundred years. Instead of placing bets, however, the witches had decided in these circumstances the new arrival be welcomed with the grandest display imaginable. The poor thing had likely been in pain for so long, there would be a celebration for the day she finally be brought home.

The palace was scrubbed from spire to courtyard six times over. The first three to make the marble shine, the next whenever the palace changed its shape as it often did when considering a new inhabitant. Flowers bloomed on every patch of earth, quite a few over stone or ivory where they had no business growing. Some even draped from the ceiling like streamers. The castle itself seemed unable to decide what it wanted to be made of, marble, stone, obsidian, there were even a few hours on the second day of preparation that it glittered as solid gold. A decision the castle reconsidered when that afternoon the sun hit the reflective parapets and blinded the inhabitants.

There was a great debate over which clouds should adjourn the island itself. Perhaps a quilt of cirrocumulus, maybe some cirrus in the shape of falcons, no we’re not going to do a rainbow how old are you Raelzara?

By the dawn of the third day, the castle had been cleaned, redesigned, completely emptied, and cleaned again too many times to count. Three hours after that, Boedicca’s feet lighted on the cobblestones of the courtyard for the first time.

Behind her spectacles Boe stared wide eyed at the grinning ecstatic faces of an army of women donned in translucent tatters of black cloth, if anything at all. Gripping her book to her chest, she stared in wonder at the final decision of the Palace’s appearance, dark aged stone with speckling of ivy curling about columns and windowsills. Though she was scared, cold, and confused it was difficult not to rejoice when seeing the palace for the first time. It was not only the magical pull all witches felt for their home, but also that Boe would not have been chosen by the soulseed if she had not yearned for this life with all her heart.

Witches fell over themselves to be introduced to the new arrival, offering her food or asking questions as to her character. Most insisted that she come visit them if she needed anything at all, from the warmth of a friend to vengeance of whoever might have hurt her during her life as a human. A crown of flowers was woven into her hair as she shyly extended a hand to shake that of each of the fifty witches, wondering how on earth she would remember all of their names. The last witch to introduce herself was of course the Queen, who beckoned for the new arrival to rise. Boedicca felt the importance radiating from her, and followed alongside her excitable harem to the welcoming hall.

By now Boe more or less felt at home, drunk on the sweet words of her sisters and the glow of belonging in her heart. However, when the many pairs of hands pulled at the strings and buttons of her clothing she yelped and tried to swat them away. Smiles and hushed reassurances were uttered, most of them understood the fear of nakedness, having all arrived here from places where prying hands were the herald of an attack, not a sacred ritual of rebirth. But no matter how gentle the persuasion Boe would only push the hands away, refuse to be undressed. Soon the Queen shook her head, and told the witches to step away.

All of them tried their hardest to continue the welcome as if nothing had happened. She had slept with them in the chamber of rest, eaten with them in the dining hall, and the master artificer took her to the grove the very next day. It was time for the second ritual, the ritual of carving her staff. But Boedicca had unwittingly isolated herself, unwittingly refused to be one of them. All of witches had been stripped of their human clothes upon arrival, all of them surrendered their identity and modesty to this new unknown. If Boe could not do this, how could she even call herself a witch?

The carving of the staff can take a few hours, or a few years. It depends on the witch, depends on her experience, who she is, whether or not the staff wants to be carved. But when Boe finished her first staff she realized immediately that it was wrong. It wasn’t so much an ugliness, or that there was any one aspect of the ritual she had preformed incorrectly, but all could see that there was no way the new arrival would be able to fly or sing with a staff like this one. So she took another sapling and began again. And again. Failure after failure, each disaster isolating her further from her sisters.

Everyone was thinking it, though no one wanted anyone else to know that they were thinking it. The artificer, the Queen, even Boedicca herself began to wonder if there had been some sort of mistake. Rumors began to circulate, perhaps this strange not-quite-a-witch had somehow swapped herself with the real new arrival, perhaps she had somehow acquired the soulseed undeservingly. Dear Candessa had been very young at the time of her death, perhaps when a witch dies too soon she is unable to properly pass on her soulseed. Maybe she was so young and unready to die she refused to give all of her soulseed away, carrying half of it with her into the unknown.

Boedicca wanted to leave. It hurt her to feel so drawn to a place that rejected her at the same time. She did not know how to ask to be brought back to the village from where she had come, and certainly she wouldn’t be flying herself any time soon. Soon the Master Artificer had to bar her from the grove. There simply weren’t enough saplings left for her to continuously defile with her wrongness. She retreated to a quiet and dark corner of the palace, one that the witches had not even known was there.

The palace itself seemed to be Boe’s only ally, her little hiding hole would shift and turn to always be undetectable to the other witches. Sometimes she would go there to find a bowl of cherries on a dresser, or a stack of books from her grandmother’s library. One day there was a nice quilted bed like the one from the library where she had lived before, and upon sliding beneath the sheets she decided she would never leave her little room again.

One night, Boe shot from the covers upon feeling a pointed jab at her ribs. She scrambled away from her attacker thinking that somehow the palace had turned against her, but instead saw a young witch staring wide eyed at her.

“…Hello…” Boe said, looking distrustfully at her.

“Hello,” said the witch, frowning down at her blankets, “This is a very silly bed, its full of feathers but does not fly. One might wonder as to the point of the thing.”

Boe blinked at this assessment, remembering that the chamber of rest had plush beds of moss and flowers for the witches to rest upon. She did not answer the intruder, only stared at her with wide eyes.

“I’m Raelzara,” she said, “I introduced myself on the first day, but you probably don’t remember.”

Boe had trouble remembering any of their names, seeing how none of them spoke to her anymore, but she shook her head politely.

“So you DO remember me?” Raelzara said with some excitement, “Oh, I had thought you hadn’t!”

It seemed Raelzara did not care if Boe responded, she continued to speak without provocation.

“I kicked myself that first day, I have recently decided that I want to go by Rael from now on, but there haven’t been any new witches since I made that decision- until you that is!” she bonked herself on the head, “But when we first met, I forgot to give you the new name, so the only person who might’ve called me Rael in the entire palace didn’t even know she was supposed to! So I was just thinking of what a waste that was when I found myself in here. Boedicca, is it? What is this funny little room?”

Finally it seemed Rael wanted a response, so Boedicca cleared her throat and gave it.

“My room.” She said, quietly.

“You get your own room?” Rael asked, aghast at the unfairness of it all, “And you’re new! You must be a very important witch indeed!”

Rael suddenly adopted an expression of surprise, clapping her hands over her mouth, “Are you supposed to be the new Queen? They say that the current Queen might not be good anymore because it took her so long to find you, have you come to replace her?”

Boe widened her eyes at the question. She did not even consider herself a true witch, much less a witch Queen.

“…Is it because we took to long to find you that you are different?” Rael asked, scooting closer to her on the bed, “Did we mess up? Was it so horrible for you that some of your witchy-ness went away?”

When Boe did not answer Rael hissed in sympathy.

“How perfectly horrid!” she exclaimed, “But you know we can fix that, right? If you surround yourself with witches you’ll consume some of their power, we’re stronger when we’re together. We need to tell the others! No wonder you weren’t able to-”

Rael had began to rise from the quilt but was interrupted when she saw the door she had come through was gone, replaced with a wooden bookshelf.

“Hrm,” Rael said, turning back to Boe, “Well, maybe that’s not how to fix things then.”

Again she plopped down by Boe on the bed and studied her.

“I feel like…I feel like if we were just allowed to ask why then everything would be okay…” she finally said, “Is it alright? For me to ask why you didn’t want to shed your human identity?”

Boe stared at her with large pained eyes, but Rael did not look away.

“We don’t hate you for it,” she added, “Or at least, I don’t. If you weren’t really a witch the palace wouldn’t like you. If the palace didn’t like you, you wouldn’t have your own room! So there’s got to be some other reason, right?”

That actually made some semblance of sense, Boe suspected.

“I don’t have…I cannot be a witch,” she said, finally.

“Well that’s obviously rubbish,” Rael snapped the moment she heard the words, “If you couldn’t be a witch, you wouldn’t be here.”

��I am not…” Boe tried to think of a way to explain, “I don’t look like you do, under your clothes.”

That caught Rael’s attention to say the least.

“What? Is something wrong with your body?” she looked at how the human dress hugged Boe’s breasts and hips, and while Rael found the sight of the female form caged in cloth to be repulsive in itself, the shape didn’t seem unusual.

Boe studied Rael again, and then sighed.

“I have something you don’t have,” she finally said.

“Oh,” Rael said, still trying to spot the deviance through the cloth, “So…you have some scar or birthmark right? And you didn’t want anyone to see it?”

It looked as though Boe wished to protest, but after a moment of thought she nodded.

“Well, I don’t think that’s so bad,” Rael said, scooting up the bed to lean against Boe’s chest, “You know, I used to think my toes were weird.”

A shudder ran through Boe as Rael rested against her, lifting a slender foot for inspection, “Look, see? The little one. Its nail so tiny, sometimes it’d come off completely and not even hurt! How disgusting is that?”

There was something that needed to be said, but Boe had no idea how to say it.

“N-not a toe,” She finally managed.

Rael turned and scowled at her, “We’re not talking about you right now don’t be rude.” She chided.

A small smile came to Boe’s face, which didn’t go unnoticed by Rael.

“Think that’s funny, do you?” Rael said, “Well, that’s now things are here. We’re all of us equals, sisters, and whatever rubbish you left behind you stays behind you, understand?”

It took a moment, but Boe slowly conceded. Quietly listened to Rael chide her and nod as if the girl who looked just about her own age were a schoolmistress. Rael stayed with her that night, Boe didn’t mind. Her bed was bigger then it had been, after all.

The next day Rael was gone, as well as most of the books on the shelf. Boe wished and wished for them to reappear, but to no avail. A greener Boe might have assumed she had lost the castle’s alliance, but the moment her back was turned to the shelf Rael was sitting in the stone windowsill with a puzzled expression.

“Puludie says these make pictures,” She said, tilting the book this way and that, “But I think this one is broken and I can’t find the others.”

Boe watched her for a bit, her legs flexing and twitching as she debated standing up. Slowly, very slowly, Boe rose from her blankets to sit beside Rael on the sill. Her words were soft as she explained, her touch gentle as she slid her finger across the letters. Rael might be a silly young thing, but she was a quick study. Not quick enough to understand the appeal, however.

But even as frustrated as she became, the witch never stopped.

It wasn’t until Rael was loudly criticizing the xenophobic subtext of Sherlock Holmes that Boe realized days had passed. Perhaps even weeks, months, or years. Rael told her not to worry about that, days and nights was for mortal men doomed to die. The sky was theirs, and because it was theirs they only ever saw the light.

This came of a bit of a shock to Boe, she said some things about scientific impossibilities and tiny little invisible waves from a far off ball of gas. Rael accused her of pulling her leg, Boe insisted such was true. There was a wager- six cherry pits said that if they both stood on the topmost parapet for twenty four hours then the color of the sky would change.

Finnamine crossed her arms and said they were both being stupid. Boe was about to tell Finnamine that at least they weren’t the ones that cried like a baby over Fantine, when Boe realized Finnamine was there. And had been there for quite a while. Long enough to become righteous about Fantine, anyway.

Both Rael and Finnamine marched to the room’s exit, but Boe paused. There were enemies out there, the other witches who hated her just for existing. Hazeldora put a warm hand on Boe’s shoulder, Hazeldora who had squealed with excitement when Elizabeth gave Mr. Darcy a piece of her mind. As Boe recalled, before awakening as a witchling Hazeldora had been in a similar circumstance. Boe had left out their romance out of respect for this, awkwardly making up some story about Ms. Bennett running off with a kitchen maid.

If Hazeldora said it was alright, it must be.

Their intellectual curiosity grew on the way to the highest spire, which out of some wicked intent kept growing taller. This meant that more witches joined the debate, squabbling and talking over each other.

Boe realized she didn’t even remember what the debate had been about, only that now they weren’t in the spire at all. Instead Boe was braiding Ginnavine’s hair, as she had been doing every time Ginnavine came out of the spring. The silly girl always got twigs stuck behind her ear, and it had been bothering Boe so much that she demanded to correct the issue.

Bathing was a little awkward for Boe. She still wore her old dress, even as the others heckled her for it. But by now she was able to snap that the Queen said she looked lovely, and they could all stick it up their jumper. Lorilou asked what a jumper was, Boe turned bright red as everyone laughed.

Rael had the prettiest laugh, Boe found herself thinking. The silly witch had gone and broken her staff again, and Boe had followed her back into the grove to carve a new one. Watching her hands as she worked, Boe couldn’t stop thinking of how slender and graceful they were. Looking down at her own handiwork, she saw only scratches and splinters.

Those slender graceful hands promised to not let go of hers when she stood at the edge of the balcony, the other sisters watching in anticipation. There were mutterings of cherry pits on whether or not Boe’s silly skirt would flap back into her face the moment she jumped, but one look from the Queen shushed them.

It was a matter of tossing the skirts over one side. If she balanced just so, it gave her all the same mobility as if she rode the staff in the same fashion of her sisters. Rael was faster then Boe, of course. Rael was faster then anyone. But Finnamine said that it was a miracle Boe could fly at all with such a handicap. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to cut away just a few inches of the fabric.

The moss was too hot in the chamber of rest. It was soft against Boe’s face, but little hairs of it poked through her chemise and tickled her. She sat up, seeing that Hazeldora and Finnamine had left, leaving Rael and Boe alone. Boe looked back to Rael’s sleeping face, how even unconscious the girl had a smile on her face. Rael’s smile was sunshine itself, her entire being a laugh shaped like a person. A laugh that was lighter then air, so high and free it could lift just about anyone. Even Boe.

If Rael was only pretending to be sleeping, she had certainly woken up by the time Boe kissed her. Boe knew this, because the witch wrapped her arms around Boe’s neck and yanked her down in a fashion that was so Rael in every way Boe could only laugh. By the time they walked away from their mossy bed, Boe wore nothing at all and didn’t care who knew it.

And beyond some whispers of cherry pits being owed, that was the end of that.

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