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phoenixyfriend · 3 years

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Time Travel ft. Leia and Vader

(Helped by @atagotiak)

I was reading a bunch of different time travel fics, and my brain slotted in that one "Vader hands over the Empire to Leia and is now her most devoted sycophant" dynamic and mixed it with the "Luke and Vader time-travel and Vader does the right thing but only because it would make Luke sad if he didn't."

I landed on "Leia time travels to prequels era, but her least favorite family member has also traveled with her, though it takes him a few months to find her because he has less resources without the entire Imperial Navy, but he's still a scary Sith in all black with a breathing mask and intimidating cape."

"Tiny angry lady who wants to force democracy and her giant Sith father whom she hates but has resigned herself to pointing at threats like a tank who inexplicably loves her" is a delightful dynamic.

The first few months included a lot of concern about "why do you know so much about Sith if you're not trained or looking to be one" and then Vader shows up and calls her 'daughter' and she insults him and it's like "Oh. That explains it."

Council Member: We have a Sith in the Temple. Vader: Former Sith. Leia: Listen. He is your best chance against Sidious. Also, do you want Dooku dead? Vader can make him dead. Council Member: Your father i-- Leia, scrunching up her face: Don't call him that.

Like Leia is deep in conversation when the Temple starts panicking because Vader just. Showed up? He snuck in, somehow? So Palpatine wouldn't catch him on video entering through the front door? And people try to keep her away from the trouble, because there's an entire array of Jedi Masters to deal with this Surprise Sith, except she can sense exactly which Sith it is and once she shouts "oh you have got to be kidding me!" she just starts running and, well, it's Leia. Nobody can stop her.

(Leia does have less combat training, at least less force-assisted combat training, than the Jedi. But then the Jedi don’t want to hurt here here. She's not fighting her way down, either, she's just running really fast and all the best fighters already left. They had a head start. So Leia's mostly running past random padawans and the like.)

She shoves her way to the front of the group of Masters who. Well, they're certainly ready to attack. But Vader is just standing there. Doing nothing. Still intimidating as fuck but he's not doing anything.

And then Leia bursts onto the scene like "You motherfucker."

She hits her head on a clipboard and whines because UGH he's a walking WMD and they could REALLY use him against Palpatine but also. She hates him so much.

She tries to hand him off to the Jedi council but he insists that he will only take orders from Leia herself.

Jedi: Wait, what. Leia, completely ignoring them: Did you follow me here? Vader, through the mechanical wheezing: I have no loyalty to my master and no empire to serve. You are all that I have left. Leia: Me? Me? I'm all that you have left? You committed a genocide that killed all the family I had except for the twin brother you later mutilated! Jedi: Wait what Vader, going to one knee: I pledge my loyalty and blade to you and only you, daughter. Leia, ready to explode: I. I just. Jedi, some of whom really want to say things but are slowly realizing that they just accidentally acquired a Sith Lord by proxy: What. Leia: I hate you so much but I can't even get rid of you, you're too useful. Vader: I live to serve. Leia: Yeah. Got that. Fuck. Someone get him a full medical rundown, I don't know the last time that mess of a life support system was updated. Jedi, agitated again: WHAT Leia: Listen, I don't like him, but I'm not stupid enough to throw away the second most dangerous person in the universe when I can point him at the most dangerous person in the universe. Especially not if he's going to listen to me. Jedi: But... he's a Sith. Leia: Please trust me when I say this: you might be able to take him down eventually, but he will take dozens of you down with him, and right now he's... honestly, I'm pretty sure he's more depressed than malicious. Jedi: You hate him. I can feel it. Leia: Yes, but I can be professional about it. Vader: They have not yet d-- Leia: Nope! No talking! Not until I've had a chance to process this mess!

There is a whole lot of Leia snapping at Vader to stop it whenever he starts giving off vibes like he wants to take the most violent shortcut possible.

She is not the gentle hand that Luke would be.

Leia isn't a Jedi or working for them but she's wormed her way into being an ally. They don't 100% trust her, especially not with Vader just showing up and declaring her family but like

How do you say no to a WMD walking into your house and saying "I will fight the monster you cower from at night."

There's a lot of Leia snapping off an admonishment that sounds just a little too odd and then when questioned she just says "He knows what he did."

tbh I'm not sure how long it takes for them to tell anyone that Anakin is Vader. They might hold it off in hopes that Anakin can just retire to be Mr. Amidala after the war is over.

Well, Leia hopes. Vader just lets Leia make that call and then glowers at his younger self every time they're in the same room.

I do feel like Leia tells Obi-Wan the truth first

Imagine. Imagine a Vader who’s past still isn’t known. But has gotten somewhat comfortable around the Jedi (not really but the bar for what counts and comfortable for him is low). And Obi-Wan habitually banters with darksiders, right? If Vader’s guard is down for a moment and he, without thinking, references an inside joke...

Might be the most fun in terms of ways to tell Obi-Wan "We're time travelers and Vader is what happens if you let Palpatine drive Anakin off the edge"

If Vader has decided to pledge himself to her orders after destroying her planet, then fine. She can work with that. She's not going to be happy about it, but she can make it work.

The Jedi Temple hates having Vader anywhere nearby but he is actually very good at hiding himself from people, including Palpatine And for all that Leia seems perpetually irritated with her apparent bodyguard, he does seem to listen to her.

Jedi council: We still haven't figured out how to handle Dooku Leia: Do you know his location? Jedi council: Yes. Leia: [sigh] Leia: Vader, deal with it. Alive if possible.

(Leia does need to clarify an acceptable level of violence against the people protecting Dooku.) (She needs to clarify... many things.)

Leia always says "Vader" and one time a poor fool just asks why she doesn't call him dad and she snarls out "He is not the man that raised me, and I am glad for it."

Someone less foolish later prods more compassionately and she lets them know she was adopted and didn't properly meet Vader except in passing until she was nineteen.

"And then he tortured you." "And then he tortured me, yes." "Damn." "Didn't even find out we were related until a few years later when he chopped my brother's arm off." "You... wow." "I know."

At least one exchange that is L: You mean when you tortured me? A: He did what. V: I was not aware of our relation at that time. L: Not the point! I am fully aware of your interrogation methods and I refuse to let you be the one to acquire the evidence for-- A: Wait no go back he tortured you? L: Move on, please, we already have. A: That means I'm... oh Force, I'm going to torture my own daughter what in the actual fu-- L: We're moving on.

(“I end up torturing my own daughter” If Leia’s feeling especially spiteful I can see her saying “you mutilate your own son too”)

Concept: Leia is very free with traumatizing details of her past re:Vader and Anakin thinks that it sucks but doesn’t think much of it bc Sith. And then some time later he finds out...

(I love characters who use the traumatizing details of their past to shut down conversations.)

It's such a wonderfully horrifying concept for him to try to awkwardly comfort this girl he kind of knows because having a Sith for a dad sounds like it would suck and Leia seems nice, even if she's kind of weird and uncomfortable around Anakin, but he saw her flinch around a few other tall people wearing black robes the way she stiffens around Vader so maybe it's just that!

It is not.

Vader does get a significant amount of medical treatment. Including a bunch of "holy shit, that's a lot of drugs" and similar. There is so much lightning damage.

hnnng I'm just really in love with the image of Tiny Tiny Leia sitting behind a desk for some fancy negotiation, the picture of professionalism, while Vader just stands behind her shoulder, looming, glaring expressionless death at whoever came to speak with his baby girl.

Not that he would call her that, because she'd just hate him more and he's really not sure how to fix that problem, other than doing whatever she asks with no complaints and hoping she appreciates it.

Vader: [looks at children wandering by, has complicated emotions] Leia, tired of his shit: What now? Vader: I killed them, once. Leia, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath: And you're not going to do that again. No killing children. Vader: I know that. Leia: Great. I am... regretting asking. I am so very much regretting asking.

I do really like the idea of someone asking Leia once if she wants Jedi training and she says, no, actually, she's fully aware of the fact that she's angry little ball of hate sometimes, especially towards her bio father, and she'd like to refrain from putting herself in a position where she knows enough about the Force to Fall. She wouldn't Fall. But it does make people shut up.

#leia organa #princess leia #Darth Vader #Anakin Skywalker #obi wan kenobi #star wars #time travel #Phoenix Posts

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husbandohunter · 3 years

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Dear Father [Genshin Impact/Diluc x Reader]

Synopsis: Wherever you are wherever you may be, even if you are beyond my reach, I only wish to see you again. -from a letter lost in the wind.

(A story where you and Diluc somehow managed to meet Crepus)

Genre: all fluff

"I know how late I am to father's day but here's my father's day take on Genshin Impact! Just let Diluc be happy for once T_T Mihoyo pls."

============================

Discovering Master Crepus' old belongings was like wandering in a domain surrounded by ancient artifacts. Each piece holding the memory of someone you've never met.

The paintings. Master Crepus loved to paint. Typically birds were the main muse of this portraits since they deeply embodied Mondstadt's values for freedom which shows you how much he cherished this city just like his son did. In almost every hallway you walked through there was a collection of his paintings, some belonged to another artist but the majority was an original work. Diluc didn't have the heart to sell them.

Elzer. He was one of the oldest workers who served under the Ragnvindr name, ever since Master Crepus had appointed him during his earlier days. You were told that he treated everyone, both staff and noble, with equal respect. Almost all the denizens of Mondstadt knew this man for he was not only noble in riches but also in the soul.

"I'm sure he would have loved to meet you in person. Now that I think about it, you and Master Crepus are quite similar. Haha, it seems that Master Diluc was selective in terms of who he wanted for his future bride."

Elzer adds with a light chuckle but the statement only made you more curious. A man who affected the lives of so many others, he must have been a wonderful person.

Diluc. The bloodline Master Crepus left behind after his death, a piece of himself and the heir to the whole wine industry, his son Diluc. Although you could see the resemblance in appearance, both of them were men of prinicples and values, putting Mondstadt first before anything else and you suddenly realized if that was the reason why Diluc was so protective of this city. As if, it were everything he had? You could tell he loved Master Crepus very much, not because he said so, rather the painful expression buried deep within his crimson glare whenever someone brought up the topic. Diluc was skilled in hiding himself, it's something he practiced over the years of working alone, though he lowered his guard as long as you were the only one present.

Even so, he had many conflicts still wringing him internally and you didn't want to push him until the day he felt ready to personally tell you himself.

But it would be nice if he opened up, just a little bit.

There were times when you would worry since Diluc had the tendency to hide his feelings for the sake of not troubling you. He wanted to keep life simple and bright, bringing the best to the table while making sure that you lived safely out of harm's way. You couldn't seem to get him to understand that as lovers, you would be happy to help him, in anything. Unconditionally. It was natural for you to feel the need to force yourself in every once in a while and there was nothing more you wanted to know than the story of the man who raised him.

You would even jest on the idea of what it fel like to meet Master Crepus in person. Were you able to reach his standards by any chance? Would he have liked you just as everyone claimed? Of course, they were only silly indulgent thoughts so you quickly dismissed them in the end. Bringing back the past was impossible no matter how badly you wanted it. You closed your heart on that possibility.

On a lovely evening, while you and Diluc were taking your time off Angel's Share to make a stroll around Mondstadt's quiet streets, a strange merchant called over to you. She displayed various antiques ranging from different sizes to designs, none of them seemed to haven been carved in the same place but distinct cultures throughout Teyvat. The only thing they had in common was that they were all equally beautiful to the eye.

However a particular item of what looks like to be a heart locket snatches your attention and you instantly became mesmerized, allured by it's mysterious charm.

"Ah, the locked heart caught your fancy, my lady? It's said once you open it, you will be set free."

"It's magnificent..." you muttered, staring unabashed at the shining surface.

Diluc who was observing from behind folded his arms and tilts his head, "How much is that?"

Although you intended to simply inspect the choices, your lover immediately offers to pay. They all already gave the impression of a hefty price and you didn't want him to spend his fortune on things that deemed unecessary. Still, this wasn't the first time it happened. Diluc would always insist whenever you protested against him from buying anything, it was just a way of expressing his affections towards you. Mora was never a problem and you were priceless. That's how he sees things. You had to remind yourself to be careful when stumbling upon a bustling area full of salesmen next time.

"Five hundred thousand mora."

He purchased it without hesitation.

On your way home, Diluc noticed that something was amiss. You couldn't tear your gaze from the locket as if it had hypnotized you by the golden smooth surface. He had to ensure you didn't run into anyone by accident, tugging your arm closer so that it gave him an opportunity to lead you where you yourself could not. Surely it must have been the appearance but instead of being drawn by, you were drawn in. Completely.

I wonder...what will happen if I open it?

"(Y/n)?" Diluc narrows his eyebrows together. Did you like it that much? No, he knew you weren't the type to be so etranced by jewelry, this was certainly different. Even the merchant seemed a little suspicious when she approached you and Diluc couldn't ignore the heavy sense of aminosity that was emitted around her aura. He couldn't think within her presence but now that his mind was much clearer, he was able to use his skillful judgements.

"Wait...! Don't open it yet-"

However, he was too late.

The wind picks up at an alarming speed and you both brought up your arms to block the debris that had flown in the way. They swirled in non-stop motion until your worlds were engulfed with not even the sky in sight. Amidst the turmoil Diluc latchest onto you and holds your body close his chest as he was determined to protect against any force that dared to hurt you. Something heavy knocks his head and he winces, tighting his hold even further. Your voice could hardly be heard with all the noise that rung around and eventually you discovered the the world wasn't disappearing. You both were.

The last thought you had was the image of Master Crepus and you didn't know why.

---

"Diluc? Diluc?"

He faintly heard his name through a series of echoes. Diluc fights to regaind concousness, feeling your grip upon his shoulder while trying to urge him awake.

"Diluc are you alright?"

Your worried face was the first thing he sees other than the fog that looms above. Diluc blinks a few times in an attempt to ease his migraine, using one arm to force his body into a seating position as he allowed himself to be supported by you at the same time.

"Does your head hurt?" You ask, palming gently against his forehead to feel the heat. Even if her was usually very warm, there was no unusual rise in tempurature, something must have hit him instead, "Here, maybe this will help."

Bringing out your hand you concentrated on generating the water through your fingertips. Having a hydro vision meant you were capable of healing magic which Diluc appreciated since he often came home late at night with injuries hidden behind his sleeves. But nothing came out and he became even more suspicious of the situation.

"Eh? What's going on?" You blurted out, patting down your clothes and your pockets, "My Vision, it's gone too!"

"Mine as well," Diluc flexes his fingers to test his own element, "It seems that our powers were sealed once we entered this domain."

"A domain that prevents you from using a Vision? That doesn't sound very comforting," you scratched your head, suddenly remembering the cause of your current problem, "The locket...it's all starting to make sense now. Ugh, I should have listened to you earlier, I'm sorry Diluc."

"No (Y/n), you don't have to apologize," he interjects and you returned a curious glance, "I should have stopped you the minute I discovered there was something strange. I was too careless."

"You felt that too? I thought I was the only one," your tone and face mimics one of surprise. The fog continues to dance around, enclosing the two of you to the small area. You lifted your head and looked above in deep contemplation, "When I saw the locket I couldn't tear my eyes off of it, like something was pulling me in. Like...there was a spell casted on it."

"What do you mean?" he asked in an inquisitive manner.

You nod, "I can't put my finger on it bit Ifel that the locket wanted me to..." balling your fist upon your lap, you stared intensely at the floor as if drilling holes into them while digging into the depths of your mind for any specific clues. Initially you thought the locket was so captivating that you were simply charmed by it's craftmanship. But tere was more than that, you began deciphering, there was also a need for fulfillment. A yearning desire, "to know. The locket was calling me to know."

'Once you open it, you will be set free.'

"To know..." you trailed off. How strange. No matter how much you tried to rationalize, you were always brought back to the same square as if the locket knew exactly what you wanted. What you were lacking. Because the one thing you wanted to know most about was the person you've never met, "Someone very important to you."

The fog dispersed.

Diluc instinctively puts an arm in front of you defensively as he scanned his quick and thorough eyes around the area. It didn't take long for him to know exactly where everything was. In fact, the abrupt change isn't what puts him on high alert, but it was how familiar everything looked to the point he evaluates if there was any reason to be skeptical or if he should be breathtaken.

"What a beautiful house," However you didn't recognize it. Diluc knew because he had yet to meet you during the time he lived in this estate, "I wonder who does it belong to?"

"Father's old mansion...how?" Diluc breatlessly mutters, as if seeing the supremecy of Celestia for the first time. When years passed after his father died, he chose to sell off the majority of his belongings, the mansion being on for example. Currently it was in the possession of a well-known business associate that used to be a friend of Crepus. The mansion would likely have looked much different due to the renovations it gone through but Diluc remembers the picture as if this were yesterday. Everything was in tact. The vine yard, the gazebo where they drank tea, the hill that he and Kaeya used to race on when they were kids-

Revelation burns in his pupils as his eyes expanded.

"Welcome home, my son."

Both you and Diluc fall wordless at the sight that appeared like a miracle's blessing. Crepus stands at a distance, the graceful smile complimenting his warm features. He looked exactly how the court artists portrayed him in the Ragnvindr's family picture. Sharp face with gentle eyes and an aura that was as pleasant as what Elzer described.

"So this is why the locket was calling to us," you whispered, "I guess the mora really was worth it after all."

"...Fa...ther...."

You snuck a glance at Diluc. From behind the resemblance was as clear as dawn, like you were staring at a carbon copy of Master Crepus himself. Almost. He was a less hardened version of Diluc during uncommon situations. It made you think just how much you didn't know before his father passed away. What kind of person was this man during his days as a knight? You never had the chance to know.

"Father is that really you?" Diluc couldn't help his voice from trembling, paralyzed in place when he could hardly make sense of what stands in front of him. The person he longed to hear from, the person who left the world too quick, Diluc was afraid to get his hopes up in case his father suddenly disappeared and everything was just an illusion conjured by his mind. He was already used to being betrayed and dealt with disappointment too often. Which is why he learned to trust only himself. But, right now, can he really trust himself?

Feeling your hand gently on his shoulders, Diluc was brought back to reality. You smiled with warm reassurance that bled into your voice, "It's okay Diluc. Go, I'm here for you."

There was the faintest light shining in his eyes as emotions swell in his chest. Ever since you came Diluc never had to feel alone anymore, truly, you were the light that was brought back into his eyes, to his life when he gave up the thought of seeing it again. If he couldn't trust himself then at the very least, he could trust you.

"Thank you," he embraces you wholly like you were everything, and you were, before letting go and taking off to the otherside.

The air hits him in a rush and knocks the ones out of his lungs, "Father!" Diluc yells with tearful eyes. For the first time in a long while he was finally letting his feelings run free, "Father!" A name that felt foreign upon words that is pushes him forward, wanting to claim the truth that was smiling from afar.

"Father!"

Crepus lifted his arms and openly catches Diluc when he crashed into him. Here. He was here. He certainly was.

"Haha its been a while hasn't it my son?" He begins, encasing Diluc in a hug like he did the day he turned eighteen. Crepus was a tall man and his genes seemed to have went through. Back when they were younger, Diluc managed to only reach the blade of his shoulders, just barely. Now they were practically the same height, "Look how much you've grown over the years. There were so many things I planned to say but I don't know where to start."

Seven years. That was how long Crepus spent alone with his thoughts. He saw what happened through that time span, the truth about the Knights and Kaeya's origins. To say that none of that bothered him would be a lie. Especially when his son was the most impacted throughout all the events.

"Father I...I-" Diluc tries to speak but the words dissolved the moment it reached his tongue. He wasn't the type to be very good at expressing emotions. None of it could simply be communicated by sentences. For him, actions spoke louder yet somehow, they still wouldn't be enough. Nothing can comprehend the weight of seven years.

Crepus seemed to have understood and fills in the gap instead, "I have also missed you and Kaeya. More than I can even say. It must have been so hard for you both to endure it all by yourselves. Life hits us when we least expect it but despite that, you still chose to persevere."

Diluc clenches his hold, face buried in his shoulders and mouth quivering as he barely answers, "Yeah."

"You're both my pride and joy no matter what happens, as a father I cannot be more proud," before knowing, everything that was said came out naturally from his spirit. Crepus may have his own set of things to share but he knew what Diluc needed the most, "So please don't stop relying on one another, don't always think that you have to do everything alone. Stength is a virtue. However, its okay to let go and allow new people to come into your life. I don't need to be avenged, as long as you and Kaeya are happy, its all I ask for."

As if the world had been lifted from his shoulders, Diluc allows himself to break just this once. On the outside, he was known to be an unstoppable force, the Mondstadt tycoon, the uncrowned king and a hero who serves at night. But here you saw only a boy who dearly missed his father as he hugs him tightly. Although you couldn't hear their conversation clearly, just watching them from where you stood was enough to make your eyes glisten from pure happiness.

"You finally chose to open your heart, right Diluc?" You quietly note to yourself, "You don't have to carry everything by yourself anymore, you're free."

'Once you open it, you will be set free.'

He was able to dwell in this one in a lifetime experience, all because you unlocked the heart and dispersed the fog inside.

They spent a good amount of minutes bringing the distance back together after being seperated for so many years. You made sure to make minimal movements in the consideration of their time. It was only temporary until Crepus noticed you standing in the distance and he gave you a quick glance. Your whole body tenses in response, suddenly feeling guilty as if you were a third wheel who didn't belong in the moment between two family members.

He's staring at me. Diluc's father is staring at me! Your thoughts panicked along with your thrumming heart. What should I do?!!

"I see you've brought someone along with you," He comments, the playfulness rising in his tone, "She seems to have been waiting for quite a while already. If you don't mind, may you do the honours of introducing her to me?"

Diluc turns to see you stiffened in place with your hands tightly clasped below your stomach and heat pooling from your ear to your cheeks as you dipped your head down. His father was a kind man and he couldn't understand there the discomfort came from, yet found it endearing nonetheless. Diluc walks over to you and extends his hand, silently urging you to come with him. You complied, albeit hesitantly at first.

"It'll be okay my love," he whispered softly, causing you to be taken aback by the nickname he called you by. Diluc often reserves them for special instances and this was one of them, "Whatever the staff told you about my father, they're the truth. Trust in their judgement. Trust in me."

"Diluc..." you say, voice fading. You knew him to be someone who always kept his word and someone who would never lie to you. Taking in a short breath, you nodded, "Alright, I will," and followed his lead.

There was once a time where you indulged in the idea of facing Master Crepus in person. But never did you prepare yourself for the amount of pressure it came with. Now that you were together with his son, there was a high chance that he would also become part of his family too, sooner or later. You weren't just meeting Master Crepus. You were also meeting your future father-in-law.

"Father, this is (Y/n)," Diluc starts the welcoming exchanges. You felt his hand squeeze yours gently. He turns to you so that you caught glimpse of his face, seeing the reverance in his gaze that was hinted among his handsome features, "She's the woman I fell in love with and I would do anything to make her happy. I cherish her more than anything else."

"D-Diluc!" you flushed, your embarassment as red as his own hair. But he wasn't bothered by it in the slightest.

"I only speak the truth."

Master Crepus lets out a content chuckle, drawing both of your attentions back to him, "He can be surprising poetic sometimes but I'm sure that he got it from me. Even my wife reacted the same way," he reminisced shortly before sighing, "In truth I already knew that you were together. Staying in the after life gave me the chances to watch things from an omniscient standpoint, I was sincerely worried how Diluc would handle things when I suddenly left, I hope you don't mind. If you do, I apologize for making you uncomfortable."

"N-Not at all!"

"Haha, you're very kind. Thank you. I'm glad that my son was able to find a woman like you to be his fated partner. As a parent, it brings me great reassurance," Crepus remarked, "I know he can be stubborn and a little too headstrong when it comes to making decisions. It really must be a handful for you to deal with at times but I promise you that he means well. So please continue to watch over him in my stead, take care of my son while I'm gone."

"You can count on me," you beamed, "I'll give it my all."

"You have my gratitude (Y/n)," Crepus replies and turned to Diluc, "And listen to her every once in a while. I may have been the previous owner of our wine industry but even I always make sure to get me sufficient amount of rest. Son you know its bad to get two to three hours of sleep every day."

You blinked, "Two to three hours?"

Diluc clears his throat, "I understand Father. You don't have to say it."

Oh I think he does.

With a satisfied grin, Crepus took both of your hands together in his and gave you his blessings. The man once considered to be an artifact through the vast mansion was going to be part of the memories in your life. All of your expressions held as much happiness as the future can become now that he gave you the closure you both needed.

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pepsicup · 3 years

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Problems Of A Spaceman

Chris Beck x Stripper!Reader 6.4k words

Summary: Chris attempts to gain some confidence back after his fiancée leaves him, though, the journey is different than he thought it would be... (smut, mentions of cheating, self-deprecation, exotic dancing, space kink because duh, dope fucking music choice if I do say so myself)

Author note: yes I did write this four years ago, this is an updated version since I recently found it after deleting my other blog, enjoy.

2037

It shouldn’t even be a thing. Chris didn’t get nervous, this was something new for him. After thirteen years of education, five standard spacewalks and a back-to-back trip to the newly colonized neighbouring red planet, nothing should phase him anymore – but that was space. There were things significantly more nerve-wracking than his current situation; perhaps he was better at being an astronaut than fulfilling his social and romantic life.

While taking all the prerequisites required for NASA and in medical school, he didn’t have time for fraternizing with anyone, most people in the medical field experience that. It was a miracle that he could even keep the attention of his ex-fiancée during the mission to Mars since he didn’t exactly know how to flirt. No matter how intelligent he was, all of that did nothing to help him in his personal life and everything that came with it.

Furthermore, the sexual aspect was a problem for him, too.

He’s never had an opportunity to explore himself with another person, of course, he’s had plenty of sex but, it was nothing more than the standard modus operandi. Beth was hard to navigate, she was disengaged and blatantly selfish, eventually blaming him for her unfaithful tendencies and lack of interest when he was the only one making an effort. It ended as it began, a complete circumstantial shitshow and because of that, he is on a mission to gain self-confidence back.

Since she kicked him out, he’s been sleeping in the spare room of his good friends’ house for the last couple of months while his new apartment is being renovated. Mark Watney was a single man who knew what that position felt like, and who also knew the beginnings of a solution. The ability to pay women for their undivided attention did wonders for a man’s ego, especially at an exclusive gentlemen’s club rather than a regular strip joint. It is more of a candid transaction that was valued at both ends.

And it is very exclusive. It required a reservation to save a slot since it was so well-known and a general, but hefty, fee at the door as insurance.

He made it sound like the easiest thing in the world, but on the other hand, Chris was so fucking anxious to go that he could vividly feel his blood pumping in overdrive. He’s never, ever attended a place like that before. But as he looked up at the classy, luminescent sign of the building that lit up the dark parking lot, he started to wonder what exactly he’s getting himself into. Just as long as he isn’t awkward, maybe everything will be okay.

Don’t be weird, don’t fuck it up. Simple.

He repeated those words in his head as he was looked over by the heavy before being let in and did everything the lady at the front desk told him to. After that, it was time to be escorted through the big fancy door.

The initial shock passed through him quickly, the smell of perfume, cigars and liquor weren’t as bad as he thought it was going to be. But once he rounded the corner into the main lounge the nerves were back. The wild colours in the dusky lighting gave the atmosphere an alluring feel as he bared witness to scarcely clothed women dancing on stage, at tables with other men and walking around the floor.

He adjusted his ball cap to sit lower on his face and scanned the room for a free seat, suddenly feeling a little overwhelmed and needing to sit down before he either collapsed or backed out entirely. Chris Beck was not good at this.

Could he perform surgery after surgery for 16 hours straight? Yes.

Can he proudly say that he is an award-winning astronaut that helped shape the future of space science? Fuck yeah, he can.

Can he say that he can bed anyone he wants and walk around like he owns the place? No, no he cannot.

The spaceman sat in a vacant booth near the left side of the stage, tucked away in a dark corner to observe as he planned. Yeah, he was good at observing. Watney reassured him before he left, stating that he did specialize in human anatomy and he should do what he does best...observe, evaluate and execute, which helped a bit. A doctor’s point of view was his only saving grace right now, he’d stick to that comfortable method for as long as he can.

Observe.

He found himself zoning in on different interactions that played out as time ticked by. Many lovely women took their turn on stage, very healthy and some men had been taken behind curtains and even thrown out for inappropriate behaviour. He made of a note of that in the back of his mind if there ever came a time. No touching.

He didn’t know how much time had passed since he arrived. There were a few nice girls who came over to talk to him, but he declined any offers they threw his way respectfully and chose to remain where he was instead. Although, just when he thought about turning in for the night, the lights suddenly dimmed until it was almost pitch-black. So dark that he couldn’t even see his hand.

The emcee bordered more background music that rattled his chest through the speakers above the circle booth, it increased slowly and he assumed it was building up to another track. The crowd of regulars and new attendees alike cheered loudly at the change of pace, Chris perked up and clapped along with them even though he had no clue as to what.

“Ladies, gentlemen and every-damn-one in between, we have a special treat for you tonight.” the man announced heartily.

He continued as the music came to a peak, then dissipated as he spoke the moniker of the next dancer, “Your house favourite has decided to give you a dance that I think is out of this world...please welcome to the stage, Ares”

The patrons went wild as Chris, on the other hand, went rigid – almost choking on his drink.

As the projected images of deep space filled the room in a flash, a dancer was now on stage walking around in something simple, yet sexy. No one could get enough of her or the choreography, staying for her performances that always seemed to have a different aesthetical essence every time she made an appearance.

The modest man couldn’t stop looking at her, she was the main focus of the room – but for him, the significance was completely different from the others. What were the chances that one of his biggest passions in life could be used as an exotic dance theme, materialized right in front of his eyes?

But when the music started...that’s when things even more interesting.

The song wasn’t one he anticipated, he assumed it would be the same club music that made his eardrums shudder, but this slow beat only made his senses buzz, and not just from the vibrations. He enjoyed the older music his commander played after years of listening to it. So, when he detected the beginning of this underrated 1972 classic by Harry Nilsson, this stripper had his full attention.

Bang, bang, shoot em’ up, destiny Bang, bang, shoot em’ up to the moon Bang, bang, shoot em’ up one, two, three (One, two, three, four)

The woman circled the pole as the song started to wind up, making little gestures to the regulars and letting the music guide her. She hit every deep strum of the guitar by waving her hips from side to side delicately, still holding on to the shiny metal planted at her side.

As the artist started to sing the corresponding words, she spun around the pole. The lights caught the small crystals on her one-piece and somehow, scattered like the night sky on her bare skin. Her hips moved sinfully as her body followed the fluid movements like Saturn’s rings, circulating with the natural orbit of the planet. Or pole in this case.

I wanted to be a spaceman That’s what I wanted to be But now that I am a spaceman Nobody cares about me

Next, with every distinct beat, she put her back to the pole, slid down and arose in one fell swoop. She twirled once, flipping her hair behind her head and rolling her lower body ‘round and around and around and around as the words called out above the hollering. The attention was now drawn to her lower body.

Highlighting her assets as dancers called it.

Hey Mother Earth, won’t ‘cha bring me back down Safely to the sea But ‘round and around and around and around Is all she ever say to me

She melted down on all fours to crawl across the platform, doing the next progressions effortlessly. She laid on her back, arching her body like a tidal wave entranced by the moon, rolling onto her stomach, and using her knees to sweep her torso across the floor until she was up in a kneeling position again.

The way she created a giant slip from her ass to her shoulders gave the perfect view of her behind to the men and women on the left side of the stage, money cascading across her body. It was quick yet elegant.

I wanted to make a good run I wanted to go to the moon I knew that it had to be fun I told ‘em to send me real soon I wanted to be a spaceman That’s what I wanted to be But now that I am a spaceman Nobody cares about me

She repeated similar moves to the first chorus but on her knees this time, feeling up her own body, wiggling her assets playfully at whoever she wanted – connecting with the audience. Chris was captivated by the way she carried her body like that, the slightly distorted music gave a sexy edge to her routine that caused his cock to throb in his jeans.

In his big doctor brain, he was trying to figure out how someone could be so graceful. Even if he felt ashamed of viewing her so strenuously, he justified it by observing her anatomy like the surgeon he was.

She didn’t wear high heels, opting to be barefoot, and the only extravagant makeup she wore was something that made her body sparkle. Her simple lingerie wasn’t something that stole the show, she just came as herself. The differences help him tell a lot about who she was, the little details sending signals to his genius mind.

Hey Mother Earth, won’t 'cha bring me back down Safely to the sea Around and around and around and around Is just a lot of lunacy (yeah, yeah)

The break in the lyrics gave a sense of anticipation, the echo prepared everyone for the next verse as the song swerved in and out of a muffled tone. Then, she was watching him.

Chris abruptly looked away as the mood changed, his breath hitching as he erratically glanced around before settling on her again. She appeared to be showing off for him now with a smile on her lips. He swallowed thickly as his mouth began to water and dry out at the same time, exchanging aggressive eye contact with the woman that had his undivided attention.

The music got lost in the background noise as they disappeared into their own world, his heart pulsed in his ear and his breath shallowed as everything around them was lost. It was like the earth had stopped spinning, the gravity giving out so the spaceman could feel weightless. There were faint pictures of the cosmos floating across his flushed skin, revealing his lip clamped between his impressively white teeth.

'Round and around and around and around and around (So bring me back down) 'Round and around and around and around and around Safe on the ground

He wasn’t trying to be sensual, Chris chewed his bottom lip when he was either content, uneasy or nervous. And nervous he was. Those eyes said innocence but the rest of him screamed sex fiend who could pound her into another universe if provoked, it definitely piqued her interest.

She never had the pleasure of seeing a person in tune with her like that before, it was refreshing. He looked like he was genuinely enjoying the way her body made him react but on a more personal level, something difficult to accomplish from 15 feet away.

Hey Mother Earth, better bring me back down Safely to the sea But around and around and around and around Is all she ever say to me, yeah

She had to be the one to break the intense eyefuck that was taking place, on both ends, in the middle of her set. Chris sensed the music drift back in, the planet rotating once more and coming back to himself after his mind floated away into endless space amongst many stars filling the void. As the song came to a close, she followed the rest of her routine with similar moves, collecting herself after a mere moment.

Everything was simply...simple.

But there was still so much of the unknown that came with the woman she was, remaining understated in this line of work and feeding a lot of emotion into her life passion. He could feel it.

That is the exact reason why she was a house favourite.

You know, I wanted to be a spaceman That’s what I wanted to be But now that I am a spaceman Nobody cares about me Say hey, you Mother Earth, you better bring me back down I’ve taken just as much as I can But around and around and around and around Is the problem of a spaceman

Evaluate.

That spaceman had a problem alright.

She just took him on a fucking cosmic ride that will be burned into his mind for the foreseeable future. His pants were now painfully tight, pressing his cock close to his body so that every time he moved his tip would be stimulated by his silky briefs. He was being forced to evaluate his current predicament.

He thought about the next step as the projections faded from the room and her along with them, completely vanished by the time the lights dimmed down and back up again.

Chris originally wanted to stay for a while longer to watch some more, not pushing himself to do more than he was prepared for; progress takes time and it depends on the person. He evaluated the options in front of him, either pursue the course that led him to the woman who just blew his mind or, stick with what he had been doing for the past five months – fucking his hand while he rested alone in his bed.

Eventually, after he gave into the disconcerted feeling picking him apart, he went with the familiar option and kept his head down in disappointment at his lack of confidence, sliding out of the booth. He just wanted to go home at this point, maybe he would try again another day. He nearly reached the exit when a security guard abruptly stopped him from leaving, he thought he did something wrong at first but as it turns out, that was far from what was the case.

“No, you didn’t do anything—you’re being requested by a dancer” the large man chuckled.

Chris looked up at the man that towered over him, questioning the authenticity of the claim. He clapped him on the shoulder.

“If I were you, man...I would take the dance. She rarely takes requests but offering...one in a million”

The security guard walked him into the back where the exclusive rooms were and into one with a large circular seat, gentle lighting and parlour cabinet full of assorted items. It wasn’t a suffocating space, but he felt like he was running out of oxygen

“Enjoy the show, man” with that final word, he left Chris alone in the room.

Once the door clicked, he rushed to rub his sweaty palms on his dark jeans and took a shaky breath as he sat down, pulling on the neckband of his sweater. In the meantime, he worked on not being so high strung, the door being behind him didn’t help as he waited for her to come. While the anticipation slowly drove him nuts, he ran the three steps Watney reminded him of in his cloudy mind.

Observe, evaluate and...execute.

Execute.

He was startled at the hands sneaking around his shoulders and lightly down his chest, making him jump in a bit in the big velvet chair. He was too deep in his thoughts to hear the door open behind him or her walking in on his stiff back facing her. Chris heard her soft chuckle behind him and felt the warm air caress his sensitive neck.

“Easy loverboy” Ares cooed in a low voice.

If it wasn’t before, his heart was racing at lightspeed now. She had such a strong effect on him.

“...you’re very tense. Did you know that?” she whispered behind his ear.

He shivered at the feeling and slowly nodded, not trusting his stupid mouth to not say something awkward.

She chuckled again, “You have the prettiest blue eyes...even from a distance”

The woman walked around his seated boy, keeping her hands on him but moving them with her until she was faced with the mystery man from the darkest corner in the lounge. He wasn’t looking at her, but around her, and trying to find somewhere to rest his relentless gaze. It was all in vain though, she trailed her finger along his jaw and under his chin, forcing his eyes to hers.

“Hmm, there they are—better up close” she bit her lip softly.

He looks so timid, with his big beady eyes and those perfectly pouted lips working in the evilest ways. Chris blushed at the compliment, feeling better about himself already.

Watney might actually be right about this whole excursion after all.

“I—uh, thank you” he murmured.

Chris cursed himself for already stuttering like a dumbass.

In his defence, she was touching him ever-so-gently and how can he not trip up his words with her looking like a holy goddess. Ironic, given the circumstance. And now, he couldn’t look away.

Especially since her hands travelled upwards to pull his NASA ball cap off, then leaning forward while maintaining that close proximity as she unzipped his sweater, helping him pull it off.

“We don’t need those” Ares whispered, tossing the garments on the floor.

But there was always some teasing before the actual contact.

As she put distance between their bodies, he was resting almost slack in the chair – legs parted, arms limp at his side and in his lap as soft music began to play. The apple of throat bobbed in his tight throat as she began moving slowly in front of him, full of grace and precision. She was like a supernova, its effortlessly soft edges melting into the black of space as her skin did with her bodysuit. The fact that he was the only one seeing it made the experience that much sweeter, all those feelings coming back from earlier.

He was also able to recognize that she was wearing subtle glitter and rhinestones that temporarily fused to her skin, causing the shine and sparkle of her body on stage.

Once she gave him time to get comfortable, she spread his legs apart and hovered her back over his chest, grinding her ass into his lap. The shampoo and light perfume made his sex twitch as he inhaled it in, trying his best not to give in and touch. He kept his hands on the edges of the chair, his fingers digging into it painfully – he remembered what happened to the other guys, how they got thrown out. Chris just wants to watch, that’s good enough for him.

No touching.

Ares leaned forward slightly, arching her back and hitting his private areas in all the right places, gradually making him break out into a small sweat. The woman rubbed her ass on his lap expertly and before he knew it, she pressed herself against him to lay her head on his shoulder.

“I hope you know, the way you looked at me...you really know how to get a girl hot and bothered.”

Of course, he blushed again. His face was burning like the sun at this point.

“I...I was just enjoying it—you are very talented” Chris laughed nervously.

He turned his face slightly, absentmindedly following the heat of her skin until he was fanning her neck, so close...but never touching. He was so, sooo close, but felt so far.

She stood up without warning and slowly turned around, pushing him back into the back of the chair more and watching as he widened eyes dilated further at her forwardness. He’d clearly never had a lap dance so he probably didn’t know about what happened during one. She set her legs on either side of his thighs, effectively straddling him to get on with the real deal. She smoothed her arms around his neck and left them to hang lazily off the back of the chair, never breaking eye contact the entire time.

“That’s very sweet, I can feel how excited you are...”

As she began to move, their heads fell back simultaneously from the direct friction. Ares righted her head after a second and pressed into his personal space, their noses touching every time she moved up his lower body and back down again. She circled her hips a couple of times and breathed out a sigh, it was nice not giving lap dances to the clingy regulars and giving a man like this her talented movements and motions instead. It was different this time around, the atmosphere was weirdly intimate – he just gave off that energy.

“Very excited...” Ares added.

Chris shuttered as she rested her entire body weight on his clothed erection at the sentence, now realizing how difficult it was not to touch. Though she picked up on his hesitation and demeanour instantaneously. She stroked all over his arms, chest and stomach for the first time, feeling how cut the guy really was, there were endless muscles. Very practical.

He gave her a shy smile, “It’s been a long time since I’ve felt this way—to, uh...to have my body behave this way, I mean”

“Ah, I’m turning you on?...” she asked, leaning in.

Chris didn’t know what to say to that, he’s never been good in these situations and more often than not resorted to the only thing he knows everything about. He’s starting to lose his cool and what happens when he loses his cool?

Well, he is not very smooth.

“I, um...it’s the body sending signals the corresponding part of the brain...neurons fire commands and simulate the, uh...ohh,” a moan cut off his rambling.

He could feel himself getting closer to his release, something he didn’t want but also desperately wanted at the same time. He was already on edge when he was in the booth, his brain constantly stimulating his sex to the point where his boner couldn’t go away. The way it was being dragged across his pants made him groan even more.

She giggled, “Has anyone told you that you’re a dork when you’re nervous?”

Chris shook his head, closing his eyes to try and fight off his orgasm until the lap dance was over. He had to swallow most of the breaths that became more and more erratic with every sway of her hips.

The way his skin flushed a dark pink and his breathing picked up confirmed she was doing a good job, but the only thing that threw Ares off was the fact that he was shaking violently, a straining vein on his neck making an impression in his flesh. She was unknowingly pumping his shaft along with his jeans, practically coaxing his seed to just burst out of him.

Chris felt his balls go stiff, cock pulse and tighten right before he lost control. The thing that pushed him to his limit was his balls compressing between his legs when she quickly swivelled her hips. He gripped the arms of the chair and thrust his hips upward, letting out a long mewl and finally giving up on holding back as pleasure took over his ability to think properly. Ares stopped moving while he continued riding out his orgasm that felt too goddamn good, cum seeping out of his boxers and down his thigh.

Once he found a way to maneuver himself back to Earth, he went completely limp in the chair as if he just ran a triathlon when the reality of what just happened hit him. That just happened, he hasn’t cum in his pants since his first year of university, and didn’t have a clue of what to do about it.

Why didn’t he just stay home? He could have avoided this if he just isolated himself in his room like he usually did.

“Huh...that’s never happened to me before,” she said in a tone he couldn’t quite decipher.

He glanced away after opening his eyes, still in a daze, “I...um”

For a moment he thought he made her uncomfortable and was getting ready to apologize, possibly leave if she wanted him to. But instead, he tilted his head as the embarrassment on his face was replaced by confusion at her smirk and gentle eyes. She dragged her ass across him once, making him hiss at the sensitivity of his half-hard cock still dripping with arousal.

Usually, she didn’t allow excessive touching and avoided any kind of sexual encounters at work, it wasn’t her thing – but there was something about this one that told her he should be pleased. To be honest, he wasn’t some run-of-the-mill scumbag or pompous prick like the usual attendees are, she’s starting to see he’s a plain, genuine guy. That’s why it took him by surprise when she leaned down and pressed a long kiss on the crease of his throat, sucking on it periodically.

“...I thought there was no, mhmm, touching” Chris stammered.

Ares held on to the baby hairs at the back of his neck, then ran his soft hair through her fingers as she kissed her way across his face. Their lips brush together as she spoke.

“Shhhh, let me take care of you...and this” she moved on him again, a mischievous gleam in her eye.

Chris whimpered out a noise of surprise when she finally connected both their lips together, she sucked his bottom one between hers and nipped at it tenderly. She grabbed his hands, placing them on her to encourage him to feel her, to touch her body. He was hesitant with his movements, still diffident even when she slithered her tongue into his soft mouth, twirling and caressing his.

When they disconnected he panted heavily in the shared space, she hummed at his expression, desire. After she climbed off his lap and kneeled in front of him as her hands began to unbuckle his belt and tug at his zipper.

“Okay, this is happening? Right now?...oh” Chris breathed out.

Everything was happening so fast, he didn’t have time to think about the repercussions of his irresponsible, but tempting actions. His voice of reason was screaming its concern and he couldn’t help but listen to it as he sat there, immobilized while she worked his pants, then cum-soaked briefs down his legs.

“You really don’t have t—” he groaned throatily as she pumped his shaft.

It was always the dorky guys who have the nicest and fullest cocks she had ever seen without fail – he was no different in that department, a decent length, thickness and fit for her. Ares stroked him until he was fully solid again, admiring the way he turned his hips up at the feeling of her hand around him – at least, if they stopped now, he’d have a good visual to fuel his lewd imagination late at night.

She quirked a wholesome smile, “We need to clean you up before things get too heated”

Chris would have mentally retracted the concept of using her as ammunition for his masturbation thoughts, but he was too busy with his eyes rolling back at the most damning sight in the universe. She began to lick the cum from where it was on his body, on his cock, all over his thigh and what remained on her fingers; swallowing everything before working him over with her mouth.

“Jesus Christ...” he growled, reeling in an abrupt lust. He held the back of her head as she sucked him off, “it’ll be over very soon if you don’t get up here”

Even taken aback by his tone, she grinned and gestured at him stand up along with her, encouraging him to pull the bodysuit straps down. Chris kissed along her collarbone faintly, tugging the lingerie down to expose her breasts and gleaming heat to his eyes. He kissed her neck as best he could, not knowing if he was making her feel good in the least but still giving it his best shot.

“God, you are beautiful...”

Luckily, she moaned at his rumbling words on her skin, relaxing him a little bit.

This was crunch time, they need to do it now. Ares rushed to pull his white t-shirt off, appreciating his abs, pecs and biceps as she pushed him back down on the chair forcefully – he looked like a complete stud but had the sweetest personality ever. She giggled as he squirmed out of his pants and kicked off his shoes so he could be fully naked like her, climbing on him again as he did so.

Chris didn’t want anything binding him while this happened.

“Do you have a condom?” she mumbled against his lips, kissing him again.

He made an affirming noise, gesturing for her to pick up his pants where his wallet held one in a hidden pocket. He quickly fumbled the leather out and tossed it with his pants to the ground, barely getting the condom out before she snatched it and rolled it down the length of him. She propped herself on her knees, coating him in her growing wetness as she prepared to take him.

But, he hesitated and held her just above him.

“Are you...are you sure you want to do this—with me?” Chris asked, his eyes held a sadness that she never wanted to see from him again.

Of course, she wanted to...now more than ever.

To reassure him, she cupped his cheek with her free hand and pressed their foreheads together. The woman revelled in the way his mouth dropped open, eyes becoming hooded and a gasp hitching in the back of his throat as she sunk onto him. Looking deep into his eyes and watching the sadness dissipate into satisfaction. He grasped her waist with one arm as she began to ride him at a steady pace, his cock stretching her.

Chris groaned loudly, choking on his moans every so often when she caressed the right spot. The speed increased as he began to enthusiastically meet her thrusts, causing them to both murmur muffled whines and whimpers into each other’s mouths. One hardy smack of his thighs to her ass pierced their ears when he gave a particularly harsh snap of his body, pulling her down as he kept up with his hard thrusts into her.

“Fuck, do that again...” she shivered as he fucked her so carefully, making her needier every second.

He had his brows furrowed in concentration, focusing on pleasuring her and tried to forget the doubts he had to live in that moment. This was more than spontaneous sex for him, he was making love to someone – feeling good for once. He has never fucked someone before but, if anything, he was giving her the most carnal, admiration-fueled sex he could.

She bounced faster as he, in turn, bucked into her harder. She was clenching, he was throbbing...it was too much.

“God, that’s it, just like that,” he grunted, continuing to manually move her slowing hips.

“Shit, you’re gonna make me cum...” she groaned, “...please tell me you’re close”

Chris nodded fervently, keeping his eyes locked on her for as long as he could. In the final stretch, as her clenching became more prevalent, he kept one arm around her as he trailed his hand down to her clit. Just when started to rub, his fingers caught the nerves underneath and made her cry out.

“Does that feel good for you? Is it okay?” he asked politely.

Ares sobbed her ‘yes’ in a pitchy tone.

He hugged her tightly against him as everything started to unwind, leaving his pelvis to stimulate her clit. The woman clenched hard around him as she lost her vision, the way her cunt gripped made him speed up his thrusts to continue moving. Her low whine near his ear did him in, his lower body ghosted on a final thrust as he stopped completely – his heaving was muffled by the clenching of his teeth, letting himself tremble in her arms as he filled the condom with his cum.

After a while of sitting there, Chris broke the silence, “I...I think my time is up”

She laughed at his witty remark, not realizing how much that boosted his mood and tugged at his heart, or how she just single-handedly repaired his self-worth. There was no way to process it, all he knew was he felt amazing, he felt...content.

Ares stood on weak legs, climbing off him and allowing him to dispose of the condom. Chris had a dopey smile on his face as he pulled his pants back on and did the fastenings quickly, she was already back in her bodysuit by that time. He appeared to be lost in deep thought as she handed him his shirt, smirking at him – his skin flushed a soft rose when he finally noticed.

She scoffed.

“Do I really make you nervous—after that?” she retrieved his sweater and cap off the floor where they were forgotten.

Chris laughed quietly before shifting back to his serious face, smiling somewhat. She wondered why he was there in the first place when he could have women lining up; well, if he wasn’t so humble that is.

He cleared his throat, “uh...thank you for that by the way. You didn’t have to do what you did...I just” then began rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

“I’m not good at this stuff, one-time things and strippers—or, I mean exotic dancers, I didn’t mean for that to sound like th—”

To save him from himself, she curled her fingers around his shirt collar and pulled him in, kissing him thoughtfully. Chris cupped the back of her head right away and held her waist as she encompassed the modest stranger with her warmth. He chased her mouth after she broke away from his pursed lips, brows furrowing at his want to keep kissing her.

“You talk a lot, it’s sweet” she giggled at his actions.

Following that encounter, he felt like a new man. She let him make love to her, or fuck her, whichever it was. He couldn’t get over that woman, she felt authentic in his arms, unlike Beth who felt out of place and made him realize his ex was never meant for him at all.

Chris was walking away, leftover clothes in hand and messy sex hair weathered by her hands, but before he could slip behind the curtain leading back to the lounge, she called out to him. When he turned to face her, she was in a robe and leaning laxly against the wall, just as dishevelled as he was.

“For the record, I’m not good at this—” she gestured between them, “—either”

He drove home with a smile on his face and satisfaction coursing through him.

Although, he couldn’t shake the nagging feeling of having a mere fling. Not even knowing anything about her while doing something so intimate, something personal to him. He wished he would have asked her real name or her number, so he could thank her properly or even, possibly ask her out.

He had a feeling about her, the attraction was undeniable now.

Perhaps it was a god working some sort of miracle or the planet’s alignment giving him mystical energy, maybe something as simple as luck. But, as he started to get ready for bed that night, a piece of paper fell out of his jeans as he stripped to have a shower.

Curiously, he picked it up and looked it over.

xxx-xxx-xxxx Just because I knew you wouldn’t ask for it. Call me sometime. – Y/N

Maybe he would take her out.

After all, he felt as if they had this connection, even if it was unconventional from any other relationship he had before. One thing he knew for sure was he liked the sound of her name on his tongue, repeating it in front of the mirror and practicing what to say to her...thinking about her until he fell fast asleep.

The spaceman used to have problems, but now?

He has none.

#the martian #sebastian stan #chris beck #chris beck smut #chris beck x reader #chris beck x reader smut #sac writes #space daddy

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shelobussy · 3 years

Note

Ohmygod YES Susan Pevensie is awesome please talk to me about Susan i want to know everything you have to say

Literally THANK YOU for asking me this bc Susan Pevensie is a character I never get asked about and I have So Many Opinions.

I'm going to start by saying that Susan used to be my least favorite character in the series. This goes for the books and the movies. Some of it was for personal reasons--she reminds me of a couple of annoying ppl I know irl--but it was also bc I watched Prince Caspian which shoehorned her into a relationship with Caspian which I hated.

HOWEVER. I ended up rethinking this position after interacting with Susan fans and realizing that there are so many wonderful things to love about her!

(putting under the cut bc this got long)

Things Ash Loves About Susan Pevensie

Aight I'm not going to do a formal analysis yet on her, but instead rant about some of the unrelated things I adore about Susan Pevensie.

Susan the Archer

Look we all love archery here. I don't have anything more to say.

Okay, I actually do have more to say. I love the fact that Susan is a complete badass with the bow. You get the general impression that she's one of the royals in charge of public relations, traditions, foreign policy, etc. and yet she's the most competent archer in the series. One of the few things I liked about the movies is how they didn't downplay this. They actually let her be a badass and show off her skills.

Also the part where she kicks Trumpkin's ass was awesome.

Susan the Gentle

Susan being the most passive Pevensie was something I definitely underappreciated as a teenager. I think my non-ability to see past "I'm not like other girls" narrative and the combination of Susan being described as the most traditionally feminine woman in the Narnia series is what initially turned me off from her.

HOWEVER, now it's one of my favorite attributes! I love that Susan is a badass and the most beautiful woman in Narnia. She has hair down to her feet, every man and woman in the kingdom want to fuck her, and she's still a fucking badass who will not hesitate to kick your ass.

Susan the Sister

Most of my thoughts of Susan as an older sister mostly stem from my own personal headcanons, but she is an awesome sister to her siblings. She's Peter's voice of reason, Edmund's sass partner, and Lucy's big sister.

Susan the Mom-Friend

She is a literal mother-figure for Corin.

"[...] the most beautiful lady he had ever seen rose from her place and threw her arms round him and kissed him, saying: "Oh Corin, Corin, how could you? And thou and I such close friends ever since thy mother died. [...]"

-The Horse and His Boy, 33-34

Most everything I have to say about this ventures into headcanon territory, but I love the idea of Susan basically adopting Corin after his mom dies. The way she trusts Cor--who she thinks is Corin in this chapter--is really sweet and I wish we could've seen more of that relationship.

Susan the Flawed

Something I notice from the fandom is a lot of people who hate Susan tend to because of her flaws. On the other hand, most Susan stans like to wave away these flaws and blame C.S. Lewis for being misogynistic or Aslan for being a "cruel god" and ignore the fact that she is a deeply flawed person.

Susan gets something of a "reverse redemption arc" in The Chronicles of Narnia. This makes her not only a fascinating foil to Edmund--as both are analytical, logical people--but an interesting character by herself.

She starts out in TWW as very skeptical of Narnia and it's whole deal and also very condescending to Lucy throughout. She ultimately does admit that Lucy was right and does get on board with the whole prophecy at the same time Peter does, and ends the book being crowned "the Gentle Queen."

In The Horse and His Boy, she has a very interesting dynamic with Edmund and in even more interesting relationship with Rabadash. They don't even interact on-page with each other, but it's highly implied that she was interested in him when he was a guest in Narnia. His behavior obviously changed when she visited him in Tashbaan, but you have to wonder what their dynamic was like before for her to travel all the way to his home when relations between the countries were strained at best.

Prince Caspian is where the cracks start showing through. Susan has lived an entire life as an adult in Narnia, gets thrown back to England with her siblings, and is yet again in Narnia as a child. This book is what really emphasizes her one fatal flaw: convenience.

(Put a pin in that thought, I'll get back to it.)

Susan denies once again that Lucy saw something that the rest of them can't seen. She continues this narrative until every other sibling finally acknowledges Lucy in the right and only then does she apologize.

The last mention of Susan is in The Last Battle, where all of her flaws rise up against her in the worst way possible. I have a lot of controversial opinions on this that I'm going to address later, but I just want to say that Susan's reverse-redemption arc is something I actually like about her.

(There is also evidence that Susan does get a full redemption arc, just as Edmund and Eustace did, but C.S. Lewis was pretty much done with The Chronicles of Narnia at the point and instead encouraged fans to write their own version of how that went down.)

Okay, back to convenience being Susan's fatal flaw. So the one thing that comes up time and time again in the series is that Susan is very focused on material comforts. I believe it's implied that she's vain, and it's canonical that her own personal comfort spurs her to make decisions.

"[...] I really believed it was him — he, I mean — yesterday. When he warned us not to go down to the fir wood. And I really believed it was him tonight, when you woke us up. I mean, deep down inside. Or I could have, if I'd let myself. But I just wanted to get out of the woods and — and — oh, I don't know [...]"

Prince Caspian, 81

Prince Caspian has the strongest examples of Susan doing this, but certainly there's evidence elsewhere. There are a lot of fans who are distressed by this, claiming that Aslan and the others are too hard on her and shouldn't judge.

Honestly, I like that she's written with this flaw. Not only is it very relatable--(my own personal comfort and convenience is something I highly prioritize too)--but it humanizes a character who otherwise is ridiculously op and basically the Helen of Troy of the series. It may sound like I'm using this as an excuse to rant, but I really wouldn't have her any other way.

Susan As Portrayed by Anna Popplewell

Movie!Susan is a fucking delight.

She's sarcastic and badass and awesome and I could spend hours heaping praise on Anna's acting and her portrayal of Susan, but I can already tell that this post is going to be long so, I'll just stop here.

(10/10 want to be stabbed by her tho.)

Personal Headcanons

Let's talk about my fanon thoughts. I have many.

Susan is Aro

There's canonical evidence for this! Susan is a character who is heavily pursued by suitors everywhere, and even lets herself be courted by many of them, but chooses not to settle down. Even when she gets back to England and is described as only having interest in parties and material things, boys aren't mentioned.

I like to think that in The Horse in His Boy Susan was interested in Rabadash at first because he was a brilliant conversationalist. Nothing she says about him implies romantic interest, before and after she realizes the truth of his intentions.

Susan and Edmund Were Best Friends

This might be my love for The Horse and His Boy showing itself, but I think Susan and Edmund were thrown into circumstances where they interacted the most with each other.

Edmund is the ruler in charge of politics. Susan is the ruler in charge of Cair Paravel's public image. I imagine they spent time as ambassadors to other countries and planning royal functions.

They're also the most level-headed and logical out of their siblings, so they probably found a lot in common.

Susan Fancast

I literally just said I loved Anna's potrayal of Susan's (and I love what they gave us of older Susan too in LWW!), but I read the books in 2008 and my parents didn't let me see the movies bc I was like...nine years old and they thought it would be too scary.

So I had to headcanon my own interpretations.

Queen Susan the Gentle:

For some reason Merlin wasn't too scary for me to watch and I fell in love with Katie McGrath in like. Two episodes so. (On an unrelated note, I also fancast Bradley James as Peter at the time.)

Anyway, fanon Susan is basically Morgana Pendragon pre-evil arc. Sassy as hell, hot as fuck, and can kick your ass.

Unpopular Opinions

Yeah, feel free to skip this part if having controversial fandom opinions is a deal breaker for you.

The Problem With Susan Isn't Actually A Problem

I'm about to start so much discourse in the Narnia fandom, but C.S. Lewis's choices with her in The Last Battle weren't misogynistic. Bear in mind, I'm not saying that all of his writing choices in the series were A++ or excusing away certain racist/sexiest bits, but it's honestly baffling to me that people are so up in arms over Susan's exclusion in the final book.

So the part that everyone loses their shit over is as follows:

"My sister Susan," answered Peter shortly and gravely, "is no longer a friend of Narnia."

"Yes," said Eustace, "and whenever you've tried to get her to come and talk about Narnia or do anything about Narnia, she says 'What wonderful memories you have! Fancy your still thinking about all those funny games we used to play when we were children.'"

"Oh Susan!" said Jill, "she's interested in nothing now-a-days except nylons and lipstick and invitations. She always was a jolly sight too keen on being grown-up."

"Grown-up, indeed," said the Lady Polly. "I wish she would grow up. She wasted all her school time wanting to be the age she is now, and she'll waste all the rest of her life trying to stay that age. Her whole idea is to race on to the silliest time of one's life as quick as she can and then stop there as long as she can."

The Last Battle, 83-84

There's a lot to unpack here and I first want to say that everyone's opinion on this part, no matter how different than mine, is valid. I'm going to be quoting some other ppl's opinions on here and by no means am I bashing them. I just want to address my feelings on the matter and the best way to do that is to cite the thoughts of ppl who have opposing ideas.

Here are some arguments on Tumblr I've heard regarding "The Problem of Susan":

"How about we talk about what might have happened if Narnia hadn't deserted Susan? [...] What if we didn't tell Susan she had to go grow up in her own world and then shame and punish her for doing just that? She was told to walk away and she went. She did not try to stay a child all her life, wishing for something she had been told she couldn't have again."

"Narnia is filled with metaphors (often not very subtle ones) that are supposed to teach us how to be, and the most glaring one for any young girl to absorb is that it's okay to be a girl like Lucy, unthreatening and cheerful and valiant and faithful, but to be a girl like Susan gets you punished - in fact, you aren't just punished, you're destroyed."

"why do we call it ‘the problem’ where’s the problem about a young woman dealing with her trauma and choosing her own path, actively making the choice to keep living and to stay and to carve a life out in England when her siblings couldn’t? what is the problem about susan forgetting to somehow cope with what she’s experienced? why is it ‘the problem of susan’ that she recontextualised her faith?"

And then there's JK Rowling who said this:

There comes a point where Susan, who was the older girl, is lost to Narnia because she becomes interested in lipstick. She's become irreligious basically because she found sex. I have a big problem with that.

It's weird how I'm still finding new ways to hate JKR in the year 2021. Again, there is absolutely zero implication that Susan had sex when she came back to England. ZERO. Did she actually read the books? IDK. If someone shares this opinion pls reply with actual canonical evidence.

Back on topic, I'm a firm believer of death of the author and interpreting art via your own experiences. Which is why I'm also going to share my own interpretation by saying y'all are wrong.

Susan Pevensie was not abandoned by Narnia. She was not barred from Narnia because she is traditionally feminine or because she "owned her sexuality" (another opinion I didn't have time to condense down for this post) or because she recontextualized her faith or even because she deserved to be punished.

I also fail to see how Susan recontexualized her faith, as the entire point of it all is that she has none. Bringing this back to Susan's fatal flaw (personal convenience/material comforts), her prioritizing herself over her own faith is the reason she is "no longer a friend of Narnia." Not...whatever fanon y'all are imposing on her character.

Susan is not being punished for liking lipstick and looking pretty. Susan's not even being punished. Y'all read Neil Gaiman's The Problem of Susan and forgot it wasn't canon.

There are many reasons Susan is not in Aslan's Country (one of them being that she's not actually dead yet), but the main one has to do with this:

"[...] But there I have another name. You must learn to know me by that name. This was the very reason why you were brought to Narnia, that by knowing me here for a little, you may know me better there.”

Voyage of the Dawn Treader, 215-216

Yeah, okay that's why Susan is no longer a friend of Narnia. The implication when the Pevensies are told that they can no longer enter Narnia is that they are to find Aslan in other places. Susan doesn't do this, instead choosing to focus her life on material things. It isn't the lipstick, it's that she only wants the lipstick.

Susan Had Sex In The Books

Oh and not in the context y'all are thinking. (Again, there are no implications that Susan was barred from Narnia for having sex or that she had sex when she came back to England.)

So there's actual canonical evidence that Susan and Rabadash had a sexual relationship. Sort of.

"What think you? We have been in this city fully three weeks. Have you yet settled in your mind whether you will marry this dark-faced lover of yours, this Prince Rabadash, or no?"

-The Horse and His Boy, 35

Edmund calls Rabadash her lover. Not her suitor. I don't know if the word had a different meaning in 1954, but it feels like C.S. Lewis is saying that they're fucking. I'm not really happy with the idea of Susan sleeping with an abuser, but really proud of her for Getting Some as a woman born in a time period where having premarital sex was a big no-no.

This also invalidates the weird opinion going on that Susan was barred from Narnia because she had sex.

Suspian Is The Worst

I haven't really talked about Movie!Susan much, but as long as we're talking unpopular opinions, it's worth noting that I hate Suspian. Some of it is the "Susan is Aro" headcanon screaming inside of me, but it's also the fact that it's written poorly, does nothing interesting for either character and generally comes across as awkward.

I feel like they were trying to make Prince Caspian sexy and relevant to teens. It came across as super heteronormative and unnecessary.

It also gets really really weird bc the next movie then gives Caspian and Edmund mad chemistry and we're all just like........ok.

Final Thoughts

Susan may not be my favorite character in the series, but she's grown on me over the years. I have many issues with fanon interpretations of her--which definately fueled some of my disdain for her initally--and I don't identify as a Susan Apologist.

I do however adore Susan and have many headcanons for her not mentioned here. I love reading fanfic, writing fanfic and meta, and generally having conversations about her and would love to talk more about it.

I welcome criticism (CONSTRUCTIVE) and conversation on all of my opinions and observations. Please drop into my inbox. <3

#susan pevensie #the chronicles of narnia #the problem of susan #narnia #meta #narnia meta #susan meta #ash does fandom #ash does meta

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imagine-a-life-like-this · 3 years

Text

Forget Him (P.JM)

Warnings : partying, mentions of sex, swearing, punching

Synopsis : her relationship with notorious fuckboy Kim Taehyung is over, but she can’t seem to move on. her best friend tells her the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else, so she takes his advice. little does she know, he’d do more than just help her get over Taehyung.

Word Count : 3703

When my eyes met his I could feel my heart break all over again. It’s not that I expected to never see him again, we go to the same university. I just didn’t expect to see him with someone new so soon. I thought I meant more to him than that, but he warned me from the start.

“I hope you’re not looking for anything serious.” I looked up from my plate of food, curiousness prevalent on my features, even I could tell without seeing my own face. “I like you, but if you’re looking for serious I’ll just break your heart.” A smile took over my previous curious expression.

“I have thick skin; you’ll have to try really hard to break my heart.” I joked before taking another bite of the food he paid for. “Besides, I’m way too busy with university to be serious.” It was his turn to smile at me and I had to calm my heart. I could do casual, it’s for the best anyway. I don’t need any distractions. But at this point, who am I trying to convince?

I was telling the truth when I said he’d have to try really hard to break my heart. I’d been hurt in the past, it took a lot for me to open up, but it seemed as if he made it his mission to do exactly that. He was perfect, for me and just in general. And the girl currently wrapped up in his arms, smiling up at the man I never meant to fall for, is nothing short of perfect as well. There was no doubt in mind moving on would be easier for him than it would be for me, but did he really have to rub it in my face like that?

“You say you hate the guy and yet you can’t take your eyes off of him.” The familiar sound of my best friend’s voice tore my attention away from the sickeningly sweet couple. He draped his arm across my shoulders and dragged me away from the scene. “You know the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else.” I playfully slapped him.

“Only you would say that to me.” I shook my head and rolled my eyes. When I met Hoseok, I was immediately drawn to him. He made it so easy to open up to him and to fall for his energy. I’d never gotten close to someone as quickly as I did with him, and for good reason, but he never made me doubt my decision.

“Just come hang out with me and my other friends and stop looking so pitiful.” I rolled my eyes, but I wouldn’t protest to being as far away from Taehyung as possible. “Jimin, Namjoon, this is my best friend Y/N.” He quickly greeted when we approached two guys standing off in their own little world. “Can you watch her so I can go get us drinks?” I wasn’t someone who needed to be watched, but I appreciated the sentiment.

“Any reason you need to be babysat?” Jimin chuckled as he took a sip of his drink. I rolled my eyes at the cockiness that he exuded, so similar to Taehyung’s, but I trusted Hoseok’s judgment of his character and refrained from punching him.

“My ex is here with his new girlfriend.” Could I even call him that? Were we ever actually dating?

“You look stunning.” He said almost breathlessly, reaching out to take one of my hands in his. “How did I get so lucky to have you by my side?” His smile was genuine as he looked down at me, slowly wrapping his arms around me and pulling me closer to him. I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him in for a kiss.

“I should be the one asking that, Tae.” We spoke so softly, as if we were afraid others would hear and pull us out of this bubble we created for ourselves.

“Well we should get going. I have something special planned for our 100th day.” My heart skipped a beat at the thought that he put together something special just for me. If he still wanted casual, he wouldn’t go out of his way for something so minuscule as the 100th day, would he? I didn’t let myself dwell on it too much as got into the car when he opened the door for me. He held my hand the entire drive to what I thought was a restaurant, but instead he stopped by a field. In the distance I could see a small table for two set up, candles adorning the table.

“You did all of this for me?” I asked when we approached the table. I looked at what we’d be eating and saw he had made my favourites.

“You’re my princess, and I wanted to show you that.” We said casual, but neither of us really meant it, did we? I couldn’t help the smile I wore the entire night, looking across the table to see the man I was falling in love with without even realizing it.

“Here, let’s get your party on.” Hoseok placed a red solo cup filled with who knows what in my hand. I thanked him and tried my best to forget everything.

The next morning I could feel the headache before I even opened my eyes. The night came back to me in flashes as I tried to piece together how I could have gotten so drunk. It wasn’t until I felt the bed move as a body next to me rolled over that I wondered just how drunk I was. “God what a night.” He groaned as he opened his eyes and smiled at me. Park Jimin was in my bed staring at me with a smile. “Good morning, angel.” I chuckled at the nickname Hoseok gave me our first year here. We were paired up for a dancing project and he told me I resembled an angel to him when I danced.

“Good morning, Jimin.” I smiled back as the night continued to return in flashes. The images of rough kisses and tossed clothes hit me suddenly. I had to clench my legs as I thought of how the rest of the progressed, suddenly wanting to feel it all again while sober. Hoseok was right, the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else, but I wasn’t about to tell him that.

“About last night..” Jimin started as he slowly started to sit up, the blanket falling from his bare torso, allowing me a good look, a look I’d remember.

“Want to do it again?” He looked at me with wide eyes before smiling and moving closer to me.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

Being with Jimin felt easy. I didn’t have to open up about past heartbreak or try to be a proper lady. We didn’t pretend that we were anything more than fuck buddies. There was no fancy dinners or empty promises. Just take out and crumpled bed sheets. “Let me watch you at dance practice today.” He said as he hovered over me, placing a kiss on my nose. I pushed him off of me as I stood to get ready.

“And why would I do that, Park Jimin?” I made my way to my closet, not bothering to cover my currently nude body with a blanket, it wasn’t anything he hasn’t seen.

“Because Hoseok goes on and on about how hot you look while dancing.” He was soon behind me, his hands on my shoulders as he kissed the back of my neck and slowly made his way around to my lips, bringing me in for a deep, needy kiss.

“Really, Hoseok called me hot?” I didn’t believe that for a second. Hoseok flirted with me in the past, that’s not something we’ve kept a secret. But not once in the three years I’ve known him has he ever called me hot. Stunning maybe. Ethereal definitely. Especially when it came to my dancing. The only person I knew who could beat me in a contest was him, but it would be pretty close.

“Okay so he didn’t say hot per se, but the way he describes you, I need to see it for myself.” I could see the pleading in his eyes and decided to cave to his puppy dog eyes just this one time. What’s the worst that could happen?

“Just this once, but you’re buying food after.” His smile widened as he quickly agreed and helped me pick out an outfit for practice.

I could feel his eyes on me the entire time I was dancing. It almost made me stumble a few times, but I was able to keep my composure as if he wasn’t even there. By the end of practice, Jimin was jumping up from his spot, spewing out about how good it was, trying his best not to let Hoseok in on the fact that we’ve been sleeping together.

“I told you, she looks like an angel!” Hoseok added onto the nonsense that Jimin was spewing. I couldn’t help but laugh and roll my eyes at the two of them. “Don’t laugh when you know it’s the truth. You could make it in the big leagues, I just know it.” I playfully slapped him.

“As much as I love the two of you complimenting me, and trust me I love it, Jimin promised dinner.” I smiled over at him to see he was already smiling at me with a look in his eyes that reminded me of Taehyung.

Six months. We both said it would be casual and that no strong feelings would be involved, but I couldn’t help myself. I didn’t think we’d last this long. I could do casual for a couple of months, but we’ve been together for six months now. Every time I look at him, he’s looking at me with a look in his eyes that reminds me of a lovesick child. It’s the same look I give him, I’m sure.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” I let out a little laugh as I covered my face. He reached over and took my hands from my face.

“Because you’re so beautiful.” He kissed me before I could say anything. My heart was threatening to beat right out of my chest, and I could swear he could hear it, but he didn’t say anything. The words were burning in my throat, dying to come out, but I knew that would ruin everything. So I swallowed them down and pretended I didn’t fall absolutely head over heels in love with him.

“Should we text Namjoon to join us? I don’t want him to feel left out.” I pouted at Hoseok and Jimin. Since I met the two of them at the party a month ago, I’d actually grown quite close to them, Jimin more so than Namjoon for obvious reasons, but I’ll be forever grateful to have the two of them in my life.

“As if I didn’t already text him.” Hoseok jokingly rolled his eyes. “I know you love him more than us.”

“Not true and you know that Hobi!” I said as I jumped on his back. His hands immediately wrapped around my legs to stop me from falling. “No one loves me the way you do so you’re my favourite.” I kissed his cheek as I usually do. I could sense the difference in atmosphere after looking over to Jimin who was staring at us with an unreadable expression on his face.

“Still offended I wasn’t invited to watch dance practice.” Namjoon huffed when we met him at the restaurant. I pouted up at him and told him he could come to the next one if he wanted to.

“How did you even convince Jimin to buy you dinner?” Hoseok asked, looking between the two of us. “I’ve known him for years and he’s never offered to buy me anything!” I stifled a laugh at that fact.

“I’m cuter than you, what did you expect?” I joked, wrapping my arms around the arm Jimin had resting on the table. He looked over to me with a wide smile and placed his hand on mine.

“Damn I see how it is. I’m not a pretty girl so I got to buy my own food.” Hoseok shook his head.

“Don’t even pretend like you don’t always buy my food too!” I joked back, unwrapping myself from Jimin as my food was placed in front of me. Just as I was about to dig in, I heard a familiar voice from behind me and I immediately lost my appetite.

“Hey, I didn’t expect to see you here.” He exclaimed with a wide smile and a pretty girl tucked into a side, a different girl than the one at the party. She glared at me with a look that could kill, but I didn’t pay her any mind as my eyes couldn’t move from Taehyung, standing there dressed in all black looking like some sort of god.

“Well I’m here.” I replied, trying my best to hide the hurt in my voice. I couldn’t let him know he hurt me.

“I think it’s time we go our separate ways. This already went on too long.” I blinked back my tears and gave him a smile, telling him I agree.

“We said casual. A one-year anniversary is too serious.” I chuckled as I took a sip of my coffee. “This was fun though. You were a good distraction when I needed it.” He chuckled and shook his head.

“Yeah, you were too. I’ll see you around.” He stood from the table and I watched as he walked away. I just sat there, staring in the direction he left long after he was out of view. After I finished my coffee, I went back to my apartment and stared at the gift on my table. Something I found that would have been perfect for Taehyung. I wasted my money even though I knew it was all casual. I fell in love with a man who didn’t know what love was.

“Why are you standing there like we’re going to ask you to join us?” Hoseok snapped, anger prevalent on his features and I couldn’t help but smile at my best friend.

“Awe come on, we’re friends, right Y/N?” A small laugh came out of my mouth when he said that.

“We’ve never been friends, Taehyung.” Namjoon and Jimin seemed to put two and two together that Taehyung was the ex from the party a month ago. I could see it in the way their faces changed from confusion to anger. Jimin wrapped his arm around me.

“Should we get this to go, love?” He asked me softly. I looked away from Taehyung and met Jimin’s eyes. He seemed to always have an unreadable emotion in his eyes, and I just wish I could read him as easily I can Hoseok.

“No that’s alright, babe.” I played along with the prettiest smile I could muster while Taehyung’s eyes were still on me. “I’m not going to let irrelevant people ruin our good day.” I looked up at Taehyung who rolled his eyes.

“So much for not having time for relationships.” He muttered just loud enough for the table to hear as he walked away, the girl asking him a million questions. I chuckled at his annoyed expression and the way he all but pushed her away.

“You did not tell us that the notorious Kim Taehyung was your ex.” Namjoon said when the two were out of earshot. Jimin removed his arm from around me and just stared at his food while he ate.

“Not something I like to brag about, Joonie. Besides, it wasn’t anything serious.” Hoseok scoffed at that.

“One year isn’t casual, Y/N.”

“You dated him for a year?!” Jimin basically shouted at Hoseok’s words. I rolled my eyes and shook my head.

“We weren’t really dating, guys. Really it’s not a big deal.”

“It was a big enough deal that we had to babysit you at that party.” Namjoon added and I rolled my eyes and just let the conversation drop. It wasn’t something I wanted to talk about. Falling in love with Taehyung wasn’t my finest moment, and I’d rather forget we ever had something.

A few days after the incident at the restaurant, I found myself sitting at a café, my drink sitting on the table getting colder as the minutes passed. He was always good at making me wait, and I began to wonder if he was even showing up. After sitting there for almost 30 minutes, I reached for my drink and got up to leave. “Hey! Sorry I’m late.” He ran in, out of breath and sat down across from me.

“It’s not new. I should just stop showing up on time.” I said as monotone as I could.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I’ll try to be better; I promise.” I furrowed my brows at his words. “I want to try again. I miss us. I was stupid to think things could be casual with you.” I crossed one leg over the other and sat back in my chair, my thoughts a jumbled mess. “I know you’re dating that guy, but I also know that you still love me.” I thought back to Jimin and how he distanced himself from me these last few days. I tried texting him and calling him, but it seemed as if he was ignoring me, ever since he found out about Taehyung.

“I love Jimin.” I told him simply and went to stand when my eyes met Jimin’s, sitting across from a girl who seemed completely oblivious to her surroundings. Taehyung turned to see what I was staring at.

“That asshole.” Taehyung seethed, standing from the table and storming towards Jimin. Jimin stood before Taehyung reached him but that didn’t stop Taehyung from grabbing the collar of his shirt and yelling at him. I knew I needed to stop him before anything else happened, but I was frozen in spot. The other patrons looked on, wondering what was happening at this usually quiet café. It wasn’t until Taehyung threw a punch that I was running over to them and throwing myself in between them.

“Stop!” I yelled as I put my hands on Taehyung’s chest. He looked down at me and his features softened. “It’s okay, Tae. Jimin and I aren’t dating.”

“What?” He asked, looking between the two of us. “But you just said you love him.” I nodded and took one of Tae’s hands.

“I did say that. Let’s go somewhere else to talk.” I turned towards Jimin and the girl he was with. “I’m so sorry. I’ll call you later, please answer.” Jimin just looked at me with tears in his eyes, but I wrote that off as pain from the punch Tae threw. Taehyung and I walked out of the café hand in hand, and it brought me back to the days we were okay.

“Tae can you stop walking so fast.” I said when we were outside. Just as he stopped, I felt another hand wrap around my wrist, and by the way Tae’s eyes widened, I knew it was Jimin before I turned around. When I looked up at him, he let go of my wrist and cupped my face before pressing his lips to mine. The kiss was different than the others we shared. It wasn’t needy or demanding. It was soft and filled with passion. Butterflies filled my stomach, and I couldn’t help but kiss back, my hand dropping from Taehyung’s.

“I love you.” He whispered, hands still cupping my face. I said the words to piss Taehyung off, knowing I couldn’t allow myself to fall more in love with him. I couldn’t get back with him knowing how fast he moved on. Deep down, I knew he just wanted me back because he couldn’t have me. Because I wasn’t letting myself be hurt over his absence.

But as I stared into Jimin’s eyes, I thought back to all the moments we shared, in and out of my bedroom. How he never thought twice about protecting me, without even knowing the truth. The way he looked at me when he thought I wasn’t looking. The obvious jealousy at me and Hoseok that I wrote off as awkwardness about Hoseok not knowing about us. How he would always bring me snacks when he knew something was wrong, even at 3 in the morning. He was always there, little by little kicking Taehyung out of my heart.

“Please don’t go to him.” Jimin added when I didn’t say anything, his hands dropping from my face. I turned towards Taehyung, seeing he was just standing there, fuming as he watched us.

“How can you say you love her when you were just in there with another girl?” He yelled, taking a step towards Jimin. I stepped in between them, hoping Taehyung wouldn’t throw another punch.

“How can you say you love her when you’ve been sleeping around since you guys broke up?” Taehyung scoffed and rolled his eyes.

“You don’t know anything.”

“You’re right, I don’t. But I know you don’t deserve her!”

“And you do?”

“Can you two just shut up!” I yelled. “Tae, I don’t want to be with you. There’s nothing between us anymore.”

“You can’t seriously tell me you’re choosing him.” Taehyung took a step back and crossed his arms over his chest.

“My love life has nothing to do with you, not anymore. Jimin, can you please take me home.” I looked up at his bruised face and he nodded, draping an arm across my shoulders and took me away from Tae. “Thank you.” I whispered as we walked. “And I’m sorry. I never thought he’d act like that.”

“I meant it you know. I love you.” He was already looking down at me when I looked up.

“Me too.” I didn’t when I said those words to Taehyung, but I did now.

#forget him #bts #bts imagine #park jimin #park jimin imagine #kim taehyung #jeon jungkook #kim seokjin #min yoongi #jung hoseok #kim namjoon

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jaxsteamblog · 3 years

Text

Flirt

Click here to read the entire fic on AO3

Katara straightened her crown in the mirror, turning her head side to side to make sure it was straight. Her wavy hair had resisted the pin, and the thickness certainly fought the top knot, but she had eventually managed to get the thing on.

“Are you sure it doesn’t look silly?” She asked.

Zuko came into view behind her, sliding his hands around her sides to hold her lightly.

“As silly as mine does in modern clothes.” He replied and kissed her soundly on the cheek.

“I don’t think it’s made for hair like mine.” She muttered.

“Sounds like a design flaw, not a you flaw.”

“Mmm.”

“Mmm?”

“MMM.”

Zuko kissed her cheek again and backed away. The loops usually at the side of her face had been pulled back to start a simple sort of braid. The beads were still present, and she was wearing her necklace, but the crown stood out as an accessory.

“I know it’s a flame, but doesn’t it look a bit like a crescent moon?” He asked.

“That’s a stretch.” Katara said.

Skittering claws came into the room and Katara turned as Druk bounded toward her. He was less than a year old but already the size of an adult owl cat. His wings were still clumsy and he could only fly short distances, yet his legs were powerful enough to send him racing down hallways.

He terrified the palace staff and greatly annoyed the also still alarmingly growing Mister Whiskers.

“Don’t.” Zuko warned both Katara and Druk. Both of them ignored him and Druk launched himself at Katara, making her stagger as she caught him.

“He can’t jump up on people like that.” Zuko grumbled. “It’s poor manners.”

“Aww, my sweet baby just wants attention.” Katara cooed, rubbed her nose against Druk’s snout. He smelled like soot and heat, and Katara cuddled his chest close to her face. He nipped at her crown and Zuko sighed in annoyance.

“A dragon shouldn’t be carried like a toddler. It’s undignified.” He said finally and Katara turned to him.

“How dare you say such a thing about our boy.” She said.

“This is why he’s a brat when you’re gone.”

“Of course, he misses his momma.”

“You both are deranged.”

Katara kissed Druk’s scaly head and set him down. The dragon hopped indignantly, blowing out bursts of flame.

“You know he’s going to be a terror when we have actual children.” Zuko said, holding out his arm. Katara linked to him and held on with her other hand.

“Why do we even need anymore? Let’s just crown Druk and the Fire Nation can have an actual dragon as it’s Fire Lord instead of making up all these fancy honorifics for you.” Katara said.

“If history is any indication, they might not tell the difference.” He agreed.

Walking out of their bedroom, Druk followed them closely. Having returned with a dragon, the court and the city of Caldera had changed its attitude toward Zuko. The rest of the world still thought dragons were extinct, so Druk was a miracle bestowed to their Fire Lord as a sign from the spirits. As they had all sworn an oath never to speak of Ran and Shaw, no one disabused people of that notion.

Now, even the prime minister had quelled his adversarial politics.

Ozai and Azula both had been recorded as having thrown massive fits about it.

Katara and Zuko headed toward the ballroom, watching with wry amusement as the staff jumped out of Druk’s way. When they reached the massive double doors, Katara called Druk and held him again, knowing that he didn’t do very well in large groups of people.

“Fire Lord, Fire Lady.” A member of the house staff jumped when he opened the door, seeing the royal couple on the other side.

“We wanted to see how everything was progressing.” Zuko said.

The man glanced at Druk, curled in Katara’s arms and she smiled back at him.

Being favored by a dragon was also helping her image at the palace as well.

“Of course.” The man said, stepping to the side.

Katara followed Zuko inside and looked around. While Zuko himself wasn’t overly interested in celebrating his birthday, there were expectations for the Fire Lord. These expectations somehow included the Water Tribe Ambassador rearranging all of the flowers.

A sour faced man approached them, bowing obviously to Zuko and leaving Katara in her place at his side.

“Is everything to your liking, Fire Lord?” He asked.

Zuko turned to Katara and idly scratched Druk’s crest.

“Lady wife?” He asked.

“Yes?”

“Everything pales in comparison to the luminary beauty of yourself. I am unable to adequately judge these offerings with you standing so close to me.”

Katara smiled and had to keep herself from laughing.

“How can I do any better? The light of your loveliness blinds me to anything else.” She remarked.

“My most prudent and beloved queen, I beg that you give me some words to describe this room that does not degrade your glittering visage.”

“Oh honorable husband, for that you would have to leave my sight and I could not bear to stand in such darkness.”

“I think,” The sour faced man said bitterly. “I will have to trust the Fire Lady’s most esteemed brother then?”

“Sokka is a marvel, I think that might be best.” Katara said, wrinkling her nose and giving the man a patronizing look.

The man bowed to them both and walked back to the activity. Zuko did laugh softly then and Katara turned back to him.

“Light of my loveliness?” He asked.

“Glittering visage?” She countered.

“Hey, the words may have been stuffy, but they were still true.” He replied.

“So what words would you really use?” Katara asked.

“Hmm,” Zuko thought and took some of her hair in his hands. He stared at it as he rolled the strands under his fingers.

“I would start by saying how devious fate must be to make my love part ocean spirit as I most certainly am in danger of drowning when you’re around.” He started and twirled her hair around his fingers. “You take my breath away, but also, there are times when I don’t feel like coming up for air.”

“Zuko!” Katara whispered sharply, her face heating up in a flash.

Zuko only smiled and released her hair.

“I would say that thank the spirits you’re brilliant because I lose all sense when I look at your face, because your beauty is enough to make a fool of any man.” He continued. “And I’d quite like an opportunity to play the fool soon.”

“Spirits, you are brazen.” Katara said with a laugh. Her grip on Druk tightened and he squeaked in annoyance.

“Sorry Druk, I’m displacing you as your mother’s favorite.” Zuko said and scratched Druk’s neck.

“You are always my favorite.” Katara said. “No matter what season it is in the Poles, I only feel like the sun has returned when I’m with you.”

“I don’t see how I can compare when you are always the one lighting up the room.”

“I wish I could paint with ink the same shade as your hair so I could write every character with the same kind of elegance.”

“I wish I could train birds to sing in the same notes as your laughter so I could hear your joy every morning.”

“My laughter? I wish I could keep your voice with me because it soothes me better than the sound of a far off thunderstorm.”

“I am going to vomit all over the floor if you two don’t stop.” Sokka interjected.

Katara lowered her face, blushing, but Zuko chuckled.

“Aw come on! They were being really cute!” Thuy added as she approached from behind them.

The twins that hung around Thuy, who Zuko swore were harmless, watched them with different levels of interest. Suzu looked gleeful while Zula looked bored. Or mildly irritated. She was harder to read.

“I see my wife every other season. You’re lucky we’re out of our rooms at all.” Zuko said.

“Zuko!” Katara blurted while the three teenage girls burst out laughing. Sokka only sighed and tapped the heel of his hand against his forehead.

“Can we play with Druk, Auntie?” Thuy asked, changing the subject.

“Please.” Katara said, holding Druk out even as he clung to her in protest. “He needs to potty.”

“Thank you Auntie!” Thuy said and forcefully took the dragon, running off with him before he could break free of her grip. Suzu jogged after her and Zula walked stoically after.

“Okay you two, try to focus for long enough to look at these terrible centerpieces.” Sokka said. “I think I’ve managed to salvage them.”

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#zutara #fanfiction #jax writes #zutara month #modern au #the fic that prompts built

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snowbellewells · 3 years

Text

A Cottage by the Sea {Part Five}

Here we are at last! After months off (I’m truly sorry for that wait, by the way!) I’m back with the next to last addition to this @cssns20 story - only the final part/epilogue left to go. I meant to have this up much earlier today, but I had several different things come up that made me later. I hope you all who are still reading will enjoy... :)

Summary: Princess Emma has always been drawn to the shores of Misthaven, where the sea meets the sand near her parents’ castle. When an unknown boy washes up on the beach, with eyes as fathomless and blue as the waters that brought him to her, he soon becomes Emma’s best friend, her partner in crime, and her other half. But the tides give and the tides take away, and as her blue-eyed boy sails in her father’s navy and risks all in defense of those who made him family, unexpected danger and challenge will try to tear them apart, and might well show him just where he came from that day he first appeared to her from the sea…

From the beginning on AO3, and here on Tumblr

Part Five

Calypso looked on with a mother’s concern and doting affection, treasuring the chance to see her son happy. After so many years separated from her children, to have one of them here on her island where she could speak to him each day, brush back the wild dark hair from his face as she had done when he was just a little boy, no longer having to miss him, and knowing he would always be safe. It was nearly inducement enough to put a protective barrier up around her hidden home - an enchantment as she’d had before letting it down to allowing Killian’s princess passage, that would keep others out, and her son and his beloved in.

Yet, tempting as it was, the sea nymph knew better than most that she could do no such thing. Killian might find contentment here, now that Emma was by his side, but she could never force him to stay in such a manner. She would be parting him cruelly from the life he had worked hard to make for himself, and from the people who had taken him in - those who had become hs family when Davy had taken he and Liam from her arms. Having been forced to live with such loss, she would force no such thing on anyone else.

No, she would not make her beloved boy - long since become a man - remain here. She knew he would go, and even as she feared what might await him on his journey back to Misthaven; almost sensing that the threat from the deep was not yet over, she could only treasure this interlude she had been granted, to see Killian again, and to let him know he and his elder brother had always been loved and wanted.

~~***~~

Far below in the depths, fathoms beneath where Calypso watched anxiously, eyes drinking in every second of her son’s presence she could, and where Killian Jones and his royal lady love splashed and frolicked in the tide, another pair of eyes waited and watched, biding his time. True, he used supernatural means to do so - a dark orb of swirling greenish water housed in a gigantic open half shell platform brought the image to his underwater lair - but it was just as effective. Twice his younger son had escaped his clutches - once washed ashore as a youth before he could drag Killian down in his watery hold, and the second time foiled by the righteous nymph who fancied herself saving the whelp’s life. ‘Saving him? Bah!’ Davy’s glowering evil mind recanted. What could be more glorious than receiving his destiny? Sitting at his other side with Liam, ruling over the deep?

All these years, he’d been missing the set, the pair; he had his elder son - the wreck nearly a decade ago had seen to that - but he would not rest until both his sons were with him, his rule and legacy complete.

Of course, though he might hold his firstborn in thrall - unable to escape and return to the land of the living unless Davy released him, not after so long under the sea - that did not mean his eldest remained willingly. A dark glance over his shoulder gave him a view of Liam silently waiting and watching until orders were given him. Brooding, was more accurate, the immortal fiend thought angrily. Unlike the other souls lost and gathered into his unholy crew, Liam still looked much as he had when he had first been pulled below. He was not a mindless shade, hollowed and twisted beyond recognition as many of Davy’s captives for any length of time became. He still stood young, proud, and tall; broad-shouldered and handsome, just the sort of right hand a king of the deep would require, and Davy knew it well; it was just as he had envisioned long ago when he sent the typhoon that had claimed Liam’s young life. Unfortunately, the flaw in his plan was that it was meant to have brought him Killian as well, both his heirs to flank him and support him - his powerful living legacy. Instead his youngest had slipped through his clutches by chance or Fate - or interference from the dratted creature he had once charmed into loving him, who had borne him two strapping lads. To his way of thinking, Calypso had known full well just who he was and the darkness within him, but had then grown a conscience and set herself to oppose him at every turn.

“Liam!” he bellowed. Though he knew his eldest lingered just nearby, rekindled temper made his voice boom and reverberate in the small space, bouncing off the cavernous rock that encased his throne room. “It’s time my boy,” he pronounced, evil fire lighting eyes that had once been as blue and mesmeric as either of his sons’ but were now clouded and dark - foreboding whatever his mood. “Kilian will join us soon, as he should have long ago.”

The elder Jones brother, face steady and resolved, without flicker of emotion to betray his true thoughts came to stand at his father’s side dutifully when beckoned. He nodded at the boastful proclamation without comment, though if one looked closely - as Davy was too absorbed to do - they would have seen the strain in Liam’s every muscle, the tension radiating from his clenched jaw and tightly balled fist. His concern for his long-missed younger sibling would have been evident if one were watching, though he had learned long ago that luckily his power-mad sire noticed only what pleased him and related to his own concerns. He didn’t want Killian with him out of any genuine desire to reunite his family, but through some twisted ideal of dynastic completion.

Though he couldn’t hide all of his concern, Liam schooled his face into a mask of bland curiosity and obedience as he looked to Davy who growled, “You remember the job you are to do?”

“Aye,” Liam affirmed simply with a curt nod, leaving out that he had every intention of doing the opposite when the moment came.

He left soon after, knowing his keeper - all the moniker his pitiless sire truly deserved - would never suspect him to do anything other than exactly as he decreed. ‘Thank the gods for small mercies on that score,’ Liam thought as he swam from the lair with unnaturally strong, tireless strokes. Such blind tunnel vision was all he really had to count on in his hopes to turn the tide.

~~***~~

Emma was genuinely surprised by Calypso’s warmth and affection as the gracious sea numph accepted her thanks for her aid and guidance in finding Ogygia before drifting lost at sea interminably. Of course this otherworldly being - uncannily graceful and stunning in all respects - was Killian’s mother! Not wonder he had always been able to charm any person he met with a mere smile or twinkle of his eyes! The part that staggered Emma was that the woman would embrace her and bless them as a couple rather than begrudge her pulling Killian away when she had just found him again. Princess trained in regal bearing and dignity she might be, but all the same, Emma could only tightly hug Killian’s mother in return, blubbering an apology about not being able to desert her parents and her people, which Calypso acknowledged with a calm gesture of understanding, and then boarded the ship, trying to quickly wipe away the stray tears that had escaped down her cheeks. She was glad to be able to say she had met his mother, and Killian deserved a moment alone to say his farewells - at least for the moment.

“Your princess is truly a lovely young woman,” Calypso told her son warmly, squeezing his hands in her own, hating to think that soon Killian would once again be out of her reach. “She is as enchanting and kind as her lady mother, Misthaven’s Queen, is reputed to be. I have no doubt that she will rule justly and well when the time comes.”

“Nor do I,” Killian agreed softly, his assurance, and the pride her felt for his beloved clear in word and tone. “But Mother, I…”

“And she loves you,” Calypso continued, cutting him off because she knew she must tell him all before her emotions choked her. “Above all else, she holds you closest to her heart, my son. Right where you deserve to be. It does a mother’s heart good to see it.”

Killian bowed his head, flushing to the tips of his ears, pointed like hers he realized now with pleasure to have a trait in common with this mother he hated to part from. “And I love her,” he replied without hesitation, “But you know that I love you as well… don’t you?” He pressed their joined hands to his chest, just over his heart. “That I do not wish to leave you? Emma’s people look to her; they need her… and I have responsibilities as well. Her parents, they took me in…”

“Never fear, Killian,” Calypso soothed her son easily. “I do know. And you will never fully leave me. You will always be my baby boy. You - and she - will always be welcomed here, should you ever wish to return.”

For a long, heavily charged moment mother and son leaned into a lingering embrace - full of comfort, which neither wished to let go. Foreheads touching, Killian tried to breath in her scent, to memorize the sound of her voice - all the things he had forgotten before.

“I will always be here for you, Son,” she promised as he turned to stride across the sand and into the ship to sail home. “You know where to find me… whenever you need.”

Her son waved one last time before joining his princess at the bow, and soon their little ship was no more than a speck on the horizon, drifting further and further away.

~~***~~

They had been on the water some hours when a gentle bubbling and foaming disturbance of the surface appeared just ahead of their boat. Both Killian and Emma noted it, but were not terribly concerned at first. It was only when the waves around them began to roll and grow choppy, forcing Emma to grasp the sides tight-lipped and white-knuckled and Killian to eye the frothing, churning, and ever-expanding disturbance with worry he did not wish to voice. This was clearly no mere passing dolphin or larger tide as he had first hoped. He remembered too just how malevolently and suddenly the storm which wrecked his vessel and drowned the rest of his crew had blown up. He could not bear to see such a calamity befall Emma.

Glancing to his side, Killian’s heart swelled with admiration and affection for her as she braced herself and remained calm, neither crying nor panicking as many an untested sailor might have done. She was silent and steady - every bit as determined to hold her own as he was to see her home safely. However, he was about to caution her to wrap a length of rope around her oar-lock and then her waist securely, so that if she were tossed overboard he could haul her back in before she was lost, when suddenly their small craft bucked and lurched so strongly that she was thrown to the deck on hands and knees, and he nearly toppled down on her, despite his own more seasoned sea legs.

Before Killian could even reach to help her up, some unknown form broke the surface in the center of the spinning waters, and once it did, the worst of the pitching and rolling calmed. A head, then broad shoulders, emerged seemingly from the deep - as impossible as it should have seemed. However, they did just leave the island of his mother the sea nymph, so neither felt quite as supported by usual logic as they once had been. It was only as the figure glided toward them on the waves, as if they could simply float atop the water weightlessly without the effort of swimming, that Kilian recognized its build and look with a shock of disbelief. As the mysterious arrival raised unmistakably blue eyes to meet their awestruck gazes, the single word fell from his mouth on a harsh, ragged breath. “L- Liam?”

Emma’s head whirled to stare at him, then the aquatic visitor, and back, slack-jawed and goggle-eyed. She wanted to make sure she’d heard him correctly. Liam? The brother who had died when Killian was a child? Who had been lost to the sea at the same time it brought Killian to her? How was that possible? The thoughts cropped up in her mind one after another, but turning to see the intensity and confusion, the pain and the dawning joy on Killian’s face made her hold her tongue.

Tears started in the corners of her own eyes all the same, though he managed to speak again softly, “Brother? ...Is it really you? You- you drowned.” His face almost crumpled, and Emma wanted desperately to take his hand in comfort, but she held back, sensing that the brothers needed this moment - however it was happening. “I thought you were lost.”

Somberly, the shaggy head of hair lighter and curlier than Killian’s nodded to confirm his words. “Aye, it’s me, Little Brother.” He glided closer, out of the water up to his waist, until he was right next to their vessel, facing Killian as he reached out tentatively. “I was drowned… more or less. But I have not really died, not as one normally understands it. Oh blast, am I buggering this up!”

Emma knew her face must match the look of perplexity covering her sailor’s. The words this man was uttering didn’t make sense. And yet, Killian would not - could not - leave him hanging, regardless of his confusion. He reached forward and met Liam in a tight, frantic hug of reunion after so many years apart, She heard a strangled sob leave the younger Jones, muffled against his elder brother’s shoulder, which was in turn shaking rather markedly with a soundless anguish and relief of its own.

When they finally parted, Liam’s hands were resting on Killian’s shoulders as he peered into his brother’s eyes intently. “I will explain all - as best I can anyway. I swear it, Killian. I am sorry I could not make myself known to you sooner.”

Killian nodded in acceptance of those words, looking almost dazed - as if afraid to even blink or speak for fear his beloved sibling would vanish from him again.

“But first,” the elder Jones continued, “I must tell you how I have reached you now - and warn you to be on your guard.”

Tremors ran down Emma’s spine at the words themselves, and the tone in which they were spoken. This was not idle chatter, but a true threat, and she could only imagine who, or what, he might warn was coming their way.

Killian gave his older brother a curt nod of understanding, urging Liam on. It was clear how they would have worked impeccably well together - an unstoppable team on any ship - if things had been different, if they had been allowed to sail into adulthood side-by-side. They do not argue or waste time, but instead each obviously trusted the other at their word, without a second’s hesitation, and moved forward without fail toward what must be done - not allowing room for doubt nor fear.

Liam cleared his throat, eyes lowered to avoid quite holding contact with either of their faces when he continued, voice gravel-rough and low. “Of course you know of Davy Jones and his infernal locker…” he began..

Again, Killian nodded in confirmation, “Aye, naturally.”

“What most do not know - what I myself could not have known all those years ago, still just a lad, and would never have believed, is that Davy Jones and the legend surrounding him - his locker, his cursed crew, the Flying Dutchman - all of it is true.”

Neither Killian nor Emma spoke to interrupt him, though it was a near thing, both of them staring frozen and gobsmacked, trying to figure out how they must have misunderstood Liam’s words. Finally, Killian gathered his wits enough to sputter incredulously, “You mean to say that you’ve been held prisoner - a part of that villain’s crew all this time? How - how is that possible?”

Liam shook his head resignedly, answering with little more than a shrug and a low voice. “I do not begin to know the whys and wherefores, Little Brother. Until seeing you here before me, I had genuinely lost all sense of time passing, and much memory of who I once was and what I felt long ago - a sort of suspended animation, if you will.”

Emma had remained quiet throughout their exchange - partially stunned into speechlessness and partially from a desire to allow Killian the time and space to be reunited with the sibling he had mourned as long as she had known him. Yet, with this revelation, she found her curiosity overruling her previous restraint. “What allowed you to come to us now then?” she questioned, tilting her head as she attempted to study his face - familiar, but not as open to her as Killian’s had ever been. She didn’t mean to be mistrustful, but all of this tale was strange - straining belief, in fact - and his arrival to warn them at just the opportune moment seemed almost too much a coincidence.

“A fair question indeed, your Highness,” Liam answered respectfully, with a slight dip of his chin in differential bow. For a moment, his gaze slid back over to Killian with such proud approbation, as if congratulating him in finding such a sharp lass and valuing that about her, that Emma felt herself flush with pleasure.

He granted her a small but transformative smile; in truth, the way it lightened his whole aspect made him seem an entirely different person. Not only that, but the familial similarities between he and the brother she had grown up beside became all the more evident when his expression drew her in just as Killian so easily did. “In answer to your question - as fair warning, as much as it is in my power to offer you - Davy sent me to the surface anyway. He made me have you in my sights, ready to do his bidding at the moment he chooses to strike. I did not know whether I would be able to thwart his intent and show myself or speak to you ahead of when he wished, but it seems I can, and it was worth any effort for me to at least try. I believe he knows my loyalty is not fully his, in whatever degree I am free of his influence, and so he has not told me all. Have no doubt he will attack when you are weakest though, when the moment is most opportune for his victory. Please, both of you, be wary and ready. I will help you in any way I can, but I can never be fully assured how much of my will might be my own.”

Kililan’s brow furrowed in anger and disgust, his concern for the sibling he loved clear as he asked disbelievingly, “He controls you?”

Liam bobbed his head in grudging confirmation, but he wanted them to know as well as possible just what they were up against. “To a large degree, yes. If he wills it, that seems often to be the case, at any rate. Thankfully, he has numerous minions, most much more eager to serve as they are grateful to be - at least in some measure - alive. He is often distracted and not actively ordering me to do anything, and as such, I am often able to do as I will. Not that I have much to see or do here trapped within the ocean. It would have been better for me to have perished outright, but he did not allow that - not when he sent that storm to gather us both to his side.”

The elder Jones shook his head in frustration, gritting his teeth before concluding ominously, “I fear he will never rest until he has captured your soul as well, Brother… And I do not know how much I will be able to aid you or resist his orders when he directly states otherwise.”

Before he could divert his gaze, obviously ashamed that he could be used as a pawn, made to hurt those he most wished to protect, Killian brought his hand quickly to grasp his brother’s forearm, bringing Liam’s stormy gaze up to look on his own, clasping his long lost hero’s hand in a firm, brotherly grip. Killian vowed solemnly. “Understood. We will be on our guard. But do not think for a moment we will hold you to blame for something beyond your control, either.”

Emma stepped closer, looking into the slightly greyer, more muted blue of the brother she had just met’s eyes as well. “Take care of yourself too. See that you weather the storm as well so we can meet again. And thank you… for the warning.”

The shaggy head, which had once been carefully close-cropped and tended light brown curls nodded, seeming to know better - just as his younger brother always had - than to argue with a princess so prepossessed and determined. There was a sheen of unshed tears filming those wise, weary eyes as he hesitated every second he felt able, but in the end he dared not linger further, loath to draw Davy Jones’ attention to the princess and lieutenant if they could by pass his waters undetected.

Unfortunately, the entire sea was the evil being’s domain - and all those upon it a part of his purview. All three of them knew - and Liam from a sickening knowledge of seeing and living the aftermath of when struggle against Davy for survival ultimately failed - it was a battle that would take all they had, with the outcome Emma spoke of anything but assured. Still, the fact that they knew it was coming, could steel themselves and prepare for the worst, somehow steadied them. Neither Killian nor Emma had ever been people who had backed down from a fight - and they were calling on every bit of that resolve in the moment.

Though Liam was more than reluctant to leave his brother and Killian’s beloved - a princess! And a woman he already found himself feelings brotherly affection for - he knew he must do so soon. The last thing he wanted was to destroy their one advantage and let Davy know they were aware of his plot. Nor did he wish to lead his predatory sire right to Killian and Emma; let them get as close to their home and safety as they could before the nefarious, supernatural captain caught them up.

“Aye,” he finally managed to choke out harshly. “May we do so.” One more quick bow of his head, reverence in the gesture before he offered a warm, loving smile and then sunk so smoothly beneath the surface of the water that it barely rippled, unlike when he had appeared. Almost as though he had never been there at all; leaving Killian and Emma to turn to each other, vowing to fight through together, to find Liam again, their eyes promised it even if no words were spoken, whatever they were about to face.

~~***~~

Sure enough, they might have hoped otherwise, Killian and Emma felt Davy Jones’ presence approaching before they reached Misthaven’s shores. The otherworldly menace’s arrival was heralded as much by the change in the wind and the waters around them as the chill of foreboding that made the hair at their napes stand on end. Though he had not yet shown his cursed visage, the way what had simply been a pleasant breeze now picked up to whip at the sails, their hair and clothes, and to howl in their ears, and the way what had been a light blue sky turned a sickening chartreuse full of scudding grey clouds ever-darkening with ominous intent.

For an extended moment, Kilian’s eyes sought Emma’s across the small hull of their rolling vessel, being tossed more and more as the waves crested higher. “If we capsize, Emma,” he spoke slowly, firmly, as if to imprint his words on her memory if he were not still there at her side. “Swim for land in this same direction,” he indicated the way they had been traveling, over her shoulder. “We nearly reached the harbor. A strong swimmer - which you are, Love - might yet make it on their own strength.”

She wanted to ignore his words, to shake her head in wild denial that she might need knowledge he wouldn’t be there to provide. She had no intention of losing him again. And yet, the confrontation they had hoped to avoid was surely coming any minute; they would not outrun the master of those lost to the Deep. The little vessel that had taken her so far, and had nearly borne them home again was no longer managing any progress forward, merely struggling to remain afloat as it rode wildly up and down on the ever-rising swells.

And then, at long last, with a loud, whooshing roar, it was as if the ocean itself parted, a huge, dark shape, which solidified into the monstrous hulk of a ship surged up from the depths of the open chasm. As it leapt to the surface, righting itself to mount a wall of water, the split in the waves fell closed once more, leaving the blackened, ruinous black ghost of the Flying Dutchman towering before them not more than fifteen feet away - like a shark poised to swallow smaller fish too stunned or too late to flee.

No sooner had Emma been able to swallow hard in a throat suddenly parched with apprehension, her fingers clenched in the material of Killian’s sleeve, above all else determined she wouldn’t let him be taken from her again, when everything around them went horribly, unnaturally still. The waves, the wind, all their surroundings silently seeming to hold their breath before all chaos broke loose. For one last moment, she and her lieutenant fixed their eyes on each other; wordlessly swearing to see each other on the other side, whether or not it was within their power to follow through on such a promise. Then he turned to face his sire - if one could truly be made to believe that the monstrous captain towering over them at the prow of the other ship could have had any connection to the true and honorable man Killian had become. Intending to remain at his back, to do whatever she could to help him fight and keep them afloat, Emma straightened her shoulders and stiffened her spine as they waited and watched.

Sound and fury returned to the world around them as the accursed captain reached the very helm of his ship, bringing him fully into view as his low, malevolent chuckle at their show of resolve seemed to set the waves crashing and churning once more. “Oh ho, Killian, you’ve brought your intended to our long-awaited reunion, have you? Not particularly well-advised, but she is a pretty wench. I supposed I can see why you’d be loath to leave her behind.”

Killian’s frown deepend, the muscle in his jaw working as he bit down on his anger. Those eyes that she usually likened to the brilliance of a summer sky or the blue of his beloved ocean were instead lit with the pale fire of the hottest of flames at Davy’s callous words. “Hardly,” he clipped in a low growl. “I had no intention of meeting you at all. And I’ll not have you getting anywhere near Emma.”

“Is that so?” Davy snarled, his own temper seeming to erupt at his offspring’s defiance. “We’ll just see about that!”

The waves their little boat floated upon suddenly seemed propelled forward, rising on a towering crest of water as if drawn to Davy’s hand. Skilled a sailor as Killian was, there was no steering them anywhere else when the very elements were turned against them. The air seemed to quiver just as Emma found herself doing, in spite of her best efforts as they came face-to-face with the accursed being. The boards of the vessel beneath their feet groaned and creaked as the frothing sea bearing it seemed ready to dash it to kindling. The air whistled and howled, whipping her hair against her face until she was nearly blinded. And yet, she saw the horrifying shade who faced them, the dark cloud of obsession clouding eyes which might once have been clear and striking as the sons he claimed as his own. He stood taller than the average man, seeming even larger with the wild hair and wide-brimmed, ostentatiously old-fashioned hat atop his head. All his dress was from a more ornate and bygone age, and yet looked gone to ruin rather than impressive, almost mildewed, or perhaps it was a growth of some sort of moss or coral upon his apparel after so long within the sea. Beyond the visible appearance however, the aura of evil power practically radiated from his being, and Emma felt herself draw back before even realizing she had done so.

Pleased with the nightmare impression he never failed to make, Davy Jones chortled in maniacal glee. “Oh yes, I see you there, Princess. Try not to fret overmuch. No matter how brave, they always cower before me in the end.”

She wanted to contradict his words, to call back that Killian wasn’t afraid and that she believed in him, but Emma found her tongue was stuck to the roof of her mouth, speechless and unable to react other than to stare, frozen, until with one last murderous crow, Davy cackled, “You’re both in my clutches, and no hope to escape. Look your last on the world above.”

Then they were falling, plummeting back to the surface with such speed and force that the boat rolled and cracked in two when it hit the water again. Swept underwater and swirled around dizzyingly, Emma fought to retain any sense of which way was up and to break free of the whirlpool ravenously threatening to suck her further down.

Her lungs burned; her rational mind knowing she would have to draw breath soon - and that it would be nothing but saltwater and spell the beginning of the end. She paddled madly, flailing for some sort of light, when suddenly, a solid arm caught her around the middle and pulled her back toward the air at last.

Certainly she had expected for Killian to have somehow reached her, though she couldn’t begin to account for the strength and speed with which she was fished from the drink. However, upon gulping her first sweet breath of air and catching a glimpse of her savior, she found not Killian, but his brother keeping her afloat. Coughing up the water she had somehow swallowed and attempting to speak her thanks, the words died on her tongue at the seeming blank and unknowing countenance Liam bore, nothing like the warmth with which he had looked at her mere hours ago.

“Liam?” she attempted to gain his recognition, even as an awful feeling stole her breath yet again. “What’s wrong? It’s Emma… don’t you remember me?”

Still he made no response, solidifying the frightened certainty that he was under Davy’s control once more and no longer acting of his own volition. Wriggling and kicking to try to break free, Emma found quickly that her efforts were useless. There was no escaping the iron grip he had on her.

Yet, even as her own panic rose to as crescendo, Emma found herself needing to find Killian, to know if he were better or worse off - and already praying that he had not somehow been swallowed by the vicious waves his sire had conjured to claim them. As her eyes flew across the distance, they came to rest on both a thrilling and blood-curdling scene. Her love stood feet planted on the overturned shell of their boat, splintered oar in hand as the only weapon available to him, and waiting as Davy drew near, magically skimming across the tops of the waves, ready to face him once again and for all.

She struggled anew against Liam’s iron hold, but he barely moved; her efforts to free herself having so little effect they might as well not have happened at all. He didn’t speak, though his expression was tormented, torn as if he were indeed in conflict between what he wished to do himself and the command that decreed his actions otherwise. Yet that did not stop Emma’s trying to reason with him, trying to break through. “Liam, please. You know me. I’m on your side, remember?” she pleaded, even as she continued to try to escape his hold. “We want the same thing. Let me go and we’ll help Killian, alright? Look, he needs us.” She flung her arm out desperately, hoping to make him see the real place they should be focused.

Liam’s gaze did move to his younger sibling for a moment, and Emma’s heartbeat quickened at the longing she saw in the elder brother’s countenance; the aching need to stand shoulder-to-shoulder and fight together for something good and true once more. But then he jerked his gaze from the scene of impending conflict once more, muttering to himself as if to drive home a point he would not have himself forget. “Not yet, not yet,” his lips were moving as he repeated it almost like a mantra. “Must wait for the opportune moment…”

Puzzled, Emma worried that she had heard him say that very phrase before, when cautioning them that Davy would choose the opportune moment to strike. All she could take from that was the fact that he woudln’t release her and hadn’t yet gone to his brother’s aid was that his father did have him under his command. Yet, Liam also looked far from peacefully mindless; he might be under duress, but he was aware and hating every second of it. Even as she was in danger from him, even as every fiber of her being clawed to get to Killian’s side and help him any way she could, her heart still broke for Liam.

“You can beat this, Liam,” she murmured fervently, trying to catch his gaze and ceasing in her struggles to rest her hand over his much larger one in solidarity. “You’ve fought him this long, hang in there a little longer.”

Something sparked in his gaze at her words, something Emma didn’t fully understand - and yet, it gave her hope. It was conscious and alive, and truly him, not Davy holding his mind captive. Had she gotten through? Had he already broken free? Then what was he waiting for?

Both of their attention snapped back to the battle sides drawn before them once more at the taunting voice of Davy Jones. “Come now, boy. You had to know you would lose to me. A mere mortal - and with something so precious to lose. Join me, part of the ship and crew that sails forever, scourge of the sea. You’ll have power, your birthright, your brother with you again. Plus, as you can see, Liam holds my ace in the hole. We’ll see your princess safely to shore if you join us. Refuse and fight, and she becomes one of us as well.”

Even at a distance, Emma could see the rage in Killian’s eyes at the demon’s words - the threat to himself already known, but unwilling to stand for the threat to her. He glanced their way only briefly, but it was enough for Emma to see Liam give the tiniest jerk of his head to the side, an unspoken denial to whatever Killian had asked with his look. “Opportune moment,” she heard him vow in a whisper once more as he held his younger brother’s stare for a resolute second longer.

Then Killian whipped back to face their sire once more with a defiant glare and what could only be called a battle cry. “Never!” he snarled, fire in his eye and retribution in his bearing. Though Emma could do nothing but watch, and though the dire situation seemed completely unchanged, she was galvanized by her love’s certainty, believing that he would prevail. Whatever had passed between he and his brother, it had been the final push he had needed.

With a roar of vengeance, the taker of imperiled souls surged forward, Emma’s gasp swallowed by the howling, churning elements at his command swelling along with his ire. As certain as she had been mere moments ago that Killian could stand firm, she was terrified that she was about to see him consumed, and the rest of them with him. Still, just as Davy’s huge bulk and accompanying wave towered over her sailor, ready to cascade over his head and bury him in the rolling depths, Killian released another feral howl and charged forward himself, meeting his villainous father head on. Boldly welding the broken spar of the boat before him, he stabbed with a force Davy could not have reckoned on, sinking the jagged tip of the wooden stake into the monster’s chest.

For a horrible beat of time, their foe appeared unfazed, and then it was as if he began to deflate, then shrink - as if no one had managed to strike such a blow before, and his defenses were not actually equal to the task. Lurching with outstretched hand to grasp either Killian or his weapon in a final strike, there was suddenly an explosion so loud it seemedd to shake the very atmosphere. A blinding flash of light radiated from where man and monster grappled to the death, then darkness fell - equally blinding - and Emma was suddenly adrift. No longer held, unable to place anything in the black night that had suddenly engulfed her, she paddled to stay afloat, and seemingly alone. Lost and completely at sea.

Bobbing aimlessly on the surface, it was hard to tell how much time had gone by, or how far she had been carried by the waves. The huge crests and white caps had receded, leaving it a gentle rise and fall that Emma was in no danger from, yet she could not feel that all was well until she understood what had happened, where she was - and where Killian was as well. Trying she might to strain and peer through the darkness however, she couldn’t make out any recognizable landmarks; nothing but the waves surrounding her and buoying her up. It was as if she had gone from the center of battle to being the only person left on Earth or sea, the silence and dark felt so immense.

Eventually, the repetitive motion of the gently rolling swells soothed her into a doze, her eyelids fluttering closed. Despite her concern for her beloved lieutenant and her occasional unconscious paddle to stay upright, after all she had been through, Emma succumbed to a restless sleep.

~~***~~

Her eyes didn’t open again until her feet drug across rough stones, having finally been carried into the shallows and touching the rough bottom not yet become sand. She jerked back into awareness with a gasp; alarmed and not at all sure where she was. Blessedly, when she looked around herself, Emma could see once more - the endless horizon stretched out before her streaked with peaches, yellows, and pinks as hte sun rose over the ocean. Even more relieving, at her back she could see rocky, deserted coastline. Devoid of people or buildings, but land all the same.

She struck out for the shore, gladly swimming toward the land that was nearer than she could have guessed. Was this Misthaven yet? Had she been carried elsewhere as she drifted and slept? There was no way to know, and she found she didn’t even care in comparison to simply getting out safely. If only she knew where Killian was…

She had barely scrabbled out upon the rough, sandy beach, feeling water-logged and half alive and at a lost for what to do, when she heard her name called over the water. “Swan!” the moniker that only he had ever used, an affectionate shorthand between the two of them, hit her ears with the welcome impact of beautiful music.

Turning, her mouth fell open in awe at the sight of him rising out of the water with otherworldly grace - as if right in his element (which, in truth, he must be). There was an ethereal glow about him, gleaming from his dark hair and the tips of his rather pointed ears, outlining his strong arms and slender waist as he emerged from the deep, sent back to her on the tide once more. “Emma” he repeated, voice low and ragged with emotion though relief and joy showed across his face. “We made it, Love. He’s gone and we’re still here!”

Unable to hold back any longer, as impossible as it was to believe, when he opened his glowing arms in welcome, standing in the ankle deep water, she felt tears of joy spilling over as she cried out his name on a sob and ran to meet him.

Feet splashing through the shallows, the slap of her skin against the near-velvet texture of the wet sand as the water splashed up with each steps, Emma was laughing and crying all at once as she gained speed. The exhaustion and defeat that had dogged her mere moemtns before completely gone at the sight of his smile. She hit his arms in a flat out run, bowling them both over and into the water again, witha yelp of surprise from Killian, a laughing tangle of limbs.

She was kissing across his cheeks, his forehead, his chin, anxious to press her lips to every bit of his skin, having feared that he had finally disappeared where she couldn’t follow. Pulling back fro only a second as he tangled his fingers in her wet hair and cradled the back of her head in his palm, she tried ot splutter out enough words to make sense. “H- how is this possible? How did you - How are you here?”

Killian chuckled, a low, comforting rumble that vibrated from his chest to her palm where it rested over his heart. He licked those gorgeous lips, parting them to answer her, and suddenly she couldn’t stand not to be kissing them for even a moment longer. The explanation could wait.

Surging forward, she captured that luscious mouth with her own, just barely murmuring, “Never mind… it doesn’t matter. I’m just glad you’re here.”

Killian might have been taken aback by her enthusiasm at frist, but he recovered admirably. Pushing back, his tongue entered the fray in a delicious bid for control of the kiss, which she ceded, humming in pleasant abandon as he rolled her to her back in the sand and surf, breaking lightly and pleasantly against their bodies. Hovering over her, his eyes sparkled in enchanting glee, and he had the audacity to lick his lips as though she were a delicacy laid out before him. “Emma, my love,” he breathed hoarsely, lowering his ips to graze along her collarbone, licking and nipping in a way that made her squirm with blissful anticipation. “We’ve made it home.”

“Mmm,” she tried to answer, but the wordless sound was all the confirmation she could muster with her body humming pleasantly from his attentions.

“We should go to your parents, Love,” Killian suggested, though half heartedly at best. “Let them know we’re alive.”

She nodded, but made no move to go anywhere, merely sinking her fingers into the muscles of his forearms, gasping and arching toward him in supplication as his nose pushed aside her wet and slightly askew bodice and that wicked mouth latched onto the flesh it had been covering.

“Later,” she finally managed breathily, having all she could do to hold on for dear life to him. “We have all the time in the world.”

Tagging: @cssns @kmomof4 @jennjenn615 @searchingwardrobes @laschatzi @whimsicallyenchantedrose @teamhook @revanmeetra87 @spartanguard @therooksshiningknight @optomisticgirl @tiganasummertree @thislassishooked @winterbaby89 @jrob64 @stahlop @elizabeethan @donteattheappleshook @drowned-dreamer @shireness-says @thisonesatellite @lfh1226-linda @ultraluckycatnd @gingerchangeling @xsajx

#cssns20 #cs au mc #cs au ff #a cottage by the sea #part five #enchanted forest au #lieutenant duckling au #fic update

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aewriting · 3 years

Note

Ohhhh tell me about the Western AU!

Ooooh the Western AU, yes.

This is one I started a while ago, and the further I got into it, I realized that I would have to do a LOT of research for it to turn out the way I wanted. That being said, after receiving your ask, I’ve been thinking about it, and I believe there are ways I could go with it that may not be so labor intensive, but could still deliver the story I’m looking for. It’s been a really long time since I’ve posted anything related to this, so I’m posting the previous excerpts below the cut.

Warnings for mentions of abuse, injury, harmful religious beliefs, sexual suggestiveness, presence of a firearm

Peek 1:

All the Manes boys were handsome. Polite. Hard workers. The older two were spitting images of Jesse, while the younger two looked… different (“Like the mother,” people would whisper around town). If there was the occasional bruise, black eye, well… boys liked to tussle. And even if it wasn’t a tussle… that was Jesse’s right, wasn’t it? Spare the rod, spoil the child. Heaven knows other men, left on their own with four boys, wouldn’t have raised them so well.

Things changed, after the accident.

Some said that Jesse shouldn’t have pushed the boy so hard, that he was young, yet, to be riding that horse. They said that Jesse wouldn’t hear it, said that the boy needed to grow up, be a man. And, really, who was going to stand up to Jesse? No one tells another man how to raise his own children, especially not a man like Jesse.

The injury had been bad. Boy was lucky to still have his life.

As soon as it was clear he’d live, Jesse dropped him at the orphanage.

Peek 2:

He doesn’t remember much, about the other two. A boy and a girl. Dark hair, and lovely blonde hair. That lovely blonde hair is what got them out of here. One of the fancy ladies from town, oohing and aahing.

Maybe he should have clung to her, too, like the boy did. Maybe he could have gotten out, too.

It wasn’t to be.

He caught on quickly. Not just the language, the speech. He caught on with how to survive, in a place like this. Avoid the older kids, especially the boys. Make himself useful.

And don’t… don’t…

“He’s a devil child.”

“He’s not.”

“You… you know it’s him. There was no one else in that room, with the laundry tub. There’s no other explanation.”

“There are a million explanations.”

“And then there’s the way he is. With the animals, the babies. It’s like, like…”

“Some folks have a talent for that sort of thing.”

“Talent? Is that how you see it? I’m beseeching you, Sister, let me call Father George. He… he will take care of this.”

“Take care of what? The extra help we get with the infants, the chickens? The washing? No. The way I see it, the boy is a gift, not an abomination.”

It had warmed something, in Michael. And from that point on, he knew two things. He had to be careful. And he had to be useful.

Peek 3: (This one’s NEW)

“You need to go, child.”

“What?”

Sister Joan is in his face now, shoving a bundle in his arms.

“They’ve called Father George. You need to go before he gets here. Please, Michael,” she says, sounding desperate.

“But Alex - “

“Will be fine,” she says quickly. She purses her lips. “Sister Felicity blames you. Entirely,” she says, looking at Michael meaningfully. “For corrupting

“She’s wanted me gone since the week I got here,” he says bitterly, trying to process what’s just happened. “And she treats Alex like he’s some, some infant just because of his leg.“

Sister Joan nods in apparent agreement. “I gave you some clothes, food, a little money.” She looks down. “It’s not much, Michael.”

“Thank you,” he whispers, and without warning, she pulls him in for a hug.

“Be careful, my son,” she breathes, holding him to her tightly. “Your name,” she whispers, “it means ‘Who is like God?’ And I’ve always thought it fit you.”

He pulls back a bit, looks at her questioningly.

“I’ve seen what you can do,” she says softly. “With the animals, the children. the... the others things I can’t explain.” She shakes her head in wonder. “The others, they say it’s the devil in you, but it’s not. It’s not.” She releases him from her embrace. “May god bless you, Michael.”

Peek 4:

“I, I can’t do this, Michael.”

“Sure you can,” Michael says, tone light. “You used to do this every day back at the orphanage.”

“It’s been years.”

Michael quirks an eyebrow at him. “You really think it won’t come right back?”

Alex shakes his head. Damn him. He sees the expression in Michael’s eye – he knows what he’s doing. And suddenly Michael’s hands are on him, his shirt, unbuttoning the collar, the first and second buttons.

“What are you doing?” Alex hisses.

“Improving your odds.”

“What?”

Michael’s head suddenly shoots up. “Shh, I think… I think she’s coming. Let me do the talking.”

Alex nods, and watches the door to the saloon swing open. A beautiful woman enters…

And promptly aims a shotgun at Michael.

“What the hell are you doing in my bar before first call, Guerin?”

Michael’s hands are raised in surrender, and he’s smirking.

“Wonderful to see you too, DeLuca, m’lady.”

She’s shaking her hear at him. “Don’t pull that horseshit. What are you doing here?” She swings the shotgun around. “And who is he?”

“He,” Michael says, “is Alex. Great pianist from out East. Renowned. I heard ol’ Tom skipped town, and I thought I’d help out my favorite girl.”

Alex’s chest clutches a little at the way he says it, the way this… DeLuca woman’s mouth twitches into a half-smile. She does lower the shotgun, though.

“The Ortechos are good under any circumstances,” Michael says, his tone suggestive. “But they’re even better with music.” Michael bites his lower lip. “Those hips, damn.” He looks the woman over, every inch of her. “Wouldn’t mind seeing you in action up on that stage again, DeLuca.”

She laughs, wryly. “Nuh uh, Guerin, someone has to mind the bar, break up the fights.” She looks at Alex then, more carefully. “He’s a good-looking sort.”

Michael’s smile widens. “He is, isn’t he?”

DeLuca snorts a bit. “God help you, Guerin, you’re insufferable.” Her attention is on Alex again. “Someone like him would certainly brighten up the bar. Maybe coax some ladies into staying for a drink or two.”

“Some men, even.”

DeLuca’s eyes widen. “Guerin,” she says, voice low. “You don’t know when to keep your damn mouth shut sometimes, I swear.”

She finally speaks to Alex. “I’m sorry about him, and I’m sorry you ever fell in with his lot.”

Alex smiles, shrugs. Seated as he is at the old piano, he doesn’t think she’s noticed his leg. All the better.

“Why don’t you play something for us?”

So Alex breathes deeply, flexes his fingers, and launches into what he hopes is a pleasing rendition of “Ode to Joy.”

It goes… well, he thinks. No major mistakes. He’d played it so often for Sister Felicity, in the evenings, that it’s almost like muscle memory. Satisfied, he finishes up.

Michael’s gaping at him. “Alex, that was – “

“It was good, really good,” DeLuca says, looking thoughtful, if not quite enthusiastic. “I mean, technically, I don’t see any issues. But, ah, people don’t really come to the saloon to hear Beethoven. Can you play anything else?”

Alex pauses, then launches into “Nearer My God to Thee.”

Michael still looks rapt, but the DeLuca woman is shaking her head a bit. “I… look,” she says, and she finally, finally sets down the shotgun on top of the bar and walks up to Alex. “Your playing is lovely. But… but do you understand what happens here? In this place?” Alex looks at her for a long moment. Looks at Michael.

He needs this job. He needs money.

He breathes deep, hits some keys, opens his mouth, and sings. “As I was a-walking down Paradise Street, way, hey, blow the man down! A pretty young damsel I chanced for to meet. Give me some time to blow the man down!”

He continues like this for a few verses, trying to get into it. He peeks up, over the piano, and DeLuca’s smiling. Tapping her foot along to the beat.

This is one of those sea shanties that can just go on forever and ever, so Alex decides to call it, finish it up. “Give me some time to blow the man down!”

DeLuca slaps her open palm on the bar and starts clapping. “Yes! Thank you! That’ll work, that will certainly work. Now, If you can take that spirit and apply it to a song about the railroad, or drinking, or lost love, or, or just about anything that the Ortecho sisters can shake their skirts to, you’re hired, honey.”

Alex sags in relief. “Thank you.”

Michael looks at DeLuca, then at Alex. “I dunno. I personally kinda liked all the talk about blowing a man.”

And with that, DeLuca gives him a strong shove. “Outta my bar, Guerin. But you,” she says, and points at Alex. “Come back this afternoon. 1pm. You need to meet Liz and Rosa.”

#WIP meme answer #western au #my fic #malex

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remedialpotions · 4 years

Text

An Artistic Rendering, part 2

I couldn’t stop myself. (But also, I had a lot of fun writing this so... here. Have it.)

Wednesday night art classes were typically followed by a casual dinner at a nearby restaurant. Usually, Hermione enjoyed this post-class debrief session with her mum, but that had been under normal circumstances, when they’d been working on drawings of flowers or cats or bowls of fruit. Tonight, Hermione was not totally sure how she would tolerate sitting across from her mother for an entire meal, nor if she would ever be able to look her in the eye again.

“So, what do you think you want to order?” asked Mum cheerfully, opening up her menu. “I’m rather hungry, aren’t you? Maybe we ought to order a starter - the bruschetta here is supposed to be excellent.”

“Sure,” Hermione said, staring blankly into her own menu. Words like ‘carbonara’ and ‘pomodoro’ and ‘rigatoni’ floated meaninglessly in front of her. “Whatever you want.”

“Ooh, let’s get some wine, too,” Mum added. Had Hermione possessed the wherewithal to look at her, she would have been goggling in disbelief. How on earth was she so cheerful after what had just transpired? How was she, too, not completely disturbed? “How about Chianti? I never know what’s supposed to ‘pair well’ with something else, I just always get what I like-”

“Great,” interjected Hermione, eyes fixed on a description for chicken marsala. “Sure. Whatever.”

Mum set down her menu; in her periphery, Hermione sensed her leaning curiously toward her. “What’s going on, dear? Are you all right?”

“‘What’s going on?’” Hermione repeated back, incredulous. “‘Am I all right?’”

“Well-” Mum blinked, taken aback. “I know there were a couple other drawings that the instructor liked better, but she still thought yours was rather good - and you’ve always been better at things like science and maths anyway-”

“It’s not that.”

Just as Mum opened her mouth to inquire further, a young woman in a crisp white blouse and black pants arrived at their table. “Good evening, ladies,” she greeted them. “My name is Nicola and I’ll be your server this evening. May I get you started with something to drink?”

Mum ordered the bottle of Chianti (Hermione privately thought they might need more than one by the time the night was over) and the bruschetta, and Nicola flounced away.

“Mum,” Hermione said, once she was sure that their server was out of earshot. “You drew a picture of Dad.”

“Well, of course I did.” Her voice was infuriatingly casual. “He was the obvious subject, wasn’t he?”

“So you don’t think that was awkward for me at all?”

“Yours was of Ron,” Mum pointed out, leaving Hermione to briefly wonder how she was possibly related to someone so level-headed. “I’m certainly not interested in seeing my future son-in-law like that.”

The discomfort of the evening was dulled, at least momentarily, by this implication that she would be marrying Ron. While they were not yet engaged - Hermione was in no rush, and perfectly happy to cohabitate - she was also quite certain that she would be spending her life with Ron, and it was nice to know that her mum was so certain of it too.

Though, perhaps that made the events of the evening even more bizarre.

“That’s different,” replied Hermione finally.

“How, exactly?”

“He’s not in his fifties, for one-”

“One day he will be,” said Mum, “and I’m sure when that day comes, you’ll find him just as attractive as you do now-”

“Oh my God,” groaned Hermione, squeezing her eyes shut against the barrage of unwelcome mental images that her mum had just conjured up for her.

“Well, really.” Hermione forced herself to open her eyes, only to see a knowing, almost smug sort of look on her mum’s face (perhaps they had more in common than she thought). “Am I meant to believe that this was the first and only time you’ve ever seen it?”

“Please stop-”

“And don’t think we don’t know what happened in Australia.”

Before Hermione could inquire further about this - Australia was a topic that almost never arose between her and her parents, for obvious reasons - Nicola returned with a bottle of wine in one hand and two glasses in the other. The instant the wine was poured, Hermione seized upon her glass and drank deeply from it.

“What were you saying about Australia?” Hermione asked, once she had stopped to catch her breath.

“Just that it was clear what had… transpired between the two of you.”

Hermione paused, considering this, hoping her face was not giving anything away. It was true that she and Ron had had sex for the first time in Australia, just days before locating her parents and restoring their memories. And she did not expect her mum to be under any illusions about the nature of her relationship with Ron; they lived together, and before that, she had been quite unabashed about spending the night at his. But it was one thing to know, and quite another to discuss it.

“You could tell?”

“A mother always knows,” said Mum blithely around her own, more reserved sip of wine. “And really, it was just a matter of time. I always knew that.”

“You did?”

“It was always clear to me, and to your dad, that you had a certain connection with him,” said Mum. She had grown thoughtful now, introspective. “Actually, I imagine it was clear to everyone but the pair of you at times.”

“You’re right about that.”

“It’s why we were always happy to let you spend summers with his family, or spend your Christmas at Hog - at school,” she finished lamely, eyes darting around the restaurant. “You had such trouble fitting in when you were younger, and we were so happy that you found someone who… who understands you, the way he does.”

Hermione nodded, thankful that Nicola had swept over to them with a plate of bruschetta, because she was at a rare loss for words. She always knew her parents had liked Ron, and they’d made no secret of their gratefulness that she had found friends at last in him and Harry. But she hadn’t known that they had seen the depth of their relationship, or understood its uniqueness. Most people questioned what she and Ron saw in each other… but her parents had always known.

“And he really must love you,” Mum went on, helping herself to a piece of toasted bread piled high with chopped tomato, fresh basil, and grated parmesan. “To have done what he did for you.”

Myriad events flashed through Hermione’s mind: Ron, at twelve, vomiting up slugs; at thirteen, telling off Professor Snape; at fourteen, begrudgingly pinning an SPEW badge to his robes; at eighteen, offering himself up for torture in exchange for her. Posing starkers for a figure drawing ranked rather low on his running list of self-sacrifices, and yet it was not lost on Hermione how lucky they were that this was now their biggest concern.

“You’re right,” replied Hermione, taking her own slice of bruschetta. “He really does.”

***

Ron was at the sink, scrubbing a sponge over a dinner plate, when Hermione walked through the door of their flat. “Hi,” Hermione greeted him brightly, approaching him in search of a quick kiss hello. “I’ve brought leftover spag bol if you want it.”

“You know I do.” Ron shut off the faucet and picked up a small towel to dry his hands, then bent to touch his lips to Hermione’s. “A departure from your usual, innit?”

“I didn’t want anything too fancy,” replied Hermione, handing the styrofoam box to Ron, who immediately opened it to peer inside. “I was a bit put off my appetite to be honest with you.”

“Uh oh.” Ron fished a fork out of a drawer. “Dare I ask how it went?”

“You were very well-received,” Hermione assured him, making him grin as he twisted strands of pasta around his fork. “But erm…”

“Yes?”

“My mum… she, er…”

“Oh, no.” Ron paused with his fork in mid-air. “She didn’t have… comments, did she?”

“She did, actually, but that’s not the problem. She…” Hermione waited while Ron chewed his mouthful of pasta. Unlike her, his appetite only increased during times of distress. “She drew my dad.”

To her surprise, Ron burst into raucous laughter. “Yeah, I expected that she would have done.”

“You could have warned me!”

“And you could have warned me that a group of twenty people were going to see my todger before you had me starkers in the sitting room,” Ron grinned, “but you didn’t, did you?”

Though she was outwardly scowling at him, Hermione had to work to keep a smile off her face. “Again, it’s not like I took photos-”

“Merlin’s pants, I bet that’ll be next-”

“And really, it’s quite different when it’s your own father - I didn’t look at it or anything,” Hermione was quick to state, “but even just knowing…”

She broke off with a shudder. Ron set down the container of pasta and folded her into his arms, where she laid her cheek automatically against his chest.

“That sounds traumatic,” said Ron, gently kissing the top of Hermione’s head.

“It really was.”

“Should we sign you up for therapy?”

“Yes, please.”

With another little chuckle, he kissed the top of her head again, and she settled in against him. Her mum had been right: she did have a connection with him that was unlike anything else. She had always known that they would end up exactly as they were now, even when they hadn’t been able to see it themselves.

“So you said your mum had some comments?” asked Ron after a few minutes’ easy silence. “I’m a little scared to ask.”

“Not about the picture,” Hermione said. “Mostly about how… how good you are for me.”

“Yeah?”

“She referred to you as her future son-in-law.”

Ron loosened his grip on Hermione just enough to look down at her with surprise. “Did she really?”

Hermione nodded again. “Does that… freak you out?”

It was not a question of whether he loved her, or was wholeheartedly committed to her; she knew without a shadow of a doubt how he felt. But with marriage came things like babies and home loans and joint vaults at Gringotts, and it was not unreasonable to think that at nineteen, he simply might not be ready for it.

But he just shook his head, and moved in to kiss her again - this one soft, warm, lingering. “Nope. Not at all.”

Happily, Hermione resumed hugging him.

“Maybe next time,” said Ron, his hand rubbing idly up and down her spine, “you lot could do something a little more… you could join a book club, maybe. Something like that.”

“That could be fun,” responded Hermione. “Only, my mum’s got a bit of a penchant for romance novels.”

“Oh. Perhaps not, then…”

#romione #rhr #ron weasley #hermione granger #so just to be clear Hermione's mum did not look at the drawing #she's not a creep lol #also nobody should take the mention of bruschetta as 'excellent' as an endorsement of raw tomatoes

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redhoodedwolf · 4 years

Note

Prompt: They both keep asking each other out but thinking the other one is rejecting them and lydia has to like banshee scream some sense into them or something

“So, what are you doing this weekend?”

Stiles scoffed, tossing the lacrosse ball back up towards the ceiling and catching it narrowly before it smacked him on the nose on the way down. “Not going on a date,” he said, somewhat bitterly. It’d been over three months since the last one of those and he’s starting to take it personally. Is he no longer attractive? Did moving in with his dad while he goes through surgery recovery really demote his worth?

Derek was quiet for a moment, probably engrossed in his bestiary research again. When Stiles turned onto his side on the bed and glanced at him, he caught Derek’s eyes flitting back down to the book. “I see,” the werewolf said a beat later, no emotion readable in his voice.

Stiles continued to stare at him, mostly unabashedly, noting how Derek’s fingers curled over one corner of the book, the shadows his dark eyelashes cast over his cheeks, his shoulders bare underneath a tight white tank top.

“I am starving,” John Stilinski complained, and Stiles had come to expect this complaint every evening after physical therapy, like clockwork.

Derek, his physical therapist, chuckled as he lowered Stiles’ father into the living room recliner, removing the crutches from his hands. “You did good work today, it’s to be expected.”

“What’s the prognosis, doc?”

Derek ignored the nickname, which Stiles knew five years ago would have garnered even his father the Hale Death Glare. “You’ve got good bones, Sheriff, and they’re healing nicely. In a couple weeks we’ll try to get you walking without the crutches--”

“As long as you continue doing your daily exercises,” Stiles finished Derek’s thought as he brought a healthy plate of fruits and vegetables out from the kitchen to settle onto the table next to his dad’s chair.

Derek nodded at him, a small smile on his lips. His eyes were sparkling with mirth.

Stiles felt the words tumble out of his mouth, “We should go get dinner. Together,” he tacked on when he got control of his mouth again.

Maybe doing this in front of his immobile father wasn’t the best choice, but needs must?

Derek’s smile faltered, and his eyes flicked away from Stiles over to his father and then back to Stiles. Derek cleared his throat, and cast his eyes downward. Stiles pursed his lips.

“We--You shouldn’t leave your dad. He’ll need the pork chops you’ve been defrosting for dinner tonight to help revive him.”

Stiles felt a frozen smile on his face and a similar coolness in his stomach. “Right. Forgot about those.”

Danny arched an eyebrow when Stiles slid onto a stool at the bar, and before Stiles could utter a greeting, asked, “Does Lydia know you’re here?”

Stiles blinked. “Um, no? She’s in Boston? Do I need her permission to drink? I’ll have what’s on tap.”

Danny’s eyebrow looked far more judgmental, but he moved to grab a mug for Stiles’ beer and filled it. “I ask because she’s been asking me to keep her up to date with your... shall we say movements here. I don’t think she expected you in a gay bar at night when you could be with someone else.”

Stiles scoffed and took a long drink from his mug. “And who could that be, my dad?”

“Was thinking younger, more scruffy, more fangs,” Danny shot back with, and Stiles’ beer suddenly went down like lava, drying up his insides and instantly draining the life from him.

“No. No, that’s not...” Stiles shook his head, unable to finish.

Danny made a noise, and Stiles looked back up at him.

“Weird. Ran into someone at the grocery store last week, and all he, ehem, they, if we’re still pretending here, talked about was helping you, and why you were in town, and if I had seen you recently.”

Stiles ran a hand over his face. “He’s my dad’s PT, okay? I’m home for my dad. That’s what he cares about. He made that pretty clear.”

Danny refilled his mug without Stiles asking for it, and it made a dull clanking when the full drink hit the bartop. “You asked him out?”

Stiles took the mug into his hands and said nothing.

Danny rolled his eyes. “Look, I know how scarce FMLA time is, even for me, I have no idea how much they give you fancy FBI operatives--”

“They’re actually surprisingly good about it,” Stiles interrupted, a puff to his chest. “That, and they know if they ever want me back, which they do because they need me, then they’ll give me what I want.”

“You have such a confident attitude when it comes to your job,” Danny said, as if his statement had a double meaning. “Expect a call from Lydia tomorrow.”

Stiles was in his room the next morning, glad for his foresight the night before to not drink himself into a stupor he hadn’t found himself in since college, window open to let in the morning breeze and the sound of Derek’s voice as he stood on the front porch, talking into his phone.

Derek was early for his dad’s appointment, so Stiles had no qualms about making him wait. He wasn’t ready to face him yet, not without waking up a bit more and removing the images of dream-Derek from his brain.

“Look,” Derek said abruptly, and the sudden clarity of his voice caught Stiles’ attention. “I’ve already gotten a no, okay? I’m not such an asshole as to ask twice.”

Stiles couldn’t see him and didn’t want to move closer to the window, in case Derek heard or sensed him eavesdropping, so he moved about his room as naturally as possible, pulling off his sleep pants and dressing in fresh jeans.

“I don’t know what Danny told you, but--”

Stiles stubbed his toes on the leg of his bed, so he missed the rest of Derek’s sentence as he cursed up a storm mentally and shook out his foot to try and stop the sharp pain.

“We can’t all be special like you.”

Stiles collapsed onto the edge of his bed. He’d barely caught the words coming from Derek, they’d been spoken so gently. Stiles swallowed thickly. Who could Derek be talking to that garnered such respect and tenderness? Maybe Cora?

The doorbell rang downstairs, and his dad called, “Derek’s here!” from the kitchen, meaning “get the door for me I’m finishing up the last of my exercises that I promised I would do yesterday but never did.”

Stiles pulled on a shirt and raced down the stairs, opening the door for Derek in record time. “We should just get you a key to the house,” Stiles half-joked.

There was a look on Derek’s face that Stiles couldn’t read. He also couldn’t tell if it had to do with his phone conversation or seeing Stiles.

Derek glanced up behind him and said, “Your phone is--” he paused and shook his head. “Your dad in the living room?”

Stiles stepped aside and let him in, closing the door behind them. “The kitchen, I think? I just woke up.”

Derek glanced at the hall clock that proclaimed it was almost eleven thirty in the morning. He licked his lips. “Long night?” Derek asked.

Stiles shrugged. “Went out for drinks,” he answered a beat later, spotting his father in the kitchen, crutch under one arm and trying to bend to reach something in the fridge. “Dad, would you let me get it, please?”

“I would if my son didn’t come home in the early hours of the morning, thus sleeping past any kind of respectable time, to help me eat something before my PT appointment. Hello Derek,” his father greeted, smile on his face wavering before he asked, “Everything okay?”

Stiles turned to see Derek’s eyes on the floor as he nodded. “All good, Sheriff. Let’s get you squared away.”

Stiles used the appointment time as a reason to escape and get groceries. Halfway to the store, his phone sprang to live, vibrating up a storm in the cup holder. He let the call ring out, but then whoever it was called back immediately. With a sigh, Stiles pulled into the closest parking lot which happened to be for a bank and reached for his phone. He’d assumed it was work calling, but Lydia’s name was flashing on the screen, declaring several missed calls from earlier in the morning as well. He’d recalled Danny’s warning from the night (this morning?) before and groaned, loudly.

When the phone rang again, he picked up immediately. “Yes, strawberry goddess?”

“Are you with Derek?”

Stiles glanced in his rear-view mirror to double check (hey, it had happened before) and replied, “No, he’s at home working with Dad. Why?”

“Where are you?”

Stiles was starting to get a headache. “On my way to the store. Pulled into a parking lot because you called.”

“Good. Switch to FaceTime.”

Stiles knew it wasn’t a question. He pulled the phone away from his ear and stared at the screen, unenthused, until Lydia’s face appeared before him.

“So, what did Danny tell you?” Stiles asked, wanting to get this out of the way.

“Stiles, you look sad,” Lydia said with a “tsk” in her voice.

“Not exactly swimming in roses here in good ol’ BH, hon.”

Lydia smiled sympathetically. “You miss work?”

Stiles rubbed his free hand through his hair. “I mean, yeah? But this is way more important. And it’s been good family time. The SanFran branch is close but not close enough.”

Lydia nodded. “I know. But you should be making the most out of your time. Like not shooting yourself in the foot.”

Stiles squawked indignantly. “Excuse me?”

“That’s what Danny told me, at least,” She flipped her hand back and forth, and Stiles noticed something gleaming on her fourth finger.

“Lydia, are you engaged?!” Stiles shrieked. Some lady coming out of the bank glared at him and clutched her purse tight to her chest. How dare she, he worked for the FBI.

Lydia huffed and examined her left hand. “Yes. All the more reason for you to stop shooting yourself in the foot so you can bring a date to my wedding. You’ll be my best man, of course.”

“Of-of course. I’m-I’d be honored. But, wait...” Stiles shook his head, reorganizing his thoughts. “I’m not shooting myself, I’m putting myself out there and getting rejected. I’m...getting shot at. Metaphorically.”

Stiles wasn’t sure if his connection froze or if Lydia was just holding the “Stiles is an idiot” look on her face.

“Lydia,” Stiles said, in warning.

“And he calls me special,” Lydia murmured under her breath, face finally breaking.

And that. That pinged a bell in Stiles’ brain. “You were the one on the phone with Derek earlier?”

“Yes, telling him about my upcoming nuptials and how I was hoping to use Hale land to have the ceremony and reception on. And about his choice in date.”

Stiles watched Lydia smirk, and it was still scary even pixelated. He tried to think back on the little he’d overheard from the call. But putting it into context didn’t make sense. Because then Derek would have been meaning that he’d asked someone on a date, and got turned down. Not impossible, but improbable, especially considering his character growth since Stiles was in high school.

A sick feeling settled into Stiles’ stomach when he remembered what else Derek had said. “Did... he asked out--”

“Yes, Stiles,” Lydia said with a relieved sigh.

“Danny,” Stiles choked out and slumped back in the seat. Of course.

“Oh for the love of Christ,” Lydia hissed, and Stiles slid his gaze back over to the phone to see Lydia practically seething. “I will scream. I am about to scream. Just go get your stupid groceries, go home, talk to Derek, and then call me.”

“So he can let me down a second time? No thanks,” Stiles grumbled, but she did have a point about the store.

“You are a disappointment,” Lydia said before abruptly ending the call, which stung a little, but Stiles knew she didn’t really mean it.

Derek was at his car door when he got home an hour after leaving and helped to bring the bags of groceries into the house. He even helped put them away in the kitchen, not uttering a word the entire time. It was weirding Stiles out, but not enough to tell him to stop. The job was done in more than half the time.

“Your dad is taking a shower. Don’t worry,” Derek added, when Stiles opened his mouth, “I’ve got ears on him. He’s perfectly steady, using the shower chair and everything. Just didn’t want another sponge bath from his son.”

Stiles scoffed, unable to look at Derek for more than a second without feeling jealous. “They aren’t a cake walk for me either.”

“I’m not dating Danny.”

Stiles stopped rolling the empty plastic bags into a large ball and tossed it onto the counter, wound-up bags spilling in random directions and expanding very slowly.

“I didn’t ask him out either. I wouldn’t--” Derek’s voice faltered, and Stiles look at him truly for the first time that day. Derek’s shoulders were slumped, and he looked exhausted. “I wouldn’t do that to you, unknowingly or knowingly.”

“Um.” Stiles was now feeling like the idiot Lydia looked at him like.

“Lydia texted me, said you thought I’d asked him out, but I didn’t, I barely see him, he’s only working here before he starts grad school--”

“I know,” Stiles said, needing to do something with his body before he went into a complete shock. He was lost, which didn’t happen much these days.

Derek didn’t look any happier; in fact he looked even more upset, though his emotions only played out in the crinkles on his face and the slope of his torso. “Of course, yeah, I mean you spent all night with him so...” Derek trailed off.

Stiles started to catch on. “Yeeeah,” he responded, slowly. “Because he was bartending at the bar I went to last night. Contractually obligated to stick around and make drinks.”

Derek’s eyebrows furrowed. “But then who did you meet for drinks?”

Stiles raised his hands up. “Nobody? I mean, there were others there, but it was a Wednesday night, dude, not exactly popping.”

“So you’re not dating Danny?”

Stiles scoffed. “No, Danny is out of my league and I am not his type.” He swallowed before adding, “You are, though.”

Derek nodded once, then again. “Oh. So it’s just me, then. I see.”

“That’s great. Wanna show me the picture?” Stiles asked, reaching out to settle a hand on Derek’s arm and squeezing the muscle. “I feel like we’re working with different cameras here.”

Derek’s eyes fell on Stiles’ touch of comfort, gaze trailing up his arm and finally landing on his face. “Lydia is getting married,” he mumbled.

“She is,” Stiles said, because it was good they agreed on something.

Derek stared at him, took a deep breath, and said, “And I want to date you.”

Stiles’ grip on Derek’s arm tightened. He forced back the stupid smile that wanted to overwhelm his face and said on an exhale, “What made you change your mind?”

“Change my mind? I haven’t. I asked you on a date. You said you weren’t interested.”

Stiles pulled Derek a step closer to him, eyes wide and head shaking. “Uh, no, I would never do that, besides it was you who turned me down, remember?”

Derek took hold of Stiles’ wrist and pulled him even closer, their chests touching. “I think neither of us have been working with a full deck here.”

“You’re mixing metaphors now,” Stiles warned, and knew Derek could hear the way his heart was tripping over itself by the tightening of his grip.

“No, you used one metaphor, and then I used one. No mixing, yet,” Derek challenged, pale eyes flitting all over Stiles’ face before his gaze was landing below his nose.

“I think I am starting to get why Lydia wanted to scream in my face earlier,” Stiles murmured, lips close to brushing Derek’s as he rocked forward.

“I kind of want to scream now.”

Stiles and Derek jumped apart to see an amused and wet-haired Sheriff in the kitchen doorway, a towel slung over his shoulders.

“Dad, you are the worst,” Stiles declared.

His father gave him a look.

“Oh, go do your alphabet foot exercises,” Stiles shot back, snagging Derek’s wrist and pulling him past his father and into the hallway. “I’m going to ask a second time, Derek, and I know not taking no for an answer is so high-school-Stiles but I think this time I can make an exception.”

Derek was grinning at him, teeth on display, and Stiles tilted forward to kiss them, but realized halfway through the motion how weird that might be.

“Will you go on a date with me? And be my date to Lydia’s wedding, whenever that is?” Stiles placed a hand on Derek’s chest, over his heart. “Please don’t say no,” he whispered. “You are so my type.”

Derek raised his chin and kissed him, which was fantastic, but not an answer. Stiles moaned his disappointment into the kiss, but didn’t pull away because he was pretty sure Derek was more of an actions-guy anyway.

He was definitely good at the physicality part of physical therapy, Stiles could quickly attest to this.

#sterek #fic #eternalsterek #mine #anjalibutch

108 notes · View notes

jungcity · 4 years

Text

𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞, 𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐥. | ii

word count: 7k

“Meet me at midnight

in the forest of

my dreams.

We’ll make a fire

and count the stars

that shimmer above

the trees.”

“How do I politely ask my boss that I want to slap him over the head with a chair?”

Those words were the first thing that came out of your mouth the moment you stepped inside the kitchen of your small apartment. You saw your sister propped comfortably on one of the chairs while munching her dinner. She ran down a scrutinizing look over you, her eyes painted with the words ‘I told you so’.

Rolling your eyes at her, you slumped too hard in one of the chairs, causing your butt to hurt from the contact. She chuckled loudly from the silent ‘ouch’ you exhaled before she gulped down a glass of water.

“What did he do this time?” Yuqi asked, wiping her mouth off the excess water.

Her question brought you back to the incident earlier. How Jaehyun gripped your arms trying to squeeze an answer from you. The pain left a numbing pain on your skin, reminding you to be extra cautious around him for your own sake. The man, just like what Soojin said, is not one to mess with. But you felt utterly coward reminiscing the way you cowered under him. He is your boss, yes, but he is still a man. He is just a man; flesh and blood just like you. “Earth to you, sis?” Yuqi snapped her fingers in front of your face, making you blink your way back to reality. You debated telling your sister of what happened. But you remember that behind her 5’0” height sleeps a volcano that you wouldn't want to wake.

“Nothing happened. He was just, you know, being extra jerk today.” You frowned.

“You don’t have to tolerate his attitude. You can always quit,” Yuqi commented, pulling a chair towards you and sitting on it, concern written on her face.

You slid off your three-inches high heels while laughing at her. Quitting after a week of work wasn’t in your list of priorities right now. You still have to endure your contract which lasts for a year, before you could quit or renew it— that is if he doesn’t get angry enough to let you stay in his company. And you still have tons of debts to pay and a future to secure; you wouldn’t want your sister to suffer just because you were being whiny.

“You know that’s not possible. We need money to stay alive,” you reminded her. She sighed in frustration, trying to open up the topic of her working so she could help provide for you both. You half listened to her sentiments while munching your dinner of ham and egg.

“I don’t understand why won’t you let me help,” Yuqi sighed.

You looked at her as she slumped further into her own seat. “I know you want to help. I couldn’t let you because of your condition. I wouldn’t stand idly as you risk your health doing jobs that I could do myself.”

“I am not as frail as you would like to paint me.” She sounded irritated, conviction clear in her voice. Of course you knew that. You are only refusing to test her strength when it’s clear that one simple job could harm her.

“And you’re not as strong as you believed to be,” you retaliated, challenging her to say something by looking at her intently. She sighed and let her hands fly above her head, defeat clear in her action.

“Alright. You win. I won’t talk about this again.”

“And I won’t let you even if you try to.” You chuckled, lifting the heavy atmosphere that’s coaxing from your discussion.

“You are annoying.” Your sister chuckled back. That was when you knew that you had won the argument again.

You stood up, gathering all the dirty utensils in the kitchen to wash in the sink. Yuqi offered to wash the plates, but you declined and told her to study instead.

“There’s something I wanna tell you, though,” she voiced behind you. You turned around to face her while wiping your hands with the apron wrapped around your waist. She nibbled on her bottom lip, the mannerism she always does whenever she feels uncomfortable to talk about something.

“I… I wanna try and join the archery team in our school,” she stated, refusing to look. Knowing Yuqi, she would always say tons of explanations to convince you about it, so you patiently waited while leaning onto the sink.

“I really wanna join… but I want to inform you first. Since, you know, my condition…”

Archery is the one sport she could do. It doesn’t really require heavy trainings and that could also help with her stamina.

“Just promise me that you’ll take care and discipline yourself,” you pointed out while raising your finger.

Her head snapped at you, eyes twinkling by the silent yes between your lines. You nodded at her, confirming that you indeed would let her join the sport. Her squeal pierced your ears as she jumped in happiness and hugged you.

“You’re the best!”

She peppered your face with little kisses, making you laugh and jokingly shrug her off of you. She kissed you one last time before dashing to her room with a stupid grin painted on her face. Going back to cleaning the dishes, you shook your head by your sister's silliness.

Teenagers are the hardest stones of the world, and you hope you were doing a great job taking care of one.

The day was beyond exhausting and you barely made it to your bed after washing your body and face in the bathroom. Your limbs felt heavy and your eyes were almost closing as you trudged the small distance from the bathroom to your mattress. The pain in your arm throbbing as you lay comfortable on the sheets. There wasn’t any bruises when you looked at it in the small mirror, but it was painful nonetheless. You wonder just how much strength Jaehyun emitted since you didn’t feel the pain earlier.

After you left the room, he didn’t call you back for anything again. Chaelin left not five minutes after you bolted out of the room. Regarding your boss, he departed his office earlier than the usual time. He was clearly pissed; with his narrowed brows almost crashing against each other paired with his usual scowl. As expected, he said absolutely nothing to you. Not even a sorry. Not even a glance.

Who are you kidding? Of course he was not apologetic. The heavens would open up and the angels would sing once a man like him admits his wrong. Men like him has a pride as fragile as a china vase. But deep in your heart, you expected him to at least say something to you, because you were hurt from his own doing.

Maybe it was bad idea to work for him, maybe it was a mistake that you didn’t listen to your best friend’s and sister’s warning. But what could you possibly do? What choices do you have left? Nothing. You have to endure him or else your sister would suffer. Besides, the company offers a great source of income, you really just have to live through the asshole CEO that comes with the package.

In spite of that, maybe you could exchange work to your co-workers on the lower floors. Surely, there is someone who would be willing to take the job. Jung Jaehyun is a pleasant view to look at, not until he talks and say something that would degrade and bury your confidence six feet under. Nevertheless, it wouldn’t hurt to try.

You exhaled by the thought of talking to your boss about your plan of exchanging works with his other employees. You know it is unprofessional, but could he blame you when he literally went on and tried to crush your bones, scaring the wits out of you? He couldn’t be that heartless and emotionless not to feel your discomfort, right?

Assuring yourself that you could successfully execute the plan tomorrow, you drifted into oblivion mere seconds after closing your eyes.

The bad day seemed to stretch up to your dreams. Your mind is in a haze of blurry images; bodies and faces alike. But you feel your own limbs, standing in the crowd of people waltzing in a slow jazz music at the center of the hall.

You tried to look around; seeing different faces contorted like smudges of oil paint. It made your head hurt. The whole place made you dizzy. From its grand and shiny chandeliers to bodies full of iridescent jewels. It feels as if you were back in the past, but having no knowledge of where in history you were into. Eighteenth century? Nineteenth? You have no idea, yet it almost feels as though you were in the right place.

You stepped your foot forward, feeling the hard and slightly heavy shoes attached to your soles. That was when it occured to you that you were wearing the same elaborative gown as every woman in the festivity; with a corset wrapping your body, making it harder for you to breath. The feeling of your hair in a tight and fancy bun against your scalp and the dragging sensation of cosmetics on your face felt utterly real that you started to question yourself whether everything was only a dream, for you felt like living in the moment.

A servant halted in front of you, breaking your reverie. His one hand carried a tray of various drinks.

“Mademoiselle,” he greeted, slightly bowing his head. You reluctantly took a glass containing of red liquid. The servant smiled before continuing on his task.

The elders warned not to eat or drink anything in your dreams, for it is an offer by the devil and a sign that they could take your soul from your body. Looking down at the glass, you could almost perceive your own silhouette against the red surface— making everything more sinisterly eccentric.

“My lady.”

A voice rang from behind you. You turned on your heels to face the owner of the masculine voice, almost losing your balance as you saw that familiar eyes piercing on your own.

“Jaehyun?”

You were beyond certain that he was your boss. With his raven black hair standing bright against his pale skin, and the same cherry lips paired with his dark brown irises; there was no doubt he is Jung Jaehyun. The only difference is his hair, that is much longer than what you remember. But all about him— from his voice to his aura— is Jung Jaehyun.

Have you been thinking about him too much that his memory clung in your mind and into your dreams?

“Pardon me, my lady, but who is Je—?”

He was having difficulties pronouncing his own name. It was obvious by the way his brows were knitted together with his tongue stuck in his mouth. You realized that the name ‘Jaehyun’ was too modernized for a place like this; convincing you that the Jaehyun you know and the man in front of you might have the same face but they are not the same person.

“I’m… I’m sorry.”

There was an unusual glint painted in his orbs as he looked at you; so different from his passionless eyes in real life. You tried to tell yourself that all of this is just a dream. But the first time your mind opened the door towards this fantasy, everything felt strangely veridical.

“It’s quite alright, my lady.” He smiled.

Jaehyun was a pleasant art to look at even with his scowl and narrowed brows. Yet his smiling face left no words in the dictionary to be used as a description to how dashing and comely he looked like with his pearly white teeth and luscious lips perfectly contrasting each other. And if only you could take a picture of it with your brain and print it out once you wake up just to taunt him tomorrow, you would. But the image would exist only in your mind and would solely be yours to keep.

“…can I finally have the pleasure to dance with you, ma chérie?”

You blinked. He offered you his hand, still too pale even in your dreams. Deep in your heart, Jaehyun feels too familiar that there was a slight pang of pain throbbing in the arteries of your heart as you stared at him. He whispered the last words like you share some kind of secret you didn’t want the world to know.

“What’s… your name again?” You asked.

His brows shot up to his hairline, clearly surprised by your question. “I see that you have consumed too much liquor tonight, my lady,” he chuckled.

He chuckled and you would lie if you would say that it wasn't the most pleasant sound you have heard in your whole life. It was deep, like it came from the depths of the ocean. You and Jaehyun were close to being strangers— but as you look at him with the eyes that you know were only a part of your imagination, you wished to bottle up the sound and replay it for the rest of your life.

He showed you his triumphant smile when you took his hand. Guiding you towards the throng of dancing bodies, he leaned closer, his lips so near you could feel his breath fanning your cheeks. “I am—”

“Y/N!”

You jolted awake, clutching your chest tightly as you stare at your younger sister with widened eyes.

“What on earth?” You breathed.

She smiled cheekily at you, “Breakfast’s ready.”

She hummed her way out of your room, giving you a look that tells you she knows you were dreaming about Jaehyun. You grabbed one of the pillows and attempted to throw it at her, sending her dashing to the kitchen with her laugh echoing through the whole house.

You stared at the window, noticing the rays of the sun slowly creeping in inside your room, leaving golden colors to everything that it touches. They say you would forget ninety-percent of your dream once you wake up, but that was not in your case. Your dream was so vivid you could draw Jaehyun’s smiling face if you wanted to.

The cold floors bit your soles as you stood up from the bed, washing away the last bit of sleep remaining in your system. You tied your hair into a messy bun and walked towards the bathroom to brush your teeth and wash your face.

You debated telling Yuqi about the dream, but you shrugged the thoughts off the same moment it occured to you. There was no point telling her about it. She would certainly tease you once you tell her about Jaehyun’s occurrence in it.

“I’ll be late tonight,” Yuqi started as you both settled down on your chairs. You nod your head at her since you have been through the reason why she would come home late.

“Please, take care.” You eyed her intently.

You were still a bit reluctant to let her join the archery team. But your sister is on her last stage of being a teenager and you wouldn’t want her to miss the things she wants to enjoy. You wouldn’t wish to take away the life she wants to explore; the one you didn’t had the chance to experience when your mother died in the peak of your teenage life.

“I will, mom.” She snorted and rolled her eyes, but promising to take care of herself nonetheless.

—

“Sir, would you like to eat some breakfast?” You asked your boss.

It took you a lot of courage to walk in his office and pretend like nothing happened yesterday; because let us be real, he was still your boss and you were still his secretary.

He was sitting on his throne, rummaging through the files stacked up on his table with his usual scowl. Instead of answering you right away, he pretended not hearing you for two-minutes straight— making you stand there like a puppy waiting for his owner to give his orders. You soothed yourself despite the temper starting to boil inside you.

“Sir, would you like to eat some break… fast…?” Your last words barely came out of your mouth as he suddenly looked at you with his ice-cold gaze. It was so chilling that it locked you down on your spot like a zombie shot by the ice-peashooter in a game. Then there you were again, slowly cowering in his gaze like an animal trapped in a pen.

“Look at me, Y/N,” he commanded. And you wonder just how much power this man has that his words could literally pull you down on your knees, right there and there. With your heart on your throat, you slowly lifted your gaze to meet his.

Suddenly and without any warning, your mind went running back to the dream that you had; Jaehyun asking you for a dance while smiling at you. Today, his face was still beautiful, but there was nothing friendly in it as he looked at you— only danger and mischief.

“Does your arm hurt?”

Yes, fucker. It still does hurt, thank you. You would’ve said the words if it wasn’t for the fact that you still need a job and you couldn’t afford sleeping in the streets for the next month. So you lied instead. “No, Sir.”

He pushed his chair away from his table, silently stretching his shoulders and craning his neck as he stood up. He then, pulled a small bottle out of his pocket and laid it on the table. “Take this and get out.”

He didn’t give you a chance to say something for he walked straight to the meeting room— not bothering to glance at you. You blinked a few times before taking the small bottle and left the office.

You opened your hands. A small smile crept up on your lips as you stared at the bottle of ointment for body aches laid in your palms.

Maybe Jaehyun wasn’t that heartless after all.

—

Apparently, lunch is the only time you and Soojin could mingle together. Today, the lunch was surely meaty because of her stories and chitchats. You haven’t told her about the incident that occurred yesterday, for you didn’t want any drama attached to your name. Soojin is a reliable friend, but she’s the type of person who could drop a bomb in a group people, so you decided to be quiet about the matter.

“Oh! Before I forgot, Yuta sent me a message yesterday. He’s coming home to visit!” She cheered while scrolling through her phone.

The name brought you too many memories in an instant that you almost choke on your drinks. Soojin eyed you sheepishly before handing you a glass of water.

She laughed while patting your back and saying, “Relax, Y/N. It’s just Yuta!”

You nudged her ribs before quoting the air, “He’s not ‘just’ Yuta, y’know.”

You and Soojin were both friends with Yuta when you were in your freshman years. The three of you shared some memories that you wouldn’t trade for the world. You cried and laughed with each other— until you and Yuta became a ‘thing’.

It wasn’t hard to love Yuta; he was simply the best that you could ask for a guy. With his wise mind and smart mouth, gentleman antics and protectiveness, he captured you like a little dragonfly between his fingertips. Your relationship tied a rope so tight it couldn’t be loosened. Not until you saw her with a girl; him shoving his mouth down her throat you were certain he was trying to reach her liver.

He was your first love and your first heartbreak; your first in almost everything. And it had hurt you to think that you were just his another ‘first time’. But you have moved on, because you couldn’t love a boy who made you feel that your all wasn’t enough.

“It’s been years since we last saw him. I wonder what does he look like right now?” Soojin asked you. Her chin propped on her hand.

You shrugged, obviously ignoring her question since you didn’t feel comfortable talking about your cheater ex-boyfriend. Yuta went back to his home country when you finished college, pursuing whatever dreams he had in his mind. You have no idea what could possibly be the reason of his return. You severed all communications that you had with him. So he probably didn’t know about your mother unless Soojin told him. Nevertheless, you didn’t receive any consolation from him.

Going back to the 28th floor of Jung’s Fiscals, your mind couldn’t get off the possibility of seeing Yuta again— after so many years. Not that you were scared, but you know to yourself that he took a slice of your heart when it broke into millions of pieces because of him. But you were much capable to guard your feelings now than you did back in college. You just hoped that the bars you have put around your heart were well secured so no one would slip inside.

The rest of the day, you spent checking emails and schedules of your boss. He departed his office when he ate lunch (you have no idea where), returning an hour later and never came out again. It was past six p.m. when your mind tinged of an idea. Suddenly, you wanted to draw Jaehyun’s smiling face. You grabbed the sketchbook that you always carry along with your mechanical pencil. Uncomfortable as you were because of the dream, his face never left your mind— begging you to keep it in your memories. And there was only one way to do so: drawing.

You started with a circle, giving it a 3D interface to easily draw the parts of the face. The brightness of the image in your mind gave you goosebumps. His smile, his dimples, and his eyes were so detailed you could truly print it out if possible. After thirty-minutes of fast sketching his face, the canvas could no longer deny that it was Jung Jaehyun. The only missing details were his long hair and his clothes. You started to sketch his hair when Mother Nature called on you. So you left the sketchpad splayed on your table— which became your huge mistake of the day.

After you have relieved yourself, you went back to your table— to see Jung Jaehyun holding your sketchpad with his lips pressed in a tight line. Disappointment clear on his face.

You bit your lower lip— cursing the fact that both of you were the only person in the whole floor. It made every step of your heels echo against the silence. You calmed your raging heartbeat, convincing yourself that you didn’t do anything wrong; you drew him smiling and that was that. Nothing offensive or whatsoever. But you knew something about your sketch had vexed him.

“You drew this?” He asked, running his pointer finger along the rough surface of the paper.

“Yes, Sir.”

The room is so quiet you could hear a pin drop. You hated the silence, more than anything— because it amplified the sound of your boss ripping the page off your sketchbook. You have never expected him to praise your work, but you also didn’t think that he would ruin it. That made everything much worse. Yes, it was only a thirty-minute worth of sketch, but you made it nonetheless. Nobody has the right to rip it in front of you.

He crumpled the paper with one hand, letting it drop on his feet while looking at you with his stupid, emotionless gaze. You remembered the small ointment he gave you earlier, and the way you even allowed yourself to think that maybe he wasn’t that heartless as some other people might think. Yet here he was, shattering your hopes and proving you wrong.

“How could you be so hateful?”

You were certain you said it in muted tones, but it echoed off the whole floor— slapping you the fact that you indeed said it to your boss. Aloud. But the asshole didn’t even flinch. He only raised his brow, obviously saying that you have no right to ask him the question. You were too vexed to care about his feelings because he obviously did not care about yours when he ripped your work.

“You know what? I’m done! I couldn't work for someone like you anymore!” You trudged the distance between the both of you, closing your sketchbook and collecting your things. He didn’t stop you. You were certain he hated you as much as you hated him and that he also wanted to get rid of you.

“Does that mean you’re resigning?” He asked.

You would lose your mind, literally. You have no idea how could someone be so devoid of emotions as Jung Jaehyun. His voice doesn’t even have a sliver of feeling. You stopped bagging your things and looked at him— truly looked at him. The distance between you only one step away you could perfectly see the outline of his dark brown eyes— reflecting your face.

“Yes! I’m quitting this job!” You told him. Your pointer finger digging in on his chest by every word.

He caught your wrist and pinned you down with a glint of amusement dancing in his orbs— a warm smirk spreading across his lips. “So feisty.”

You blinked at him. His smirk spreading wider by your stoned reaction. In that moment, the only thing you wanted to do was smack his smug face off his head.

“You cannot resign,” he simply declared, not letting you go.

“And why not?” You tried to wiggle your wrist free from his grasp, but he only pulled you closer.

“I forbid it.”

You couldn’t believe him. Of course he was going to forbid it. He knows no one would beg to be his secretary once you quit and tell the whole world how awful Jung’s Fiscals’ CEO truly is.

“Listen—” You were interrupted by the loud vibration of your phone inside your bag. But your boss didn’t let go of your hand even if you tried to release yourself again. You were left with no choice but use your free hand to grab the phone inside.

“Hello?” you greeted.

Jaehyun made it clear that he wouldn’t give you the privacy that you deserved, so you glanced at him sideways while waiting for the other line to answer.

“Good evening. Is this Miss Y/N?”

“Yeah… how may I help you?”

“This is Sacred Heart’s Hospital. We are calling to inform you that your sister, Yuqi, is currently in the emergency room—”

You lost your balance, sending your phone crashing on the ground. Jaehyun was quick to catch you, his brows in its usual knitted state. Both of you didn’t say anything and you have no idea whether he heard the news or not. You regained yourself and tried to collect your stuff with shaking hands. The whole world seems to shrink, making your head dizzy and sending your heart to run a mile.

What happened? Your mind kept repeating the question. Sweat started to form in your forehead as you think about the worst answers. You wouldn’t forgive yourself if something terrible happened to you sister.

Quickly, you ran for the elevator— some of your belongings clattering on the floor. You picked them up as fast as you could, nearly tripping on your toes.

“I’ll give you a lift.” Your boss declared, stopping the elevator doors with his arm. It opened free, allowing Jung Jaehyun to step inside.

You couldn’t construct a word, not even a syllable to tell him to fuck off and that you don’t need his help would come out of your mouth. But you have guessed he saw the irritation in your face that he answered it with his same scowl.

“If you ride a bus from here to that hospital, it’d take you half an hour. The risk you wouldn’t want to make now that your sister could be dying.” So he really did hear the call.

The veracity of his opinion made the hairs on your skin crawl. He was not wrong, but you still hated him. You detested the possibility of your sister dying on a hospital bed right now and you didn’t need him to hit you with that on the face.

Riding a bus is a risk you don’t want to take, but you didn’t like the idea of Jaehyun helping you either. The matter at hand doesn’t require you to prioritize your pride— so even with a heavy heart, you let Jaehyun guide you towards the parking lot. All eyes were on you as you walked through the lounge. Soojin looked at you with concern printed on her face, you gave her a curt nod to tell her you wete fine. Even when you were sweating waterfall.

He parked right in front of you, waiting for you to hop in. You glanced around, suddenly reluctant to enter his car. Aston Martin— you have seen it in magazines. One of the most expensive cars existing today. The windshield went down, revealing Jaehyun with his one brow shot up to his hairline. Left with no choice but to give up and ride his car, you shrugged and hopped in.

The fifteen-minute ride to the hospital gave you a lot of anxiety. Sitting in his luxurious car made you irrelevant and small again. You were not one to envy the success of other people, but looking at him swerving the steering wheel and push buttons inside the vehicle made you realize that Jaehyun was indeed meant for the elite kind of life. He was sitting there, nonpareil. And that was a bit unfair to you. You were almost the same age, but your worlds were poles apart from each other— with him in the north, and you in the south. You wonder where did you go wrong that all you have experienced in this lifetime were hardships and misfortunes.

Tears pricked your eyes, the envy and the restlessness about your sister’s situation mixing together. But you refused to be weak in front of him. You would get through this, because that was what all you have ever known— getting through everything in life.

You gave Jaehyun no time to say anything for you dashed outside his car towards the emergency room once you reached the hospital. With your heart beating against your throat, you grabbed the nearest nurse by the arm to inquire about your sister.

“How is Yuqi? Yuqi L/N? I’m– I’m her sister! Y/N Y/L/N!” You thump your chest, wishing the nurse would understand your wobbling words.

Before he could answer, a doctor emerged from the emergency room. You quickly ran, frantically bombarding her questions.

“Yuqi L/N? She had a severe asthma attack earlier. The nurses from her university couldn’t risk the odds that’s why they sent her here. Her breathing has calmed down now. But we still need to monitor her situation for she looked like in so much pain earlier.”

You let your body lean on the white walls of the hospital, trying to refocus your mind and handle all your emotions. You were so close to breaking down, and you were surely on your wit’s end— a thread of the thinnest yarn barely keeping you intact. The doctor tapped your shoulders before she walked away.

Almost an hour had passed when they decided to transfer Yuqi into a private room. You quickly followed, helping the nurse make the bed and such. Yuqi’s already awake, looking at you apologetically. You nodded at her with tear stained cheeks. And only when the nurses left you alone you allowed yourself to seat on of the chairs, clasping your sister’s hand between yours.

“I’m sorry…” she croaked.

You silenced her, “Sssh. You shouldn’t cry. It’s not good for you.”

“How could I not cry? Here I am! Being the useless person again! I hate myself!” She pounded the sheets while crying. You continued to shushed her with comforting words.

“Don’t say that! It’s not your fault.” Your voice broke, and all the emotions swallowed you whole.

“I’m sorry… I’m sorry…” she repeated, voice barely audible from all the crying.

“Sssh. It’s okay— I got this,” you reassured her.

Yuqi cried for five-minutes more, while you stroke her hair and tell her all the soothing words that she needed to hear. And then she fell asleep of exhaustion, tears leaving stain on her cheeks. You softly wiped it away with your handkerchief.

Looking around the room, you have taken notice of the empty bedside table. You have to go home and fetch some clothes, buy food and fruits for Yuqi and file a leave. But first, you resonated to calling Soojin. It was past eight p.m.. You were certain she was already on her way home.

“Hello? Y/N? Thank God you called! How are you? Are you okay? I saw you leaving with Mr. Jung. He didn’t hurt you, right? Tell me he didn’t!” she bombarded. You would have laughed if you weren’t in an unfortunate situation right now.

“I… I’m alright. I called to ask you a favor— I hope you won’t mind.” You sniffed.

“Of course I won’t! Tell me what is it? Do I need to call the police?”

“No, silly. I need you to come here, at Sacred Heart’s Hospital—”

She gasped, “What happened to you?!”

“Calm down. I’m quite alright. It’s Yuqi. I need you to look for her. I need to fetch some clothes and buy food. I’ll explain it once you get here.”

“Alright, Y/N. Wait for me!”

“Thanks, Soo. Take care.”

You tucked your phone in your pocket, running a hand through your hair while looking at Yuqi. She looks so peaceful yet weak, her lips barely having any tint on it. And you couldn’t help but blame yourself for what happened to her. I shouldn’t have let you join that team, you whispered— biting your lower lip to stop your tears from falling again.

You decided to rest your head on the sheets while waiting for your friend. Twenty-minutes later, the door creaked opened and you saw Soojin trying her best not to make a sound. She was early, maybe because she was already halfway when you called. You swiftly stood up. She boxed you with a tight hug as soon as she reached you.

“Is she okay?” She asked when you both pulled away.

You nodded at her while sniffing. “It’s my fault. I let her join the archery team.” You pitied yourself for being so careless.

But Soojin only shook her head at you, reaching for your hand. “None of it was your fault, Y/N. I’m sure you only wanted her to enjoy.”

“Still—”

She held up her hand, “Sssh. You have other things to worry about.”

You looked at her with knitted brows then she rolled her eyes at you.

“I saw Mr. Jung outside the hospital. Seems like he’s waiting for you.” Soojin wiggled her brows then.

Your palm automatically slapped on your forehead, remembering that you indeed went to the hospital with your boss. You completely forgot about him because of your anxiousness. Without a word, you departed Yuqi’s room and ran towards the exit— towards Jung Jaehyun.

Cool breeze greeted you outside, making you feel sticky from the sweat and tears your body excreted. The hospital provided cemented tables with chairs around them. You didn’t expect to see him waiting since it’s been almost an hour. But there he was— sitting on the farthest bench the lights could barely reach. A blunt was lit between his fingers, smoke coming out of his mouth while he scrolls through his phone.

You sat beside him, fanning the smoke away from you. There was silence but after a few minutes, he finally gazed at you. He didn’t say anything, just offered you the blunt.

“I don’t smoke. You shouldn't, too. It’s bad for the health.”

“Remind me that once I’ve had enough fucks to give.” He sipped on his blunt, blowing yet another eye-stinging smoke.

You ignored him. There was no point dwelling in the words that left his mouth.

“Why did you wait?” You asked instead.

“I thought you’d ask me about your salary.”

You didn’t say anything because he wasn't wrong. The idea, indeed, has already crossed your mind. But it seems embarrassing to ask about it. You were working on a prestigious company. Paperworks are needed for you to file any advanced salary and loans.

Jaehyun suddenly shifted on his seat, reaching for his wallet and pulling out a card. “Here. Use that for the bills.”

If you were not devastated beyond reckoning right now, you would have dropped dead to see a black card being offered to you.

“I don’t want your pity,” you snapped. Maybe it was your ego that was doing the talk, but you refused to receive any help from him.

Jaehyun deadpanned, “Hate to burst your bubble but your eyes tells me you absolutely do, chérie.”

Chérie.

You have heard of it, as clear as a crystal. Shivers ran down your spine, remembering your dream from earlier. It couldn't be possible. The accent and his voice sounded the same it creeped you out of your wits. You felt your heart somersaulting inside your chest, you were afraid you would lose your breath. But you tried to remain laid back, not letting Jaehyun witness that the monicker he called you rocked your world upside down.

“Is that… Is that your way to recompense?” You asked instead. Suddenly appreciating the grass underneath your feet. Noticing that your throat went dry, you gulped.

“You should know that I don't do that shit.”

You knew it. Jaehyun had no plan to acquit himself of what he did. There was silence again. You ran out of words to say to him. The dream and your reality slowly coaxing in your mind you thought you would go insane.

“Thank you, for going with me here.” You breathed at last.

He only nodded at you, placing his card back in his wallet before standing up and walking away— keys swirling on his finger. You let out a breath as you watched his back gets smaller and smaller.

Chérie. God, what is wrong with me?

—

Jaehyun absolutely has no idea what had got to him to offer you a ride to the hospital. Now that he thought about it, the idea was so unusual of him it made him slightly mad. Not only that, he even gave you a small body pain ointment. Chaelin gave him a lot of shit after the incident in the office, telling him he wasn’t being careful blah blah. And then she had forced the ointment into his hand, threatening him to give it to you.

He was sitting on his couch for twenty-minutes now— scolding himself because of showing a little decency towards a creature he vowed to hate with all the fibers in his being.

Humans. Weak and sinful humans. He breathed the words. Filling his glass of hard liquor and drinking all the contents in one gulp.

He reached for his pocket, digging the crumpled paper inside. Seeing your sketch enraged the living hell out of him, he was surprised he didn’t burn it with his own hands. It was so stupid of him to pick it up and pocket it as fast as he could when you were losing your shit because of your sister earlier.

Now as he stared at the paper again, he still couldn’t help but be furious. The edges of the sketch were rough, but the details were there— screaming at him. He couldn’t stop himself to remember the days when smiling was easy and laughing was effortless.

How many years has it been since he last felt his lips stretch into a genuine smile? Of course, a hundred fucking years ago— he whispered as an answer to his own question. He has no idea what came into your mind that you have decided to draw him smiling— but it infuriated him to the point that he almost fired you.

He reached for the locket on his other pocket again. It became a ritual; him staring at her face on a little locket every night since she died. She was still smiling— her hair flowing freely while a flower crown sit atop her head. Jaehyun clearly remembers the moment like a water on a fresh river.

They were both seated on the grass, with only the moon providing them the light. Then the girl offered his lap for Jaehyun to rest his head. The lake did its best to make everything more romantic by reflecting the moon onto its surface.

Beside her and onto her lap were the only places Jaehyun wanted to be forever. But he knew, in the hardest way, that forever only exist in him— not on the people around him, and especially not on her.

But he hopes— his stone-hard, ice-cold heart hopes that the saints could hear him every time he begged them to take care of her. Because yes, he was a sinner— but he still whispers her name like a prayer.

His world still revolved around her. His heart still beats for the same girl with eyes as blue as the ocean and hair as black as his own soul. The girl who loved painting so much she even gave colors into Jaehyun’s life with her delicate hands.

He ran a hand through his face, feeling that his world is collapsing again and again.

“Aurora, come back to me.”

—

You came back at the hospital after an hour and a half, the shame washing over you the moment you saw Soojin sprawled on the sofa while snoring. It was almost midnight yet she still needs to go home and wake up early tomorrow. You looked up at the ceiling while biting your lip, fighting the urge to cry again. You have no one but her. But only if you could split your body in half to do all things that needs to be done, you absolutely would. Just so you would never have to burden others with your own problems again.

You quietly walked towards her, leaning then shaking her lightly.

She stirred, quickly standing up when she realized it’s you and fixed her hair. “You’re back,” she groggily said.

You nodded at her. “I’m sorry if I had kept you waiting.”

“Oh no. It’s okay, Y/N.” She smiled at you. “The doctor arrived here twenty-minutes ago, checking on Yuqi. She said they still need to monitor her breathing. Hopefully, she could go home in two days.”

You nodded, glancing at you sister. Seeing her in a hospital bed made your heart hurt. It reminded you of the time when your mother was in the same situation, fighting for her life.

“Oh, I need to go home now. Just call me whenever you need me, Y/N.”

“Thank you, Soo. I owe you one.”

You hugged each other. But before you forgot, you grabbed your wallet inside your bag and handed a bill to Soojin. She looked at you, bewildered.

“For your fare, take it.”

“No! I couldn’t possibly take that, Y/N—”

You pushed the money on her palms, shaking your head at her with a thin-lipped smile. “Please, Soo. I won’t be able to sit still if you won’t take this.”

She sighed, finally taking the money. “Take care, okay? Don’t burden yourself too much. You couldn’t possibly control everything that’d happen, Y/N.”

You nodded at her, and then you shared one last hug before she departed the room.

Feeling that your bones couldn’t hold your body any longer, you decided to lay on the same sofa. It was still warm, giving you a little comfort in the cold room. You turned sideways, looking at your sister. Even though Soojin reminded you not to take everything as your fault, you still couldn’t help but blame yourself. No matter how you see the situation, your carelessness still stood as the main reason of why your sister is lying sick on the hospital bed right now.

You remember your mother when she was in the same situation— looking so frail and almost dead. And you, crying your heart out— begging the gods not to take your mother away but you already know that it was impossible. The sickness had spread in every cell of her body already, coating all of her strength and not making room for any improvements. Prayers couldn’t even help when the line had gone straight, the sound it made telling you that your mother had finally given up.

You felt warm tears slide down your nose and on your cheeks, making your eyes sting. Wiping the tears away, you shifted on the sofa and tried to close your eyes to sleep— the tears and the exhaustion delivering you into oblivion.

A lake. That was what you first noticed as you realized that you’re dreaming again.

The moon was on its full glory, white light reflecting in the silent waters of the lake. Unlike from your previous dream of noise and smudged faces, you couldn’t seem to hear the chatters of people or see any instruments tonight. You were completely alone.

But not until a voice spoke from nowhere.

“Aurora…”

You couldn’t name the voice. It sounded like it came from heaven, from the earth, from sundry places. Yet it fondled your heart with a familiar ache— like the name was your own. You tried to step your foot forward, your gown billowing because of the wind. The grass tickled your soles, making you realize that you were indeed barefoot.

The voices never halted as you sauntered up towards the lake. It proceeded with calling the same name. You kneeled on the grass, leaning forward to see your reflection in the water. Thanking the moonlight for mirroring your face clear enough for you to see. But it wasn’t yours, the face, yet your body and soul belongs to you.

Your hair seemed too black, and your face smaller. And your eyes— the color thrilled you. They were blue, as the ocean itself. A flower crown sit atop your head. You were breathtakingly flawless.

“Aurora…”

You immediately looked around. The voice, no more coming from various people— but to only one. You saw no trace of any living bodies as you roamed your eyes around your surroundings. But the voice still lingered in the air, saying the same name over and over again.

“Aurora… come back to me.”

It was becoming too familiar now— with its deep and raspy tone. You closed your eyes. Jaehyun couldn’t really seem to leave you alone even in your dreams.

masterlist.

#jung jaehyun au #jaehyun nct au #jaehyun imagines #nct 127 au #nct au #nct smut #jung yuno imagines #part ii #nct imagines #nct scenarios

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winchest09 · 4 years

Text

The Bunker Party - Debrief

Hey peeps!

Our latest bunker party was just amazing. My cheeks and my stomach still hurt from laughing...Supernatural seriously does have THEE best fandom and I’m so glad to be a part of it.

6 and a half hours we were hanging out for…SIX AND A HALF! But to see so many beautiful faces, hear so many lovely voices and to spend time with new people was just a dream! The support from you guys for each other, the love in this fandom; I can’t express how much I adore it.

Me and @katehuntington love holding these events and we are already planning the next live stream (date to be announced) but it will be in August.

So...to the debrief!

Below you will find:

Everyone who joined - their tags, what’s coming up fic wise and their masterlist.

Announcements - a juicy one this time!

Challenges to join

Blogs who want to help with your writing

Want a link breaker?

Fic & blog recs

So without further ado… *cracks fingers*

You are the guys that make it the live stream what it is. So below is a list of everyone who was on the chat last night accompanied by their masterlist and what they have coming up soon! For your reading pleasure and in no particular order…

@katehuntington: The new chapter of Ride with Me is out NOW and she is currently working on the next instalment. The Sullivan Series is now scheduled to be posted every FRIDAY so keep your eyes peeled for that and she is going to be finishing All I Want soon too!

Her masterlist can be found HERE

@flamencodiva: This babe is currently working on a multitude of things and we are in awe every time she tells us what she has on. She has FINISHED the epilogue of Getting Back To You. She’s working on the next part of What He Lost, What He Found as well as When You Fall. She also has Call of the Ocean and drabbles that are exclusive to her patreon!

Check out her masterlist HERE

@talesmaniac89: This beaut has been working a lot on editing images lately, making aesthetics and dividers for everyone to use! Besides that, she has a new chapter of The Man in Apartment 43 coming out. The next chapter of Missing in Action as well as the next one of Lost.

She is also working on a Benny/Dean oneshot!

She’s created a fake website called HunT and is creating a social media AU set in the universe. The whole story will be told through text messages and emails. It’s NOT one to miss!

Check her out guys, her masterlist is HERE

@whatareyousearchingfordean: Alex is currently writing her next two fictions! With Happiness Begins finished (previously Et Cetera) she has a sequel in the works...as well as her Firefighter Dean AU. From what we’ve already heard…it sounds amazing! I won’t give away any plot points that we were told just yet but it’s one to be put on your watch list!

Her masterlist can be found HERE

@superfanficnatural: This babe is currently working on the next chapters of The Bringer of balance as well as the next chapters of The Choice! He now has a Mafia AU fic in the works and will be collaborating with Alex (whatyousearchingfordean) on “Heavy lies the crown) a Male reader fiction!

We’re living for it!

Go and give him some love, his masterlist can be found HERE

@deanwanddamons: This absolute sweetheart is working on a few things at the moment and I have been given a sneak peak at what her talented little mind is cooking up. The next part of Baby Spoon will be gracing your eyes soon enough as well as updates to the rest of her series...The Show Must Go On anyone? ;)

Her masterlist can be found HERE

@emoryhemsworth: This beaut has broken her lil hiatus and posted the sequel to Because of You. Piece by Piece is amazing and if you haven’t read it yet, i suggest you check it out. She’s also writing her first chapter of her series called “Losing Sleep” as well as a TWD crossover fic!

Check our her masterlist HERE:

@waywardbeanie: This absolute gem of a woman is working on her very first fanfiction called “A Man Of Letters” and it’s an absolute DIAMOND. Dean. Letters. Fluff. Smut. It’s gonna tick all them boxes and it’s a must read!