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especiallythewomenandthechildren · 6 months

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As If Destiny (part five) 🌹

Part Four🌹

Warnings: Terminal illness, parent death, death and brutality (it is the hunger games after all) characters may be ooc. I read the book a while ago but don't really remember much of Snows way of thinking (I mean I know its toxic and insane but yk the other things) so I will mostly be basing off the film and my own thoughts. Also I can't spell for the life of me so be prepared for bad spelling and grammar. Enjoy loves!

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"I do hope you know that if we are even a minute late, I will be serving detention for the rest of the year."

The slightly anxious tone of Coryo's voice broke you out of your memorized state. You both were in a rush out of his penthouse and you weren't sure how long it would take to get to the academy, but against your best intentions, you had to stop for the flowers.

Something about their white petals and fresh arouma just sucked you in.

With a reluctant sigh, you forced your legs to move.

"But you are the perfect student. You've never been late and every member of the staff loves you."

It was true. There didn't seem to be a single person in the Capital who wasn't charmed with Coriolanus Snow.

But he just shook his head, shifting his eyes forward and quickly pressing the button to allow for pedestrians cross the intersection.

"Everyone but Dean Highbottom."

Oh yes.

He was unfortunately right.

That was indeed the one person who seemed to despise Coryo.

And for seemingly no reason. He always seemed to be able to chide or insult the boy whenever given the chance.

When the signal lit up, the boy in question took your hand to follow him across the street.

"You know, I remember once Highbottom saw us talking after I gave you back your book for Satryia's class. After we parted ways, he pulled me aside and told me to stay away from you. Something about how it didn't end well the first time. Do you have any idea what he was talking about?"

Still holding your hand, even being far from the dangers of the intersection, the boy turns his head to you. His eyes showed just as much confusion as yours did but with a hint of anger.

Dean Highbottom didn't have to like him but who is he to warn you to stay away from him? And what does he mean the first time?

The conversation seemed to trail off there but neither of you minded. You didn't come to this part of the Capital very often so you were lost in fascination and wonder. The city was being rebuilt all around you and you couldn't help but feel giddy.

Coriolanus was lost in watching your reactions. He was feeling a sense of pride to know that he was the one who opened this side of the Capital for you. Not to mention the reason you got some proper sleep.

He was thinking back on your conversation when he nudged your nearby shoulder with his. You looked back to see the tall boy with a little smirk on his lips. You couldn't help but laugh and question the movement.

"Nothing, it's just nice to know you remembered the book."

The comment made a pink tint appear on your cheeks, now very visible in the morning light.

"Of course I remember! I'm sure Satryia would have had my head! You were my knight in shining armor."

Then it was your turn to nudge him back. His pride swelled even more at the memory. To know that he was able to give you something that you not only wanted but needed. Even if it was just a lousy textbook.

It made him feel accomplished.

Within a few strides, the magnificent structure of the Academy came into view and it somehow even looked more beautiful than usual to you.

Everything did after last night.

"Oh! I forgot to give you this!"

He let go of your still clasped hands and grabbed something from his bag. You were surprised by Coryo's confession but even more suprized by the radiant flower in his hand. You couldn't help but gasp at the gesture. You looked up at him with your beautiful eyes, shining up at him with wonder and gratitude. He smiled down at you, heart swelling.

"You seemed so mesmerized so I thought you would like one of your own."

You took the flower gently and thanked him with the most beautiful smile he has ever received.

He was already scheming of ways to see it more often.

"Could you put in my hair?"

Then you were blessed with the most beautiful smile you've seen. He happily agreed and put it in the back of your hair, in the hair tie of your half up, half down style.

Something you've never worn before to the academy but something Coryo reassured you looked good.

Once assured the flower wouldn't fall, the tall boy stepped out from behind you with a satisfied smile.

"You know one of these days I'll show you Grandma'am's rose garden. Maybe even get you a bouquet."

He knew the day when he would be able to bring you full bouquets of her precious roses is far away. But maybe after he won the Plinth Prize, he would get his Grandma'am chocolate, Tigris a new dress, and packets of rose seeds.

Enough so everyday he could give you a fresh flower that you would cherish.

His wishful thinking nearly made him miss your response.

"I think I would fall right then and there if you did Coryo."

You looked at him as you confessed but quickly looker away, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks. Heat that only grew more intense as Coriolanus's stare did the same.

He didn't know if you meant you would fall is in pass out or fall as in... well fall. for him.

oh as if he needed anymore motivation to win the coveted Plinth Prize.

Since you never come from this direction, you can't see the usual spot Sejanus would be sitting at when waited for you. Was he getting worried? Your eyes scan the area but couldn't seem to find the brunette anywhere.

But, for better or worse, you found your quite eccentric group of friends.

"Coryo! Y/N!" Clemensia's voice carried through the morning air as you both marched up the stairs.

You both greeted her as well as Arachne, Festus, and Felix upon your arrival. They all seemed happy to see you two (especially you as you are often strolling with Sejanus). But Arachne seemed to be looking you both up and down with a mischievous smirk playing on her colored lips. Nothing new but unnerving nevertheless.

"Y/N, don't you live on the west side of the city? You always come and leave in that direction."

She looked as if she had caught a lamb for the slaughter. You actually did really like her but the girl has so many problems.

Coriolanus had his mask plastered on again but inside he was beginning to panic. He probably could've made a lie on the spot, a skill he has mastered over the years, but he was worried about your reaction.

You were a genuine person and he feared that his lie would be completely exposed on your face. But it seemed he was wrong. Instead of freezing up you laughed at Arachne's comment.

"It's beautiful weather this morning and felt in the mood to take a walk around the city. I just happened to meet up with Coryo at the entrance to campus."

To say the mentioned boy was surprised and relieved would have been an understatement. Not only did you cover up the actual events, you made sure not to let it slip that he walks to the Academy. The illusion that he has a driver like the rest of your peers was still held. Festus then seemed to perk up.

"I still don't understand why in the world you would decide to walk somewhere. We have drivers for a reason."

The others nodded in agreement and you couldn't but help sigh. You have known your friends since as long as you could remember. You have seen them grow up (or the lack there of).

They are still the small scared children who had to burn their picture books for warmth in the Dark Days. They may have physically aged, but you know they never really grew up. Your peers simply hid their fears and insecurities behind their wealth and luxury.

Anything outside of the opulence that surrounded them brought fear and as a result, a great distaste.

That's why Sejanus was so disliked. He was too much of an irregularity. Too other.

As he drifted to your mind, your eyes drifted to the other side of the stairs, shifting your neck to try to get a better view.

"Don't worry, your little side kick is coming up."

Felix let you know with a nod of his head over your shoulder, making you turn around and spotting Sejanus looking confused at you. You smiled in invitation and he began taking a cautious walk up the vast stairs.

Arachne couldn't help but scoff.

"Wonder what little district boy would do without his precious y/n to hold his hand wherever he goes."

Your mouth opened to shoot back a response when Sejanus gave one of his own.

"Maybe you will see where it would hit if it wasn't being held."

He even gave a mocking smile to go with it.

And this is why your two friend groups are separate.

Before any teeth could be knocked out or venom spit, you were quick to grab his arm and pull him away. You look over your shoulder with a rushed and apologetic farewell to the group.

But your eyes met those ever shining blue orbs and gave a private smile. A smile he couldn't help but return.

"What are you smiling at Snow?"

Festus croked. He had frankly forgotten his friends around him, way too lost on your retreating form.

"Well that was entertaining if I must say." He covered up his slip.

The look on Arachne's face begged to differ.

But reassurance came in Clemensia's laugh, followed by Felix.

"I would actually like to see what would happen with you and Plinth in a room with no y/n to mediate Crane." Felix seemed quite entertained with the thought.

The girl just rolled her eyes and began her march into the building, clear irritation radiating off of her.

The rest of the group followed suit and walked into the posh institution.

"Feel bad for whoever unfortunately walks infront of her path" Festus quips, much to the enjoyment and humor of his friends.

The same feeling could not be said for Sejanus.

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"So how worried should I be?" Sejanus's warm brown eyes bore into yours. You crooked your head to its side in confusion.

"Care to explain Sej?"

"I think I'm the one who needs an explanation y/n. You never came to our spot and you were instead with them."

He spit out the word as if it was acid.

"Not to mention the fact that we got a call from your father thanking us for letting you stay with us last night. Would you care to enlighten me how I either missed your presence the entire night, morning, and ride here or where you actually were."

His tone was harsh but you knew it came from a place of worry. He knew of your sleepless habits and to be informed that you were supposed to be with him but weren't must have been horrifying.

You weren't sure if you should tell him the whole truth about staying with Coriolanus. So you tell him the same thing you told Rhayes, your driver, last night.

"I was with a friend. I'm sorry I worried you Sejanus. I had no idea he called you and made you worry."

He looked at you with a puzzled and slight irritated expression.

"What friend y/n? And if you couldn't stay at your house, you know our door is always open."

You weren't exactly sure why he was so upset at the situation but you felt he deserved some semblance of an answer.

"You guys do enough for me as it is. No- stop don't even try to argue with me on this. Can - can we just drop this?" You sighed, clearly not wanting to continue on this topic.

Sejanus looked the exact opposite, wanting to flesh out every detail. But he noticed your discomfort and let the conversation end there.

You both had been walking around the halls, him not really realizing the path you were taking untill you came to a stop and began looking through your bag.

The kind boy, for what seemed the first time that morning, took in your appearance.

"You look well rested. Back to life." He says it astonished. You couldn't help but roll your eyes.

"I know! Weird seeing me look like an actual person instead of zombie." You were expecting a witty remark back but you were met with another amazed observation.

"You kept your hair down. And look it has a flower!"

You laughed at his behavior and found your mass pile of somehow pristine papers. You flipped through the pages with apprehension at your work.

"And you finished your paper! What happened to you last night?!"

He just seemed to keep on getting more and more lost. Your smile grew in amusement of his reaction and you both walked into class. Sejanus made his way up to your elevated section of desks while you made your way to your Professor.

Professor Rhaen was a tall and lengthy man who seems more aged than any person of his middle age should be. His pale skin seemed sickly and was scattered with small marks and freckles.

He was bent over his desk, deep into a thick book. You cleared your throat and his eyes snapped up to your slightly timid figure.

"Good morning Professor. I understand that you gave us an extended amount of time for our paper to ensure we properly research. But I fear I got too carried away and seemed to have finished a bit early."

You held up your own thick stack of papers with a humble smile. The man didn't take your papers right away, leaving your hand hanging while he was analyzing.

After a few painfully akward moments, he finally took the stack from your hands. You were going to make your way to seat before he motioned for you to wait.

He was scanning through as you just stood there, in the front of the room and felt quite small. You looked up towards the direction of your desk and saw Sejanus give you a smile and a thumbs up in encouragement.

You smiled back, with a little more reassurance and turned to your professor who seemed to be very focused. The sounds of your classmates coming in was heard as their gazes were felt.

Forever seemed to pass before Professor Rhaen gave you the go ahead to sit down. You gave a giddy sigh of relief before you were stopped by his voice.

"Y/n!" You turned slowly and slightly reluctantly. "

From what I've seen so far, I think I will be nothing less than impressed."

What.

Professor Rhaen does not give compliments. You felt over the moon but gave a polite nod and rushed to your desk.

You didn't realize that Coriolanus and the others had made it to class until you reached the area of your desk. You had to squeeze past the blonde boy and as soon as you sat down, you had to turn behind you.

"Wait you already finished your paper?"

Clemmies pretty face was contorted in baffelment. You just smiled and shrugged. The scoffs of impresment (and intimidation) of Felix, Festus, and Arachne were quite audible even as you turned around.

Sejanus took in your interaction and noticed how neither Clemensia nor Arachne knew of your progress. Something they clearly would have if you stayed at their penthouses last night.

But what was even more puzzling was your shared look with Coriolanus who seemed to have a bit of a smug and proud smile on his face.

Like he knew.

Any questions were caught off by the scratchy voice of the professor. His lecture was not necessarily interesting, but today for the first time in a long time, you were able to be fully focused.

You followed every word and participated whenever you could. You were so engaged with the lesson that you barely realized the pen that landed by your shoes.

Grabbing it in a swift motion, you looked up to see Coriolanus with a smug smirk.

Oh that little-

"See what happens when you get a proper sleep." He teased you, slightly crouched, mirroring your position.

You gave a soft scoff at his comment which only made his expression grow.

"A night of good rest, a compliment from Rhaen, and an intimated Arachne? You're on fire y/n." He whispered.

"Trying to suck up to the new favorite student Snow?" You teased back.

The close proximity of your position allowing for the heat of your breath to be felt on the boys cheeks.

That's the reason for the red on it right?

His devious smirk only expanded, showing a few of his perfect and pearly white teeth. He opened his mouth to fire back his own witty response before he was cut off by a clearly displeased Dean Casca Highbottom.

"Miss Vaun and Mr. Snow."

It seemed that even having the two of your names in the same sentence drained him off all his energy.

"Why am I not surprised. Well whatever it is that you two were discussing, I hope it was more important than your professor's lecture."

The embarrassment of the public scolding and the silence of the room was suffocating.

And he knew it.

He seemed to relish in your discomfort and Coriolanus's annoyance.

His eyes seemed to be coated with a fog as he was lost to his mind and whatever he was thinking. The realization of reality and his intention of the interruption seemed to bring him back to reality.

"Please pack up your things Miss y/n. It is urgent."

Your reaction to his words was panic.

Absolute panic.

Emotion you had to swallow, even as your breathing accelerated. You were shaking as you basically threw your material in your bag, with no care of the impact.

Dean Highbottom had already left the room and was waiting in the hallway by the time you met up with him. You felt nauseous and walked on heavy feet.

Coriolanus could see the unsteady steps you took and wanted nothing more than steady you.

But he could do nothing.

And that's the part he hated most.

He sighed and tried to focus back on the lecture and the notes he was supposed to take. Then he realized you must have taken his pen by accident.

And he was right but you weren't really conscious as you twirled that very same pen in you hands in apprehension.

Something happened to her.

That happened to her.

You both reached the main office and you hoped that all your fears would be resolved. But you looked up to see your father in a state of varying levels of dishevelment. He looked pale, starved, and hollow.

But worst of all were the tears in his eyes and clear stains on his cheek. No.

No.

You felt the world shrink around you as he opened up his palm to reveal a beautiful golden necklace. A necklace that held two rings.

The same necklace that your mother wore without fail.

The one she swore she would never take off till death did her part.

Till death do you part.

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A/N: another part down! I hope you all liked it! I was scared of how it was gonna turn out at first but kinda liked it. I hope you guys saw the desk scene as I imagined it (both you and coryo kinda crouched and close as you whispered). I imagined it as if it was a movie and the shot would be showing your side profiles as you talked in those fancy curved desk things in the movie. Also if things don't make sense, I'm sorry it's 1 am and I have been working on it for hours and I'm sleepy lol! Much love as always!

@notyourwildestdream 🌹@darktrashsoulbear🌹@fantasylovestoryme 🌹@nekee-lilac02 🌹@a-avengerparker🌹 @queenofshinigamis 🌹

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travellingarmy · 3 years

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║Scaramouche║Jealousy

Requested from Wattpad.

Gender-neutral.

Fluff.

Word count: 1.5k

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He doesn't know when so don't ask him. But he does know that you had somehow bewitched him into liking you because he couldn't explain what it is about you that had made him fall for you. Was it your hair? Eyes? Smile? Again, he doesn't know and all he could do is blame you for it.

His eyes stare lazily at the crowd, thoughts completely all about you and only you. He wishes he could see you-- oh, would you look at that? Not too far away, he spots a familiar stature, eyes looking at a list. You.

He pondered at today's date, crossing his arms. Based on his notes from observing you, you were out shopping for groceries. Oh, how could he forget that? That was the reason why he was out and about with no particular purpose tied to the Tsaritsa at all. He was grateful at how you always had a routine. That way, he could have these.. Encounters. He doesn't do much other than stare. Creepy, but he does not dare walk up to you to strike a conversation. He only does it when there is a really good excuse for them.

"I thought I'd find you here," a smooth voice spoke from behind the short male, a chuckle following after. Scaramouche had the look of annoyance at the sound that he loathed oh so much. "What do you want, pest?"

He does not need to look behind him to know that it was the young Harbinger, Tartaglia. The ginger chuckles, resting a hand on his hip. "Ouch, no need to be so venomous, old man." He does not even bother to feign hurt.

Scaramouche clicks his tongue, not once turning to see the ginger. "If you have nothing to say, leave. Can't you see I'm busy?" he spat. The taller male grins. "Oh? With what? Surely, stalking an innocent civilian isn't what you are busy about, is it?" Tartaglia has been watching for a while as well, but not at you-- Scaramouche, seeing as the sixth Harbinger started to act strange-- mainly towards you. He thought it was hilarious that a man such as the cruel sixth could easily coil under your words.

Scaramouche mentally curses at the male. "Piss off." He grits his teeth. This just made Tartaglia want to continue. However, a brilliant plan- much better than teasing Scaramouche- had crept its way in his head. Smirking evident in his tone, he bids goodbye to the short Harbinger.

"Good riddance," he mumbled to himself. His eyes had never once left your person as you move onto different stalls that had the needed items on your list.

Maybe he should go up and say a quick 'hello'? You two are friends after all. It wouldn't be awkward, right?

He bit the inside of his cheek, deciding against it. As much as he tops everybody, he cowers to interact with you and only pray that the Tsaritsa had something- anything- to give him a reason to interact with you. He thought it would seem awkward otherwise.

Sighing, he turns on his heels, planning on going to the training ground for new recruits and do something productive like watching new Fatui members bleed their guts out-- anything that would take his mind off of you.

He doesn't know when, but the next time he saw you made his blood boil. Actually, it wasn't you that made him that way-- it was at the sight of you talking to the eleventh Harbinger with all smiles and laughter.

Were you two always that close for you to allow Tartaglia to put a hand on your shoulders? It was evident that the Harbinger was up to something when he put it there. Scaramouche doesn't know what type of game Tartaglia was playing at, but he didn't like it in the slightest.

He wanted to walk up and wrap his arms around you protectively while he hiss and glare at the eleventh. But he had to hold back. After all, it would seem weird since you two weren't lovers. Oh how he wished that you would leave the ginger already.

If he was itching for a fight, Scaramouche would happily give it to him. It has been 2 weeks since and each day, Tartaglia always seemed free enough to hang around you. And you seemed undisturbed by it? How absurd! Had you not notice where that man puts his hands on you? That hand that the ginger holds is supposed to be his!

He scowls. He can't take this anymore. Scaramouche has finally figured out the game that the ginger started and tried not to fall for his petty trap to make him finally admit to you about his feelings. However, that didn't last long and he started to think that he should take this as a chance before that opportunity is no longer there; when Tartaglia has really fallen for you.

Taking a deep breath, he strides to you two with menacing glares thrown at the tall male. Tartaglia felt those eyes that he knew had been watching him since two weeks ago draw near, getting his attention, which soon caught yours.

"Oh? Why if it isn't gramps," Tartaglia greets, showing his signature smile that was usually a sign of trouble to come. Scaramouche stares long and hard at him before he turns to look at you.

"Scara, hello!" You smiled that smile he loves oh so much. His heart fluttered, almost forgetting the presence of a particular someone.

"Uh, so, gramps," Tartaglia starts, "(Y/N) and I are actually going out for lunch, so if you could speed it up.." Scaramouche shots another deadly glare at the male. It would have been scary to a normal person but since this is what Tartaglia wanted, he wasn't affected by it.

"You're not having lunch with them." With that, he grabs you by the wrist and drags you along with him. "H, huh? Wait, Scara, where are we going?" You look at the back of the short Harbinger before you turn to look over your shoulders at Tartaglia.

You thought he would stand there dumbfoundedly but instead, he waves at you with one hand as the other rested on his hips and balancing his weight on one leg. He gave a close-eyed smile, feeling proud that it had turned out the way he wanted. The eleventh wanted to follow to hear what cheesy thing Scaramouche would say, but he stops himself and decided to tease him later.

Now gone from sight after turning a block, Scaramouche pins you against a wall, both hands slammed beside your head. You yelped and hissed at the impact, closing your eyes instinctively.

"Hey, Scara, couldn't you just--" "I like you," he confesses, getting all words dying on your tongue. "Eh?" Silence followed after, and it seemed to you that there was a bird cawing not too far in the distance.

Did you hear that right? You look up and was met a flushed Harbinger who awaited for your response. "C, could you repeat that? I think water got into my ears when I took a bath this morning."

Scaramouche takes a deep breath and this time, said it loud and clear-- enough for you to comprehend. "I like you, (Y/N)," he said, the heat tingling his cheeks. Gosh, Tartaglia's spot would have definitely been given away by his laughter, if he was there.

"I like you too, Scara," you confess, a confused look on your face at the sudden confrontation. On Scaramouche's part, the light in his eyes twinkled like little stars dancing in the night sky. You liked him as well? A smile was threatening to break but before that could happen, he moves away and coughed onto his fist, clearing his throat soon after.

"W, well, I'm glad we have mutual feelings towards one another.." he said, face still slightly turned from you.

"But, Scara, can I ask what brought this up so suddenly?" you had finally ask. The Harbinger stare at you longingly and removes his fist from his mouth, scratching the back of his neck. "I was, uh, a bit jealous of.." He looks down, feeling embarrassed to say it. But you wanted an answer so he had no choice but to give it. "I was jealous of Tartaglia hanging around you."

Your heart fluttered. He looks adorable if you had to be honest. Who knew that he could be jealous by someone who was much younger than both you and him? You had long knew that the young Harbinger was up to something the moment he came up to you with the smile used when he was plotting something. You weren't that dense.

A laugh escaped your lips, getting the attention of the male. "H, hey, what's so funny?" His brows scrunched together in confusion.

You shake your head to dismiss the question and soon cup his face, bringing him close so that your foreheads were touching. Staring longingly into his indigo eyes, you spoke. "There is no need to be jealous because my heart belonged to you long ago."

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#scaramouche x reader #scaramouche #scaramouche oneshot #scaramouche x gender neutral reader #genshin x gender neutral reader #gender neutral #genshin venti #barbara gunnhildr #genshin impact albedo #genshin impact oneshots #genshin #genshin impact

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rebrandedbard · 3 years

Note

If you are still writing 14?

Okay so this one accidentally went from a drabble to an actual fic whoops. The cure is totally inspired by the Rapunzel fairy tale, spoiler alert, where the prince falls in the thorn bushes around the tower and Rapunzel’s tears fall into his eyes, curing him.

14. “Hey, I’m with you, okay? Always.”

wc: 4444 which is an awesome number I’m so happy lol

Robbed Blind

Someone botches a spell to steal Jaskier’s artistic vision and he’s cursed with blindness. Thankfully, he falls into the company of Ciri and Lambert. They journey safely to Kaer Morhen, but what could be the cure to his affliction?

She had found him, tripping over the strings of destiny, in Drakenborg. He’d been on his way to Oxenfurt when the curse took hold, and he had gone no further. Jaskier was haggard, gaunt, and looked quite worn. His hair lay flat from constant fussing. It was a habit Ciri remembered well from his visits, always combing a nervous hand through his hair before a performance. She had never seen it look so lifeless. He needed a mirror, she thought. She would soon realize that a mirror would serve him no purpose.

He was blind. He startled when she ran to him, throwing her arms around his waist. She’d been so relieved to see a friendly face that she’d run right into his arms, nearly knocking him from the stool in the corner of the tavern. Why should he not catch her as he’d always done? He’d been looking directly at her; she thought he’d merely not recognized her beneath the mud and hood.

“Let me go! Who are you? Stop—stop this now or I’ll give you such a wallop, I’ll—!”

“Jaskier!” Ciri cried, shocked. She flinched away from him as he elbowed her roughly against her temple. She rubbed the spot, standing out of reach.

Jaskier straightened up at once. “Is that—? Little cub, is that you?” he asked. He turned his head as if searching for her and reached out a hand, feeling the air. It was nowhere near.

Ciri took his hand. During their long weeks of travel, she refused to let it go again. She became his eyes, and together they started for Oxenfurt and the safety of its halls.

He’d woken up blind one day, he explained. No warning or explanation. The mage had told him what magic was at play. Someone had tried to steal his artistic vision and the enchantment had gone wrong, stealing from him his very sight.

“Is there not a cure?” Ciri asked.

Jaskier shook his head. “The mage said it was a botched spell. There’s no telling what will fix it, only that it must have something to do with artistic vision. The mage suggested it might be cured by the old methods: kisses and the like; gazing upon true beauty.”

He squinted and took her face between his hands. “I’m looking and looking at you as hard as I can, and I remember you were the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen when you were first born. So what do mages know? Have you become a pox-faced adolescent or scraggly Medusa? Ah,” he chuckled, “but you’d still be a fairytale princess in my eyes if you had the face of a basilisk.”

She laughed and squirmed out of his hands. “You were always very good at Blind Man’s Bluff. Do you remember when we used to play it? Back then, you were always stumbling; you aren’t stumbling as much anymore.”

“I’ve grown used to it, I suppose. But you are a princess—do you suppose a kiss from you might cure me? How are you with frogs? Ever wake a sleeping prince?”

“No, but we may try it. There’s magic in me of a sort, I know. Here, kneel a moment.”

Jaskier knelt on the dry road and closed his eyes, tapping the lid. “Right here. Give it a go,” he said encouragingly. “If it doesn’t work, we’ll practice on a frog and work our way up.”

Ciri kissed both eyes to be sure. “Alright. Open them. Do you see anything?”

She tried not to get her hopes up, watching Jaskier squeeze his eyes tight. He opened them, blinked several times, and gave her a sad smile.

“Not to worry, we’ll find a pond in no time,” he joked, trying to keep the mood light.

“Well! I go to find a cat and find a lioness instead. And a songbird. Must be my lucky day.”

Ciri put herself between the stranger and Jaskier, waving a large branch in warning. “Keep away,” she growled. “If you come any closer, I’ll scream.”

The scruffy man put his hands up and grinned. “I’ve heard what sort of screaming runs in your family. Trust me, I would rather not be around for one of them. Heard it knocked pretty boy flat on his back at your mother’s little Surprise party.”

Jaskier put a hand on Ciri’s shoulder. “Wait a moment,” he said. “I know that moniker. Geralt complained of it before.” He was quiet a moment, stirring up a memory. Then, he lit up, asking excitedly, “Did you say you were looking for a cat? A cat witcher, by chance?”

“Why? Find one up a tree?” the stranger pressed.

Jaskier patted Ciri’s shoulder and strode forward, extending a hand. “You must be Lambert! I’ve heard—” his hand buckled against Lambert’s chest, his stride clearing the distance too quickly “—oh, my apologies. I’ve heard about you before. I was hoping to see you under better circumstances if I ever got the chance. Or to see you at all, really. Damnable timing.”

Lambert looked at him, then took his hand. Ciri watched as the understanding settled in, for Jaskier was staring straight at the man’s forehead, a near lucky guess of his eye line. Lambert wore an expression of pity freely, knowing Jaskier could not see it, though his tone was light and cocky as before. “I always wondered what you saw in that sourpuss, following him as long as you did; now I know you didn’t see anything after all,” he joked.

Jaskier snorted. “It’s new.”

“Ah, so you’ve been blinded by love, have you?”

Jaskier flapped his hand until he felt the brush of Ciri’s sleeve at his side, then he tugged her forward and presented her. He cleared his throat, a tad flushed. “May I introduce Her Royal Highness, Princess Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon, the Lion Cub of Cintra. Geralt’s child Surprise.”

Ciri tossed her branch aside. “You know Geralt,” she said.

“They’re brothers.”

Lambert sneered. “He got all the looks, Eskel got the talent, but I got the brains.”

“What little there were to be had,” Jaskier added.

“Oh, ho! You’ll fit right in at the keep, talking like that.”

There was a pregnant pause between the three of them. Jaskier nudged Ciri gently forward. “She’ll be safe there. And her wit is more cutting than mine.”

Ciri turned at once to protest. “But what about Ox—”

“And so would you,” Lambert cut in. “A dull knife and a dull wit can be sharpened, and I’d rather keep two knives in my belt than one, whatever their make. Don’t start that maudlin shit with me; you’re coming along.”

Jaskier opened his mouth to protest and Lambert raised a hand. Then, realizing how ineffective that was against one who could not see it, he recovered and smacked the side of Jaskier’s head to shut him up before he started.

“Come on; it’s a long and dull road we have ahead of us, and you’re my entertainment. I want to hear every embarrassing story you can supply. I’ve long run out of blackmail and I’m in need of fresh material. Besides, what better bait for a cat than a twittering bird? If you sing loud enough, we might pick him up along the way.”

They were all together in the great hall when at last he came. The figure stood in the doorway, a black dot against the stark white of winter outside. A pair of bags dropped with a thundering bang upon the floor, the sound echoing throughout the room, and the figure bundled up by the fire started awake in fright.

Jaskier patted the blanket beside him, made frantic by his sudden awakening. “Ciri? Ciri!” he called, for she had been asleep next to him what seemed only moments ago.

She paused only a moment to stare at the imposing figure in the light. Something in her shouted, compelling her to go to him. But Jaskier called for her in that voice wrought with panic once more. She flew from the circle of wolves to his side, abandoning her hand of cards, disregarding the man of destiny at the door.

“I’m here,” she said, taking his hands. “Hey, I’m with you, okay? Always. I’m not going anywhere.” She and the others looked at each other, looked at Geralt, and said not a word.

Jaskier settled and took a deep breath. “I heard something crash. I dreamed—but never mind that.” He sighed, pressing his head to their joined hands. “I’m sorry. I know it’s safe here. I’m just not used to you wandering off just yet.”

“I know.” She stroked his hair gently. It was soft again, though not as silky as before. Lambert and Eskel had drawn him a bath for the first time in a long while, but he had not his customary soaps and oils. He was … less bright, his appearance dulled with his mood.

Vesemir had examined him. Countless hours, the wolves had huddled together in the old library, trying to find a cure for Jaskier’s condition to no avail. As time went by, the reality of his situation weighed on Jaskier. He could no longer read his notebook, nor write his music to be remembered. Ciri read his notes aloud and studied the art so she might transcribe them for him, but it was obvious how he felt.

“I don’t want to be a burden,” he’d said.

And now he gave her that same false smile, the one that failed to meet his eyes. She missed the lines in the corners and wished they might come back. Perhaps they’d flown off with the crows, frightened of the winter snow.

“Go back to your game,” he whispered. “I’ll head up to bed.”

“Do you want me to come with you?” she offered.

He shook his head. “I know the way now. If someone will take me to the stairwell?” he prompted, raising a hand.

Ciri looked at Geralt. There was so little she knew of him—stories and songs … words spared in rumors and stolen from conversations where she lingered unnoticed to listen. What she knew of the wolf and bard she had pieced together with care. For all the tales Jaskier would tell, he would not disparage Geralt before her, and he would not tell the story of the dragon hunt. But dwarves talk. Stories travel and lesser bards would imitate the songs of greater. Witchers collect news of other witchers, and two adults would speak as adults when ale made easy speech. Jaskier had confided in Lambert those tearing words once flung at him upon the mountain. And thus she had put the final piece into place of the great mystery between them.

‘If life could give me one blessing…’

“Who will take him?” she asked. She kept Geralt’s eyes as she rose to her feet. “Who will take him into his hands?”

It was only the barest movement, but she swore she saw the wolf of legend flinch.

Jaskier sat up with a huff. “You make it sound so dramatic. Are we playing at a quest now? Very well, who is my knight errant? The princess has thus decreed a quest is in order: a quest up the perilous tower steps, my-my! Such a task!”

“I should think a white knight is the one suited best for the task,” Vesemir grunted. He shuffled his hand, eyes narrowed at Geralt.

The white knight in question let his cloak fall. He shook the snow from his arms and dusted them slowly, looking at each watching face in turn. His hesitation was clear. When none moved to claim Jaskier, he stepped forward cautiously. Without a word, he took Jaskier’s hand and lifted him to his feet.

Jaskier clapped an arm around his shoulder, hands patting the edge of his long hair. “Ah, thank you, Vesemir,” he said. His hand slipped from Geralt’s armour and he made a face, flicking his wet hand in the air. He prodded the armour curiously. “You’re soaked; I thought you said you’d sent Eskel for the firewood.” He prodded again and bumped against Geralt’s shoulder pad. He pinched it between his fingers, figuring out its shape. He hummed curiously. “What are you wearing? Did you go hunting?”

Geralt stared. Jaskier was not looking at him. Geralt looked at the circle of men by the fireside and there sat Vesemir in silence, watching. He was struck dumb. What … game was this?

“A knight needs a knight’s armour,” Lambert called.

Jaskier laughed. “Oh, of course. Such a soft touch; did you get all dressed up for Ciri? Have I woken in the middle of a game?”

Eskel tossed a card in the middle of the circle. “Yes,” he answered, “but we’ve just started on another, different game.”

“Very cold and calculated,” Ciri agreed.

“Cold and calculated. So a snowball fight has become a snowball war, no doubt born of the most complicated strategies. Shame on the lot of you. You ought to let your elders warm themselves before sending them on tasks. You’re young; you’ve got legs,” Jaskier scolded.

“It was his idea,” Eskel replied.

Vesemir nodded, keeping silent as the game unravelled.

Jaskier looped his arm through Geralt’s and stood straight and tall in an affected manner. “Come, my good knight,” he said, “and let us bid good night to these slacking youths.”

He started to walk in the general direction of the stair, Geralt turning them with truer aim. Geralt looked over his shoulder at the others, frowning. This was not the sort of confrontation he expected when next he saw Jaskier. If he ever saw him. And here was his child Surprise in their midst without a word of greeting or explanation, and the bard, the two of them together and settled within the walls of the keep.

It was too perplexing for him to puzzle out. And Jaskier was acting strangely. Where were his speeches? Geralt had expected him to argue on sight, or else to pretend all was right and greet him, “Geralt! How good to see you,” or, “Fancy meeting you here,” and play off the mountain like it never happened. Or at the very least to ignore him. But to call him Vesemir and take to his arm? What joke was he playing at?

The answer came as Jaskier dodged the first step and nearly fumbled upon the stair. He clung to Geralt’s arm with a cry and his other hand shot out to grope the wall. He flailed for it, feeling his way from the step outward, then sliding his hand up the side of it. He turned his head, looked at Geralt and laughed. “I’m still not used to these uneven steps,” he said. “Give me time and I’ll be able to find my way around unassisted. By next week, I’ll be able to navigate every pool in the hot springs, then you four will never see me fully dressed again!”

Geralt raised a hand to Jaskier’s face. He rested a thumb just beneath his eye. They were as blue as ever, nothing seemed amiss, and yet …

Jaskier’s smile weakened. He closed his eyes and pushed the hand away. “I know the three of you are working hard to find a cure. I know the jokes fall flat. But I must make them. If I don’t … Vesemir, if I can’t make light of it, the darkness I see will be all I have left.”

He turned toward the stair again, hand firm on Geralt’s arm, the other on the wall. “Right then. Up we go. Just one at a time,” he said. He stepped tentatively forwards, prodding his foot before him until he nudged the base of the first step. “Got it. First is always hardest, isn’t it?”

They carried on. Two steps, three, one after the other slowly. They were uneven by design: a final defense against those who would try to invade their stronghold. The spiral stair favored those who walked it every day, gave advantage to the men who would be at the top, swinging their swords to fight back those who would dare trespass unwitting. It was difficult enough for any stranger with sight. With Jaskier, it was a quest in itself.

Midway up, Geralt thought to carry him. They were going so slowly; it would have been easiest that way. He nearly offered, but stopped. If he spoke, Jaskier would know him. He began to reach an arm out to simply lift him, but Jaskier fumbled once more, his knee hitting the step with a mumbled curse. And Geralt heard him muttering through his teeth as he crouched upon the stair.

“I will learn,” he hissed. “This will not stop me. I refuse to be a burden to anyone. Never again.” He touched his forehead to the step and Geralt put a hand to his back. He was trembling.

When Jaskier rose again, he did not take Geralt’s arm. He reached out and took hold of the wall on either side, arms stretched wide to hold himself up. He proceeded to climb the stair alone. When Geralt reached out to help, Jaskier waved him away.

“No,” he whispered. “We’re nearly at the top. Just let me do this much. Please.”

And Geralt let his hand fall away.

Jaskier reached the landing with a powerful stomp, expecting a final step. He breathed a sigh of relief and sagged against the right wall. Geralt followed behind and patted his shoulder. Small congratulations. From there, Jaskier walked down the corridor, tapping when he came upon a wooden door. He passed three, tapped each with his knuckles, counting. When he reached the forth door, he opened it. In this space, he walked with ease away from the wall. He flopped confidently upon the bed and rested a moment as one does after a long journey.

He shucked off his doublet and loosened the laces of his boots. He set these aside at the very foot of the bed where they might easily be found again. He undid the back lace of his trousers, paused, and inclined his head toward the door.

“Are you still there, Vesemir?” he asked.

Geralt did not know how to respond. He stood fixed in the doorway, but dropped his eyes to his feet modestly. After a moment’s wait, Jaskier finished undressing and climbed beneath the heavy furs. A memory stirred—that was not the final task of the evening. What was the last of their routine each night? What was left undone that made this finality seem so abrupt? Geralt realized it in the darkness of the room. He had no candle to blow out.

The truth struck Geralt sharp as a blade to his gut. He stole through the door, walking quietly toward the bed. He sat on the edge, the furs rumpled beneath him, and listened to Jaskier’s breathing. He was not yet asleep—would never be, so soon—but he did not stir.

Geralt took his hand gently.

Jaskier squeezed it back.

“I only wish that had not been the last I’d seen of him,” Jaskier whispered. “I try to remember his smile now. For all my poetry, I can’t remember it clearly. His smiles were so rare, but I don’t suppose you need me to tell you. Or perhaps you do. I don’t know if he smiled here; I know nothing his life in this place. Were you so fortunate that they were commonplace?”

Silent footsteps creeped up the stair. Ciri had waited long enough to follow. Geralt heard no sign of her under the ringing words of Jaskier’s speech. Though he spoke no louder than the breath of the wind, every last syllable echoed like a clap of thunder in his ears.

Jaskier slipped his hand free and turned on his pillow, hugging it close. “I wish I might at least see Ciri now, know how she’s grown. They change so quickly at that age. Does she look like her mother? Does she look like him? Destiny makes strange things of those it touches. She was beginning to look like him, I once thought.”

She saw him well enough, looking through the open door. She crouched behind the wall, listening as she always did in secret, for the things he would not burden her with.

“I always did wonder what you looked like. Geralt spoke once to me of his brothers, his mentor. You’re still stories to me in ways. I know you have long hair, grey with age. I know Lambert is shorn, Eskel is shaggy. I know your voices, your height, and a hundred other things. But do you share his eyes? What color is the armour you wear? How does the sun set over the mountainside? The carpets before the hearth—what pattern is woven there? What thousands of stories do you keep in that library? What do the monsters look like illustrated in the great bestiary?”

He buried his face in his pillow. His voice was muffled, but both Geralt and Ciri could hear the husk in it. “I won’t feel sorry for myself. It doesn’t mean anything—just idle curiosity. It doesn’t matter how the carpet is woven or if you wear brown shirts or red. I’ve seen a lifetime of sunrises and sunsets and stars. I don’t want them!” he barked. He writhed on the bed, his face falling from the pillow, stained with tears. “I don’t! I never needed them, not one! I don’t care—I don’t! None of them are important!”

Geralt rushed forward and took Jaskier in his arms. Jaskier struggled, beating at his chest, and refused to be coddled. “No!” he wailed. “Don’t comfort me, I don’t need it! I don’t want it! I will not be pitied!” But for his hard words, he clung to Geralt’s armour, sobbing against his shoulder. “It’s unnecessary. It’s just a bunch of poetry. Useless poetry and songs.”

Jaskier pulled away, Geralt’s hands trailing from his back to his shoulders as he sat up. Geralt held him there before he could retreat more. Before he could think twice of it, Geralt leaned in, his hands cupping Jaskier’s face on either side.

“Vese—”

Something warm and wet fell onto Jaskier’s lashes. He heard a shaky breath, felt the warmth of it upon his face. Another hot tear fell into his other eye and he blinked in surprise, for it was not his own. He sat perfectly still in shock, blinking the falling tears away.

“They were never useless,” Geralt said. “They were always important—all of them.”

Jaskier twitched, raising his head by instinct up to look at the man who held him now. “You were—!”

“I’m sorry. For not speaking before. For … not speaking then. After. And for saying what I did that day.” He wiped the tears beneath Jaskier’s eyes away, an expression of pain twisting his hollowed features. “If I’d not sent you away—I don’t know what’s become of you, but I might have—I could have tried to prevent it. You would still have your sight.”

Jaskier covered Geralt’s hands. “No, Geralt. This is none of your doing. You can’t—”

A loud bump from the hall startled him. Jaskier turned at once to look.

“Ciri,” he breathed.

Ciri had a finger to her mouth and was glaring up at a tall man. They both cowed back, being caught. Jaskier looked between them as Geralt’s hands slipped away. He stood, walking toward them. He looked at Ciri, gaping, their eyes perfectly aligned. Jaskier fell to his knees before her and took her hands without fumbling.

“Ciri,” he said. “You’re so … my good gods, you’ve grown.”

All were still as he reached out, touching her face as though she were made of glass. He smoothed her hair away, taking all of her in. He laughed, new tears falling as he pulled her close and crushed her in his arms. “You’re so beautiful!” he cried. He stroked her hair, cradling her against him as tight as he dared. “And you!” He looked up at the witcher in the hall, reaching out to him and taking his hand. “Which one are you? Say something now, quickly. Let me hear your voice and know you.”

“Eskel,” he answered. And then Jaskier was up on his feet, pulling him into another embrace.

“Eskel!” Jaskier cheered. “Eskel, you look even more heroic than I ever imagined! Oh, let me look at you. Oh, oh! Lambert! Vesemir! Where are you, come forward!”

He dashed into the hall, only to turn on his heel for another look at Eskel, for just one more eyeful of Ciri. Over her shoulder, he saw Geralt sitting there on the bed, his yellow eyes wide, the tears still clinging to his chin.

“Oh,” Jaskier whispered. “Oh, I see. I see.”

He walked forward, gliding a hand beneath Geralt’s jaw. He touched his eyes with his other hand. Carefully, he wiped the last of Geralt’s tears away. It dangled, a little drop at the tip of his finger and he brought it close. He closed his hands around it, cradled them to his chest.

Geralt stood slowly before him. And he smiled.

Ciri tugged at Jaskier’s shirt, her head turned away politely. She cleared her throat and said, “Jaskier? Lambert and Vesemir are on their way up. And you’re … well, you’re not at your most presentable.”

Eskel averted his eyes, his back turned to the scene, however touching. “You might want to get a bit more dressed. And quickly,” he added, for Jaskier was standing in his smallclothes.

Jaskier snorted. “All of you, turn away for decency’s sake! We’re having a moment, here.”

“And what about me?” Geralt asked. “Shall I look away?”

It was nothing but empty jest and Jaskier smiled. “No,” he replied. “No, you’re looking where you’re needed. But I suppose to be fair …”

He clapped a hand over Geralt’s eyes. He leaned forward, whispering against Geralt’s lips. “There. Now no one can see. No one … but me.”

There were no witnesses to that first kiss. It was a secret Jaskier kept for himself.

However, the second, third, and forth had quite a startled audience, as Geralt and Jaskier both fell deaf to the clatter of footsteps in the hall. Ciri took it upon herself to usher the others from the room, explaining on the way. After all, with the curse lifted, she no longer needed to be Jaskier’s eyes. His mouth, however, was currently occupied.

Send me a drabble prompt!

#my fic #drabbles #witcher #the witcher #geraskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #cirilla fiona elen riannon #lambert #eskel #vesemir #I'd tag aiden but he's really only mentioned in passing #ew I came back to look at this and the scene breaks did not transfer over #fixed it now

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beelsnack · 3 years

Note

I know this happens to plenty of people. You work in fast food or retail and your just trying to make a living. Whether your saving to get out of a crappy household ASAP, no matter the job, paying for college, or any other reason and you WILL have shitty jerk customers (At my first job and first day, I was asked if I spoke English because I couldn’t understand him with the mask and there’s a glass in front of the food. Buddy, shush. Didn’t help that I’m sensitive, ended up crying the moment I got home. These jobs are ones where you learn to really respect these workers cause of the crap they go through when you have it as a job)

In this request, the boys visit MC in the human world when they have the chance. So, my request is how would the brothers and Diavolo (the limit was 8 right?) react to coming to the human world one night to visit MC and they see them just crying and just frustrated in general due to shitty asshole customers from work?

I feel it's necessary to let you know that I actually started working on this request while on my break at my retail job.

I'm sorry you had to deal with that, friend. Pour one out for the retail workers out here busting ass during a global pandemic.

Thanks for being patient with me, friend, I know I don't really have a consistent upload schedule.

-----

Lucifer: In hindsight. he could have planned this out better.

Perhaps his own pride was to blame. He had planned to surprise the human by showing up unannounced after their shift, but he had gotten so caught up in the thought of them jumping into his arms out of sheer joy that he never considered that it might not be a good time.

"Hush now, my dear," Lucifer sat down next to where they had slumped against the wall of their living room. The carpet was slightly stained and part of him wanted to recoil, but there were more important things to worry about. "Those wretches aren't worth your tears."

He brought his arm around their shoulders, tugging them against his side and letting his cloak drape over them like a blanket. They snuggled into him almost instinctively, and he couldn't help but preen a little bit.

"I know," they hiccupped, burying their face in the crook on his neck. "It's just...sometimes it's hard not to focus on it, y'know?"

Lucifer didn't, but that didn't mean he lacked sympathy. The demon placed two gloved fingers beneath their chin and tilted their head upwards.

"Then how about you focus on me instead?"

Mammon: Turns out every Realm had its Karens. Who knew?

When Mammon had first popped into the human's place and seen them face-down on the kitchen table sobbing, his initial reaction had been violence. He wanted to find whoever made his human cry and wring the reason why out of their throat. But, after the initial bloodlust subsided, he realized that he had something way more important to worry about.

He sat down on the chair next to them, taking one of their hands and gently running his thumb over the bumps of their knuckles as they choked out what had happened. Mammon had worked his fair share of part time jobs, he was no stranger to the specific torture that was retail. So hearing that his human had to go through that made his heart break a tiny bit.

Not that he would show it, of course.

"A'ight, human, the Great Mammon is here to help." he grinned, standing up. "I know just what you need."

He strode over to their kitchen like he lived there, flung open the fridge and pulled out a bottle of alcohol.

"Mammon," the human rubbed at the dried tear tracks on their cheeks. "Not that I don't appreciate it, but...how did you know where I keep my liquor?"

"Minor details, human!"

Leviathan: His first instinct was to panic.

The human was flopped face first onto their couch when Levi showed up, and his specialty had always been jumping to conclusions. He almost took himself out on their coffee table in his haste to make sure they were breathing.

And then the human almost took him out because the logical reaction to someone suddenly bursting into your home and getting right up in your face was to a) scream and b) punch.

After the comedy of errors skit was over, the two of them were sitting upright on the couch. The human looked exhausted, both emotionally and physically, as they filled him in on their day from Hell.

(Except not because their actual days in Hell were a lot better than working retail, but that was beside the point.)

"...so not only did I have to interact with people, which is already more than enough, I got screamed at because this old lady didn't like the price of something! Yes, Helen, I personally made the prices higher just to piss you off, you've figured out my master plan!"

"Ew, no, do not want." Levi winced in sympathy. "My personal remedy is playing beat-em-ups."

"Your solution to everything is video games, Levi."

"Shh, no thoughts, only Smash Brothers."

Satan: He had so many questions.

What happened? How long had the human been sitting there stewing in their own misery? Where was he going to hide the body?

Satan was a pro at suppressing rage. So even though he wanted to go rip out the vocal chords of every soccer mom with a let-me-speak-to-the-manager haircut within a five mile radius, he reigned it in enough to settle himself down on the couch next to the distraught human and rub soothing circles on their back while they tried to tell him what happened through their sobs.

"Next time, summon me and I'll kill them for you."

"I don't think corporate would appreciate me summoning a demon in the middle of a department store."

"I don't appreciate corporate telling you that you have to stand there and be verbally abused by a wrinkly old hag who couldn't figure out what the word 'expires' meant." he huffed. The human let themselves flop heavily against his side, and when he looked down at them he noticed that the corner of their mouth had twitched up in the barest hint of a smile.

"She was, like, thirty, Satan."

"She was a wrinkly old hag in spirit."

Asmodeus: "Oh, darling, what happened?"

Usually Asmo preferred to be on his knees for a different reason, but the human was refusing to look up, so kneeling in front of them was his only option to be able to see their face. He reached up to cup their cheeks, wiping away a few tears with his thumbs. "Shh, it's alright, I'm here, darling. Tell me what happened."

They sniffled, a few fresh tears spilling over when they blinked. "I-I'm sorry, Asmo, I - "

"No need to apologize, darling." he moved some of their hair behind their ear. "Just let it all out. Bottling up all of those negative emotions will make you break out."

After a few more minutes, they finally calmed down enough to recount the torture that had been their retail shift.

"Ugh, honestly," Asmo shook his head. "Hearing those kind of stories just makes you wonder. How do people get so entitled like that?"

He stood from his kneeling position, reaching down to hold their hands. "I refuse to let any of those awful people contaminate your beauty, darling. You," he let go of one of their hands to boop them affectionately on the nose. "Need a spa night."

"A spa night?"

"Mm-hm!" Asmo hummed, already on his way to the bathroom. "You let Nurse Asmo was all of those icky feelings away."

Beelzebub: They hadn't even made it fully into the living room.

When Beel stepped through the portal into the human's apartment and saw them curled into a ball near the doorway, he was immediately on high alert and checking for danger. Only after he realized that he didn't smell blood and had made sure to inspect all of the places for danger to hide did he lower his hackles.

The human was watching him through watery eyes, and Beel realized belatedly that he hadn't even greeted them. Well, bit too late for that. He crossed the living room in a few long strides and crouched down in front of them, lifting their hair out of the way to check for injuries.

Satisfied that there was no immediate danger, he scooped them up into his arms and deposited them on the couch. "Do you want to talk about it?"

They shrugged, wiping furiously at their eyes. "Just...people at work were being jerks, is all. I'm probably just being a big baby about it."

"No you aren't," Beel sat down next to them. "You're allowed to be upset if people are being hurtful."

That only brought on a fresh wave of tears, and Beel felt a little guilty. He pulled them closer until they were practically in his lap and tucked them underneath his chin like he could physically shield them from all of the awful things in the Three Realms.

"I'll make us some dinner. Everything's worse when you're hungry."

Bephegor: They started nap time without him.

Well, that's what it looked like when Belphie first popped through the portal. But, upon closer inspection, he noticed that the lump under the blankets that was the human was definitely not sleeping. Their breathing was quick and staccato, interrupted here and there by low, hiccupping whines.

They were crying.

Well that wouldn't do. Crying yourself to sleep just gave you a headache.

"Hey," he peeled back the protective layer of blanket to look at the human. Eyes red-rimmed and puffy, with a little wet spot on the pillow where their tears had landed. They sniffled, trying to shrink back into their blanket burrito, but Belphie held first. "Let me in."

He wiggled his way into the cocoon until they two of them were snuggled together, with their head against his collarbone. "Wanna tell me what happened?"

"Humans suck."

"Didn't we solve this issue already?" Belphie snickered when they pushed weakly against his chest. "Why in particular do humans suck?"

With a shuddering sigh, they recounted the events of the day. How they had been screamed at by customers, then scolded by their boss when said customers complained, then treated like actual garbage by their coworkers when the boss took their anger out on their employees.

"...Yeah, humans suck." Belphie tugged them in a little closer, burying his face in their hair. "But you've got your favorite demonic nap buddy here, so you don't have to worry about humans, okay?"

Diavolo: He felt powerless.

It was not a feeling Diavolo experienced often as the Crown Prince of the Devildom, and the few times he did experience it, he didn't like it.

If they had been in the Devildom, he would simply order whoever had made the human upset to be tortured for a decade or two - well, actually, he would have them brutally killed, revived, and then killed again, but the human was a merciful soul and likely wouldn't let him. But this was the Human Realm, where the only influence he had was the intimidation factor of his height and size. So all he could do was hold the human as they sobbed against his chest.

"This isn't fair to you," he mumbled into their hair as they sat on the couch. "You should be in the Devildom, treated like the noble you are. You shouldn't have to deal with these ingrates who think they're better because you're on the clock at that particular moment."

They whimpered softly as Diavolo murmured sweet things to them. Even if it was merely a fantasy, it was nice to think of a world where they wouldn't have to put up with all of the bullshit of retail.

Maybe one day they would take Diavolo up on his offer.

#shall we date obey me #obey me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me levi #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me asmo #obey me beelzebub #obey me beel #obey me belphegor #obey me belphie #obey me diavolo

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ryosei-hime · 3 years

Text

Taking It Slow

The last chapter in my Personal Space fic. Finally. I wrote three different versions of this chapter only to go back to the first one in the end. Warning for mild (?) sexual content. Foreplay levels. I learned what turns on parrots for this. Also available on AO3.

Angel sighed and hung his head before rolling off of Husk and sitting on the edge of the bed. He kept his head down, the bottommost set of hands gripping the mattress, one hand covering his face, another buried in his chest.

“I knew it. I fuckin’ knew it.”

Husk had to lay there a moment, waiting for his irregular breathing to settle. He sat up and reached out towards Angel’s shoulder, but he jerked away.

“I knew ya didn’t wanna. I told ya you didn’t hafta. But you let it go this far anyways.” The fist clutching at his chest tightened as he looked up, anger and hurt in his eyes. “Are you tryna break my heart?”

“What? No, I-”

“It’s me, isn’t it? I'm just a ‘two-bit whore.’ Too nasty for you to fuck, right?”

Angel held himself with most of his arms, still clutching his chest as his head fell again. Husk’s own words being thrown back at him made him flinch. He hadn’t realized those insults even phased Angel. He always took them in stride, ran with them even. Now he felt like a fuckin asshole.

“If I wanted to feel like shit, I’d’ve gone to work.”

“Do I get a chance to talk or is this a fuckin monologue?” Husk demanded, fur bristling in frustration.

“Fine. Just say it already. I ain’t good enough for ya.”

“I didn’t say tha-!”

Husk caught himself before he could go off and took a deep breath. He scooted closer, holding a paw out.

“Give me one of those damn hands.”

Angel reluctantly put a hand in his paw without looking at him. Husk held onto it like a lifeline, trying to find words to explain himself and apologize all at the same time.

“I’m sorry I ever said anything to make you think that’s how I see ya. That’s not what this is about.”

“Then what is it?”

“Honestly, you scare the fuck outta me, kid.”

“Excuse me?” Angel demanded furiously, retracting his hand.

“No, I didn’t mean-. Fuckin’ hell. It’s just...look!” He held up a fist full of feathers that had fallen out when he hit the bed. “I’m over here moltin’ I’m so damn nervous!”

The anger and hurt seeped out of Angel’s face and he searched Husk’s eyes, forcing him to look away as he went on.

“You’re always flirtin’ and touchin’ and I just...don’t know how to handle that. I ain’t had that kind of attention since I was alive. And I don’t get what you see in this fucked up body.”

He gestured at his torso, frustrated again. Angel grabbed his wrists to stop him, trying to look him in the eyes again.

“Husk, you been down here a long time. You really never been with nobody?”

Husk just looked away, even leaned away a little. It’s not like he liked admitting it. It was fuckin embarrassing being some kinda demon-body virgin. Angel released his wrists and arms wrapped around him all up and down his body, pulling him close so Angel could rest his cheek against the top of his head.

“You gotta let go of your human body, Husk. It’s gone. And there ain’t nothin wrong with the body you got. So, stop lettin it be the punishment they want it to be. Make it yours, baby. Own it.”

Husk’s arms went around Angel as he spoke and he buried his face in his chest, trying to hide the pain there. It just wasn’t that easy. He didn’t know how to come to terms with it and if he hadn’t by now, what chance was there it would ever happen? It was pointless to talk about it. So he tried to shift the conversation back to Angel.

“Didn’t mean to ruin your night.”

“Hey, this is still the best date I ever had.”

Husk exposed a sardonic smile as he turned his head from the softness of Angel’s chest.

“Shit, that’s sad.”

“I mean it,” Angel insisted, cupping his cheek and gazing down into his eyes. “You’re not as bad at this as you think you are, y’know?”

Husk avoided eye contact and pulled out of his embrace, leaning away. Compliments were so damn uncomfortable. Angel’s hand ran down his arm and slipped into his paw, other hands finding places to stroke along his legs. It was kind of soothing and brought him leaning back towards him.

“Why don’t we just take things slow,” he suggested gently. “You can do whatever you want. And if I do something you don’t like, I’ll back off, promise.”

Husk looked a little miffed. Now he felt like he was being treated like some kinda fragile baby that might break at the least wrong move. But, like most things, it was his own damn fault. He sighed and gave Angel a tired smile.

“Yeah, all right.”

Angel fell back onto the bed, stretching his arms up over his head with a satisfied grin.

“I’m all yours. Hit me big boy.”

Dammit. Why’d he have to put it like that? Nervous energy coursed through Husk as he leaned over Angel. Being put in control certainly helped him feel more confident, but his being in charge was just an illusion. Angel exuded sex, drawing him in the way the moon pulled at the tide or a hapless moth fluttered to its fiery doom.

Husk’s claws brushed over Angel’s hair as he went in for a tentative kiss, paw gliding down to cup his cheek. Angel’s arms came down around his neck, fingers tangling in his fur as he leaned into it. As Angel leaned up, Husk moved to straddle one of those long legs of his. His paw moved down to Angel’s shoulder and a claw gently slid the bra strap there aside. Angel broke the kiss to whisper in his ear.

“Go ahead. Tear it.”

Husk swallowed before hooking a claw under the bra and splitting it down the middle. As he did so, Angel captured his lips again, passionate and forceful. His paw rested on Angel’s chest as he focused on not losing it again, claws kneading the fluff there. More hands crept up his back and found places to rest on his hips. It was overwhelming trying to keep track of them all.

“Wait,” he gasped, breaking the kiss. “Too many hands.”

“Just one pair?”

Husk nodded. Angel kissed his way along Husk’s jawline as the extra hands receded. He sighed softly, tilting his head as Angel’s lips trailed down his neck. One of the hands still in play moved down his back and slipped under a wing. As Angel’s fingers gently sifted through the feathers, Husk felt a shiver go up his spine. He tried to muffle the small, shaky sigh it caused in Angel’s hair.

“You like that?”

He nodded, a purr rumbling deep in his chest. Angel grinned deviously as he played in Husk’s feathers, fingers sifting through and messaging the skin around them - until one came out in his hand. He sat up a bit more with a concerned look.

“Oh, shit, baby. Sorry.”

“It’ll grow back,” Husk muttered. “Keep goin.”

His wings extended to their full length as his face sank down into the crook of Angel’s neck. He nuzzled in as he continued to purr and Angel’s fingers went back to work, one hand tending to the wing while the other trailed up and down his back in a soothing motion.

“This really gets yer motor runnin’ huh?”

Husk made some kind of agreeable noise into his neck and flapped his wings, raining feathers down around them. He nipped at Angel’s neck causing him to respond with his own small sound of pleasure. He was starting to see what got Angel’s motor running himself. Too bad he wasn’t confident enough to fully give it to him yet.

Angel had no trouble with his confidence and Husk sucked in a breath as Angel’s mouth found his ear, sharp teeth putting just enough pressure on the insides to send thrills through him. Angel’d found his two most sensitive areas so quickly and now he toyed with them both. Like he had some kind of radar for erogenous zones.

“Damn you’re good,” Husk breathed.

“Damn right I am.”

Angel’s tongue flicked over the soft folds on the edge of his ear, sneaking a third hand back in to toy with his other wing. Husk’s knees went weak, the arm holding his weight shaking. He sank down into Angel, unable to keep himself up as he went on.

Angel’s hands slid down to the base of his wings as he collapsed into him. He let his fingers continue to play around the plumage there as Husk buried his face in his chest again. He brought in a fourth hand to massage the inside of his ear, making him purr all the louder. He hid his face in his chest fluff.

“You like it in there?” Angel asked with a laugh.

“I live here now,” he responded, muffled.

“I’ll forward your mail.”

Husk grinned as Angel’s fingers became more gentle and soothing than probing. He could feel his body relaxing from the tension he’d built up, Angel’s arms eventually sliding around him to bundle him up in an embrace again.

“How was that? Too much?”

Husk shook his head, turning it into a nuzzling motion.

“God, I’m glad I let you win that game.”

“You let me win? That’s not how I remember it, baby. As I recall, I threw ya off yer game, so you couldn’t get that Ace and Queen you had lined up.”

Husk lifted his head and gave him a devilish grin.

“You sneaky son of a bitch.”

“You know you love it,” Angel replied cheekily.

#hazbin hotel #angelhusk #huskerdust #myfanfics #stuffididmyself

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realtacuardach · 3 years

Text

On Ice

Figure Skating AU for Obiyuki Bingo 21!

(Special thanks for @sabraeal , @bubblesthemonsterartist , @ruleofexception , and youlee on the Obiyuki Discord for help with the music!)

~~~

Stepping onto the ice, Shirayuki felt herself leaving her troubles behind to stay, as they always did, on the benches behind the plexiglass. Her breath gusted out from her mouth, trailing behind as she glided to the center of the silent rink. She reached above her head, feeling her shoulders pop satisfyingly, before craning her head back to release the tension in her neck. Nothing could release all the tension she was feeling at the moment, but it definitely helped - somewhat.

She took another deep breath, bent her knee so that one leg stretched out behind her while the other took most of her weight - and pushed off.

The ice rink was a lot quieter now than it was in the middle of the day, the Olympic-quality rinks hosting times for ice hockey players, speed skaters, and ice dancers. It got even louder when the rink opened up for the public - those of the public who could afford it, anyway - because the director through that cultivating public support opened the rink up for more interest in the sports programs, a greater influx of talent that he could presumably snap up, and, of course, more merchandising opportunities.

Izana certainly likes to keep a finger on the pulse of everything, Shirayuki thought to herself, and choked a little on the foreign bitterness intermingling with the observation. Usually, it bemused her more than anything else, but today…

She tried to push the thought away as she finished one lap and started another, picking up speed. Cold air streamed more and more quickly past her face as she rounded the rink, making her eyes water, which at least gave her something to focus on.

I shouldn’t be surprised, I should have seen this coming, she thought, the cold and stinging eyes not powerful enough to slow down her mind. She slowed to a stop, realization dawning as she began to feel the burn in her calves. No, I’m not surprised, it’s what I expected.

Somehow, that only made her feel worse.

Shirayuki huddled down, resting her hips against the scuffed ice, her arms wrapped around her knees, the old insulated pants crinkling in a familiar way that soothed her, just a little bit.

Really, she should just be grateful that Zen wasn’t more hurt. He’d been lucky that she’d been watching the last-minute scrimmage he and his team had put on after hockey practice, before their paired skating practice. It could have been a lot worse.

She exhaled heavily, squeezing her face more tightly into her knee.

“All right there, Twirls?”

Shirayuki looked up and craned her head towards the sound. The side doors for the storage area for the Zamboni were open, and she saw the familiar form of Obi leaning against the machine.

She would have preferred to have been alone with her thoughts, but if anyone was to find her, she was glad it was him. She blinked away the traitorous moisture, put on her brightest smile, and nodded briskly. “No.”

Shirayuki cursed. She could never lie to him.

Even from across the rink, she could see his eyebrow arch, stretching the old scar above his eye. He straightened up a little, all his muscles at attention despite his deceptively languid stance. “Seem a little undecided there, Twirls.”

“I just got back from the hospital.””

“Yeah?” Obi responded. “How’s Ace doing? I’ve never seen Coach turn that shade of red before.”

Mitsuhide took a lot of things in stride, but there were two things that he absolutely did not. Like a proper Canadian transplant, the preservation and promotion of hockey was paramount to him. One did not mess with his hockey team and escape unscathed.

The other thing was Zen - his safety and well-being, not only as his friend but also as his star player, was also paramount.

So Zen taking a chance during the scrimmage to use one of his most acrobatic aerial leaps to soar over the other team (ostensibly intending to steal the puck and score a goal rather than slamming into the side of the rink and significantly spraining his ankle) had definitely...elicited a reaction from Mitsuhide.

He had vacillated between panic (“Are you okay, Zen? Can you stand? Is it broken, Shirayuki?”) and rage (You idiot! We were ahead by three goals. And this was practice!”)

Mitsuhide practically frothing at the mouth had unnerved most of the hockey players, so Shirayuki was grateful that Kiki had skated forward, shucking her gloves off to help stabilize Zen’s ankle as she splinted it before grabbing Mitsuhide by the back of his jersey and forcibly escorting him off the rink when he would not stop hovering.

(If it had been a less serious moment, Shirayuki would have laughed at the new redness burning the top of Mitsuhide’s ears as he was behind held by the third thing he had difficulty taking in stride.)

“Doctor says he’ll make a full recovery.”

“No doubt,” Obi grinned, walking smoothly towards her. “Between Coach’s mother-henning and your splinting skills, he didn’t have much time for it to get serious.”

The compliment glowed warm and low in her chest, but then it was overwhelmed by the cold feeling she got as she remembered what happened after Zen’s surgery. She fought back tears, hoping Obi wouldn’t notice.

He did.

“Twirls?”

She would have given everything to respond to him, but she didn’t trust her voice.

Obi sat down beside her, and she felt his arm move across her shoulders before squeezing them reassuringly. She leaned her head onto his chest, feeling the embroidery of his name push against her cheek, grounding her as his chest rose beneath her. A breath shuddered out.

“He’s going to be okay.” Deep breath in, deep breath out. “But Izana says he can’t do both ice skating and hockey any more.”

“Oh.” He rubbed her shoulder. “Well, that’s a shame, Twirls, but it does make sense. This isn’t a Disney Channel movie, he can’t do both at the same time forever. That’s a lot of strain for the ankle to take, even for a paragon like Ace. But he can still play scrimmages and stuff sometimes, right? Boss can’t expect him to just quit hockey completely-”

“He chose hockey.”

The soothing rubbing stopped. “What?”

Shirayuki cleaned her throat again, shuddered. “He chose hockey.”

The hand on her shoulder didn’t move, but she feel his muscles tensing, and she opened her eyes to see his other hand clenched into a fist. He must have noticed that she had noticed because he exhaled deeply and let his fingers relax.

“But...what about your competition?”

Shirayuki sighed and settled back against his chest. “It’s early enough to change categories, and I’m used to skating singles, anyway -”

“That’s what you think? Or what Boss thinks?”

She shrugged. “It doesn’t matter either way, it’s done.”

Obi was still for a long time, so still that Shirayuki eventually opened her eyes to check on him. His jaw was set so tightly that she was surprised that she couldn’t hear teeth grinding, and his eyes, which usually glittered with mischief or glowed with humor, were hard and flinty.

At her movement, Obi looked down at her, his eyes softening and his expression turning apologetic as his hand resumed its soothing rhythm. “I’m sorry, Twirls.” He looked out towards the Zamboni he was supposed to be driving, and snorted. He muttered, so low that she probably wasn’t supposed to hear, “I can’t believe he didn’t-”

Shirayuki shrugged, cutting him off. “He tried - at first, anyway. All the way to the hospital, he was holding my hand and promising that everything would be fine, that he’d figure something out.” She sighed. “I guess he did.”

“Or Boss did.”

“You know how important the team is to him.”

Obi squeezed her shoulder a final time before removing his arm from her shoulders and standing up. “I know how important you are, Twirls.” He held out a hand. “Come on, let’s go.”

She took his hand and let him pull her up. “Where?”

~~~

The moon was big and full, casting an ethereal glow over the frozen pond. Shirayuki took in a deep breath, feeling the icy sharpness of the air sting her nose, and smiled. She loved to skate anywhere, and she’d always be grateful for having the opportunity to skate at the rink, as fancy as it was. But there was something more...real about skating on a pond. It reminded her of the first time she glided across the lake near her grandparents’ pub, the feel of her father’s gloves beneath her mittens as he taught her to skate, of spinning free in the center of a lake, hair flying and arms outstretched, feeling light and airy and free.

Obi’s keys jingled as he shoved them into his coat pocket, stomping through the snow as he made his way over from his pick-up. “Feeling better, Twirls?”

“Just about,” she nodded. “The moon is so beautiful tonight.”

Obi hummed under his breath, and looking up, she saw him staring across the lake deep in thought.

“Makes me think of the night we met,” she continued.

It showed how much time had passed since they had met that Obi didn’t wince. She knew he wasn’t proud of how the first time they’d met officially was after he’d been caught for spreading debris across the pond where she had been practicing to trip her up and scare her off from the up-and-coming hockey player. Some enthusiast for the hockey team hadn’t liked that some outsider redhead was distracting The Zen Wisteria from the game.

Clearly, Obi had not been expecting her to leap over the debris without a moment’s hesitation. She could still remember the surprise and impressed look in his eyes as she met his stare head on after landing. He had even applauded her, which probably had some part in how quickly Mitsuhide and Kiki were able to catch up to him. Zen hadn’t been impressed with the stunt, but he had been impressed with the speed of Obi’s skating.

Despite Zen’s best efforts, Obi could not be pressed upon to actually join the speed skating relay team, but Zen had at least succeeded in getting him a job - reportedly to “keep him out of trouble” but they all knew better - at the rink. He took to driving the Zamboni with an enthusiasm that mildly terrified Mitsuhide, and he had a wealth of information on the surrounding area teams.

Obi gave a self-critical smile. “Good times, right? Except for when I got my face mashed into the snow by Miss Kiki.”

“It was good,” she agreed vehemently, “because it was the night I met you.”

She could feel her ears burning beneath her earmuffs and she quickly looked away over the lake. She heard a cough and saw Obi looking sheepish, one hand behind his head and red glinting through the olive skin of his cheeks.

“Same, Twirls.” He coughed again, and then made a shooing gesture. “Go on already, I know you’ve been dying to.”

Shirayuki needed no further prompting. She sat down in the snow, yanked off her boots, and slid on her skates. She pushed off the snowy ground and wobbled for a moment before steadying herself on Obi’s outstretched arm. “Thanks.” She stepped onto the ice, then craned her head back. “You coming?”

He kept gesturing towards the ice. “In a minute.”

The ice of the pond wasn’t quite as smooth as the ice of the rink - despite all his pleas in the past, Obi had never been allowed to take the Zamboni out for a “test drive” - but she liked that. The blades caught the slight divots and waves the water had settled into as it froze, and it reminded her of the lake back home. She could hear the birds settling into the nightly roosts and smell the fragrant scent of pine trees as a breeze blew into her face. Her nose was already red from the cold, and it felt amazing.

Shirayuki closed her eyes and spread her arms out wide. She felt free.

Na-na-na-na, na-na, na, I wanna start a fight!

Only years of experience in skating kept her from falling face first onto the ice, and she looked towards the sound. “Obi? What?”

The pick-up truck was running, the headlights spilling across the snow, and Obi was standing on the runner, holding onto the door with one hand and waving his phone with the other. Music blared out of the cab of the truck.

So, so what, I’m still a rock star-

“No time like the present, Twirls!” He bellowed over the music. “Let’s get that first-prize routine started.”

“Obi!” She was laughing now, her lungs burning beautifully. “Not that one!”

“It’s a good song,” he protested, “and it was the first one on Torou’s ‘Break My Heart, I’ll Break His Face’ playlist.”

Of course, Torou would have that as a playlist.

“Next one!” She yelled, making a new round around the perimeter of the pond.

“Fine, but I’m telling Torou!”

It was an empty threat, they both knew Torou would take her side.

I do my hair toss, check my nails-

“Yes!” Shirayuki crowed and pushed off to the center, tossing her hair and splaying her fingers along to the music.

Baby, how you feelin’?

She spun once, twice, three times before skating backwards shimmying her shoulders in time with the music. She went faster and faster -

You know you a star, you can touch the sky-

And she leapt. And again. And again.

She was breathless with laughter and could see Obi’s grin all the way from the shore between spins.

The song faded, and the next began.

It took too long, it took too long, it took too long for you to call back-

“Too fast!” She called.

“Lies!” He called back, “Get it, Twirls!”

She stopped herself with a hand on the ice before tearing off around the pond, picking up speed.

This is the potential break-up song-

She began to make almost lazy spins in the center of the pond, her arms gliding in patterns in front of her and behind her head before speeding up once the chorus starting blaring.

Potential Break-up Song segued into IDGAF, and then into Cee-Lo. She was breathless and her arms ached from skating and her face ached from smiling and everything felt right.

We could have had it all, rolling in the deep

You had my heart inside your hand and

Played it to the beat-

Her heart stuttered despite herself, and she sighed.

“Twirls?”

She waved him off, and picked up speed. Faster and faster she went, leaving her hurt and anger behind, feeling nothing but the burn in her muscles, the ice beneath her feet, the chill in the air, and the music in her ears. One leap, two leaps, and then she slid back on her left foot -

We could have had it all!

-And she spun backwards into a Salchow.

She landed, blushing at the Obi’s whoops and cheers, and felt proud but spent. She slowed down, her heart pounding as Adele continued to sing, and skated towards where she’d left her boots.

Obi padded down towards them as well, bending down to scoop them up and lifting them out towards her as she approached. She shook her head vigorously and stuck out her hand. “No, your phone.”

He arched his brow. “Huh?”

Shirayuki thrust her hand towards the phone, fanning her fingers vigorously. “Your phone, gimme. Come join me!”

“Twirls…”

She knew it was cheating to give him The Eyes. She didn’t care. “Obi.”

He took a shuddering breath and covered his face with his hand. “Fine.” He handed over the phone and tramped through the snow back to the truck.

By the time he had pulled his old skates from the truck bed and laced them onto his feet, she had scrolled through the phone and disregarded several songs before picking the best one.

Obi stepped out onto the ice. “Gonna tell me what you picked?”

She pushed Play and stuck the phone into her pocket, zipping it. “Nope.”

“Twirls…”

“You’ll find out soon enough,” she chided, hoping the nonchalance in her voice drowned out the pounding of her heart. She reached out her hands. “Skate with me?”

His Adam’s apple bobbed. “I’m not that fancy of a skater, Twirls.”

“I don’t want fancy, Obi,” she insisted. “I want you.”

That was...a lot more blunt that she had intended. But it was a night for change, and as his hand enveloped hers, it felt right.

She braced one foot behind her and pulled on his hand. And he followed.

Hand in hand, they skated to the center of the pond, and Shirayuki strained to hear the opening chords from the truck radio. As the piano began, she pushed off, with Obi following their linked hands.

What would I do without your smart mouth?

Obi’s hand tightened on hers, and she was hyper aware of how the heat of his palm burned hers through their gloves.

My head’s underwater, but I’m breathing fine

You’re crazy and I’m out of my mind.

This was moving too fast, she was being too forward. But it felt like all her pieces were falling into place. Obi wasn’t used to leisurely skating, he was more of a speed skater and going slowly nearly made him stumble. But in the next glide, his movements were more smooth and together they fell into the same rhythm.

Cause all of me loves all of you

All your curves and all your edges

All your perfect imperfections

Their eyes met, and even now she could see some hesitation. Her grip on his hand tightened and she adjusted her stride so she was closer to him. Even as their breath fogged around them into the cold night air, she could only feel the warmth of him beside her. Shirayuki turned, skating backwards and pulling him to follow her into a small spin. And Obi, who she’d seen charm birds out of the trees, looked almost dazed before following along.

Give your all to me

I’ll give my all to you

You’re my end and my beginning

Even when I lose, I’m winnin’

Slowly, they spun around each other, the circles growing slower and smaller until she was fully in his arms. Even as his arms wrapped around her, she could feel hesitation in the quivering of his muscles. She took a big breath, laced with the scent that was so distinctly Obi, and took the plunge, laying her head against his shoulder.

His breath shuddered, and she was held so close she couldn’t tell where she started and he began.

Give me all of you, oh

Cards on the table, we’re both showing hearts

Risking it all, though it’s hard

There was always a risk to be completely honest. But she trusted Obi. She hoped he trusted her, too.

“Obi?”

“Yes?”

“Is this-” Despite her resolve, she could feel her fingers trembling. She had been brave up until now. “Do you feel- I mean…”

Obi pulled back and gave her an intense look. “Shirayuki.”

(She refused to faint, but hearing him say her actual name like that was making it a real possibility.)

“Yes.”

Her heart leapt into her throat. She was about to show that word all the appreciation it deserved, but then Obi opened his mouth again.

“But I won’t get in the way of-”

Only he could make her want to smack him and hug him at the same time. “There’s nothing to get in the way of, Obi. There’s just friendship there, and right now even that’s a little dodgy.”

Obi looked dazed again. “Oh.”

She smiled at him, adrenaline making her lips quivered. He brushed his hands against the outside of her arms and she melted against him.

The song had long since stopped, and they stood in silence for a long time.

“Shirayuki.” Obi began, and as much as Shirayuki liked his nickname for her, she definitely would like hearing her full name from him more often, especially when his voice held that husky tone.

She looked up and met his gaze, which was full of intent. He lowered his head to hers, slowly enough that she could pull back or pull away if she wanted.

She didn’t want to.

Instead, she lifted her head so that her lips met his.

#obiyukibingo21 #ans #Akagami no Shirayukihime #obiyuki #figure skating au

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darthmarrsgf · 3 years

Text

monday night tumblr fic

or: big game hunting for fun and friendship

i love qyzen. i was so jazzed to do his alliance recruitment mission with my consular because we're buds, and this resulted. (more theron/consular. i'm being boring but this is what i have the most written/unpublished for, and also, this is Very Scary to me, so i'm easing into posting, lol.) unbeta'ed as always; probably repeated words without realizing which is one of my biggest personal demons.

~~~

“Caf?”

Sohlara responded with a single raised eyebrow.

“Fine. There’s a little whiskey in there, too.” Theron rolled his eyes as the Jedi huffed out a laugh and turned back to scan the landscape with a pair of downright antique-looking macrobinoculars. “It’s really not as bad as you think.”

She hummed noncommittally. "Should I be worried about you drinking and shooting?”

“Nah. This is just enough to pretend you’re staying warm. Besides, I’ve shot my way out of a fight with a lot more alcohol in me.”

“I can't decide if that’s reassuring or not. Here,” Sohlara said, passing the binocs to Theron. “Due north.”

Theron tucked away the flask as he squinted into the viewfinder. “Big. Think Scorekeeper will approve?”

“We’re about to find out,” she replied, offering Theron a hand after smoothly moving to stand. “We’ll go on foot. If there are more around, I don’t want to draw their attention yet.”

Theron had to pick up his pace to catch up to the woman, who had already outpaced him with seemingly silent strides through the snow. Actually, he reasoned, they probably were silent.

“You probably could have talked him into coming without offering to hunt,” he observed as he reached her side.

She shrugged. “I know I could have. But he’s a respected warrior. It’s only fair that I prove I can regain my score, the same way he did. And hopefully, it will show his men that we're worth helping.”

“So when he calls you Herald—"

“Scorekeeper’s Herald. Qyzen was an old friend of my master’s. I assume you’ve heard that story?”

Theron nodded. Between his close affiliation with several members of the Order, his history in the SIS, and details Sohlara had mentioned herself over the years, Theron was familiar with the unexpected trials that had led to her designation as Barsen’thor.

“He was on Tython when Yuon first fell ill. He helped me without question, but he was captured.”

“Which is bad.” He remembered that much.

“It’s a forfeiture—worse than death. When I freed him, I convinced him that he should try to regain his score by helping me hunt Lord Vivicar.” Sohlara stepped deftly between boulders and snow drifts, moving quickly enough to avoid the beast’s gaze. “He determined that Scorekeeper chose me as her Herald to guide him through a second chance.”

“Well… he wasn’t wrong.”

“I won’t take for granted the trust he gave me, even as a Padawan. A soft thing.” The corner of her mouth quirked. “He has honor. It’s not exactly honor in the same way you or I might see it, but I do my best to respect it.”

“Herald, Barsen’thor, Commander... You’ve racked up quite a reputation.”

“You know what the Esh-ka called me?” She paused, peering around an enormous spire of ice with her binocs.

“I truly have no idea.”

Sohlara leaned toward Theron, expression deadly serious. “Silent Teeth,” she whispered, snapping her jaw shut centimeters from Theron’s face.

“Blast—" Theron flinched, rubbing his ear as Sohlara laughed quietly and turned back to face the tundra.

“They let me pick that one, though. Oh, and there was a group of Gree ambassador droids on Coruscant—I never thought being called a ‘black bisector’ could be such a compliment."

“A black—never mind. I don’t want to know.”

Theron mimicked Sohlara’s slow crouch as they edged their way from behind the boulder. The animal was just yards away, back turned to the pair as it crunched on the bones of some unfortunate, smaller creature with a cracking sound that ricocheted through the icy canyon.

Faster than Theron could blink, she rushed forward on feet bolstered by the momentum of the Force. He sighed—he hated when she did that, because it always took him an extra second to catch up. But he couldn’t help but admire her like this. As much as they both groused about the planet’s climate, Sohlara had seemed particularly at ease since they arrived on Hoth. Between reuniting with her old friend and spending time away from the constant pressures of the Alliance base, the Commander was clearly… lighter.

As he fired off impeccably aimed rounds at the beast, Theron reflected with a twinge of guilt. He should have been paying closer attention to the clear stress Sohlara was exhibiting. She was always getting onto Theron for working too late into the night, but when was the last time she’d been able to snatch more than a few uninterrupted hours to herself?

Theron closely monitored the fight, but Sohlara took the beast down with ease and a particularly theatrical flourish of her saber.

“When was the last time you went on vacation?” Theron asked, slipping his blasters back into their holsters as the Commander wrenched a square of the animal’s pelt from its body with brutal efficiency.

Sohlara blinked up at him, sending a sudden pang of longing through Theron's chest like lightning. He willed himself to commit as much of the moment to memory as he could—the bright pink of her cheeks, brought to the surface by the combination of exertion and Hoth's frigid wind; the strands of chestnut hair flattened against her forehead with sweat; the tingle of awareness at the base of his neck as the protective Force barrier she'd cast around them retreated into her body. Even now, seeing her so vibrant and full of life felt like a miracle after all the time he'd spent trying to forget the way her eyes sparkled when they met his own.

“A vacation? Besides the five years I spent as Arcann’s wall decor, I— No. Sometimes we would stay an extra night to rest if we passed through a big city, but I suppose I've never been on a real vacation.”

Theron stepped forward, letting his fingertips brush her shoulders as he leaned in close to her lips. “Let’s take one. When we get back. Even if it’s just a couple of days.”

Sohlara’s eyes drifted shut, just for a moment, and she swayed into Theron’s space. “What exactly about hunting predator animals for sport on a desolate ice planet inspired this?”

“Nothing to do with the ice ball,” Theron declared, moving out of the way so she could shove the trophy into the sack the hunters had provided. “Although seeing you fight is always sexy. I’m serious, Sohl. Lana is more than capable of handling things for a few days, and we should go while—"

Theron swallowed. He hadn’t meant to say that part out loud, but it was too late now. “While we still have the time.”

Her expression was soft as she turned to face Theron. “Okay,” she murmured, brushing a feather-light kiss over his lips before stepping toward the main trail.

“O— Wait. Okay?” Theron blinked in surprise.

“Okay. Where are you going to take me on vacation, Agent Shan?”

Theron grinned, jogging to close the distance between them. “Somewhere warm. Somewhere private.” He reached forward to brush his hand against her ass, smirking as she nearly stumbled. “Watch it.”

“Watch—" Sohlara jammed her shoulder into his. “You can apologize on our vacation.”

#swtor fic #swtor fanfiction #my fic #theron shan #theron shan/jedi consular #oc: sohlara #idk something about hoth just gets me #i always whine about the cold and YET #what can i say i'm a woman of mystery #or something #but yeah

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dreamiesdotcom · 3 years

Text

butterfly effect│nct dream

Summary: You think of it as something caused by the butterfly effect — the great loves you had to leave, and the one that made you stay.

Pairing/s: 7dream x Reader

Word Count: 12k

Moon's note: since it's my birthday and I promised... it's not the best but I'd like to thank you guys for staying with me and wishing me a happy birthday! I hope you all have an awesome 2021!

You weren't really thinking straight when you met him — instead, your mind was a mess of one thought and sidelines; the little things. Butterfly effect. The knowledge that ten minutes from now the train will board — you'll miss your ride to school, you'll miss school — so you run faster, faster, and there it goes. The butterfly effect — knowing that what little thing you did could've changed someone's life entirely.

If you have made it ten minutes earlier, maybe you'd be sitting in the spot where a child buzzes with excitement, knowing that she'll see her father sometime soon, and in exchange, she will be in another place — maybe she won't meet the girl sitting across who offers her one of her candies. Maybe she won't be riding the train at all — maybe she would have to wait six months again before she can go see her dad.

You sulkily take the path to one of the exits, thinking about catching the bus or something. The skies are dark and you're aware of its plan, also aware that you left your umbrella. Frustrated and too annoyed to even think about school, you crash to the empty bench, bags left to drop to the floor. Tough luck.

The boy chuckles, "Missed the train too?"

"Yeah," you grumble, not even bothering that he's a total stranger. "Was caught in a daydream and got lost on the way. You?"

"Eh, my idiot of a best friend made me wait," he shrugs. He brings his book down and offers you a handshake, "I'm Huang Renjun — I see we study at the same place. May I know your name?"

You don't speak after a minute or two, but you shake his hand, to which he laughs at. You think it was you being overwhelmed. Maybe your soul just knew how much impact he was meant to throw at your life.

Huang Renjun doesn't become a one-time encounter, but instead, he becomes someone you take train rides with; be it you're late or not, to school or to the library. He stays constant occurrence, so much that Huang Renjun turns into Renjun, then Renjunnie — until you're free to call each other names like 'dumbass' and 'stupid' and everything crumbles down; formalities, facades, walls. You don't feel it then, but if you were to look back, you think it's that one dark-skied Monday with you two terribly late and finding yourselves back in the same bench, when everything the world laid down for you has shifted.

Renjun pout his lips, bored. He tears his bag from himself and lets it stay under the shed, but he stretches his hands out to the sky where his eyes are set, watching water fall in tiny drizzles before a full-blown rain, "Perhaps, dance under the rain with me?"

"When we should be at school?" you huff, more amused than questioning but it comes out as a scolding. He only nods his head, and you furrow your brows, "Renjun, you're crazy."

He doesn't reply, only answers with a deadpan gaze that asks Are you going or not? and it makes you tighten your expression further.

"Hold me."

The boy grins in triumph — he cheekily smiles, immediately pulling you under the rain and laughs like a tiny kid. It's contagious, you figure out, his laughter; if not for his hand on your waist and the other entwined with yours, you would've fallen over laughing with him. It was less of a dance and more of a cuddle, swaying to the sound of the rain and his sweet hums. Renjun whispers to you the melody of a love song, and you couldn't help but ponder.

"I always wanted to do this, you know?" you feel silly even confessing, "To dance under the rain with someone, look into each other's eyes, exist as if the world doesn't and maybe give them a kiss. I wonder how that'd feel."

Renjun's serenity read ideas — those that never failed to get you two in trouble. He tilts his head, "Kiss me, then."

You feel like the world stops, and your heartbeat slows, as if the raindrops are little speckles of star-like lights littering the surroundings. Your eyes widen at his suggestion, shock ripping through your body, a confused sound escaping your throat, "What?"

"I guess you don't always need to have feelings for the person you're kissing," Renjun purses his lips. Of all people, you laugh in your head, those words you expected to come out of this one's mouth the least. He huffs, "And I don't have feelings for you."

There's just enough hesitation — uncertainty, unpredictability, skepticism — in his eyes that you find he can't be trusted as much as he normally would be. Renjun drops a half-smile, eyes unreadable, "But I sure do know I want to kiss you. A lot. Right now."

Renjun smiles in victory the second time that day.

═ ∘❁∘ ═

You come across Donghyuck in the most inconvenient way possible; a few months after you started dating Renjun and there's a little too many mishaps with making schedules meet. He strides to your chair one sunny Friday, clothes too colorful for the shades of beige decorating the place. Donghyuck didn't know how to approach you; he just kind of winged it by showing you Renjun's texts that he asked him to pick you up because something came up and he can't make it anymore. You didn't really like that — the fact that he didn't even speak, the fact that Renjun stood you up. You thought Donghyuck was arrogant. The car ride home was silent.

He was far from that, you learn the one too many times the same scenario occurred. Renjun was too busy to even show up, more often in the library than in his own place. Donghyuck, being his best friend, never failed to be there for you, keep your relationship intact, make excuses for the other. He'll pick you up from where you were supposed to meet your boyfriend, grab food and spend the whole day playing video games that only he understands, and then half of the time he'll compliment you with little playful remarks. That day was supposed to be nothing so different from the others — it's just that it didn't take much longer for Donghyuck to fall.

How could he not? You smiled so lovingly and spoke so gently, always so understanding and patient and kind. How can he not, when he's already known what song makes your day the most? When he saw how ethereal you looked under the moonlight, as he danced with you by the shore? Sure, maybe most of these moments wouldn't have been if it wasn't for Renjun's absence, and truly most of the things he loves about you aren't for him; he fell in love anyway. Still, that day was supposed to be nothing so different from any others — you're stuck in the odd place quite between grateful and guilty.

"Something came up, he won't be here." The boy says firmly through gritted teeth, hands-on your wrist trying to make you get up, "Please. He doesn't have his phone. He's not coming anymore, let's go home."

"Let me wait for him, please," you say, eyes teary, "Please, Donghyuck."

"No." He simply mutters, and whether it was the sinking feeling of defeat or the determination in his voice, it doesn't matter. You let yourself get tugged away from that place, feeling weak and oddly empty. The car ride home was silent.

"Thanks a lot, you know?" You shyly say later, once Donghyuck's lost enough in video games and he's run out of knock-knock jokes and witty statements. He couldn't stand the sight of you with your head hung low and eyes teary, "You're always there for me when Renjun is not and... just thank you."

"You're welcome," he sincerely replies. You try to look for it, the lilt in his voice or the smirk stretching his lips, but all you see is worry, and it concerns you. The bad butterflies in your stomach, the bad thoughts in your head; you feel like right now, with you so vulnerable, there should be someone by your side — someone that is totally not Donghyuck. He clears his throat, "You know he didn't mean to, right? He wants time with you too, a lot, you know?"

"I know what I have, Hyuck," you reply, a chuckle at the end of your tone. You lean your back to the couch, head tilted up and voice hoarse, "and I'm fucking scared I'll take him for granted."

Donghyuck's heartbeat slows down, but you don't need to know that. If you're thinking of a similar situation, a place in time back then as cruel winters and as harsh as summer sunlight in the afternoon, you figure he doesn't need to know that, too.

You let out a huff and a smile, "I don't want to know how painful it is to lose Huang Renjun."

Donghyuck thinks he knows why you said it; things normally go down the drain when you start realizing why someone fell for a certain person — at least, he thinks. If his experience is a reliable source, this is the point where you start falling for that person too. When you see how gentle they are, how caring, how understanding. Maybe Donghyuck is lonely — maybe he just wants to be someone who holds another person, singing them lullabies until they fall asleep, much like Renjun does for you. Maybe you're really just lovely — maybe there's an undiscovered force in the universe that places you in the center of his everything. He makes note of the rejection in your confession, and he accepts it, gracefully.

This is the point where he suppresses all the what-ifs in his head — what if you gave me a chance? What if I met you first? What if I didn't skip class that day, and I was with Renjun, and I met you at the same time as him? Do you think you would've ended up with me? — but these thoughts, despite being concealed, they leave a constant reminder that they're still there. It's a truth you both already know, the words that drip like honey from his lips, "I could love you better, so much better."

It'd be a lie to say you didn't think of it, considering his feelings. It would be an even bigger lie if you said that you don't think anyone can love you better than Renjun — you know someone can, and with how you two are handling this, it wouldn't be so hard to. Donghyuck is just so easy to fall for — the way he always knows the right thing to say, the compliments he throws at people, how confident he is, how clingy he gets. You would lie if you're asked, but you can't deny having feelings for Donghyuck, you can't deny how many times you've fallen in a reverie thinking of how good it must feel to be adored by him. Maybe you were lonely, maybe Donghyuck was just like that. Either way, no matter how great this love could be, you know it's wrong.

"I know you could. I couldn't be any happier when I'm with you. Those instants, they're one of the most beautiful moments in my life, but —" you halt, eyes still staring up at the ceiling. The twist in your gut tightens as you proceed, "But in those moments, I was secretly hoping for things. I was hoping that he was the one doing all of that for me. I was hoping that the happiness I had with you, he was giving me instead."

Donghyuck remains silent for a while. He smiles wistfully, "I know."

It's a rather odd answer, but you figure it shouldn't shock you as much anymore. You sit up straight, confused. Donghyuck motions for you to stand as he does the same. Stars shine in his eyes still, but it's a different light — there's hope in them, but it's a difficult kind of hope. He's beautiful even under dull lighting, it's something hard to pronounce; unrestrained and raw, as if one look at him and you'll crumble.

"Please, for just a while, even just a little bit," He steps closer, eyes downcast, "hold me like you love me."

You figure you were right about thinking that there was always something wrongfully more with Donghyuck — also discover that no matter how much more this feeling is, whatever it is, it can never be love; at least not a healthy one. What love could possibly ruin relationships? Donghyuck and Renjun are practically soulmates — they were made to be best friends, and while they had their other friends, nobody is just like Renjun and nobody is like Donghyuck. You don't want them to fall apart; you of all people know how hard it is to lose someone special.

Donghyuck's hug felt like fire, uninhibited and uncontrolled, given to someone so undeserving. You hold him like you love him the same way.

"I don't need you to love me back," but maybe he was hoping a bit. Yeah. Maybe. "There was never a chance for us, you know? Against my own best friend, I know I won't stand a chance. I just wanted to hear it from you."

A pause.

"Because I can dance with you under the moon, and I can walk on streets holding your hands, I can give you all the time in the world — I could spend a lifetime telling everyone I'm yours," Donghyuck locks gazes with you, and you wonder how he manages to be both heartwarming and heartbreaking at the same time. He shakes his head a bit, "But that won't make you love me."

"Because I can only ever catch you," he says wistfully "whenever he fails to. I always do, don't I? Catch you, save you, love you. But you're not falling for me. You're not in need of my saving. You're not mine to adore."

He loosens his hug, looks at you like the sun bidding farewell to the moon. He's just as beautiful, if not more, he really is — gold dusting his eyelids and strawberry balm on his lips — he's ethereal. Donghyuck is beautiful in all ways manageable and not, but it's also a different kind of beauty — quite like love, adventurous but uncertain, poetic but tragic. There's a lot of pain in this beauty. He closes his eyes.

"There's not much of us, but I'm setting you free."

═ ∘❁∘ ═

You find yourself knocking at Renjun's door that night, for no particular reason — certain events made you forget that he stood you up. Renjun apologizes and repeats his reasons like a mantra, but words seemed to leave his mouth once he sees your eyes; tired and sore. You don't really need his apologies. You just need him.

Apologies, you see, they almost always never come when they're asked for. When they do, they're mostly unwanted and unnecessary from that point forward. You just feel odd, more restless than you actually are, the world is too loud — you just want to close your eyes and escape for a bit. Renjun holds you silently the whole night, his heartbeat calm, his arms holding you tight and secure.

Renjun knows, but he decides it's better for him not to. He shifts a bit, "If not because of me, why are you sad?"

A part of you knows that this is his way of telling you he understands, that he's aware of what somethings happened behind his back. Renjun always knows. The bigger part of you hoped he didn't — selfishly. You know it's the safest choice to keep your mouth shut.

You're sad, for a million reasons or for just one, you don't bother keeping up with the numbers. Renjun looks at you like you're a treasure, though, like he means it — you think the only favor you could do him and for yourself as well is to lie. You grin, effectively hiding away the tears threatening to brim your eyes, "I forgot."

He doesn't really know what answer he expected, but his heart sinks at the reply nonetheless. Renjun decides, tomorrow.

Tomorrow comes quickly in a way Renjun wishes it wasn't. He wakes up tired — he was up all night singing lullabies to himself, whispering confessions that wouldn't change a thing and promises he'll never be able to fulfill, stuff that would never make you stay. Renjun didn't cry all night — there was a tear or two, there was three — he didn't just cry all night. He did so much more — relive the past, think that he's sorry, accept defeat and the fact that he's never gonna be enough for you; then he closes his eyes. The rain pours heavily outside and Renjun reaches a hand out to the sky.

"Perhaps, dance under the rain with me?" he says with tired eyes. "One time once more, baby."

You ignore the telltale signs of a heartache — maybe you were too numb, maybe you wanted to pretend it's all normal. Renjun tugs you outside and pulls you into a hug so tight, as if he didn't want to let go but he's losing you. Is he?

Dancing with Renjun under the rain is oddly similar to the one you shared with Donghyuck under the moonlight, and you find yourself full of guilt as you sway together with him, humming love songs just right next to your ear.

Renjun knows of that dance, of course he does. He was in front of the place you two were supposed to meet at, hoping that he could still make it. Because of this, he doesn't ask why you're entwining fingers with his while recalling memories of another. He doesn't mind — he thinks, as long as your eyes look at him so softly like that, he doesn't mind anything.

You think Renjun is beautiful like this — his everything an aesthetic you can endlessly write about. His eyes, though, his eyes look distant, wishful and longing. Renjun looks at you like he's letting you go and your heart drops, as gentle and as sweet as the poems he's written of you and the kiss he gifts your lips with.

"Just leave, darling," he whispers, "Stay a lovely memory to me."

It's just like any lovely excerpts you wrote, the last line with Renjun quite familiar and bittersweet. As if in any other circumstances, had he said only the second sentence and the second sentence only, it would have made your heart skip and your cheeks rise in temperature.

Real love is a little not like literature, though, at least the one you had with Renjun isn't. It wasn't almost being the same person. It wasn't sweet chaos. For both of you, it was doing what was the best for each other at the moment — whether it will make you cry, whether it will be painful before it becomes easy, knowing that it won't always be picture perfect but still wanting to give each other what you deserve. It was so much simpler than how he said it in his poetry, just as complicated but not any less romantic than that. Huang Renjun knew that you were aware of what was the best for the both of you — with neither of you ever wanting to force something to work and end up hating each other the more it fails, successfully trading the happy memories with more regrets, you walk away. Renjun doesn't follow just because love isn't always like the idea of it, but he does remember to never forget. You walk away, holding his love dear to your heart.

═ ∘❁∘ ═

Some people are just not meant to be alone, you think. Mark Lee comes just as quickly as Renjun was gone.

You don't even know why your paths crossed — Mark is literally the town's golden boy. He plays sports and aces exams and has a good set of friends; surely, he has more important matters to deal with, and definitely getting coffee at a dingy coffee shop isn't one of them. Not when it's three a.m in the morning, at least.

The shy barista at the counter sends you a gleeful smile as he hands out your order, one which you return with a curt nod and a quiet wish goodnight. He watches intently, subtle but focused — he really isn't one to gawk at people, but he couldn't help it. You held with you a smile that doesn't match the exhaustion in your eyes. You looked like hope. You looked like someone to look up and search for the stars even on a cloudy day. You seemed like a full-bloomed spring to trapped minds and sour hearts. You think Mark is a little too curious like Alice. Mark thinks you're even better than the Wonderland he'd always fall for.

He knows you saw him, he feels the hesitation in your stare. He knows you know him, he's shared a couple of classes with you and has done a couple of assignments as a team, so naturally, Mark couldn't help himself but ask, "Wanna sit down with me?"

You walk up to him with a nod, grateful. Mark tries to remain calm for the rest of the night — caffeine not helping — and he tries to look at his book instead of you, but he simply fails to. He tries his best to conceal himself, but he can't seem to tear away. He can't look at anywhere else when you're sitting there right in front of him — you know pain, you're familiar with sadness, have always been friends with enduring what you couldn't take; Mark sees in you a landscape that makes his heart hurt, a leafless tree he loves by itself but couldn't resist the urge to nurse back into life. Every now and then you'd look up from your cup and he would look away from this book that he's "reading" and your eyes would meet, and the both of you would shyly giggle and open up a small talk.

He walks you home that night, this one and the other and the many next times after that; it's just your thing by now, getting coffee at the most unreasonable hours of the day and staying up until it's too late for either of you to sleep because by this hour you should be blinking awake, walking down lifeless streets and past neon signs and holding hands. Mark would look at you with such awe and when he does, you have some things you forget, and your heart races. He's became a regular part of your day, a constant stranger. And then he becomes your friend. Then kind of more. You think, maybe, just maybe, he can become something more than more.

"I have many regrets in this life, you know? But I don't wanna be imprisoned by them," you shrug, too scared to look up at him and see that he wonders just what failures you've done. You continue your slow pace, both in walking and letting go of things much like words, "I don't want you to be one of them."

Mark stops walking, but he doesn't make you feel like you've said something wrong, so you finally glace up and meets his eyes; those that hold as much tiredness as yours, pressure, those that are glassy and brimming with tears. You smile, "And I like you, a lot, even if I'm in broken pieces. "

Mark looks at you and doesn't see majestic brokenness. Mark falls deeper in love that day, the next and all the others; you were deep like that. He fell and couldn't stop falling and he can't wait to fall even deeper into you, diving into unknown waters with blind fates and silent confessions of love.

Your relationship was practical — literal and convenient, full of compromise but in a good way. You both were almost always on the same page of what should be done and how to do it, and if not, you two know that it's the best to give it a rest and understand. The balance, that kind of synchrony — it was something you both need, was something you liked about your dynamic; the fact that the partnership was there and you're certain of no taking more than you could give and no giving of less than you deserve. For once, you feel like you aren't pouring liquid into a leaking jar, and you feel content at the warmth he gives you with.

Renjun never made you feel this way; he didn't make enough accommodations for your relationship and you didn't voice out your expectations of him, you just wished he magically knew. Because he always knew that you would understand and other people wouldn't, he ended up giving you most of the weight of the relationship you both should've carried together. Mark was everything you hoped Renjun was; this is where the conflict begins.

When love is fueled by what the past wasn't able to give and what the present is willing to offer, you end up falling for the ideas and not the person. He makes up to what Renjun didn't, he filled to the brim what Renjun wasn't able to, he satiates what Renjun couldn't satisfy. You always saw the things Mark did as what you expected from someone else, so you weren't able to appreciate them as they are. You never truly saw him as Mark Lee who loves you, always as the boy who did everything the last didn't.

Just as any relationship that revolves around somebody who's not involved, the conclusion was something you saw coming. It comes with tired eyes and worn out sighs, burned out hearts and linked fingers, sour hearts turning bitter. Mark doesn't look at you at all, and you keep your eyes set to the stars.

"The thing with me is I always long for consistency — for someone to understand me and stay understanding of me forever." He breathes out, voice raw. Did he scream? Was he screaming in those empty spaces you two gave each other? In any of those yells, did he call your name? You think you need to yell at the top of your lungs just to hear a sound louder than your heartbreak. He chuckles before continuing, "And I know that it doesn't exist and it never will. I knew that since childhood, but even if I continue disappointing myself, I never stopped hoping."

His shoulders drop — he feels that weak that time, even his knees buckle down and his eyes sting from holding back tears. "So baby, don't play with me," he whispers, more begging than warning and he falls apart, "I don't need a chase — I need someone to wait for the end with."

There's a whine at the back of your throat, but you settle with looking at his direction with an apologetic call of his name. He doesn't reply.

Mark never knew that he could fall in love with the same person all over again even during a break-up. You're just lovely like that — always dancing in your daydreams while you carry the world on your back. Mark feels his breath catch at his throat, he feels his palms go numb, he feels his heart going haywire and begging him so desperately because no, no, don't let go, please, don't let go!

"There's a huge difference between how much I love you, and how much I can take." He finally spares you a glance, his everything so spent and lonely and blue in a way that isn't the calm of an ocean. "If you can't love me, then please let me go."

Mark knew your answer when you smiled.

────── ❁ ──────

The trip to the coffee shop was slow and empty and chilly, your hands trembling in need to get a hold of warm coffee and your feet taking little steps to such a familiar place. Honestly, you don't even know why you're letting yourself go there — why do you keep on doing this, torturing yourself? You don't even know — maybe you came here to reminisce the past, hold it close one last time before letting it go. Maybe you're here to remember how Mark was, how he was before he met you — oh, how you wish he didn't meet you. How badly you wish he never did, how you wish he never offered you a seat, his comfort, his love, a place in his heart. How you wish you didn't steal the sparkles in his eyes, and at that very moment, you feel the sudden urge to turn around.

But you're already pushing the glass door wide open, causing the chimes to make that delightful sound.

"Good...!" the cheery voice fades, a concerned look adorning exhausted eyes, "...evening. The usual?"

You hum, nodding soullessly. The boy — Jeno, quietly works your order until he decides he's had enough of you rubbing your cheeks raw wiping down tears. He sighs and finishes your drink, hands it to you with a sympathizing smile, "Uh, you don't look fine, but are you okay?"

You suppress a giggle and a glare — why does he care? But you're lonely, too lonely, so lonely that you only manage a nod, "Rough time. I wish today didn't happen."

"Oh, but other people had the best day of their lives today. They wouldn't experience that day if today didn't happen," he smiles, flashes of child-like optimism and hopes hinting behind the sleepy glaze in his eyes. "You're on your way to yours."

And while on any other day, his reply would have made you annoyed, you find that he's right, and wish that he indeed is. You feel like it's the only right that didn't go wrong today.

Something warns you that you shouldn't be getting yourself caught in his strings and his ways, but you find yourself straying around his orbit. You were lonely. It was that bad — so bad that you found comfort in everything and everyone and Lee Jeno just happened to be convenient; It's just safe to be around each other, and that's what great friends are supposed to be, right? Jeno doesn't judge and he doesn't pry when you tell him not to push it, and he tries to understand without forcing you to make him if you're not ready. Lee Jeno had a soul like comfort and a smile like a piece of home. You insist that you had no interest in either, but with you so down and him the only thing pulling you up, you couldn't help but let him in.

You think some people are just like that — timeless souls stuck in mortal bodies, liquid gold; glowing and burning and bright and hopeful, stars. They're like stars — human stars.

He's always beside you, you see, Lee Jeno. He answers the dumbest questions and the deeper ones, he stays up listening to your heartaches and struggles. He knows a lot about you — never everything, but they're more than enough — and you know about him, too. It's a dangerous edge you two are leaning far too close to tipping over, and still, your gaze screams life and hope and energy, Jeno thinks he doesn't mind. He remembers earlier memories with him crumbling under your fingertips, tears in his eyes.

"Mark Lee... he's not replaceable and I'm not a replacement..." he shifts his eyes down, can't bring it to him to just look at you without breaking himself. He manages a heartwrenching smile, "but I think I'd rather be a replacement rather than a distraction, darling."

But you looked at him and cup his cheeks and kiss his forehead so mellowly, assuring him that he's neither. The storm in his heart stops and all his insecurities don't matter, and Jeno doesn't think he ever felt this good — so light, so dreamy. Your touch brings comfort, much like lullabies, and after years on insufferable insomnia, Jeno falls asleep.

Your gaze, too. If you continue looking at him that way, he doesn't think he'll mind anything.

"Thanks, Jen. For the coffee," you say with a smile, another night spent with him at the coffee shop. These days, you spend most of your free time waiting for his shift to end, watching him stutter and flush every time he realizes you've been watching him. There's a giddy feeling spreading inside your gut as you continue, "and for staying with me. That was so thoughtful of you — how much lovelier can you be?"

He laughs, shaking his head. He sighs, "Stop it. You're giving me hope."

Your heart skips a beat.

"Oh, but I want to," you quickly roll your eyes, an attempt to faux cool control, your expression immediately shifting to something welcoming and soft just enough that his chest tightens. Jeno feels kind of odd — a good kind of odd, a welcomed sensation. You beam up at him with glassy eyes. Jeno shifts his to his shoelaces.

"Don't do that."

"Jen..."

"I love you," he confesses, shallow breaths coming in quick intervals. The floor seems to sway under his feet and the skies feel like they're swirls of dripping liquid, and it's hard to even breathe, let alone swallow the bitterness of his words, "But I would rather have you not say it back than hear you not mean it."

"I'm... I— Jen," you gasp out, fast to hold his hands to try to keep him down. For a reason or two, you feel like crying. Jeno feels lost. "I'm falling."

But you're not, and you don't know why you said it, but there's a galaxy in his eyes and the universe so beautifully laid down in his mind and he's pulling you close, tears in his eyes, this boy. Lee Jeno who's so in love with you, Lee Jeno who's hopelessly whipped, Lee Jeno — your sweet, sweet boy. You look up to him and shakily whispers, "Please catch me."

Jeno looks at the luminaries and wonders what it would feel like if one day he looks into the very same orbs only to find that the stars have fallen.

The wind blows gently, the coldness of the place prickling his skin, but Jeno doesn't think it's what caused the flush to rise on his cheeks. He stutters, curses a little, says again those little words and dives for a kiss — you feel like it's the best night ever; no nightmare, just pure bliss.

You blindly walk the path inside your house, dropping your belongings on either of your sides. You try to keep your knees from buckling as you bring yourself to your bathroom, stripping off your clothes. You lean your back to the cold tile walls of your shower, feeling the rush of water that is supposed to drown your thoughts not doing anything to keep them at bay. What have I done?

Loving Jeno is easy, though, far too easy if you may. He's so full of love and in need of affection but never asks for them, and you're more than glad to give all of that to him without words needed. The days with him have been light-hearted, felt deeply nonetheless. In this little world, it's you and him, him and you, no one else. Right? Is that right? Do you promise?

Jeno knocks at your home one day, sullen and lethargic. He spreads his arms out for a hug, one you throw yourself into without hesitation. He leans into the touch, leaning down to burry his head on the crook of your neck, "Thank you, baby."

Your brows draw closer, "For what?"

"You were never mine, but you were always lonely." He suddenly says, He suddenly says, voice fading weak and unstable. There's warm tears dampening your shoulder, and he shakes ever so slightly that you panic and try to pull away, but he doesn't let you. Instead, he continues, "In my twisted logic, I made myself believe that it's the same."

"What are you saying, Jen?" You laugh, a bit confused and a lot afraid. "I love you."

"No, please, don't say that," his reply baffles you. When he lets you go, Jeno has a certain saddened look in his eyes, and it feels so familiar that you should be numb to it by now. You're not, though, and so you pretend to not know where this all would lead. He pulls you in again and hugs you tighter, "Let me tell you that I love you without you answering back, please."

The boy breathes out shakily, "I want us to have at least one memory that isn't a lie."

And then Lee Jeno says goodbye.

────── ❁ ──────

Park Jisung is the clumsy florist who keeps breaking vases in the flower shop his cousin owns, just several blocks away from the kindergarten both your nephews attended. You meet him one too many times you had to pick the little boy up, and talked to him finally one fine Tuesday when you decided flowers would be nice, out of random. You become friends from then on.

This thing you have with Jisung is something lovely, child-like, and carefree. It doesn't put any pressure on you — there are expectations, but they're all voiced out and kept healthy. You're friends — great friends, not best friends — whose dynamic is not necessarily convenient. It's safe to say that some people think you have a complicated relationship.

You think, not really. Not to the two of you, at least — Jisung just knows when you're down and in need to be left alone or cuddled, while you know when he needs to cry or if he's pushing himself to his limits. He knows what flower you hold most dear, your treasured scent, your favorite shade of yellow. You know his most loved tracks, the beat he looks the happiest humming to, the color of his dreams. It's much more simple than that — it's just that you two have fun, even with your differences, and when you're together, everything else just fades away.

You just... don't like being alone. Jisung doesn't like not having company — well, there are indeed people he doesn't want to be accompanied by, but he doesn't like being the only one walking alone in crowds of many. He doesn't make your heart skip, not really, instead it's just a warm feeling in your chest, much like home. He doesn't make you nervous — not at all, but he does make you feel safe. Comforted, even. It's the type of love you've always yearned for, the only kind of love he's comfortable with.

"You dance?" Your eyes widen in surprise, dropping your book on the table. Then you smile, "Oh? Aren't you full of surprises?"

"Mhm, you'll see." He says with embarrassment hinting his voice, but then he stops arranging the flowers and looks at where you're sitting. "You? Aren't you full of surprises, too?"

You pick up your book, a sudden low, shrugging. "It won't be a surprise if I say now, wouldn't it?"

He just shakes his head, tries to lift the vase to the other side and accidentally knocks another one down. You laugh at him, curious at how much control he has over his body that he must be able to dance so fluidly, hit the beat like it's what he's born for, and yet he can't seem to hold a vase and not break it. Jisung giggles, taking it lightly. You wish he didn't.

The days with Jisung are filled with your favorite bouquets and post-it notes. Each and every day, the words written inside changes from 'You did well', until it develops to 'I hope you smiled today,' 'I wish something good happened today,' and 'You're really, really pretty.' He'd take you to little uphills, asks you to teach him how to make floral crowns from wildflowers, dance with you barefoot under bright daylight. A little summer, a certain person, your most dreaded feeling of having someone mean so much that you let flowers bloom in your chest until it's so hard to breathe and you cough them up.

"My parents asked me to study dance in another country," he mumbles one day, a shaky breath leaving his lips, "Please give me a reason not to go."

"Chase your drive, Sungie," you whisper back. You lean your head further to his chest, safe and warm and fading, "I love you, so choose your dreams over me."

There's the slightest hint of betrayal in his voice, a tinge of rejection in his eyes, "If you love me, why would you make me choose?"

If you love me, why can't you choose me? You selfishly ask, the kid in you whining at the thought of being left alone. The greedy part of you begs to ask him to stay, the needy part of you wants to hug him until he's so full of you that he forgets even the bare thought of wanting anything else. The silent voice inside you, the one that learned and keeps learning, the one that could've saved you so many times if you listened to it, sighs sadly. Don't risk anyone's future for your present, it seems to say.

"Because I love myself too," you look directly to his eyes, cupping his cheeks in between your palms, "and we need to put ourselves before anybody else."

And yet again, you're starstruck by the almost golden swirls in his irises, a peek of his soul. You think his eyes are beautiful — astounding, art worthy, a sight to never get tired of. He thinks they're only beautiful because he's looking at you.

This thing with Jisung isn't something you should've let go. You shouldn't have let him go but you weren't ready and the last thing you wanted was to hurt someone who held you so close beautifully. He didn't mean to, though — it was just too hard not to go overboard, and the next thing he knew, he was in love. He didn't mean to, so he walks you home the last night, hand in hand with a certain something hidden underneath his mellow smile. Jisung stands in front of you, waiting for you to open your gates, but you don't move. You stay basking in the tenderness of his gaze.

You think the little problem is that he's even more breathtaking up close and in silence, when the night feels so dead that it thrives — you feel like if you weren't so broken, if you don't keep on seeing another person when you look at him in the eyes, if you let go of the past, Jisung would be everything your heart desired. It just so happened that you two are both too infinite for forever, too broken to fix anything for the latter. Jisung was too charming — his smile was one that doesn't ask for attention but still steals it, never content with just taking your breath away so he takes with him your mind and soul.

You can't handle losing any more of yourself, though, so you smile, "Thank you for waiting."

"I have always been waiting for you," he grins shyly. You make a mental note to remember him like this — dyed locks a mess on top of his head and glasses messily perched on his nose bridge, tall and too pretty to be real, eyes so loving and expressive. There's an obvious sorrow in his voice, "Without fail, consistently, inevitably, forevermore."

You smile, standing on your tiptoes to press a kiss on his cheeks, "Good night, Jisung."

The last note comes in between the pages of your notebook, a pretty pastel purple accompanied by pressed wildflowers. There, in his messy letters and colorful ink, reads a confession:

Maybe I couldn't stop myself from falling because it felt like flying with you.

You shake your head, sigh reading 'I told you not to do that'. Still, you feel a tug at your chest, a link between the two of you in the sense that you seem to be moving in synchrony with these words — Park Jisung is your last love, you swear. You shift your eyes, tired of the same chain all over again, flipping the note to read the words behind them.

When you find the right love at the wrong time, what will you do to make it work?

You sigh to yourself as you read the question, tracing the pristine paper with your pen, and finally, finally you smile;

Let it go. Set it free, because the greatest love of all is the one that lets you grow.

You tilt your head up, holding back the tears that threaten to spill from your eyes.

────── ❁ ──────

Zhong Chenle invades your life like a hurricane of mixed emotions, a little like three months just in time when you finally decided you've had enough heartbreaks. You meet him from one of your friends, Qian Kun, and literally had to stop and wonder how in the world he managed to find this thing — you can't help it, alright? Chenle just stood silent and proud, clad in leather and rumors and reputations and reeking of expensive. He comes in the scene like thoughts as turbulent as unwanted flashbacks and as easily as finding trouble looking for the right answer when you're in a rush.

Quickly as he entered your life, he became a friend; you're too familiar with this scene, but you've had enough. You can't take any more. You've spent most of your life haunted by sugar smiles and breathy laughs and in exchange, had yourself break everything you wanted to keep intact. It doesn't matter that he's not at all what he's perceived to be, it doesn't matter that he makes your breath hitch. You don't even care what you're going against with, if it's fate or heavenly beings or the world — no more. You can't anymore.

The world is the ocean and the ocean is a God — people are mere sailors who think they're stronger than the tides, but they're not; once the waters have made their decision to kill you, there's no reason you should fear the phenomenons trying to do you harm. It seems like it's made that plan, that thing you hoped so much you wouldn't do. Chenle knows so he smiles at you brightly, "Don't you dare run away from what you're feeling."

"Else what, you gonna run after me?" You bite back just for the sake of it, laughter bubbling from your throat, "Gonna go chase me down?"

He shrugs, taking a challenge and a risk, "You better not regret."

"Absolutely fucking not." Kun hisses after you've told him what happened, months after you've started dating and you're tired of hiding it already. Your friends already tease you about getting together, anyway, so why should you even hide? Apparently, this. The profanities leaving his mouth should worry you, really, but it doesn't; not as much as his disagreement. Still, you couldn't even bother to ask him why because you see it in his eyes — you know him that much, you're familiar with that look — "You're not in love with Chenle, please, we both know this."

"I am in love with him!" You say, hurt. The look in his eyes softens, but the pain of his word doesn't, neither does his determination, "Kun, please. I didn't tell you just so you could lecture me, I told you because you're my friend! I do love him!"

"Are you, really? In love with him, you say? Completely?" Your eyes shift to the side after his statement, the lack of sarcasm and warmth in his tone both bothering you. You want to cry. When you look at Kun, you find he feels just as much. "You're not in love with him in the way he deserves."

There's a dry chuckle leaving your lips as you grab your bag, standing up with a tear slowly rolling down in your cheek. More than devastation, there's a certain withering look in your eyes. Kun tries to apologize, but you're already moving away from him. The betrayal in your voice is impossible to ignore and forget, "How dare you make accusations about how I'm feeling?"

Falling in love with Chenle wasn't in the plan; in fact, you hardly even had any plans to begin with. As another fact, the only plan was to not fall in love with anyone anymore. Plans are ever-changing things, you'd always counter, they depend on the situation. When Chenle came in your life, you figure there happened to be another shift — something significant had changed, a good change.

Maybe it is why you didn't even take Kun seriously. You've always hoped that all those lows would lead to this point, the part where there's content spreading on your chest, a feeling just as bright as the luminescent blanket of embedded diamonds and rubies, a sky full of stars. By your side, the boy looks at you with eyes shining just as much; Zhong Chenle, badly misunderstood, so truly loved. You couldn't help but pull him in a kiss — giggly and messy, chaste and ever so delicate.

You think you could spend lifetimes just staring at him. You swore on it, really, to not be in love with him. More than anybody else, you hoped to fate that you'll never fall in love again. It's just that this person — Zhong Chenle, he has a tendency to be very addicting, and oh, how easily addicted you are. His kiss a lovely burn against your lips, his words a heavenly whisper to your ear, his existence a delightful surprise. You find it inevitable to fall because of the many similar nights before this, just weeks after you two met. Those days where you two were laughing way too hard for midnight and your heart blossomed with happiness it hasn't felt for long. It's the sweetest kind of doom.

It's doom, nonetheless.

"With whom was your first relationship with?" Chenle suddenly asks, no hint of jealousy in his eyes, but there is, aside from pure curiosity, something else — lost, baffled, seeking an explanation for something he doesn't even think he should know. "I mean, you're mine. You're my first love, but I know I'm not yours, and I'm curious. "

"You don't even know him, Lele." You laugh, trying to hide your hesitation. The boy insists, says that he just needs a name. You roll your eyes affectionately, "Huang Renjun. He's a great guy, but timing kinda messed up."

Chenle hums appreciatively, but he stops trying to find constellations and making up shapes of his own; instead, he dives in a pool thoughts deeper than the dark. He thinks of what he doesn't know if he believes in, but he keeps his eyes up at the stars and hopes to God that his life wasn't such a movie; he stays quiet.

"Who's Jaemin, then?" The question comes, harmless but shocking nonetheless. Chenle breaks his stare from the dull-starred sky and looks at you with a smile brighter than daylight. His question makes your gut twist. "Jaemin who danced with you under the rain... Jaemin who made your day with corny jokes, with late-night talks, with coffee, with notes."

You don't reply, so he ponders some more. He thinks about walking the streets holding hands, he thinks of cheek kisses. He thinks of waking up tomorrow and doing all of that with you. He looks forward to a couple of years — maybe you'll move in together, maybe you'll share a place and clothes and everything. He thinks of counting down the memories, having lived most of his life satisfied. Chenle thinks of doing it all with you; someone who takes tragedies and turns them into masterpieces. Someone who sings sad songs with a saccharine smile.

"Jaemin with a reputation, known for all the wrong reasons..." his eyes cast down, dull and slowly piecing everything together, "Just like me."

He thinks of a vow, a promise — to the stars, till dawn do us part. He thinks of how near the sun is from rising, and he thinks of silhouette, of being hidden behind one. You don't answer until then, so he just takes it as your reply.

"You don't have to. I already know," he smiles, fingers entwining with yours. "Maybe I just hoped that I didn't have to find out from Kun."

Chenle is innocent, kind of naive. He wears his heart on his sleeves and gifts its pieces to anyone who dares to get to know him. He loves a lot — his friends, his family, stars. A person who grieves the loss of midnight too, when the stars start to fade; you. Because of that, he could forgive anything you did and would do.

It's one of his many ways of love, you see, this thing you have going on. Chenle's just like that — you never know just how much more he can give before he runs out; there's just so much of him and it's difficult to put it into words. He's shown you how he treasures relationships, how he adores everything around him in each and every time a different way and kind. He's shown you so much, all the ways he displays his affection with, this little magic trick. That's not all of it, though, and a little part of you sinks because of the fact that a lifetime will not be sufficient enough for you to know just what this love is, completely, because every passing moment, the boy falls for something; each fondness different from the lasts.

Chenle just loves like that; so much that he doesn't mind being loved for carrying pieces of another person — being adored simply because he made you remember what you didn't want to forget. He thinks, if he doesn't think it matters, it wouldn't; he prays that if he doesn't bring it up, you'd forget. He's loved you for so long but you know so little of his kind of love; ever so pure and limitless, impossible to define and dictate.

When he holds your hands, though, you feel like it's enough — it's enough to have known slightly more than what you think you should.

"You give too much," are the only words that you were able to form. He looks at you as if to ask if you think so, and you feel the time stop for a bit when he leans his head on your shoulders, his dark locks tickling your skin. You laugh, humorless and sentimental, "Isn't it about time you'd learn to love within limits?"

"You're brilliant, you know?" He mumbles, albeit sleepily. "Kind of infinite. There are no restrictions in the love you deserve."

Something about brilliant just hits so different from beautiful — something so damning and sweet and you feel it again; just how much love you have in you, how much of it you are willing to give. Maybe boundaries really aren't your thing, maybe its the reason why you let Chenle adore you beyond what you know you can take, why you allowed him to give more than he should've given. Maybe it's why you poured affection after affection without conditions — maybe that's why you were selfish enough to love shadows. Maybe it's as most people say — you tend to burn too bright, to share too much of yourself, and not everybody can handle that. You're a bit too much for others. Maybe it's why you find yourself sitting down, pen roughly scribbling on paper.

Somewhere, there's a soul aching for your love... but no matter how much we try, we know it's not here, with me.

────── ❁ ──────

Kun doesn't knock at your door until a few weeks later, and whether it was him giving you space or him not being able to leave Chenle alone, you think of it as a blessing in disguise. It wasn't even after a week or two that you found it in you to get your life together — fake it till you make it, clean up your home, clean up your mess. You greet him with a smile on your face, tears prickling your eyes, "Come in."

Kun doesn't even say anything, he just puts the snacks he bought somewhere and crashes the sofa. He turns off the television, eyes the clearly was-messy place, and huffs at you, "It's just me. You don't have to play cool with me when you're feeling so broken."

"You're acting so much like Kim Dongyoung." You whisper just enough that he could hear before making your way to him and sobbing in his arms. Kun lets you stay like that, his hands threading your hair and affectionately patting your back, a soft 'I told you you're not ready yet' that's less scolding than it is loving. You stop crying then, just miserable sobs and sniffles, and he stands up to get you a cup of water. You look at him.

"Thank you, Kun."

Suddenly, his not amused expression is back. He moves away a little, placing a strict space in between the two of you, and then directly looks into your eyes, "Were you ever gonna tell me?"

"Tell you what?"

"Were you ever gonna tell me, or was I just supposed to learn about it after you've left?"'

"Kun," you breathe deeply, "I need to."

"For who?" He asks, hoping that amongst the reasons read your name. Are you finally choosing yourself? Is it still because of other people? He wants to ask, but his voice keeps failing him and all he can whisper is words about how he's proud of you, how much you've endured, how badly he wishes to ease the pain. Kun doesn't look at you with disappointment, with hurt; he looks at you with pure utter understanding, and you find it in you, a reason to smile.

────── ❁ ──────

You can't help but reminisce things as you walk from your home to the train station, neither can you when you asked the person in charge for which train will get you out of the place the quickest. You didn't really have plans, you never did, and perhaps that's where everything starts to go wrong; you just forget things, or at least, you try to suppress them. You never tried to solve anything.

This town knew too much — there are memories of Renjun on the trail from here to the benches, flashes of Donghyuck's sly grin meeting your gaze in the reflection of the glass whenever you look at the vending machines. You feel like you've walked every street in here, hand in hand with Mark, like you've danced under all these blinking lights with Jisung, like you've been to everywhere with Chenle. There is so much to remember, and this place can't hold them all and it breaks your heart so much, knowing that many things are meant to be memories, but not all memories should be remembered. You close your eyes in silent hopes that no matter how painful, you never forget one second.

It was impossible, surely, but you think that the thought of being able to recall them completely will be enough to keep you company. Even until now, you don't really want to be alone — some people are just not meant to be by themselves, and sometimes those people aren't really good at settling down either — being one of them, you leap from one crumbling bridge to another, hoping to never feel the pain of a great fall. There was never an end where you didn't.

Waiting for the train to board, you look back to a certain place in time. The one where you think everything began.

Your first love is something you remember vividly. It came in the form of childhood crushes, wildflowers, and ruined playgrounds. It's a coincidental meeting; you were running away from your house, tired of the yelling and the crashing and the constant fear in your little heart, while he was sneaking away from his house to play more because he's a 'rebel'. Your first heartbreak takes some years forward, years just a little far from now even if it feels like it's been forever standing here, waiting for an uncertain return.

Until now, you think that it was that night under a rusty slide and above dry leaves when your life started to change.

You meet again with Na Jaemin just minutes before your train arrives, a brief eye-contact and a skip of heart and it doesn't take so much for you to know; those eyes, that smile, the red string sitting too tightly on his wrist. You remember what promise that meant — you know that, right? The thing they say about red strings, how they connect people? — and what childish hope that strand held — if we wear this, we would always find our way to each other, because we have a red string connecting us now! You remember, you do, really — of course, you do; how you could you ever forget him? Surely, maybe he's grown a lot, and everything about him has changed, he even dyed his soft hair blue. You're certain, though, you knew that it's him — maybe the red string worked. Maybe it's the butterfly effect and the heartbreaks your heart and several others nursed. Maybe it's the look in his eyes that remained soft and sweet and honest.

You miss your train, but you can't help but feel like you're just in time.

"Jae—" you choke, eyes wide and shocked, "Jaemin!"

────── ❁ ──────

Na Jaemin meets you again on a busy train station, three years ago after he just came back in town for a visit. He remembers the punch in his gut at the sight of your face, the red string delicately wrapped on your wrist, far too small but still so beautiful. He remembers the sullen look on your face, the realization dawning on him that you're late for your class and he chuckles; you never really made it in time for school, even as a child. The rain pours and he has to fiddle his bag for his umbrella, opens it so that he could let you in. When he takes a step closer though, you were talking to another boy, and Jaemin thinks he's the one a little late.

He comes across you a lot of times next to that, too, but never when you're alone. He thinks, his timing is a mildly off as well. Every time he tries to come and talk to you — when you were sitting alone in the middle of a busy restaurant, inside the coffee shop, in front of his niece's kindergarten — there was always somebody else. It reminds him of back then, one of your conflicts as you started to grow up and apart; the many times you needed each other and the other person is too caught up needing someone else. Jaemin thinks that the beat you both are dancing to is a little too delayed.

Jaemin remembers meeting a boy just as blue as him, a face a little familiar, smiling longingly at the two dancing under the moon. He remembers eyes as regretful as his, he remembers a smile, "They look so happy, don't they?"

None of that matters, though, not when he's pulling you into a hug and dragging you to a rooftop, not when you're several floors off the ground and beside you is Na Jaemin, sitting side by side, with eyes that take you back to the past and makes you hope for an unbroken present.

When you two stand under the bright sky and you stare at him instead of gushing about flying, Jaemin realizes just how drastically different this present is. If the look in your eyes says anything, he's certain that you feel the same.

You have just always been waiting for this moment, you know? And you missed your train, but you were just in time to meet Jaemin, and the rush of affection cleared all the lines you had to cross and everything was light and filled with teary laughter before right now. You've had it planned, the both of you, multiple scenarios where you two could meet again — none of them are this way. It's awkward and tense and the other feels so far away; this wasn't how things were supposed to go.

Jaemin could leave. He should leave, he figures, thinking that it's always been what he's best at. It's not working, anyway; maybe it was him being gone and you going through so much, maybe it's life knocking some sense in the both of you, but none of that matters — it's not working. It's just like this, relationships — two people could start at the same point and still go separate ways. It's not meant to be. He could leave, forget, maybe he'd find enough courage that he marks this chapter closed and finally, finally stop thinking of childhood feelings and even the grown-up ones. He could find a new beginning in this chapter closed.

That's the way it goes, anyway, right? Some ends feel like new starting points. Jaemin could drop it here. He could make it easier for himself, he'd be able to say this isn't working and he'd be back to his normal self; the one that looks at you and looks for you in a way that he did before falling in love. He could be young and free, away from untold reasons and unsaid apologies and undelivered feelings. He could make it easier for himself.

But to hell with ease, he didn’t want to.

"Remember, back then, we would always sneak out to play in the rain?" Jaemin is the first to break the silence, "And we look at flowers... you used to cry at everything back then!"

You flick his arm at that, and he sits on the floor next to the railing because he couldn't hold himself up anymore, laughing. Even until now, this still feels like a very vivid dream. You spend the night trying to believe that this is reality — Jaemin does the same.

Fate has a tendency to bring people apart and put them back together again, so you can't really help it that Jaemin was months and weeks away from leaving the town again. There was a point where you cursed time — you just found him, and now, why is he being taken away from you? There was a time where Jaemin thought you weren't meant to be — if you are, then why do you keep on being forced apart?

He thinks he really should stop thinking this way. It's just something really odd, this love stuff, because it's never really just one thing but rather a couple of many nothings to make up an entirely different, supposedly magical occurrence. Love is never just love — it's oftentimes euphoria with even the slightest glimpse of devastation. Jaemin doesn't think he understands why the both of you try so hard to make it easy — no matter how difficult, he knows it's worth it, knows that he'll fight for it.

Jaemin spends his last day in this place smiling, cupping your cheeks as he stands in the middle of a busy train station yet again, this time, with you in his reach. The skies are dark but his smile is bright, and it burns brighter when you flush after asking him why he's staring at you so hard. The boy cooes, "Perfect should try to be you."

"If perfect was me, perfect would be a mess," you quickly counter even through you being too flustered. In your absolute anxiety, you think that everyone is looking and judging you. With the way Jaemin is staring at you, you don't think you'd mind even if they whisper things so mean.

"A lovable mess," he raspily whispers, sincerity in his gaze and honesty in his words. Jaemin smiles, "I can't make this up. I fall for you several times a day, repeatedly."

Jaemin lets go of your face and dips in to kiss your forehead, and then he giddily messes your hair. You can't even bring it in you to get mad — you have several minutes and you have so much to say and the time is too little, your words are so limited. Jaemin asks for your hands and leaves a red string, identical to the ones you gave each other as children but bigger and adorned with the tiniest butterfly charm. You look at him, confused, "What's this?"

"A farewell gift, and something I'll definitely come back for," he flicks your forehead as if to say it's so obvious, and you can't help but feel like time is running out all over again. You breathe, unsteady and ragged, a desperate call of his name, "Na Jaemin?"

He doesn't answer, but he wipes the tears streaming down your face and he hums.

"I'm so happy that the ending is me and you." You finally confess, taking him aback. You smile, sweet and cruelly beautiful, brutally emotional, and if there were no children around and Jaemin was a tad bit more shameless, he would pull you into a deep kiss. He couldn't, though, so he just gapes and stares and listens.

"I'm so happy that it's back to you."

As the train boards, you find yourself realizing how tough the world gets — the lovely, sinking feeling lingering in your chest as you recall the highs and the lows of life and fate.

You've had far too many great loves in your life, so much that using the term would probably not sound special anymore to other people — but they're different, each one of them, the way they loved distinct at least — and this one, just this one, Na Jaemin, by far, is the greatest.

The end is sweet and lovely, if a bit sour and bitter. The end is where you hopefully find yourself.

────── ❁ ──────

"Mom and dad keeps on fighting. " your nephew murmurs under his breath, one sunny Friday spent walking on streets that are cooling down, on the way to what must be the happiest place on Earth for a kid. "Do you think they don't love each other anymore?"

You nervously scratch your nape, thinking of easy ways to reply to the question. You think of your childhood, how you spent most of it dreaming of love. How until today, the thought of it still haunts you. You just shrug, "People just have some bad days, but look, they're still together, right?" he nods, and you feel a blossom of proudness in your chest, "They love each other, and that's why they had you."

The kid suddenly frowns, "Why do people get together, then?"

You halt your steps before continuing, on the verge of asking why he asked that question before you realize that it's your nephew, anyway. He loves holding mature conversations even if he doesn't understand anything, he likes asking away and being taken seriously, like an adult. You chuckle, "Uhm, because people make each other happy!"

"Why don't you have someone, then?" You don't know how to answer his question, and neither did you expect it. He looks too interested to be brushed off. "You said people make other people happy!"

"Hm, well, I do have someone," you think of sugar smiles and giggly kisses as you say those words. There's a comforted exhale leaving your lips as you look down on the kid, "But, he's not the only reason I'm happy... I'm happy with myself, without him."

"Do you not love him, then? Because you're happy without him?"

"I love him, I do, a lot! We went through a lot to find each other again," you smile kindly, patient. "But it's a different kind of love, just like how it is a different kind of happy with him."

His lips jut out, wondering about things not so completely disconnected from his first questions. He then sighs as if he's carrying the weight of the world, "If you had to find each other again, it means one of you left. Why did one of you leave if you love each other, then?"

Why?

"Well, you see, maybe..." there's no answer pouring from your lips, but emotions threaten to spill from your eyes and then down your cheeks. The child won't understand your tears, though, so you think of familiar faces and the one you entwined your fingers with, like home. You keep your head held high. "Maybe it's so that we could find each other again in a time where we would be better versions of ourselves."

It's not enough to sate his curious mind. "But if he's almost always never here, how are you supposed to know if he's the love you're supposed to have, then?"

"The love I'm meant to find has always been here, within me," you say genuinely, and the child, ever so confused but curious, remains silent to understand. You shake your head a bit, "but with him, this love grows bigger and bigger, and it helps us cross any kind of distance between us."

Finally satisfied, he stops asking questions at the sight of his most favorite place, muttering incomprehensible gibberish as he tugs you closer to the entrance. Then you think of how happy you are to be standing under this sky, above this ground — you think of the butterfly effect, all the little moments and major events, and everything that passed and will forever remain remembered. You think of all that lead you to this.

You look at the reflection of yourself from the glass walls of the candy shop, and you couldn't help a smile. The look in your eyes screams dreamy as you push open the door. This is it — you're on the way to loving yourself.

Welcome home.

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jokertrap-ran · 3 years

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(光与夜之恋 Light and Night) Osborn’s 5✩ Inspiration: Black VS Black [黑色对峙] Date Translation (END 1: Do Nothing)

“Oh? You know how to beg for mercy now, don't you?”

*Light and Night Master-list | Osborn’s Personal Masterlist *Spoiler free: Translations will remain under cut *Join the Light & Night Discord (＾▽＾)~ ♪ *This 5✩ Inspiration has 6 Endings!! *Osborn’s tag will be #For Night, For Freedom *Requested by anon! You can check my on-going requests and more here!

✥ Choice: Do Nothing [都不做]

Osborn walked into the room as I was hesitating.

Osborn: What's wrong?

MC: Mitt destroyed one of your car models and fled.

Osborn Laughed and walked to the area where Mitt had made a mess, picking up the fallen car model along with its scattered compartments that had come off.

Osborn: There was a big commotion coming from here earlier. I thought you'd both gotten into a fight.

MC: Ugh, was I really being that loud…?

Osborn: Not really, but…

Osborn: I was worried that if I were even a minute late, you'd both have successfully torn this place apart.

MC: …...

Osborn looked at my blank look, snorting. He then raised his hand and flicked me on the forehead.

Osborn: I'm just pulling your leg.

He sat down by the table and started to put the model back together. His movements were so quick and skilful that I couldn’t quite catch them all. Then, I followed suit and helped him with it.

Soon, the car model was restored to its original form and returned safely to its original display.

Osborn: Come on, let's go look for Mitt.

MC: Right…

MC: Should we check the living room? I think that was where it slinked off to!

❖☆———————————★❖

By the time we found Mitt, it was already sprawled out beside the TV cabinet with its paws stuck underneath, fiddling with something in the gap.

Recalling the layout of his living room, I quietly tip-toed and whispered my idea into Osborn’s ear.

MC: I’ll take left, you take right. We’ll pincer it.

Osborn: It's already here, so there's no need to go through so much trouble.

MC: Huh?

Osborn: Just wait and see.

Osborn took a couple of long strides forwards in the direction of the cat.

I followed after him, quietly approaching the black cat. However, my attention was suddenly caught by the photo frame that the cat had just been playing with.

Picking up the frame, I carefully observed it...

In the picture were Osborn and a couple of familiar-looking teammates. They’d all had an arm around each other’s shoulder, beaming as they held the same trophy.

Their faces all look much younger… Is this a photo from years ago?

The race car in the background had a red and white body with an orange rear spoiler, similar to the car model that Mitt had batted off its perch earlier.

MC: Don’t tell me… Was that car model made based on this race car?

I was lost in thought when a sudden meow broke my train of thought.

Osborn: Still wanna run?

❖☆———————————★❖

I raised my head to see Osborn with both arms raised, gently holding up the cat in question.

The bright and warm sunlight shone in through the window, carefully outlining his chiselled side-profile and the contours of his muscles.

Although Mitt had already been caught, it still glared daggers at Osborn. It was as if a cat and a human were engaged in a silent battle with each other.

After a while, Mitt seemed to register the fact that it’d lost, meowing pitifully in that soft cry once more.

❖☆———————————★❖

Osborn: Oh? You know how to beg for mercy now, don't you?

Osborn carried Mitt to the little corner we’d set up for it. Mitt seemingly gave up on the game of chase, lowering its head to eat the cat food that we’d prepared for it since the very beginning.

Watching it eat its food so obediently, I couldn’t help but kneel down and stroke its round head.

Mitt cast a doubtful glance at me, but turned its head, indulging nuzzling itself into my palm.

MC: !

MC: I touched it! How cute…

Osborn: You're that excited from just being able to touch it?

MC: Yeah. It looked so naughty that I thought I wouldn't be able to touch it today.

Osborn: It'll come running up to you for a lick or two so long as you have food.

MC: Then I MUST let it try the wet cat food! Maybe it’ll get closer to me!

I sped towards the sofa and picked up the packet of wet cat food, purposely waving it before its nose.

It couldn’t resist the offered temptation after all. Its soft fluffy paws batted at my wrist as it opened its mouth and cried its pleas.

MC: Okay, okay. Any more and you’ll end up a piggy.

I recalled something after putting away the remaining food. I picked up the photo frame that I’d set down earlier and handed it to Osborn.

MC: Oh, yeah. By the way, this was the photo frame that Mitt was batting with under the TV cabinet earlier. I don’t know where you normally display it.

He took the photo frame from me and glanced at it.

MC: And on that note, I realized that the car in the background looks very similar to the model we just pieced back together. Are they the same?

Osborn: Oh. The model was made according to this race car.

Suddenly, I recalled having seen the highlights of all his races before.

The year and month in which he’d won his first racing championship seemingly coincided with the time that this photo was taken.

My guess had tumbled out of my lips before I could stop it.

MC: Is this the car you drove when you won your first championship?

He quirked a brow.

Osborn: Why, you know me so well.

MC: Then… Is that car model something of a memento from that race?

Osborn: You can say that.

MC: I heard somewhere before that that car’s engine had to be changed out every two races. It shouldn’t be in use anymore, right?

Osborn: The engine exploded on me during that race, so it was only my companion once.

Osborn spoke lightly of it, but thinking of how exciting and terrifying it must have been back then, I couldn’t help but feel my heart sink a little.

MC: I’m glad the car model’s alright. Otherwise, it’d be such a pity for such a meaningful memento to get damaged like that.

Osborn: So I should thank you properly. Is that it?

MC: Huh? Thank me?

He chuckled lightly, his eyes sliding from the photo to my face. He had a slightly flippant look on his face.

Osborn: Weren't you the one who made that car model more meaningful?

MC: ……

I was taken aback for a bit. I looked at him in surprise, only to find his gaze calm and gentle. There was a smile glimmering within his eyes.

Osborn: You were pretty clever when fixing the model. Why so stupefied now?

As his words sank in, I felt my heart flutter as I realized what he’d meant by having made it more “meaningful”. Something seemed to have filled my heart. It was a little flustering, yet also a little sweet.

I worried my lip and gathered my courage together before looking up to meet his eyes.

MC: Then, that makes me happier now...

MC: Although I didn’t get the chance to sit in on the race of your first championship and cheer you on...

MC: I was still able to piece the model back together and play a part in that precious moment of memory.

Inexplicable emotions surfaced in Osborn’s eyes, and in the next second, his big hand ruffled my hair with a vengeance.

Osborn: There's really no helping you, is there?

I shyly ducked my head, but I couldn’t stop the corners of my mouth from rising.

At this moment, the sun had enveloped us both within its warmth.

The cat quietly ate by our feet, letting out a purr of satisfaction every once in a while.

Slowly but surely, unspeakable feelings started to bloom and spread within the confines of my heart.

I hope, from the deepest points of my heart, that time would always be eternally frozen in this beautiful moment.

⊹ ˚✩ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ∘◦ ✥ ◦∘ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ✩˚ ⊹

✥ Choose your Ending:

END 1 | Choice: Do Nothing [都不做]

END 2 +3 + 4 | Choice: Call Out [呼唤] ⊹Speak⊹

END 5 | Choice: Listen [倾听] ❖ASMR

END 6 | Choice: Heart-throb [心动] ★Night★

❖☆————— ⊹ For Night, For Freedom⊹ —————★❖

Previous Part: (Prologue)

#光与夜之恋 #Light and Night #Otome #Translations #Tencent #萧逸 #Osborn #For Night For Freedom #黑色对峙 #Black VS Black

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scpnightwing · 3 years

Text

whumptober 2021: The Bone Road (1/31)

By night, Robin was his partner in crime, but once the sun rose, all Dick could be was a mirror of his tragedy, haunting his halls and asking for more than Bruce had in him to give.

{The early days of Batman and Robin, and the many mistakes therein) [on AO3]

Chapter One: “You have to let go” | Barbed Wire | Bound

Every day, between three o’clock and five o’clock, Dick would take his schoolwork into the unused sitting room at the very front of the Manor. It was the sort of room they would have taken guests to, if they ever had any, and although Alfred kept it spotlessly clean, it had a bereft air to it; a car left to rust in a garage, a piano silently gathering dust, a performer without an audience. A purpose left unfulfilled.

Much of the Manor was that way. Even after living at Wayne Manor for four months, it still struck Dick as absurd that there were only three of them in that great big house, with its endless rooms dedicated to overly specific things that none of them seemed to do.

There was a music room, but he had never seen Alfred or Bruce pick up an instrument, despite his suspicions that they both probably could play something.

There was a games room with several pool tables and a darts board and cupboards full of old board games, the likes of which Dick had never heard of, but even Dick soon tired of trying to play snooker by himself.

The ballroom particularly offended him. Why on earth would any house need its own ballroom, and if you were going to have a house with a ballroom, then you may as well use it. He had been scolded by Alfred for skidding across its marble floor in his stocking feet, and when he had asked if they would have Bruce’s birthday party in there, Alfred had only nudged him back out the door.

Dick didn’t know the word excessive yet, but he recognized its definition when he saw it, and such a grand house was, in his eyes, utterly wasted on three people, especially when two of those people spent their evenings skulking through the city’s poorest places only to come back to such opulence.

The dissonance of that made Dick uncomfortable in a way he couldn’t quite put into words, not that he would have shared the thought even if he could, afraid that his discomfort may be misinterpreted as ingratitude. He was, it felt, always one wrong word away from being as superfluous to his new guardian as his many neglected rooms.

Dick perched in the window seat, scattering his books and worksheets around him to create an illusion of studious diligence, and began his daily vigil. In the last four months, he had scoped out only a fraction of the front-facing rooms, but he had decided that this one had the best view of the winding driveway up from the front gate.

All the better to spot when Bruce’s car arrived home.

He chewed on the end of his pencil, half-listening out for Alfred’s footsteps, his cue to look appropriately absorbed in today’s math problems. Alfred was still trying to find Dick’s level, and he had finished the worksheet so fast that he was a little offended at where Alfred had set the bar, so low on the ground that Dick could step over it. At least that freed him up for when Bruce got home.

Not, Dick thought glumly, that Bruce was likely to give him much more than a perfunctory hello before he hid himself away in his study. He bit harder on the pencil at the thought. Four months in his house, and two months since he had first declared himself Robin and saved Bruce from the infiltration in the cave on Halloween, yet Bruce seemed to only have time for him when they were wearing masks. Once they were simply Bruce and Dick again, masks hung up until the next patrol, all the camaraderie of the night seemed to fall away.

It stung in a way Dick didn’t quite understand.

It was quarter to five before the gates at the end of the drive parted for the sleek black Lamborghini Bruce favoured, and Dick hurried to the vestibule just in time for Bruce to walk through the door, shrugging off his coat.

“Hi Bruce.”

Despite this having become a daily occurrence, Bruce still looked surprised to find Dick waiting in the entryway, or perhaps he still wasn’t used to having someone other than Alfred in the house. He managed an absent little smile.

“Dick, how was your day?”

Dick dogged his steps into the main hall.

“Boring. I could answer the sums Alfred’s giving me in my sleep! Was work okay? You look all tired.”

“It was work.”

He always said that, like it was an answer in itself. Dick had no idea what it was he actually did when he went to the Wayne Enterprises building, or how it was any different than what he did when he holed up in his study for hours on end, but Bruce never offered any more details and Dick wasn’t sure if it was nosy to ask.

“Are we gonna go out tonight?” Dick asked instead, jogging a little to keep up with Bruce’s longer strides. “I finished all my schoolwork, and I’ve been practicing my leg sweeps.”

“Not on Alfred, I hope,” Bruce said, but nothing more, and Dick’s stomach sank.

They were coming to the study door now, and as Bruce opened it, he looked down at Dick with that same absent smile he gave reporters and waiters and everyone else who didn’t really matter.

“Why don’t you go see if Alfred needs any help with dinner? I’ve got some calls I need to make.”

Dick darted forward as Bruce made to shut the door.

“Actually! I, erm, had a little trouble with the last question. I don’t really understand how Alfred explained it. Could you help me with it?”

It wasn’t that Bruce was cold, necessarily, but to a boy who had grown up surrounded by doting, affectionate people, the absence of outright warmth from him was glacial. Dick’s heart thundered as he waited for an answer, a little part of him irritated that so small a request even needed to be questioned.

“I thought you said you could do those sums in your sleep, hm?” Bruce said lightly, but he at least had the good grace to look a little guilty as he gently nudged Dick back from the doorway. Dick stepped back, the worksheet crumpling in his fist. “Sorry, kiddo, I was stuck in meetings all day so there’s a couple of important calls I need to return. If you’re really struggling, I’m sure Alfred could help you. Why don’t you head down and ask him? He won’t mind.”

It was fortunate Dick had experience shamming smiles for the crowd, as he did just that now, feigning indifference as he was gently but adamantly dismissed.

“Sure. Sorry for bothering you.”

“…You weren’t bothering me, Dick. I’m just busy.”

“It’s okay. I’ll see you at dinner.”

Dick was halfway down the hall, shoulders hunched and bottom lip caught between his teeth, when he heard a weary sigh from behind him.

“Wanna try that leg sweep out on me later before we head out?”

Dick instantly lit up, spinning back around to grin at Bruce.

“You’re taking me out with you?”

“For a little while, at least. Alfred’ll have my head if I keep you out ‘til morning, but considering you don’t have to be up for anything special, we can get a couple hours in together. But only if I finish these calls, okay?”

Dick knew a bribe when he heard one, but if it meant he could suit up and spend time with Batman later, then he could bear a few more lonely hours.

They fit together better in the masks than out of them. Never exactly verbose, Batman at least made an effort to keep up a stream of conversation with Robin, having spent the last two months of training instilling in him the importance that they communicate effectively with one another. The drive into Gotham always meant at least fifteen minutes of Batman briefing him on what cases they were looking into, or if there was nothing live at the time, the plan for their patrol route. Unlike Bruce, Batman encouraged questions, and despite his surly countenance, he wasn’t afraid to play along if Dick tried to joke with him.

More than the excitement of protecting people, it was that brief window of time where Batman would speak to Robin that Dick looked forward to the most, well worth the odd punch he didn’t dodge fast enough or the overtired, pinching headaches the following morning.

That didn’t mean Batman couldn’t be just as cold as Bruce, of course, and for all that he would play the straight man for Robin in the privacy of the car, once they were in the field, there was no room for levity or, more importantly, disobedience.

Dick perched on the lip of the warehouse roof, his fingers curling around the cool cement as he watched the shadows of men moving below. The arms shipment had come in as expected, but that wasn’t all that was passing through the docks that night, and Batman had slipped off to the neighbouring dockyard to investigate the chain of cars they had seen driving in through unlocked gates, leaving Robin to watch their original targets. The time to strike was slipping away as they loaded the last of the crates into an idling van, and Dick’s feet were itching to spring forward.

Not without Batman. That instruction had been delivered with a firm hand on his shoulder, which meant Batman really meant it.

“Batman, they’re getting ready to leave,” Dick whispered, index finger pressed to his ear piece. “Are you almost back? We’re gonna lose them!”

There was a fuzzy silence on the other end before Bruce’s voice came though, breathy and almost drowned out entirely by a flurry of gunfire.

“Robin, go wait in the car for me.”

Order given, the connection immediately went silent, and Dick’s heart thundered in his chest as he waited for more, for a chance to hear that background noise again and assure himself that it wasn’t gunfire, that Bruce wasn’t getting shot at alone over there.

Dick touched his ear piece again; “B, are you alright?”

Nothing, not even static.

Down below, the rear doors to the van slammed shut, the men climbing up into the front seats. Dick teetered at the edge of the roof, torn between seeing through the night’s work and doing as he was told. He groaned quietly as the van pulled away, its rear lights growing smaller down the long stretch of road, but he stayed where he was, double tapping his ear piece to switch to the other channel.

“A, I’ve lost contact with Batman. Can you get through to him? I - It sounded like there were guns.”

More silence, but the dull crackle of interference in the connection told Dick the line was live. Distant clicking as Alfred typed at the computer, before, “Bear with me, Robin, I’m accessing the cowl-feed.” More silence, heavier, telling. “…Batman has been outnumbered. It appears he has been hit.” Dick had never heard Alfred sound afraid before, but there was certainly a difference in his voice as he spoke now. “Robin, return to the car. I’m sending a tip-off to the GCPD.”

“What good will that do?!” Dick demanded, pacing the edge of the roof with fistfuls of cape bunched up in his hands. The van had long since vanished from sight, and all his focus was on the distant, dark dockyard where Bruce had disappeared to. Outnumbered, potentially shot, and there had been so many cars heading in that direction. What had Bruce been thinking, engaging when there were so many?! It was the exact thing he told Dick to never, under any circumstances, do. The hypocrisy of it only fanned the flames of Dick’s frustration, and his pacing took him across the roof in the direction Bruce had gone, the complete opposite direction from the Batmobile.

“The sound of sirens will send them running, which will give Batman the opportunity to remove himself from —!”

Alfred’s line cut out.

“Agent A? Are you still there?” Dick switched channels again. “Batman, can you hear me?!”

Perhaps if either of them had answered Dick then, he would have done as he was told and gone back to the car, but if he were being honest with himself, he had already been planning his running leap from the rooftop before Alfred’s line had gone dead. He couldn’t even enjoy the moments of free-fall as he usually did, too consumed with the mental image of Batman at the center of a circle of men, all pointing guns at him.

He was halfway to the other dockyard, sprinting through shadowed alleys between the warehouses, when Alfred’s voice returned.

“Master Ri — Robin, that is not the direction of the car.”

“Did you get through to B?”

“…No. The situation has escalated, and… well, I have alerted the GCPD to a disturbance, but I fear their arrival will not be timely enough to prevent further harm.” Dick didn’t waste breath on answering, crouching at the corner of a building and surveying the open space between him and the chain-link fence ahead. It was topped with barbed wire, stretching as far as he could see in both directions, and there was no convenient hole in the fence to slip through. Only over. “Robin… Batman has been restrained, and it appears to be their intention to throw him into the harbour.”

Dick’s chest clenched, a light-headed fuzziness washing over him. The picture in his head changed from Batman surrounded by guns to Batman sinking into darker and darker waters, bubbles rising from his mouth until they stopped.

“I - I can help,” Dick said, or perhaps it came out as a question, uncertainty thick in his voice. He didn’t realize until Alfred spoke again that he was waiting there, poised at the corner of the building, for permission to move.

“It will be a very narrow window of opportunity,” Alfred began, any trace of that earlier fear absent now, firm in his focus, “You are not to engage the miscreants, Robin. I will guide you to a safe location to hide, and only when they have submerged Batman will you enter the water to sever his bonds. You will then both be free to swim to safety. Is that understood?”

It was reminiscent of a briefing from Batman himself, and Dick wondered how much of Batman’s no-nonsense attitude was cribbed from Bruce’s own experiences. Dick found himself nodding, though Alfred couldn’t see him.

“I don’t have anything to cut with, though. Br - Batman said I can’t have weapons yet.”

“…Batman should be suitably armed, though he will be unable to reach for his tools at the moment. From your current location, head straight until you come to Warehouse Three. We will need to be careful to keep you out of sight from that point on.”

It was all the permission Dick needed to dart forward. As he neared the fence, he reached up to unclip his cape, wrapping one of his hands completely. His momentum fed into his leap, and he sprung up the fence, clambering hand over foot to the top where he used his enshrouded hand to flip himself over the barbed wire. Though he felt the sharp press of its points, the cape was reinforced enough to withstand the pressure, and as he touched down on the other side, there wasn’t a single tear.

He clipped the cape back on and made for the warehouse with the big off-white ‘3’ painted on its side.

Following Alfred’s directions, Dick soon found himself crouching behind a forklift truck, peering from behind its massive wheels at the scene ahead. There were a lot of people milling about the open yard. Not the scruffy, poster-child sort of thugs Dick had spent the earlier part of the night watching, but the sort of people who hid their guns in suit jackets and blended into the crowd when the police went hunting. Besides them, there were other people, and Dick's chest ached at the sight of them; kids, mostly, no one quite as young as Dick, but kids nonetheless. They were being inspected one-by-one by some of the more expensively dressed men, their hair rubbed between forefinger and thumb, their jaws pressed open to expose their teeth, their hands turned over under torchlight.

Like show dogs.

“The police are on their way, Robin,” Alfred gently reminded him, no doubt checking Dick’s lens feed and seeing exactly where he was looking. “No such sales will be going through tonight. We must focus on reaching Batman.”

Dick nodded jerkily, and with difficulty, he tore his eyes away from the line of dull-eyed children awaiting inspection.

At least now he understood why Bruce had broken his own rule and jumped in when so badly outnumbered.

A distance away from the men and the children was a fenced-off area where the boats offloaded. A boat was already growing smaller across the bay, no doubt having completed its inhumane delivery, but though the boat was gone, there was still a gaggle of people at the water’s edge.

At their centre was Batman, ensnared by loops of thick, dock-line rope from his shoulders to his waist, arms pinned behind his back. Dick touched the side of his mask and his lenses zoomed in on Batman’s face. He couldn’t tell if his eyes were open behind the cowl, but his mouth was slack, lips parted.

“He’s out cold?” Dick asked, and though he knew the answer, he very much wanted Alfred to tell him otherwise.

“He took a bad knock to the head. The cowl bore the brunt of it, but the attack damaged the cowl’s in-built security. We didn’t realize until one of those people,” it sounded like a different, fouler word in that tone, “attempted to unmask him, and the emergency shock affected them both.”

Dick zoomed back out and belatedly noticed there was at least one man unconscious to the side of the group.

“Good,” he said, more than a little vindictively. “I’m going in.”

“Wait!” Dick froze, still hidden behind the forklift truck. “Tell me your plan of action.”

“I’m gonna go left and keep to the shadows, back around the side of the warehouse, and climb the fence there where they can’t see me. Then, I’ll wait until the police come and these guys all get scared off so I can untie Batman and hide us until he wakes up.”

There was a contemplative silence on the other end of the line, and Dick waited for a thorough critique, for Alfred to propose problems for Dick to counter as if this were a logic puzzle assigned for homework, but in the end, there was only a resigned sigh, and, “Please be careful, Robin.”

The plan lasted as long as it took Dick to get to a part of the fence where he could climb over unseen. That was when the police sirens approached, sending the group into a panic. Startled by the noise, Dick’s foot slipped on the chain-links as he was halfway over the top, and he thanked whatever gods were watching over him that he had thought to lay his cape over the barbed wire, as that was all that protected him as he lost his balance and tumbled down over the other side. The cape itself wasn’t quite as lucky, one of the barbs embedding in its weave, and as Dick grabbed at the cape to right himself, the wire snapped, plunging alongside Dick and his torn cape.

Dick hit the ground with a muffled yelp, glancing in the direction of the group guarding Batman. They hadn’t seen him yet, but they had heard the sirens, and Dick watched the moment they decided to cut their losses and shoved Batman’s bound, unconscious body over the edge of the dock and into the dark waters below.

“No, no, no!” Dick jumped to his feet and made to move forward, only to be jerked back by his ensnared cape, losing his footing completely. With a frustrated grunt, he unfastened the cape altogether and ran ahead without it, uncaring if the fleeing goons looked back and spotted him diving into the water after Batman. He had barely sunk by the time Dick reached him, but even as he clung to the concrete lip of the dock with one hand and tugged at the tail of the rope binding Bruce, he couldn’t keep Bruce’s head above the water. Beneath the sound of the enclosing police sirens and Dick’s own frantic splashing, he heard a splutter. “B, are you with me?!”

The weight at the end of the rope slackened as Bruce came to, instinctively kicking his legs in the water. With his arms bound, however, treading water was the best he could do, and the weight of the Batsuit was pulling them both down. Dick managed to scrabble up the edge of the dockside, sopping wet and trembling from the cold, and with his feet braced against a bollard, he put his all into pulling at the rope, so thick he could barely get his hands all the way around it.

“Robin —“

Dick couldn’t tell if he heard Bruce’s voice through the comms or out loud, but the sound made his heart soar, uncharacteristically reedy as it was.

“I - I got you, B! Hang on!”

Even as he said that, the sole of his boots slipped against the bollard, too wet to gain purchase, the weight pulling against him too strong. He felt the first burst of pain in his shoulders and couldn’t quite bite back the gasp, white flashing across his vision. The rope just kept slipping, and inch by inch, Bruce sank deeper beneath the surface. For all that he kicked up, the water was splashing over his face, into his mouth, his words a gurgle.

“Let go,” Bruce managed before he disappeared beneath the water again. Dick scrabbled desperately as one of his feet slipped off the bollard altogether, and without its leverage, he staggered forward, dropping to his knees and getting dragged across the concrete towards the dock’s edge. He still pulled as hard as he could, feeling the strain like a taut wire across his back. Bruce’s head broke the surface again, only long enough for him to spit out a mouthful of water and exclaim, “You have to let go, Robin!”

If he let go, Bruce would sink. The ropes were bound so tightly around his torso that Dick had no hope of getting his hands under to free a batarang.

Dick sacrificed some length of the rope to scramble back across the ground, grabbing what he could of it to loop around the bollard. The loose knot wouldn’t hold for long, but he knew he had no hope of pulling Bruce up, no matter how hard he tried. Already, his hands were red raw from the rope, and every twitch of his arms brought a lash of pain all down his back.

Desperately, Dick cast his eyes around, a part of him hoping that one of the fleeing criminals would have dropped something useful. A knife would have been a blessing, but no such luck. There was nothing in their wake but the sound of squealing tires and a line of abandoned and traumatised children. The police cars were trying to block the gates, but several of the black cars had already broken through the barricade.

Nothing, there was nothing! Behind him, Dick couldn’t hear any splashing anymore, and panic seized him like a hand around his throat.

A flash of yellow caught Dick’s eye; his cape fluttered in the wind, still caught on broken link of barbed wire.

Dick barely gave the idea a second’s thought before he was sprinting back towards his cape, gathering the material in both hands and wrapping it around the end of the barbed wire. Like unfurling a cotton reel, Dick ran and pulled the chain of wire with all his strength, throwing himself back as hard as he could to separate the barbed wire from the top of the fence. It sprung off jerkily, resistant to Dick’s yanks, and his cape could not hold up against the strength of his grip.

Barbs broke through the material, biting into the meat of his hands. He barely felt the metal sinking in, so focused on pulling down a long enough chain that it would reach Bruce. He couldn’t even feel the pain in his shoulders anymore, mindless of anything but how many seconds had passed since Bruce had last broken the surface of the water.

Tearing away the cape and clutching the end of the length of barbed wire in his bare, bleeding hands, Dick dove back into the water. Bruce was still fighting the pull of the water, legs kicking and lips pressed shut. Dick pushed aside the fleeting thought that his kicks were getting limper, looping his legs around Bruce’s waist for leverage as he began hacking at the topmost rope with the sharp barbs.

Blood blossomed through the water as he worked, his lungs beginning to burn.

The rope was just so thick! The sharp edge of the metal was fraying it, but slowly, too slowly, Dick’s frantic pace staggered by trying to move through water. Bruce was going to drown, and he was going to watch it happen, utterly useless.

As if sensing his growing distress, Alfred’s voice returned to his ear.

“Keep going, Robin. You’ve almost gotten through it. Just a little more.”

Alfred’s air of calm, however forced, was a balm to Dick’s nerves, and he doubled his efforts even as dark spots began to dance across his vision. He couldn’t feel his hands at all any more, just focused on moving his arms, back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. So intent on his task, he didn’t notice when the barbed wire finally bit through the last thread of rope, the other bands wound around Bruce going slack.

Instantly, Bruce’s struggle redoubled, and it was Dick who went limp in the water, legs losing their grip around him. The next thing Dick knew, he was on his back on the dockside, hidden behind a storage crate with Batman crowded over him. He was wheezing too, swaying where he knelt, his cape so drenched that it dripped like rain over Dick.

“B… ‘kay?”

Bruce pressed a hand down over Dick’s mouth just before footsteps ran past their hiding spot. Only when their footsteps receded did his hand fall away, but only so that he could pick Dick up as if he were a baby, hoisting him up against his shoulder before running from the cacophony of the police surveying the scene behind them.

Each stride jostled Dick badly, the missing pain returning with a vengeance. Hanging over Bruce's shoulder, he raised his hands to his face and winced at the state of them, lacerated from fingertip to wrist. Blood oozed so thickly that Dick could smell it, and his stomach roiled, only made worse as Bruce leaped a gap between berths and the damage to Dick’s shoulders made itself known.

Bruce set him down gently when they finally made it back to the car, setting him atop the bonnet and pulling a ribbon of bandages from one of the pouches on his belt, thankfully waterproof. He didn’t say a word as he carefully wrapped Dick’s torn hands, nor when he pressed two tablets against his lips to help with the pain.

It was only when Dick leaned forward, catching Bruce’s wrist between his two bandaged hands, asking again, “Are you okay?” that Bruce looked him in the eye.

Dick didn’t need to see past his cowl to recognise Bruce’s disapproval.

There was a part of him that dared to hope he was wrong, that perhaps Bruce might be grateful that Dick had helped him, might even compliment his resourcefulness in finding a way to cut through the ropes.

That hope died as Bruce said, “I told you to go back to the car.”

And that was it. He rounded the car and slammed the door shut behind him, the engine idling while Dick swallowed his hurt and slipped off the hood, fumbling with the door handle between his bandaged fingers.

Quietly, Alfred said over their direct channel, “You did well, my boy.”

They were the words he was desperate to hear, but from the wrong man.

#whumptober 2021 #batman fanfiction #bruce wayne #dick grayson #i haven't posted a fanfic in over six years ;;;#each chapter incorporates at least two if not all three of that day's whumptober 2021 prompts #and the story follows Bruce and Dick's early days together #aka: Dick is grieving and lonely and Bruce didn't sign up to be a father #(except he kind of did)#enjoy!!

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graceedcoup · 3 years

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So like I was thinking about like... Lilith. Because there's so much to think abt. But like.. the game does complicated shit all the time and I just had this thought come to me of there being a way to open up a channel for a short period of time to give the brothers a chance to say goodbye to her. Maybe MC and Solomon shenanigans idk.

But the catch is they can only do it once, and only one person can be pulled into the medium to speak to her. Most of the brothers start this, kind of bitter, highly emotional arguing over who gets to do it. Belphie, Beel and Lucifer seem like they all have a very good case, but the rest of the brothers don't think thats fair anyway.

It makes everyone high strung as fuck. And Solomon makes the suggestion to let her decide. Hell draw the circle and call her forward, and she can pick who'll she'll escort into the medium to speak with. They all reluctantly agree if not just to stop fighting and the sorcerer sets a time and date.

When the time comes all seven brothers file in, let him and MC prepare the ceremony and watch with hope and baited breath as a shining soul comes into view. Beel is wound up like a coil, every muscle holding potential energy, to do what exactly? Hes not even sure, he can't even be sure hes breathing. Belphie has his eyes open wider than MC has ever seen and they can almost swear theyre sparkling. Asmo let's out a small gasp and Mammon immediately tries to dab his watering eyes as discreetly as he can before he sheds a tear.

Shes really just a blob here, she can't take a form in this plane of existence, but she shimmers and oscillates and glows just a bit brighter when she seems to realize who's around her. She floats slowly around a little bit, as if she's getting her bearings, or maybe taking her time choosing who to reach out to first.

To everyone's surprise she stops in front of Satan. He feels his blood run cold, although hides it behind a well practiced poker face. And then he's not in the room with the circle anymore.

He blinks harshly in an attempt to fight off the brightness of the light suddenly surrounding him and squints a little bit until he can focus on the source of it in front of him. He's alone with Lilith smiling just across from him and he straightens up to make eye contact before he finds... she looks exactly like him. Hes looking into the same green eyes, above the same shaped nose, framed by the same yellow-blonde hair, christ even the bangs fall the same way.. All in a moment he can feel himself start to get angry. No one told him? Of course there weren't cameras around when Lilith was still kicking, and portraits can rarley survive a war of that magnitude. But not one of his brothers could have thought to mention this to him? Were they afraid to? Did they think he didn't deserve to know?? Did they talk about him when he wasn't around? Did they compare him to her silently for millenia?

He feels his anger dissipate as quickly as it built up when he realizes this is not the time for this and relaxes the knit in his brow, taking a breath to greet his sister before she cuts him of with a giggle.

"Are you alright now? I was worried for a moment."

He can only manage to nod and she sighs in relief.

"Satan. I am so happy to finally meet you. Properly, I mean. I've always wanted to have a conversation with you"

"Always? You know about me?"

Her face softens

"I've been watching over my family for, well, almost your whole life. I missed a few years in the beginning there, I'm sorry about that, I was still on Earth. But right after that I watched you grow up," she reaches forward to tuck a lock of hair behind his ear "I am so proud of you. You are such a gentleman, you're so smart and you take care of our brothers. Heaven knows they need it."

He tries not to gape like a fish trying to decide what to say

"Thank you. For your kindness and thank you for watching over us. I cant say I havent wanted to meet you too. I just never thought of it as a possibility. Even when this idea was brought up I came along mostly to see what would happen"

Another smile, this time a bit coy "Just mostly? What was the rest of your motivation?"

The crease between his brows comes back and he takes a few extra moments before deciding he has nothing to lose by being truthful and looking back at her "I wanted to support my family in case something went wrong. And I dont like feeling left out. I wanted to be there when my brothers got closure."

Her smile cracks into a grin. "I wish I could have talked to you sooner, I want to hear all about you," she pauses and her lips press together a bit "I can feel our window closing soon. Will you pass on something for me?"

"Of course."

She steps forward and wraps her arms around him, hugging him tight. He takes a moment to reciprocate and she rests her chin on his shoulder. She doesn't need to stretch to do that, he notes, she stands exactly as tall as he does.

"Please tell them I love them. Tell them I'm watching over them, that I'm never too far away. Tell them they're all I think about. And that I think one day, hopefully eons from now, we'll all be in the same place again."

He nods into her hair. "I will.. I will, thank you"

She breaks away from holding him but keeps her hands on his shoulders. "And please tell my descendent that they need to brush their teeth twice a day. I see them skipping at night. Their dental health is important."

He chuckles and nods again. "I will."

She leans forward, boosts herself up on her toes and plants a gentle kiss on his forehead. "Give them that too. It was wonderful meeting you Satan. Its everything I ever hoped for. Keep taking care of them."

He barley has time to nod before he's blinking back awake in the much dimmer room. 8 pairs of eyes looking at him expectantly. He takes just a moment to get his bearings before standing up and walking right over to Lucifer, pulling him into the same tight hug she gave him before he has a chance to regret it. His older brother stops breathing.

"She wants you to have this. She says she loves you." He can feel himself start to get very overwhelmed and his breathing hiccups before he can compose himself enough to keep talking.

He lets him go and quickly strides out of the room to collect himself, vowing to himself that he'll make sure everyone gets the message in due time. He isn't a coward after all. He just needs some time alone to think for the night.

#obey me #obey me satan #obey me lilith #bambi.talk #i dont write fics #i have no idea if this is any good #i didnt mean for it to turn into a fic #it just kinda happened?#also i didnt how how tf to put this in there but #i hardcore headcanon satan looking deadass like lilith because angst yknow #like the reason is because when lucifer created satan #lilith was the last thing on his mind #her face and the thought of never seeing her again when it really finally hit him was at the front of his mind the moment satan was born

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kenmasgameboy · 4 years

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【ｒｅａｃｈｉｎｇ】

an oikawa x seijoh president!reader

oikawa toru has so many girls falling at his feet, but it wasn’t always like this. when y/n met him there was no one yet to inflate his ego, when he was pure to himself, the person he is when it isn’t performative. she fell in love. after forcing a rejection from him, where he says he never saw her as a girl, she’s determined to become the absolute perfect girl for every one except him.

profiles: [ student council ] [ on the block ]

masterlist

listen to the mixtape while you read

↬ entry #1: age 6 ➺ chapter 1: age 18 ➺ next

age 18:

𝕚. different now

MAKE SURE TO READ THE WRITTEN PORTION BELOW THE CUT

Your hands felt like they were surely going to fall off at any moment. You never really did get used to being in front of big crowds like this. Even last year when you had to give your first speech as a presidential candidate to the school you wanted to burst into flames. Your hands always did this thing when you were nervous, ever since you were little they’d become so gross and clammy. You hated that about yourself. What a weak give away.

The principal was just beginning the ceremony, and you waited outside in the hallway until it was closer to your turn to speak, pacing back and forth you stared out the window. The mid day yellow light peaking through the large trees in front of Seijoh’s campus. You really loved these trees, they would always shake and rustle in new ways everyday, reminding you of ways that you could stand your ground but continue to change in your own way. Some seasons shedding yourself completely bare and growing a new color, or a new branch, breaking them off as you went.

Today, even the trees that normally would be there to offer you a quiet calmness didn’t help you today. Your body still succumbing to its stage fright. This was your first appearance as Aoba Johsai School President to your student body that you represented, you needed a perfect impression. You needed to be perfect. The more you thought about it the jitters in your hands only increased, you tried to loosen the tightness, shaking them from your wrist downwards in hopes they would just fall off. You always did this before volleyball games and it never failed you. You only stopped your nasty habit when you heard rapid footsteps coming in your direction.

“Hey, there you are. I’ve been looking for you everywhere.” Sora’s voice carried down the hallway. Your vice president had been looking for you. His chest heaved in breaths to try to regulate his body after running around.

“Sorry. I’ll be inside in a second, I just—” You said, pulling your hands behind your back to hide them. But it was too late.

“Are you nervous? Why? Everyone already loves you it’s not like they’ll change their minds now.” Sora said it lightheartedly, but there was a pressure that sat on your shoulders when he said it. An extra weight of expectation.

“Don’t say that.” You shrugged off the compliment, thinking about one face in particular. You groaned at the way he still had an effect on you. You thought of Toru’s eyes, “Not everyone.”

“Maybe not. You’re right, I can’t speak for everyone.” Sora smiled softly, “But as your Vice, I can speak for you. And I know you’ll be perfectly fine up there. I have full confidence. If you start stuttering, just take a second and keep going. We practiced this morning, right?”

“Right.” You nodded, your throat suddenly becoming overwhelmingly dry. “I know, I just have a lot on my plate today, there’s too much I’m not looking forward to.”

“Then let’s check one thing off, right? Let’s go out there.” Sora said, he grabbed your hand in his tugging you along. You weren’t ready, he wasn’t listening to you yet. But maybe he was right, you did need to be out there sooner than later. Still, you needed a few moments to collect yourself, to dampen your hands, something.

You couldn’t say anything, You became paralyzed in place as you looked at the back of Sora’s head. Your legs felt numb as they carried you in stride behind him down the hallway. His hand holding yours, it reminded you of someone again. Seeing him again this morning in class must’ve resurged these memories you pushed away as nothing. This was different, this wasn’t him. The back of Sora’s head was shiny and straight. His blond hair didn’t bounce, and he didn’t look back to smile at you. There was a sinking feeling in your stomach, it didn’t feel like nerves or anything like that. It felt like a settlement.

Your eyes ended up drifting off to the right, only slightly enough to catch the eyes that were more familiar than you remembered. His hair looking darker than when you were young, but it shined all the same. He still shined, even when he wasn’t smiling at you. Your eyes followed each other. The moment slowing down to make your first dose of eye contact in 2 years a dangerous and addictive cocktail.

Your hands were still sweaty, still nervous and shaking. It broke away from the confines of Sora’s palm. You need to grip them tighter when she’s nervous. The boy who stood innocently by the restroom found himself offering silent advice in his head. Toru couldn’t take his eyes away from the light that poured between the gap of You and Sora’s palms. It’s like he saw an opening, illuminating his opportunity and his body.

For the first time in ages, he felt the nostalgic need to grab those familiar sweaty palms. For a second he thought you’d stay with him, stay back and ask what he was doing in the hallway by the boys bathroom and not by your side? Why did he waste so much time? Did he think you were more beautiful today than every day he’s seen you before? He needed you to ask him those questions.

His daydream was over in a second, once your face contorted from the hopeful surprise of someone who used to calm you into a disappointed grimace of remembering the hurt he had caused you that erased everything from before. You kept jogging behind Sora, no words were exchanged. You didn’t need to say anything to Toru, he heard you loud and clear.

“I hope you regret it. I hope you regret everything. I’ll never trust you like that again, not really.”

To him, this was a challenge worthy of taking. The time to change it all was now.

***

【ｆｕｎ　ｆａｃｔｓ】

➺ Michi was late to the student arrival because she was slipping a love letter in Oikawa’s shoe locker. He didn’t even see it that day.

➺ Ito has really never spoken to y/n except she held the door open for him one day, he took that as she’s in love with him and too scared to tell him.

➺ Ito approached Matsukawa, Hanamaki, Iwaizumi, and Oikawa when all four were together. It was actually Oikawa who told Ito he had no chance in hell with y/n. the exact words he used was “she’s not just going to fall in love with someone who’s never cared enough to get to know her first before saying something like that. theres no way in hell you’d have a chance with a girl like her.”

➺ the other three just kind of stood there agreeing but also like “.__, tough talk coming from you, Oikawa”

➺ y/n has been starting libero since her first year, despite debating dropping volleyball in high school she decided this would look great to universities that she was involved with more than just student council. she still was invited to girls Japan youth camp for her achievements as an athlete. regardless, she still knew her real reasons were that it was the last piece of something he gave her.

➺ unlike oikawa, y/n hasn’t even thought about dating anyone in high school. she’s been single her whole life despite getting a fair amount of confessions in her time.

➺ y/n also follows oikawa on a fake account.

taglist: @chibishae34 @bby-bokuto @shittykawaa @1-800-schmacked @artsamber @berriesii @bbyazu @roseestuosity @gaytoasterstrudels @mirdy47707 @trippy-kitty @iwanttogotopluto @hvneymun @a-listaire @princessmidas @glyxiebear @akaashiwife @anejuuuuoy @kiyoojima @deimmortales99 @unstableye @sugawarabby @haikyuufairy @ashaite @bettys-other-shoe @defchamseoul @honeymoneyy @animatedrapture @alexthe80swhore @nellieleverlin @forhyunryu @thosenerdy3amthings @mariachiii @dishonestkilla

reply with a comment or send an ask to be aded to the taglist!! if your name is crossed off it’s because i couldn’t tag you, let me know if you’ve changed your username!

a/n: wOW what a doOZY of a long first chapter, they all won’t be this long but i felt like i had a lot to set up. Let me know what you guys thought!!! i hope this guys got you a bit more hyped for this story! more to come!

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raleighcarrera · 3 years

Text

sparks

blades of light and shadow | mal volari x mc (raine nightbloom)

a penderghast college of elemental magicks au. for @bladesappreciationweek day 7 (mc/wild card) 💕

tags: @choicesarehard ; @empressazura; @zigtheeortega ; @pixeljazzy ; @withbeautyandrage

~6.6k words | T

“you’re kidding,” raine said flatly, staring imtura down from across the table they’d stolen away at in the corner of the dining hall for breakfast. her expression was unimpressed over her plate of yorba eggs.

“i’m not,” she insisted, “tyril heard it from kaya who saw the file in admissions herself. mal volari transferred in over the summer. he’s dorming in the east residence. probably moving in right now while we sit here talking shit.”

“but why,” she whined, prodding miserably at her food, “didn’t he have the cushiest athletic scholarship ever at gildegraive? what could he possibly get out of transferring here?”

“a new set of romantic prospects?” imtura suggested, leaning over to snag one of the dragon links off of raine’s plate with a shrug. “either way, you should prepare yourself for thief tryouts. you know that’s the first place he’s headed.”

her stomach sank further as she considered the inevitability of imtura’s words. of course he was going to want to play thief. he was the best player gildegraive’d had in centuries. he’d expect to walk on to the varsity team at penderghast and would, doubtlessly, probably without even having to try out.

“just kill me,” she muttered, “i can’t possibly play my last season on the same team as mal volari. imtura, he’s insufferable.”

“he’s talented,” her friend shrugged, “you’ll get over it. maybe it’ll be nice to be playing with him instead of against him, for once.”

“nice isn’t the word i’d use,” raine grumbled, mind suddenly flashing through the last three years of thief matches against gildegraive in quick succession, recalling volari’s arrogant smirk and endless taunting, the whips of flames that always followed him around the stadium. “i give it four days before we kill each other.”

“that’s generous,” imtura scoffed, finishing off the last of raine’s dragon links in two quick bites, “my bet’s on serious tragedy striking after practice today.”

it didn’t help that most of campus was acting like they suddenly had a celebrity attending school with them. mal was in her first class of the day and so were the whispers that followed him, her classmates’ gaping so prevalent that she and nia were the only ones who actually managed to complete the spell they were supposed to be working on in advanced spellwork for seniors.

the one silver lining of it all was that nia seemed to see through his charm, too. “what are we missing?” she whispered to raine, as mal ran a hand through his hair to the tune of excited giggling from the girls in the last row of the room, grinning to himself as he did so. “he’s just a student like everyone else.”

“worse,” raine returned, comforting herself by imagining the look on volari’s smug face when she’d drenched his stupid fireballs in water and plucked his flag from his belt in the championship game at the end of last year. he was furious and soaking wet when they popped back into the stadium and the rest of the dryxmars had hoisted her up into their arms, and stomped off into the stands like the sore loser he was so his admirers could start to lick his wounds. “i can’t even stand the sight of him.”

nia looked at her warily, concern pinching her face. from a glance at her expression alone, raine realized how hard she was glaring across the room, and sighed as she slowly schooled her face back into something neutral and unclenched her fists, turning her gaze back to the plant on her desk she was meant to be taking through its life cycle, from sprout to blossom to apple tree and back again.

“you should ignore him, if he isn’t going to be nice to you,” nia murmured comfortingly, easily coaxing a bright red, shiny apple to form through the blossom of her tree’s flower, “it’s our senior year. we shouldn’t have to worry about anything.”

“that’s a nice thought,” raine sighed, blinking in pleasant surprise as her anger seemed to push forth a burst of magic that had five or six blossoms sprouting in her tree all at once, “but if he’s going to insist on playing thief with us i don’t know how possible ignoring him is going to be.”

they both fell silent as professor johnstone slowed to a stop in front of their desks. “ms. nightbloom, ms. ellarious. excellent spellwork. your plants could be an example for everyone else in class.”

as if on cue, the rest of the students turned to look their way. raine felt her face grow hot as her eyes met mal’s across the rows of desks. he looked surprised to see her sitting there, which made her mouth twist with annoyance again.

her tree wobbled, and one of the apples dropped off the leaves and into professor johnstone’s outstretched hand. raine looked up sheepishly, an apology on the tip of her tongue, but their professor only spun the fruit around for observation before lifting it to his lips to take a bite, chewing thoughtfully before nodding his approval. “amazing, ms. nightbloom, truly. top marks for today. for the rest of you, i expect to see thirty perfect trees when we meet again on friday.”

she and nia walked outside together, their steps slow as they turned in the direction of the sun-att classroom. “we’re still meeting in penn square later, right?” raine asked, assuming she’d need the distraction after what was bound to be a disastrous thief practice.

“of course,” nia answered with a smile, “you know how much it’d upset tyril if we eschewed tradition.”

“aww, i like our annual stroll through the rose garden just as much,” raine laughed, “it really sets the tone for the semester.”

“i agree,” nia said, “and i think --”

“oi, nightbloom!”

she and nia stilled as a loud voice interrupted their conversation, and she only had a moment to feel horror take her over completely as nia stifled a smile before the sound of mal volari jogging through the grass and stopping beside them reached her ears. he flicked his head to the side to push his hair out of his face and smiled charmingly at her. “raine, hey. long time no see.”

raine blinked at him, glancing at nia as she tried to process what in the six hells he was doing, running to catch up with her. “hi?”

“hi,” he echoed, the expression on his face stretching into a grin. of course his teeth were white, shiny and straight, like something out of a newspaper advert. she resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

there was a prolonged beat of science before nia interjected, “i’m nia, by the way. it’s nice to meet you.”

“likewise,” mal agreed, finally tearing his eyes away from her to shake nia’s hand. “are you an earth-att? that tree you made was amazing.”

“sun, actually,” nia said, so humbly she didn’t even give mal a chance to be impressed, “my secondary attunement is water, like raine’s. we were planning to spend our free period in the sun-att classroom, if you wanted to...”

she trailed off, teeth biting at her bottom lip as raine widened her eyes at her, as though silently demanding, what do you think you’re doing?

from her left, mal shrugged, completely unbothered. his winning smile didn’t falter for even a moment. “oh, no, that’s alright. i was sort of hoping to have a moment to talk to raine, if you wouldn’t mind.”

nia shook her head good-naturedly even as raine narrowed her eyes. “and what about if raine would mind?” she demanded, folding her arms across her chest, “that doesn’t matter as much?”

“i’ll catch up with you in elemental manipulation, raine,” nia cut in, waving at the both of them before turning on the lawn so quickly her skirt whipped around to follow her stride across campus.

she huffed. now that they were alone, mal certainly wasn’t smiling, anymore. the rest of the students in the quad were openly staring at the both of them, gossiping behind their backs. “did you need something?”

“well -- i wanted to talk to you about thief, i guess,” he said, lifting a hand to scratch at the stubble lining his jaw. for the first time in as long as she’d known him, he seemed unsure. “i know you and i don’t have the most positive track record.”

“and whose fault is that?” she shot back, suddenly seething, her annoyance made worse by the fact that she had to tip her chin up to look him in the eye. “you’ve been a massive dick to me since freshman year. you’ve always played dirty, always been a sore loser and always talked trash behind my back. the only thing i want from you this year is to stay out of my way.”

“don’t you think that’s a little extreme?” he asked, seemingly surprised by her outburst. gods, the arrogance of this man. “sure, we’ve had a bit of a rivalry, but --”

“a rivalry i’ve never been interested in and certainly don’t care about now. it’s my senior year just as much as yours. i don’t need you making things difficult for me.”

mal’s expression darkened, but she hardly gave him the chance to sneak another word in. before he could open his mouth to bite back at her, she turned and stomped off after nia, as quickly as she could with the rest of the student body still whispering about her as she zipped past.

thief tryouts were as much of a disaster as she’d predicted they’d be.

her co-captain was nauseatingly enamored by mal and waved him onto the team at the start of practice without a single question. he hardly spared her a glance as he got himself a jersey and pulled it on, either completely shameless or oblivious to the way the rest of the team gaped at his bare chest while he changed on the pitch.

it wasn’t like she could do anything about any of it. the rest of the team would stage a mutiny if she tried to stop volari from joining. her hands were tied.

but she had to draw the line somewhere, and felt herself reach her breaking point when one of the juniors on the team stumbled into one of their own traps because they’d been watching mal work, tangling herself up in thorny vines raine had to come over and cut her out of.

“for fuck’s sake,” she snapped, as the girl dropped back onto the stadium’s pitch with a sigh, “he’s just a regular person. either pay attention to practice or get out.”

the most annoying part was that he was good. she knew that, objectively, from years of playing against him, but watching mal up close, without the distraction of a game to win in the way, was like watching art. infuriatingly, she spent most of practice trying not to get caught looking his way instead of checking up on how the rest of the team had progressed over the summer.

the fact that she couldn’t find a single fault in his form was maddening. his spellwork was flawless, his technique was perfect, his athleticism was superior. already he was stronger, faster and smarter than ninety percent of the team.

what a dick.

jesse, one of the other seniors on the team and her best offensive forward, sauntered over to the side of the stadium she was doing her best not to outright drown while she focused her magic into creating a trap that looked like a puddle with the depth of an ocean. “you look like you swallowed a lemon.”

“i just need five minutes where i don’t have to look at his stupid face,” she muttered, hand held aloft in front of her as the puddle between them rippled and expanded, swirling with an angry current a puddle of water shouldn’t be able to have.

“i get that,” jesse answered, and she blinked, surprised by his understanding. “it must be weird for you, having to just... get along with him, now.”

“everyone expects me to just get over it,” she bit out, water splashing up out of the puddle at her feet and onto the grass, spreading out to widen the distance between them. “but why should i have to be the one who plays nice? why should i have to be the one who doesn’t get to enjoy senior year because i have to babysit some stuck-up, egotistical, glory hungry shampoo model? why?”

they both fell silent as the water surged up suddenly and a wave crashed over the empty stands, soaking the bleachers. to her surprise, a fish flopped out of the puddle she’d created and thrashed on the grass until jesse banished it with a sigh.

the entire team was looking at them now. she could feel everyone’s eyes on her back and read their stares in jesse’s expression, which was pitying and concerned in equal measures. “i need some air,” raine said, dashing out of the stadium without waiting for a response.

the sun was starting to set as she made her way onto the bridge. raine stopped to lean out over the side and squint up into the hazy colors the clouds were turning, pushing her hands through her hair in frustration that only mounted when a hesitant set of footfalls paused a few feet away from her.

she looked down, saw a pair of familiar boots and groaned.

of course it was mal.

“are you alright?” he asked, somehow managing to make his voice sound genuine. evidently he’d been practicing, since that afternoon.

“are you not able to just leave me alone?” she countered, “i feel like i’ve made myself pretty clear.”

“well -- i wish you wouldn’t.” raine tuned her head to the side and found him frowning at her, his dark eyebrows pinched together. “i don’t know why you’re so set on avoiding me.”

she scoffed, turning away. “guess.”

“look.” that tightness from the courtyard was back in his voice as he stepped up beside her on the bridge, moving in closer. “i’d really prefer not to spend the entire term bickering. i want to play thief and enjoy my last year, same as you. it’d be a lot easier to do that if you and i could get along. can you give me a break?”

“you’ve been a thorn in my side for three years; we’re not going to be best friends overnight,” she snapped, grateful for the encroaching darkness of twilight as she could feel her face start to flush. “especially not with you being so -- you.”

mal pursed his lips. “what’s that supposed to mean?”

“i mean, thea collins almost gave herself a season-ending injury at practice because she was too busy staring at you. i mean the flexing and the hair-flipping and the smirking -- you’re distracting people.”

that made him grin. “am i distracting you?”

“not on your life,” she laughed, “but i can’t have my best defense benched because some guy winked at her. if you want me to think of you being on the team as tolerable, you’re going to have to tone it down.”

“for the record, i didn’t wink at her,” mal argued, folding his arms across his chest. “i don’t think i even know who you’re talking about.”

“right.” all the anger deflated out of her suddenly, making her shoulders droop. “well -- whatever you did, just don’t do it again.”

“i’m not sure i know how to suppress my natural charisma,” mal said innocently, in a way that had her rolling her eyes with force. “i don’t intend to be charming.”

“you don’t succeed at it, either,” she quipped, biting down on the inside of her cheek to stop her lips from twitching upwards when the comment made mal’s head tip back with a loud peal of laughter.

“fair enough,” he murmured, and then they both turned on the bridge in unison to head back to the stadium, the tension between them momentarily dissolved. as they walked off, flames danced in mal’s palms to light their way back through the dirt path. show off. after only a beat of silence, he cleared his throat and said, “so, you were talking to that guy for kind of a long time. number eleven.”

“jesse?” she clarified, eyebrows arching. “he plays offense with me. he’s one of the best on the team. i think he was trying to make sure i wasn’t drowning the poor grass.”

mal didn’t say anything, only sort of exhaled in acknowledgment of her answer. she snuck a glance at him and saw the flames from his hands reflected in his eyes, dancing along warm brown irises and dilated pupils. “i remember that trap,” he said finally, breaking the awkward silence, “the one you were practicing. sophomore year quarter-finals, yeah?”

raine blinked. he was right. “yeah,” she answered, “you didn’t fall for it, though. jumped right over it like it wasn’t even there.”

they’d lost that year, making last year’s victory all the sweeter. but their triumph as juniors didn’t make remembering the loss to gildegraive smart any less, and she still had a scar on her arm from where one of mal’s party tricks had gotten too close and burned her, fire incinerating the sleeve of her jersey clear off.

“adrenaline,” mal murmured by way of explanation, like he was thinking about the burn, too, and the way she’d screwed her face up tight to stifle the angry tears of pain that threatened while the healers patched her up. “sometimes i don’t even realize what’s happening, while i’m out there.”

“well, that’s not going to fly on my team,” she instructed, as they reentered the stadium to come face-to-face with twenty-four players doing their best to pretend to be busy. “so, like i said... tone it down.”

they both seemed to notice the two girls staring and whispering from across the field at the same time. mal smiled, and in their rush to turn away now that he’d made eye contact with them they tripped over each other, tumbling down onto the grass.

he held up his hands when she turned her glare on him. “hey, i’ll try.”

because practice ran over she was late to penn square, sweaty as she raced over to the rose garden. predictably, she was the last of her friends to arrive.

“you’re late,” said tyril, frowning down at her windswept hair. “and causing a stir, it seems.”

raine doubled over, trying to catch her breath. she turned her questioning gaze first on nia, and then on imtura, who grinned crookedly at raine and helpfully said, “i heard from, like, twelve different people that you and mal volari were flirting in the courtyard.”

she reached out to shove imtura, for all the good it did. her eyes snapped incredulously back up to tyril. “you heard that?”

from beside him, kaya laughed warmly. “that’s how you know word’s gotten around.”

“great,” raine sighed, tipping her face up to squint at the stars now blanketing the sky. “so, i’m dropping out, then.”

nia gasped, shaking her head. “you can’t drop out, raine! not so close to graduation.”

with a groan, she stood up to her full height, arching her back to stretch her spine. “fine, i’ll stay. but only for you.”

nia smiled brightly at her, stepping up to link their arms together. “come on. i’ve still got to study when we get back later.”

they strolled into the garden, the rest of their friends following behind. raine was quiet as nia started gushing over a new patch of blooms that had been installed over the summer, staring unseeingly at the rows of roses swaying in the breeze before them, winking through a cycle of pastel colors.

her mind was still back in the thief stadium, thinking about her conversation with mal. was it really possible for them, to have a fresh start? could she pretend like three years of history never happened, and put it all behind her in the interest of, what? getting to know him better? being friends?

imtura’s shoulder bumped roughly into hers, jostling her from behind. “earth to raine. what’s wrong with you?”

“huh?” she asked, tearing her gaze away only to find that everyone was suddenly staring at her, “oh, nothing. just tired. practice ran long -- there was a whole thing.”

“is volari any good, at least?” imtura asked, arching her eyebrows. raine could see kaya tune into their conversation while tyril rolled his eyes from beside her, muttering to himself as he walked on ahead to look at the other roses in the garden. “he didn’t forget how to play over the summer?”

“he’s perfect,” raine huffed, “of course. he doesn’t even have to try, it’s nauseating. most of the team thinks he’s the gods’ gift to this school. they were tripping over each other just to get a glimpse of him. it was like trying to coach a group of overexcited toads.”

“i hope you’ll be able to find a way to get along, raine,” nia interjected as imtura snorted with laughter, a worried frown fixed on her face. “it’s not right that the rest of the school is talking about you.”

“it’s fine,” she dismissed. it’d hardly be the first time. the rest of her class had only just moved past her incident with the dean’s daughter freshman year. “let’s go let tyril teach us about roses before he has an aneurism.”

“i heard that,” tyril said calmly, but as they stepped up beside him he did start explaining the significance of the new roses and the enchantment they’d been given to make them change colors, so she figured that was a win.

mal sat with them at breakfast the next morning.

as in -- he physically put his body into the open chair at their table, leaving imtura blinking at her in surprise and nia politely coughing into her hand, as though to suggest that raine should rearrange the look on her face from horrified confusion into something more acceptable for company.

“morning,” he grinned brightly, like raine wasn’t gaping at him like he was something that had crawled out of the lake, “happy second day of term.”

“uh, what are you doing?” she asked, emboldened by the fact that tyril wasn’t there to kick her under the table for being rude.

“eating breakfast,” mal answered innocently, as though they were friends now, or something. there was a plate piled high with eggs and toast in front of him.

“but why are you eating it here?”

“raine,” nia cut in, “stop it, of course mal can sit with us.” she lifted her head and shot mal a sunny smile while raine turned towards imtura and rolled her eyes. “how are you liking penderghast so far?”

“it’s different,” he said, “the food’s a lot better than at gildegraive.”

raine stared down at her cereal while he and imtura introduced themselves from either side of her. her prophecy o’s were still whizzing around in the bowl she’d snatched from the buffet nearly twenty minutes ago. she sighed, smacking the bowl with her spoon. “cheap trick. at this rate we’ll miss the potions seminar entirely.”

“those things still spinning?” imtura asked, leaning over to take a look into her bowl. “maybe that means you’re going to have a really fucked up day.”

“i don’t need the cereal to tell me that,” she muttered, scowling when her answer triggered mal’s warm laugh in response.

they all watched as her cereal slid to a stop abruptly. “seize the day or be seized by the day?” raine read aloud, her brow furrowed, “what is that supposed to mean?”

“sounds threatening,” mal said, and she jumped as she realized how close he was to her, leaning over her shoulder to look into her bowl. her face felt hot when she reached out for his shoulder and shoved him away.

“that’s prophecy o’s for you,” nia interjected sympathetically, “woefully vague.”

raine ignored her, stuffing a spoonful of cereal into her mouth. for some reason, she heard herself say to mal, “you know the whole school’s gossiping about you, right?”

evidently he didn’t know that. his eyebrows arched up almost to his hairline. “really? why?”

“because of our argument in the courtyard,” she answered between bites, viciously swirling her spoon through the milk to scramble the letters away.

“oh,” mal said, recognition jumping into his gaze, “you mean they’re gossiping about us. i figured that would happen.”

she hardly noticed nia and imtura clear their plates and make their goodbyes with the way she was staring at mal. “you did?”

“sure.” his voice sounded as though it should have been obvious. “we’re the biggest names in the sport and now we’re at the same school. can you blame people for being curious about what that means?”

“i think you’re oversimplifying it a little,” raine said, because he was. “we basically made each other’s lives miserable for the last three years.”

“well, yesterday you said it was just me ruining your life, so this feels like an improvement,” he grinned, nodding down at the large bowl of cereal she was still working her way through. “you do know there’s still two other meals today, yeah?”

“shut up,” raine said, without chewing or swallowing that time, because nia was gone and he totally deserved it. “some of us actually do magick here, so -- we use energy. i wouldn’t expect you to understand.”

“that hurts, raine.” mal laid a dramatic hand over his heart, very nearly pouting at her from his seat at the table. “i’m more than just a pretty face, you know.”

“you’re barely even that.” around them, other students were staring as they milled around in the dining hall. the way the room was emptying out meant that she was probably going to be late for the potions seminar they were both expected at. “we should probably get going.”

mal shrugged, toast held aloft between two fingers. “or we could ditch.”

her eyebrows arched in surprise. “ditch class?”

he laughed, a grin springing onto his face. “rich reaction, coming from the girl who got caught with the dean’s daughter in the --”

“okay, lower your voice,” she rushed to say, glancing around before shrugging carelessly. “i don’t care about ditching potions, but... what would we do instead?”

mal flung the crust of his toast back onto his plate, dusting off his hands. “you have the keys to the stadium, right?” she did. his eyes glinted as his grin grew larger. “how about we play a little one-on-one?”

not only did she have the keys to the stadium, but raine was also experienced in programming the game simulator, which left her at an advantage as she picked the scenario they’d be playing in. she chose something that was sure to play to her skillset -- a sprawling beach with a big, beautiful ocean, perfect for her to manipulate.

“you’re still not going to beat me,” mal taunted, seated in the middle of the field and lacing up his shoes without touching them, magick crackling visibly in the air around him. “no matter how much you cheat.”

“big talk coming from gildegraive’s biggest cheater,” she returned calmly, shifting to tie back her hair. “when i beat you it’ll just be because i’m an all around better player than you are, but it’s not surprising you’d want to allege cheating now to get in front of your loss.”

“don’t think you’re going to confuse me by sounding smart.” he leapt to his feet, and she took notice of the white flag tied around his waist with a roll of her eyes.

“sorry, i’m sure you’re confused enough just being yourself.”

“exactly,” mal said triumphantly, and then, as the stadium started to dissolve away around them, “hey, that’s not what i --”

the sound of his voice faded in favor of the noise from the beach. as raine crept silently along the sand, she could hear birds above and waves on the shore; in the distance, there were the beginnings of a boardwalk and a pier looking out over the water.

unfortunately, there wasn’t much in the way of cover. eyes alert for mal, she started off down the sand quickly, coming up to a short stop when the beach started to rumble beneath her feet, almost as if there was an earthquake incoming.

her teeth bit at the inside of her cheek to stifle her grin. if there was one thing she’d learned playing against mal for three years, it was that he wasn’t subtle.

she waited for him to bust up out of the sand before sending a wave from the ocean crashing down on the rocks that erupted beneath his feet, immediately extinguishing the fire that followed him wherever he went on the pitch.

if it was satisfying to watch as saltwater completely soaked every last inch of him, even ruining his pristine, fluffy hair, it was even more satisfying to grin in his face before she took off running, waiting for him to give chase.

raine was almost to the pier when he caught up with her, and from there, their magick met in the middle, water and fire twisting around each other while they paced in circles on the sand. it was rare that she got to play against someone she was so evenly matched with, and she was thrilled to have a challenge after a summer spent messing around with her friends and taking things easy.

mal had improved a bit since she’d beaten him at the end of last term, loathe as she was to admit it. at the very least, he’d been practicing being less predictable, something that was more than mildly irritating, given how much she relied on knowing all of his moves.

as she crashed another wave from the ocean down over his head, raine realized she was going to have to do something unexpected, too, if she ever wanted to get his flag and shut him up for good. before he could push his wet hair out of his face, she lunged forward and tackled him onto the sand, trying to pull his flag off his belt.

“what are you doing?” mal demanded, reaching for her arms and wrestling them away, “this is cheating.”

“not technically,” raine reminded him, because it wasn’t. thief wasn’t exactly a contact-free sport by any stretch of the definition.

and there wasn’t anyone around to moderate when you blew off your morning classes and snuck into the stadium, so as far as she was concerned -- all bets were off.

“you’re such a brat,” he huffed, doing his best to roll them over and succeeding in shoving her onto her side while she wiggled around in his grip, “you can’t ever be wrong.”

“you’re the insufferable one,” she insisted, “showing up here, acting like you want to be friends.”

mal finally managed to shove her down that last inch, pressing her back flat into the sand. his hips held her down at the waist, but before he could go for her flag, he had to stop her arms from flailing, trying to rip his own off his belt. “i do want to be friends,” he grit out, wrenching one of her arms down, “fucking hell, you make everything so difficult.”

“me,” raine scoffed, “okay, sure. i make everything --”

the words died in her throat as mal leaned down and kissed her, sealing his lips over hers. her eyes went as wide as the sun, then slammed shut when he pressed in closer, gently moving his mouth against hers.

of course he was a perfect kisser.

her fingers pushed into his hair, damp and sticky from the saltwater, and she felt him settle over her more fully, skin warm from the sun. her body sunk into the sand and though she knew she’d be shaking out her hair long after the illusion faded and they went back to the stadium, she couldn’t quite bring herself to care about anything other than the all-encompassing weight and breadth of him above her.

mal made a soft noise in his throat that sent a shiver down her spine and she responded with an answering hum, arching up off the sand to get closer to him.

for a moment, it was easy to forget who and where they were. all thoughts of school and thief and the pressure of making their senior year one to remember disappeared, replaced only with the peace of the waves and the dead silence that came with knowing they were completely alone.

gradually, she became aware of how fast her heart was beating. her brain suddenly reminded her that she was kissing mal volari, and awareness crept back in, overshadowing how nice it had felt to be in solitude together with panic.

raine reached down and yanked mal’s flag off his belt, ending the game. all at once the illusion around them shattered, yanking them rudely back to the stadium. in the confusion, she wriggled out from underneath his body, standing up to put some distance between them.

from the ground, mal stared up at her in surprise. “raine,” he started, voice low and hoarse, “i...”

“still lost, even though you cheated?” she waved his flag around with more bravado than she felt, resting her free hand on her hip. “yeah, you did.”

“i didn’t cheat,” he argued back, effortlessly taking the bait, “you were the one who gave up on the rules. and i didn’t -- i wasn’t trying to distract you, fuck.”

the optimism she’d felt a moment earlier when she assumed she’d be able to argue him out of this conversation evaporated like smoke. “no?”

mal rolled his eyes at her. “don’t be stupid,” he said. an uncharacteristic shyness flickered over his expression. he rubbed sheepishly at the back of his neck. “you know i like you.”

“um, no i don’t,” she said dumbly, before she could stop herself. “i mean -- what?”

he sighed, then rolled onto his feet, too. there was sand all over his arms -- not that she was looking. “look, if you want me to back off, i will. but, honestly... there’s not a single thing at this school that interests me except for getting to know you better.” mal shrugged in a way that was hopelessly endearing, then admitted, “and thief, i guess.”

“this is really weird.” the look on mal’s face seemed to suggest that he thought so, too. but he didn’t say anything, so she continued, “but... i don’t want you to back off. i -- um, i’d like to get to know you better, too.”

mal smiled slowly at her, and she realized all at once that her pulse still hadn’t calmed from the frantic pounding it’d been doing back on the beach. she drew in a deep breath, hoping it’d help.

instead of calming down, her stomach felt suddenly swarmed with butterflies, beating their wings inside her ribcage like a hurricane.

still, it didn’t stop her from shifting on her toes so that some of the sand fell out of her clothes, and smiling back.

despite the many, many times she’d practiced saying it that morning in the mirror, raine knew her voice did not sound casual or nonchalant in the slightest when she told her friends, “i invited mal to come to the solstice party with us this weekend.”

predictably, each one of them stared at her as though she had completely lost her mind -- even nia. “mal... volari?” imtura asked, voice measured.

raine nodded, averting her eyes. it had been so much easier to pretend to be casual in her room in the mirror. “yeah. he hadn’t heard about it so i said he could come with us.”

“but -- why?” imtura asked, frowning at her, “you said he was a tool.”

“yeah.” she’d said much worse, too. she pushed her food around her plate without elaborating.

“i thought you two hated each other,” kaya tried, though if the little smirk on her face was anything to go by, she didn’t really think that at all.

raine shrugged. she looked up from her dinner just in time to catch sight of mal making his way over to the buffet, and though she did her best to look away before she’d start to flush, she wasn’t quick enough to miss the once-over he gave her, or the genuine smile that followed it, something like affection in his gaze.

“well -- he’s not totally terrible,” she muttered, reaching for her glass while still doing her very best to keep her voice level. “it probably won’t be so bad.”

“i think it’s great,” nia interjected brightly, “we could always use more friends.”

casual, she reminded herself, for once in your life, act casual. “sure -- friends. definitely.”

imtura gaped at her. “oh my god, you already hooked up with him.”

kaya’s grin stretched a mile wide. she clapped her hands excitedly in front of her plate. “what?” raine spluttered, stomach churning with a deep mix of embarrassment and dread -- if she knew her friends as well as she thought she did, they were never going to let her hear the end of this. “i did not!”

“okay, was it incredible?” kaya asked, rolling her eyes at the look tyril sent her way. “what? don’t act like you’re not curious.”

“oh my god, we just kissed,” she said, because the alternative to just admitting it was so much worse. “can we please not talk about it anymore?”

“no need,” imtura said, and raine only had a split second to relax before she smirked and continued, “here comes your boyfriend now.”

“stop it,” she hissed, kicking her friend under the table before mal dropped into the empty seat beside her with all the familiarity of someone who’d done so a thousand times before.

“hey,” he said, like he had dinner with them every night, “how was class?”

“oh, um -- fine.” raine returned to what was left of her dinner, back to pushing her food around. silence settled over the table, heavy and oppressive.

mal let it linger for a moment, then lifted his head and smiled at her friends. “it wasn’t really a big deal, we only made out.”

raine groaned loudly enough to draw the attention of a few nearby tables, piquing the curiosity of the students around them who’d been doing their best to pretend like they weren’t already eavesdropping. “please don’t encourage them.”

it was too late. kaya was already bouncing in her seat, demanding every single detail -- when, how, why and for what length of time and in what way -- and even imtura and nia looked entertained.

mal leaned in close while the rest of them bickered behind their backs. “why not?” he whispered, the rough sound of his low voice in her ear making her nearly bite her tongue clean off mid-chew. “i think this semester’s going to be really fun.”

“i think it’s going to suck,” she said, once she’d very carefully swallowed and managed to get a grip on her even breathing again, “because you suck, and are terrible.”

“that’s the spirit,” mal said fondly, reaching out to sling an arm over the back of her chair.

raine pursed her lips as whispers broke out from the nearby tables. she was halfway to turning around to give the nosy student body a piece of her mind before she saw the warmth in mal’s eyes and gave up on pretending to be anything but happy, tilting into his hold and leaning into the open space at his side while they joined the argument with her friends, together.

#bladesaw #mal volari #mal volari x mc #blades of light and shadow #bolas #myfic #long post #this was so fun to write i hope u all like it :-)

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devils-servent · 4 years

Text

And the were roomates

summary

Mika and the boys are quarantining together, and it's great...till a good ole game of truth or dare gets outta hand and it all goes up in flames. The tension is real.

This exsists because of a post @elvingleaf made, thats here, that post was a normal statement, then i came along and well this....

also @lovedoglover9987 and @loveisafunnything its done~

this gets spicy...

“This is fine, this is fine,” is what she kept telling herself over and over. Face bright red as she sits between these Demons. All eyes in the room were staring at her, basically undressing what was left of her. They could smell Mikas' arousal.

Mika and the boys were quarantining togething due to the virus. The boys all had time off work and she only had to do some school work after being laid off from her part time job at the pink lady cafe.

Mika and the boys lived together for years now anyway so it wasn’t too hard but… due to social distancing in public and the closing of bars and nightclubs the need for energy had become...frequent. Not to mention their presence had become more frequent, mika was usually home alone. Ya know? But the consistent eye candy wasn’t a big issue.

But Mika wasn't quite used to their constant presence, usually there would always be some time alone for mika. No hot shirtless inubi waltzing around the place like they owned it.

Still the boys were nice about it, asking to cuddle with her and watch a movie, have mika sit in their laps while they did something or even just hold her hand. Just little things throughout the day not taking up much time. Just like it used to be before the boys got used to the outside world.

At first…

You see her college work got overwhelming at a certain time leading Mika to spend a lot of time in her room and away from the boys. It also ruined her sleep schedule. So the simple energy grabs were not as frequent and they moved to...well they moved to....they moved to make outs...lots and lots of makeouts and hookups.

Which is fine in theory.... Theory, see those said makeout left mika...frustrated.

Like when she was walking into the library with the intention of swapping a textbook and was startled by james’ sudden movement.

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

“James are you okay--” she asked as he rushed toward her, his long strides intimidating Mika slightly as he slowly pinned her to the wall holding back his golden glow.

His enthrallment took her off guard and forced a heated, painful, arousal through her body letting a small moan slip out and James to give a smug little grin. Still his lips quivered, a little desperate, breathing in mikas increasing forced arousal, breathing in her sweet scent, her body sagging under his height as he spoke,

“Miss may i-”

He was cut off with a kiss, a long kiss. A make out session, if you will. Her body pushed itself up against James, not having felt another's sexual touch in a while. Her body molded with his as the kiss turned sloppy, desperate. Bodies grinding against eachother fuling the heated haze they both created.

Or the time Mika and Matthew were cooking, kitchen cupboards are a good thing to rest against in a feisty kiss she concluded. A perfect place to have someone between your thighs… His hands pulled mika closer to the edge of the counter as he knelt between her thighs, face buried between them, tonge teasing her folds and lips suckong her clit as if his life depended on it.

As is a bathroom sink, well not the actual sink. But her back against the cold mirror towel slipping down due to her arched back, as Sam kissed up her neck. Warm lips contrasting the cool mirror she was being pressed against. Head tilted back on the steaming mirror giving access to the sensitive parts of her neck.

Or even the gazebo post, cool nights were amazing weren't they? Perfect for contrasting the waves of heat That coursed through her body with an incubus on either side.Both relashing in her moans, and the energy seeping off her like heat to an oven. Not like she wasn't as hot as one.

~~~~~~~~~

Point is she was and is the boy's energy source, well main source, for the foreseeable future. Not that she really minded. But it was hard, it was like their enthralment bleed off of them 24 hours a day. Being around them sometimes made her become flushed.

A part of her was glad her school work picked up,it helped clear her mind. Release the fog of need that shrouded it.

The other part craved their touch. It missed fingers tracing her curves, hot breath in her ears. Panting in her ears. The crescendo of moans that would reverberate through the halls. The shaking limbs, the desperation that ran through her veins she missed the feeling of an orgas crashing though her body drowning her in bliss.

Even the thought could get her worked up....

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

Now there they are, it's a friday evening and all of them are stuck in a competitive game night with remnants of the pizza they’d all had ordered, with a few slices left in boxes around the room. The pizza boxes...well they sat on the couches instead of them, with Mika sat on the floor head in Damiens lap as he played with Mikas baby hairs. Erik sat on Mika’s, left Matthew to the right with Sam by Mathew's side and James in the one free arm chair.

They did this each Friday since this disease had surfaced, the game night, not the pizza eating. It was James' way of ‘keeping the morale’ also known as not becoming hermits to any games console or internet reaching device. But all of them were bored. They’d been doing it for weeks and it was starting to become repetitive.

Sighing sam reached for his phone, “it's not even 9 pm, so I can't even go to bed yet”

Damien chuckled at his brother's annoyance. they all had played everything from monopoly -which got stopped due sam getting huffy at james owning a third of the board- to uno which damien had unsurprisingly won.

Perking up matthew smiled, “lets play truth or dare”

An unceremonious grown erupted from Mika and sam caused Erik to chuckle at the pair of them and their whining, ”It won't be that bad Sam, hehe, princess”

Matthew nodded in agreement “and besides we've never played as a group,or...or at all actually?” he questioned getting a nod from damien.

“I'll play,” Damien offered, his hand playing with Mika's hair as Erik smiled in agreement.

“As will I”

“I see no harm, Miss?.'' James said, giving a smile, as he joined all of them in sitting on the floor in front of the fireplace. Mika followed suit leaving only Sam's opinion.

“Ugggg fine, how are we deciding who chooses who or whatever” he tried to whine but Sam was interested, all of you could tell.

Mika shrugged, muttering that she “doesn't think this will end well” as Daimen chuckled above her sitting her beside him and earning a mini glare as he took away the comfortable spot in his lap--

“Pass me that empty bottle Sam?” Sam tossed the bottle to Damien as he set it on the floor between them,

“There who ever spins it gets to ask who it lands on truth or dare.”

“Oh like spin the bottle then?” Mika asked and was given a nod as Erik piped up, ’Would You like to play that instead?’ and was shot down by James for obvious reasons.

“Let's play,” Matthew reached for the bottle as sam piped up,

“We aint playing no kids game. You gotta ask hard questions and whoever doesn’t answer-” He shot out of the room only to come back with a bottle of vodka and some shot glasses,

“takes a shot, OR,” he silenced james’ incoming argument “ they take off a piece of clothing.” he smirked at Mika, the fuckin pervert.

Mika could pretend she was surprised but he always was a perv. Taking any chance he got to slip his wandering hand up her skirts while they’d be watching a movie or even just eating dinner. His fingertips would trace the edges of her skirts and shorts. Hands would dip in to the waistband of her sweatpants and he’d always try to---

“The person either drunkest or nakedest has to do whatever the most clothed/soberest person says for 24 hours. Deal? “

Mika shrugged and the other brothers nodded. James added that they cap it at two shots and all of them reluctantly agreed. Upset at the thought of a cap on getting hammered.

Mika had a decent tolerance (technically the lowest in the room though, fuckin demons ) and had the most clothing on in the group, wearing a baggy hoodie over a shirt and skirt, and rocking a pair of taco socks. Mika’d be fine in comparison to the rest of the group. She was basically the most dressed. Besides this wasn't a question she wouldn't answer...

Agreeing to the spicy terms Matthew spun the bottle and it landed on-

“Sam! Truth or-”

“Truth pipsqueak,”

Matthew looked at Sam and gave an impish grin, “Ugg I was hoping for dare but...Share with everyone the DELIGHTFUL nickname You used to get called, ya know back in the plains”

Sam glared and immediately reached for the shot only to have it snached by Mika. “No no no, Sammy share this because i've gotta know”

He looks delightfully pissed, both at the situation and at being called Sammy,

James surprisingly egged it on “Sam it wasn't that bad” followed by Eriks sinister chuckle.

He growled and rolled his eyes “Its, ugg fine i used to get called fuckin handlebars alright, it’s not-- what are You laughing at doofus”

Mika wheezed into her hands as he gave a grumpy look, body rolling back, Mika curled on the floor and Damien patted her on the back muttering, “breathe” through his own sniggers.

Coming back to her senses, Mika sat up, looked Sam up and down before muttering “handlebars huh?” Mika knew it was from his demon form, but man she never made that correlation. It did make sense though....

Mika offered an innocent smile ”You didn't have to tell us Sam, You could have stripped a little.” Mika winked, getting a frustrated huff as he spun the bottle.

~~~~~~~~~

The game went on for a while before the questions changed pace, started by Sam (obviously) who didn't like how sober and clothed Mika was, oh and his brothers...they qualify for the sober part.

As his spin landed on Mika as he chuckled darkly. “Finally, truth or dare doofus”

Every bone in Mika's body told her to pick truth so the word truth left her mouth. Sam grinned. That grin makes mika shudder internally.maybe she shouldn't have…

“Hoped you would. What’s your wildest fantasy?”

Mika’s cheeks heated up and Mika gulped, forcing her mind to stay as blank as possible, there was no way she was saying that, not to the people involved. No way. No way. No---

James grinned as he drank some tea and Erik grinned at Mika. Matthew looked shocked at his brother as Daimen looked at Mika in curiosity...mainly. Every Person in that room had varying degrees of lust in their eyes, well not People per say...they were truly acting like lustful little demons.

Sighing she reached for her hoodie, pulling it of and placing it on the couch, “umm yeah...No thanks”

Erik smirked, “wow princess, we’re wounded. You don't trust us?” Mika stuck her tongue out at him and spun the bottle having it land on-.

“Truth or dare Damien?” she spoke head tilted to the side and he tilted his to match,

“I'll say umm, truth too.”

“Fuckin lame asses” Sam felt he needed to comment.

“Sam we all know we’ll only pick truth for most of the game anyway we want dirt on each other, But Damien, Who’s the most frequent person you’ve ever fantasized about?” Mika asked gently as his eyes wided and he went a glorious shade of red.

“I...fuck it was...nope im not doing it” he pulled of his shirt.

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

And with that more rounds went by with questions like that were definitely not okay to ask as Roommates, however they were asked and ended up leaving all of them in various states. Mika with 2 shots, two missing socks and a missing shirt added on to her hissing hoodie. Earning the comment “nice bra princess” from good ol’ erik.

Not like he could say much, with questions that he wouldn't answer, meant he was 2 shots down and only in pj pants, his socks and shirt discarded. James followed a similar path being left in his black sweats and one sock, with 2 shots, he didn't take too kindly to masturbation questions, that's all she would say. Matthew had taken off his undershirt but left on his shorts and jacket, he however was 1 shot down. Damien in a similar strife to Matthew has only one shot down, he's only missing his shirt socks. Then there were handlebars, Sam, he was left in his sweats and was two shots down, in hindsight, Mikas questions really were not the fairest of questions...were they?

It all led up to this glorious question from James after Mika picked Truth, “miss since you've had so much fun asking inappropriate questions , I’ll ask you one...”.

What? The’d already been asking some inappropriate questions to her, She--

“Miss” James smiled, to call it an evil one would be an understatement. “When was the last time you masturbated?”

Matthew snorted at her embarrassed face as Sam coughed...Mika was screwed, she’d already had all of her two shots, it was answer or be in her underwear, There was no way she was answering that.

Mika jolted up off damiens lap, having him on her right hand side now as she covered her mouth in surprise.

Truth is, it had been a while. Mika tended to do it when all the boys were out of the house and due to the virus...it's been months. She was a little frustrated but mainly held it together she could just use the boys but she liked getting herself off. Not to mention he had not hooked up with any of the boys in a while. They mainly just used makeouts. Mika longed for something to be inside of her.

That question however...it threw Mika off her game.

Daimen laughed from beside Mika ”It's really been that long, has it?” Fuck, Damien idly smiles at her panic as Erik looked Mika up and down his gaze was hungry...All their gazes were hungry?

“How long has it been princess…”.

Mika signed a little embarrassed at the question before standing up and grabbing the waistband of her skirt untying the bow with the intention of pulling it down but-

“NO NO NO- “ Sam interrupted sating at Mika, “you wouldn't let me drink earlier so this is payback, tell us doofus,”

Mika scared incredulously at him before he smiled idly at her, just waiting… she sat back on the floor in an embarrassed heap, making sure she was looking at anywhere but the boys as she mumbled her confession, “A couple months ago,”.

“Pardon me miss but i don't think I heard that-”

“A couple of months ago,” Mika confessed face burning, looking up to see lustfully surprised gazes.

“And why would that be miss?”

Mika found Herself standing up with the intention of racing out the room. But she was quickly grabbed and lightly pulled into Eriks lap, his head on her shoulder and his one arm around Mika and his hand on the other side of her head forcing her to look at james.

He spoke into her ear, “and why's that princess?”

Mika squirmed in his lap, the feeling of him in her ear made her core go mental. It rumbled from deep within Mika. not to mention they way he had her sat her legs were a little open one lowered glance and---

Damien found himself answering for Her. “She doesn't want us to hear her, so she does it when we're not home, or sometimes when we're asleep.” Mika blushed and pulled at eriks arm. He just grinned against Mika's ear.

Matthew smiled, “what were ya thinking about huh?...Tell us the fantasy you think about...” He teased all the boys and sat a lot closer to Mika than before.

Eriks hold relaxed but Mika found herself staying in his lap. His touch did not help the burning in her core but it was nice. Mika shook her head as Sam's eyes flashed a bit gold,

“Not gonna tell us are you doofus?” His voice came from beside Erik, his hand was making his way up her leg and teasing the waistband of her skirt before dipping underneath it.

“What's your biggest fantasy Princess?”

Mika moaned out as Erik breathed on the shell of her ear, James and Matthew sat in front of Mika as Damien sat to eriks side. The rim of each pair of eyes tinted gold, they aren't even trying to hide the arousal in their eyes or voices.

They watched her red face as James spoke, “you've been a little bit of a mess huh miss? Well, we’ve wanted this for months. Do you want us? Heh, want us to fix the frustration you've been trying to hide from us?”

“This is fine, this is fine,” is what Mika kept telling herself over and over. Face bright red as Mika sits between these Demons. All eyes in the room were staring at Mika, basically undressing what was left of Mika. They could smell Mikas' arousal. It poured off her body

All movement around Mika stopped as they awaited Mikas answer, Mika nodded weakly, captivated by the promises within James' words.

“Yes” Mika nodded as James pulled Mika upward, Sam moved the boxes off the couch as Mika was pushed into Damiens lap on the wide armchair.

His lips kissed over the one side of her neck as Matthew kissed the other, Sam sitting in front of Mika opening her legs as his hands traced the outside of her underwear.

Erik knelt in front of her and spoke slowly lust in his voice, “well im disappointed, we're glad to help you, you could've said something sooner.” he smirked and held her knees and his hands began to trail fingertips up her thighs.

Mikas breath hitched as Sam's fingers pushed into her underwear, putting pressure on Mikas clit as he moved in slow circles varying pressure.

“Eriks right you know” James' voice appeared from behind her, he seemed to be leaning over the back of the chair, his head by Mika's ear.

“you know we would help...we’ve helped before...individually anyways”

Mika moaned out at the implication of his words. It was true all of them had hooked up before. They had all bedded her separately even in the odd threesome but never together not all at once. Could she take it?

She snapped out of her mental spiel as lips connected with the skin on her breast, a little moan escaped her as she whined. And james continued talking,

“You know miss, as much as we admire your work ethic...it left us starving… and that's not too good is it?”

Mikas back arched into the chair, as sam sucked hickeys on her inner thighs, his and erik's hand the only reason her legs weren't wrapped around someones head. She could feel her core pulsing in desperation, she wanted more… needed more. Mika whined at the teasing touches, lips ghosting over her skin.

Mika moaned into James' lips as they connected, back arched in an attempt to keep the connection. James teased her bottom lip with his tongue before they deepened the kiss. Mika barely realised the hickeys being sucked on her skin or the pesky finger opening up her bra. Feeling the warm air hit her nipples, Mika moaned at the feeling of somebody's breath on them, their teeth grazing it lightly and suking it as it got hard in his mouth.

Mika cried out in desperation as all touches left her body, her lips parted and eyes heavy with lust, the boys hungry gazes could be felt all over her. She barely realised they were all smirking at her needy state. Her chest heaving, she looked around at the boys before mumbling a small “please” and movement picked up again.

“Your room Mika? Damiens voice was lewd; a husky snarl as he began to stand up.

“Wait...Wait...mnh...” Mika tried to protest but she was already getting picked up by Sam. Breasts pushed against his bare chest as he walked with her in his arms. Heavy breathing and full looks were shared between you as Sam used his super speed to speed away from the rest of his brothers.

His lips briefly connected with mika before he threw her on her bed, watching her bounce before crawling on top of her, his arms cageing mika beneath him. Their initial kiss was rough, his chapped lips moving quickly against her soft ones. Pulling away his voice a lust ridden growl.

“If we weren't starving to taste you again” he moaned, “we’d tease the hell outta you~”

His knee coming between mikas clothed core and moving against it, the small amount of friction heightened mikas arousal. She found herself grinding down against his knee, hips rolling involuntarily back and forth, back and forth. Milking the friction she was getting. Before he pushed his knee into mika and smirking as the moan she let out.

Pulling her in his lap he leant against the headboard as his brothers strolled in, mika turned to look at them only to have her head snapped back by sam and she was kissed again, she showed no resistance to this whatsoever, in fact she was the first one to close her eyes and part open her lips. he pecked her once, making sure she wouldn't back off, then went in for a deep kiss. he found her tongue and it willingly danced with his.

She broke off the kiss to breathe, only to moan when a pair of hands pinched her nipple from behind her and her back arched into them. Head on his shoulder she saw Matthew's evil little smile as she was led down the middle of her bed on her back.

All the boys stared down at her, her hair splayed around her like a halo and her red tinted face.

"You look adorable mika" Damien said and kissed her again on her neck, lingering this time... kissing, licking, drooling and suckling on the same spot. Mika immediately reacted to the hot and wet sensation on her neck, arching her body for a second as her clit throbbed and her breathing shook.

"Please don't stop..." she gushed while she kept shaking and moaned.

The moan of pleasure from mika made damien groan into her neck, in turn making mika moan, blind to whatever was happening anywhere else in the room mika laid in bliss.

She couldn't help it now, moans coming out involuntarily, he heated haze becoming painful to lingerie. She felt like an over cooked meal.

His lingering, messy kisses on her neck, cheek and ear continued but he also dragged his hand down her soft body to her inner thighs and fully flipped up her skirt exposing her wet underwear. She jolted when his gentle fingers rubbed her hard little clit through the thin cloth of her briefs, she squeaked and moaned but didn't resist.

Nor did she resist when she felt her legs get lifted up and her skirt come off and get thrown, feeling the cooler air brush against her underwear.

Feeling eyes on her body as she arched her back, Pretty soon her briefs were soaked in arousal, she blushed intensely knowing that someone's fingertips were covered with the fluid seeping through her panties but she still wished this could go on forever.

But of course it couldn't, just a couple of seconds later she felt tingles on every nerve ending as her entire body tensed up. Hips involuntarily rolling into the movement of somebody's fingers, Her pulsing core cumming and cum easily went through her already saturated panties, she went limp and breathed out the longest sigh. She still wanted more.

As the high-pitched breathing from Mika winded down, Sam lifted his fingers, they dripped with her cum once or twice. He smirked as he smelled them, then licked them making eye contact with mika as he did. Infatuated with her taste he then greedily sucked anything left on his fingers.

“Sam” she breathed.

"Was that good?" Matthew asked, a voice coming from her side barely recognizable due to the lust shrouding it..

"Yesss..."

“Good because we're not done yet….” and with his words Erik pulled off mika panties and threw them across the room, giving a smile at the sugar she made when the air touched her sensitive core.

Mika felt her legs go over his and Sam's shoulders, heaving her exposed to the pair as James lips wrapped themselves around her nipples, Matthew looked up at her as if looking for approval again before he began his assault on her breasts, James didn't care for such mannerisms in bed. she nodded to Matthew, Then he looked for the pink, perfectly round nipple and licked the tip, making it harden in his mouth, and pressed his lips around it. He suckled, licked and drooled all over the aureole, making even Mika moan as she stroked his hair.

Matthew was in heaven always loving his mouth on mika's tits, and she was enjoying it as much as he was. He traced his finger up and down her stomach, aiming to keep her moaning as much as he could. To return the favors to the pair, she stroked the head of his penis very gingerly with the tips of her fingers, sliding his foreskin back just before its limit and then pulling it over the glans again.

Mikas' breath escaped her as she felt a mouth on her folds. Not knowing who it was due her head being cradled in damiens lap, tilting her head as much as she could while being led down, she was the other red head between her thighs.

Erik started out slow, with his tongue coated in saliva, licking from the bottom of Mika’s pussy to her clit. As soon as he reached the top, Mika moaned out at the slight change in pressure, Erik ignored the whines and beggs and kept licking her pussy with long strokes of his wet tongue, focusing on her clit sneaking a finger in or two just to stretch her out a little bit.

When Erik was satisfied with how much wetter Mika had become, he started licking in between mikas pussy lips and all the folds of her hooded clit. Erik was in love with the taste of Mika's pussy and couldn't help but keep licking everywhere he could taste the sweet flavor. He soon found that the flavor was best inside of her pussy, Not like he didn't know that already, he just loved to tease her.

With more vigor, Erik started digging his tongue deep in her pussy searching for more of those soft ridges that produced wonderful moans. He could vaguely hear mikas horny rambles and begging, from what he could hear she was getting close.

He started flicking his tongue and quickly eating out Mika. he saw Mika grip the sheets hard. His face was filled with more of her pussy as she bucked her hips into his face, using him for her own orgasm, Not like he minded, and suddenly Eriks mouth was flooded with mikas juices.

“Ah~ UZAERIS”

Mika found blanked for a few seconds and found herself in James' lap, back to his chest and legs spread out for everyone to see, Erik appeared at her side as their lips connected, she could taste herself on his tongue, and his lips. Her own juices painted his mouth as she kissed him.

The kiss was broken by a moan, the blunt tip on Matthew's cock running up and down mikas pussy, dipping into her dripping hole only to pull back out and smirk. Mika moved to roll her hips only to have Damien hands drab them and hold them down.

“Mika~” matthews voice teased, “what do you want mika~”

Mika groaned her body aching for more and the enthrallment of five incubi definitely wasn't helping.

“Say it mika” Not damien too~

She shuddered as he teased once again mikas words spilled out with no filter, “pleasejustfuckmeyouknowiwantitplease!!”

And Matthew's hips crashed into mikas and her eyes rolled back as they did so, her body moaned uncontrollably as she was pounded by him. Back shifting all over James' chest, her moans were unavailable as his hands traced her nipples, one hand coming to pinch it as Erik sucked a hickey on her breast.

Mika couldn't concentrate on anything, her body enjoying the attention everywhere, her breasts, her neck, her clit. she didn't even realise when she clenched around Matthew's cock.

“Zecaeru~..zecaeru….ugghuuuu… ZECAERU~” mikas body tried to pull his cock deeper as she came around it, the pulsing feeling as if it was dragging him into her body further. Matthew on the other hand kept at his pace fucking her though her orgasm and the few after shocks

She felt herself melt into James' chest as she came down from her high, but alas, Sam's hands pulled her off of his brother's chest and she landed face down ass up in front of sams cock.

James groaned at the sight of mika, all her holes just there offered to them, James' hands pulled her waist up to his cock as he shuffled closer and entered her. Mika, becoming more and more sensitive, reached back to grab his hands to slow his pace, but ultimately having her mouth stolen by Damien who made her face him instead.

He tapped his cock against her lips as she opened them, relaxing her mouth around it. She felt a soft tingle at the back of her throat, and it soon became numb to damiens cock. Mikas eyes were rolled back as Damien fucked her mouth and james her pussy.

She had no clue whose fingers were on her clit but, the fast movement they were making had mika moaning around damien and it wasn't too long before mika felt herself cum around james cock damien pulling out just in time for her to moan out,

“RAESTRAO”

Mika collapsed on the bed, heavily breathing and did not fully register her body in damiens lap and his cock at her entrance. Her legs open over his thighs, his cock teasing her entrance he pushed his hips up and watched her eyes roll back. Mouth agape.

Their lips briefly met, her soft ones touching him in a hazy rush before a loud moan was forced out of her by her ribs being roughly grabbed from behind. His body jolted up and down his cock as he fucked her. Hand sat loosely in her hair, just to keep her steady. As he guided her up and down his throbbing cock her pulsing pussy made it pleasurable for the pair of them.

Mika soon began to tremble and moan, fingers digging into the nape of damiens neck as she rutted against him desperate for her next orgasm. Sam's fingers on her clit as she rolled her hips up and down. All suddenly coming to a stop as she came over damiens cock.

“Ahhh ahah, Izroul~” she moaned contentedly.

Her body pulsing, she craved more. In the back of her mind she was becoming exhausted but her pussy was aching.

For seconds Her mind went completely blank when Sam finally put his cock inside of her. The thick, smooth tip slowly but firmly entering her, brought waves of sensation to her core. As she arched her back against his chest.

As he pushed it in more, she could feel how his cock was stretching mika out bit by bit even with how wet she was. When his tip inevitably hit all mikas hidden spots that she forgot even existed, her moans became louder.

"Oh yes..." his slow movements allowed mika to let out a coherent moan.

Not long after that, her whole body jolted up with Sam's rough thrusts, just moving quicker and quicker until mikas berthing was erratic and her words a jumble. What she thinks is james’ fingers rub her clit as she comes all over Sam's cock body twitching, shaking helplessly.

“Uhhhhh Aomaris!~”

Mika acknowledged the fact she was shifted of fo sams cock, Moaning at the new cock at her entrance she saw erik smile up at her,

“Last time now princess, i think i'll be cumming right it HERE”

As he said here he thrusted up into mika, hand on her hips as he rolled his into hers. Head tilted back as she moaned out, hands coming to tease her breasts, a hand on her clit and what she knew to be sams cock in her mouth.

The hands pinching and circling her nipples, one hand would grope her breast and the other would pinch her nipple.

The fingers on her clit moved in quick circles, fingers that specifically touched her clit applying more pressure than the others as it moved.

It took all of sams control to not fuck mikas face, her tounge running under the ridge of his head and teeth kightly dragging on the sensitive nerve here and there.

Room filled with moans and groans from each person until mika clenched around eriks cock causing him to also freeze mid thrust,

“Ghghghgh,~” mika moaned out head pulled off of sams cock and tilted back.

Erik buried his cock deep into mika as he came inside of her, Sam cumming all on her face, and neck and James Damien and Matthew all over her bare chest.

Mikas' chest heaved as she was pulled off of eriks cock and laid on her bed.

Mika smiled in bliss as the boys looked down on her, all of them struggling to catch their breath mika included.

Sam brushed her hair out of her face as Mika tongue out.

“Ugg how are you even awake” he smiled at her cum covered face,

Mika shrugged as she reached up and scooped some of his cum on her finger, watching it drip before she smiled at it and put it into her mouth. Sam's breath hitch as mika sucked on her fingers innocently, causing the others to watch incuriously.

Mika feeling all her eyes, and in her semi drowsy state decided to tease a little bit, dragging her finger up the valley between her breasts and sucking the cum off of them.

A groan escaped them as mika moaned at the taste,

“Don't play these games mika” surprised at the use of her name she smirked innocently.

“And why not Raestrao?”

Mika binked as she felt james fingers inside of her curling up to her g-spot as his thumb worked on her clit,

“We will drain you mika~ have you begging for Mercy”

Mika cried out as her sensitivity increased with a brief round of enthrallment as she came all over James' fingers, now hers and Erik cum leaking out of her. Her body shaking relentlessly she cried out before she passed out in a sweaty come covered heap.

~~~~~

She awoke to soft sheets, and the light trickled in through the open balcony doors. Shedding herself of the remaining glimpses of sleep, her eyes were still shut as she soaked in the warmth of the covers before letting her green eyes see the sun's rays.

She basked in them for a while, the warmth soothing her aching body, pushing the cover off she saw her bare thighs and stomach, littered with marks a reminder of what she could assume was the evening before. Her skin felt as if it were glowing and she was truly surprised at the very little aches and pains.

her muscles felt weak, unlike her energy. She let out an exasperated sigh, groaning as she laid back in the soft puffy blanket, What time was it? How long had she been asleep? Did she have clothes on? Well she knew the answer to the last question.

Her bedroom door clicked open as she looked to the culprit or should she say culprits,

“Morning~” still as bubbly as he usually was, Matthew bounced into the room and sat beside her. Soon everyone else walked in too, James carrying a plate of breakfast and damining a glass of water.

“We thought you might need it miss” he smiled, his appearance looked soft due to him in his sweats.

All the boys were in pjs and mika sat naked, well minus her blanket. Mika smiled as she bit a piece of toast, her blanket cover shifting slightly as all the boys sat on her bed with her, all just basking in each other's company.

Running his finger though Mika's hair from behind her, Sam smiled before asking, “hey doofus?”

“Mmmhmmm” mika mouth full of food,

“You never did tell us your biggest fantasy”

Mika looked back to see sams glowing golden eyes, quickly turning from him she looked around only to find everyone else's eyes the same color…

“Ah fuck me…”

“Again princess?”

“As you wish~”

“Really doofus?”

“We dont mind~”

“haha, really that's it~”

Mika paled “Damien i swear~”

______________________________

HONONRARY TITLE "Mikas quarantine orgy".

#seduce me #seduce me the otome #sedcue me demon war #james incubus #erik incubus #sam incubus #matthew incubus #damien incubus #mika anderson #seduce me 2 #seduce me 2 the demon war #i wrote that #someone take writing privleges away #seduce me otome

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051093 · 4 years

Text

longing | v

wc: 2852

pairing: jihyun “v” kim x reader

genre: canon compliant, angst w/ an actual happy ending bc the game’s version wasn’t enough for me, reunions! yay, platonic jumin x reader

description: it’s been two years since you last saw v, but he reappears where you least expect it — at the r.f.a. party. and his feelings haven’t changed. not one bit.

my masterlist.

The party is so full of love and light that you can’t help but go the entire night with the biggest smile on your face.

Initially, you were nervous, and so were the other members. Two years ago was the catastrophe with Rika; it’d taken so long for the group to heal, and you weren’t sure if they were emotionally recovered enough to hold a successful party.

But everyone did their part as diligently as they could, from Jumin using his massive network to publicize the fundraiser, Luciel layering the building and guest information with cybersecurity, and Jaehee’s decorations and catering and other party logistics. Yoosung and Zen’s moral support and guest suggestions gave you plenty of work to do as well. As a result of your combined efforts, the party is positively glistening on this beautiful night, containing a record-breaking number of guests and an atmosphere filled with camaraderie.

You’re so busy that you seem to be in three different places at once, but you don’t mind. This is the happiest you and the members have been in a while. You can feel it, and you love it.

When you finally get the chance to catch your breath, you come across a group of five familiar figures standing together near the stage, and you beam at the sight of them.

“Hey, you guys!” You call, heading towards them.

They turn and smile at the sight of you. “Hey, you,” Zen says warmly, draping a fond arm over your shoulder. “I feel like I haven’t seen you all night. How’re things going?”

“Great,” you return with a relieved sigh. “It’s an amazing party. Everyone seems so happy.”

“All thanks to you!” Yoosung chirps. “You invited so many great guests.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen Luciel so happy,” Jaehee says with an exasperated smile. “Although I can’t help but continue to qustion whether or not longcat’s upbringing was ethical.”

“Of course it was!” Seven assures with a bright grin. “I would never condone animal abuse.”

“Questionable,” Jumin mutters into his champagne.

“Hey, hey, we’re getting off topic,” Yoosung cuts in. “We were giving Y/N our congratulations for putting the party together.”

A chorus of gratitude ensues. You laugh, embarrassed. “Ah, I only did my job.”

“Humble as always,” Zen tsks. “Take more pride for an accomplishment like this, babe.”

“I am proud! But I can’t possibly take all the credit,” you say, smiling. “We couldn’t have done it without each other.”

“That’s right.” Jumin tips his champagne glass your way. “Congratulations, Y/N. And congratulations to all of us as well.”

“Congratulations to all of us,” Zen repeats, holding up his glass. “First and last time I’ll ever quote that pompous ass.”

Six glasses clink merrily. Amiable conversation continues for a few minutes before Yoosung nearly drops his champagne in remembering that he left an entire table undecorated. He and Saeyoung hurry off to handle it. Zen later spots a group of women in the corner practically drooling over him and makes a flamboyant stroll their way, charm in full force. Jumin receives word that his father’s arrived, and Jaehee nearly sprints to meet the chairman at the door — but Jumin lingers behind after she’s gone.

“Y/N.” He turns to you with a thoughtful gaze. “I’ve been meaning to ask you something.”

The expression on his face says it all. You can’t help but sigh. “I think I already know what it is.”

He chuckles. “I apologize. It feels like I’m nagging. I’m just worrying about you, you know that.”

You do know that, and it’s been that way for all of the last two years. Jumin and you formed a close bond after V left, and you’ve leaned on him for everything from advice to support or just a listening ear. You found solace in his wisdom and honesty, and V’s departure would’ve been all the more painful to you if Jumin hadn’t been around.

“Go on, then,” you say.

“Exactly two years ago today, the first party you organized was cancelled because of V’s injury. Anniversaries tend to bring back memories, wanted or not,” Jumin says. “You seem to be doing well tonight, but you also hide your feelings quite well. So, if the truth is different from how it looks…tell me.”

You fall silent, thinking.

Every time you close your eyes, the ghost of V’s face is painted against the inside of your eyelids, his warm smile, kind eyes, loving gaze and all, and there’s no denying the poignant sadness that’s existed within you since he left. You miss him; your worry grows more and more every day not knowing when he’ll come back, if ever.

But, at the same time, you’ve been met with so much support from the RFA that you’ve been able to fall back into routine. You’ve learned to coexist with the emptiness that V left behind. You’ve found it in you to smile again.

You don’t verbalize any of this to Jumin, but you know he already knows.

“It is how it looks,” you say, a small smile appearing on your face. “I’m doing well.”

His voice softens. “You’re sure?”

You meet his eyes steadily. “I’m sure.”

“Good.” He straightens, satisfied. “I’m glad to hear it.”

“Thank you for checking on me, though.” You reach over to touch his hand. “Thank you for everything, Jumin.”

“On the first day you entered our chatroom, I had an inkling that you had a strong resolve and an even stronger heart. You’ve done nothing but prove me right since.” Jumin gives your hand a reassuring squeeze. “So I should be thanking you, Y/N. For your will power and friendship.”

The two of you exchange smiles before Jumin glances at the entrance. “I should go greet my father.”

“Yes, of course.”

“You’ll be okay on your own?” He gives you a nod of farewell. “Right, then. I’ll see you later.”

He strides into the crowd, and you’re alone once again.

You meant what you told Jumin about being okay. Nevertheless, the conversation leaves you in a bit of a weird mood, and you want to get some space from the crowd. You remember that Jaehee mentioned a storage room behind the stage and make your way towards it.

. . . .

Jumin is about to respond to something his father said when an unfamiliar man steps through the door.

The stranger has cream-colored hair, striking mint eyes, a baby pink suit, lanky proportions. He’s unlike anyone Jumin’s ever seen, but familiar in ways he can’t lay a finger on, as if he’s met a different version of him. The stranger looks around nervously, then turns to speak to a second man who follows him in shortly after — and Jumin’s eyes widen.

This second man he knows.

This second man he knows better than anyone.

“Father,” he says, cutting off the older man in the middle of his sentence. “I — there’s something urgent I must tend to.”

Jumin sees Jaehee’s concerned expression from the corner of his eye. “Assistant Kang, introduce my father to the owner of the winery, if you will. I remember my father saying he was interested in purchasing a vineyard.”

“Yes, Mr. Han,” Jaehee says. Jumin knows Jaehee doesn’t like being alone with his father, but desperate measures. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes.” Jumin looks away without giving them a second glance. “Forgive me.”

He can’t take his eyes off the man as he walks towards him. Same unmistakable aqua hair, same tall frame and lean build, same air of elegance.

Something comes undone inside him when he realizes that his best friend is back, something he didn’t realize had been coiled up all this time. He lets out a shuddering breath. His Adam’s apple trembles.

Jumin doesn’t say a word, just clasps a hand to the taller man’s shoulder. Striking, colorful eyes meet his.

“V,” he says. “It’s about damn time.”

V smiles at the sight of him. “Jumin. It’s wonderful to see you again.”

“And you,” Jumin returns, his hand dropping back to his side. “It’s been exactly two years. You always were timely.”

“You’ve been keeping track.”

“I’m not the only one.”

The effect his words have on V is immediate: his face changes, his eyes taking on something Jumin can only describe as longing. He knows only because the same look appeared on your face when he asked you about V.

Two years, Jumin realizes, and neither of your feelings have budged an inch. Two years, and you and V still yearn for each other like it’s still day one.

It took his friend a hell of a lot of pain and loss to get here, but he’s finally found love. Not the kind that’s all-consuming and toxic but radiant and happy, the kind you both deserve. The kind you both have.

“She did all this?” V asks, looking over his shoulder towards the main hall.

Jumin nods, then follows his gaze. It was your idea to ask the art organization you invited to help you rent out a museum for the night, and the result is magnificent. Glimmering. Grandiose. Everything that the members could’ve dreamed the RFA party to become. And it really was all thanks to you.

“I last saw her near the stage,” he says, sparing V the trouble of asking. “She won’t have wandered far.”

A few moments of silence pass. V looks for something to say, anything that could accurately convey everything he’s feeling. He settles with drawing Jumin in for a tight embrace.

That says more than any words could.

They part. V turns and steps into the crowd, a head of mint hair walking through the throng of partygoers.

After his friend has left, Jumin turns to the weirdly familiar younger boy with the odd hair and anxious face.

“And who are you?”

. . . .

The “storage room” turns out to be an intricately decorated space with a dazzling chandelier hanging from the ceiling. It looks looks a ballroom more than a closet, but it’s stacked high with boxes and the air smells of dust when you walk in. Though you’re disappointed the room wasn’t put to use for the party, you’re glad you can use its emptiness to gather your thoughts.

For the thousandth time, you find yourself looking back how things were two years ago — how you and V met. Eleven days was all the two of you had, eleven days of chaos and danger and confusion, but just that short period alone was enough. He fell for your unmoving kindness and care towards him, and his consideration and sincerity rendered you deeply infatuated with him in return.

But you found a love that couldn’t yet take flight, one that consisted of things you left unsaid and emotions you swept under the rug. Neither of you were ready. The situation was far too volatile.

Sometimes, you find yourself wondering if there really was anything there. Maybe the two of you just latched onto each other because the circumstances forced your hands. Maybe it was never love, just dependence.

Then, you remember the way his entire demeanor softened when he looked at you, the tenderness in his voice whenever he said your name, the feelings of his arms around you, secure, safe. You remember the sparks and the unspoken yearning that crackled whenever you were in his proximity. You remember his promise that he’d return to you. That he’d love again. And it’s due to this collection of memories you still have faith in what you once had.

“V,” you say with a sad smile. “I hope you’re somewhere safe and sound. And I hope you’re learning to love yourself little by little, wherever you are.

“Take all the time you need. Just…come back to me when you’re ready, okay?”

Silence.

“I’ll be waiting,” you finish weakly.

The room is now heavy and melancholy. You take a deep breath, trying to get a hold of yourself.

Behind you, there’s the sound of cloth shifting against cloth.

Shit! You nearly jump out of your skin. Did someone come in? The room wasn’t empty? Your face flushes crimson at the idea of one of the members or, worse, one of the party guests overhearing your dramatic soliloquy. Someone walks towards you, slow footsteps gradually getting louder. Zen? Jumin? They both walk with that slow saunter. You squeeze your eyes shut in an embarrassed flinch, your mouth opening to say something —

“You won’t need to anymore,” the stranger says.

You’re ripped from present day and brought back to two years ago. Your mind floods with memories you weren’t prepared to relive, all triggered by that achingly familiar voice.

You turn around, your breath hitched in your throat.

So many little things about him have changed. His hair is a few shades paler than before, the sunlight bleaching his his locks from his previous turquoise to a pale periwinkle; the definition of his jawline has sharpened from two years of travel; he wears a beige overcoat and a collared white shirt, an outfit that’s usually too formal for his liking.

Most notably, however, you notice that his entire aura is different.

You see none of the anguish and burden that used to fill his stare. Instead, there’s something you can only describe as radiance , so pure and warm that it reminds you of the morning sun’s rays spilling through a cracked window. Of holding frozen hands close to a crackling campfire. He’s the same in many ways, but brighter and calmer, more confident in his own skin.

Whatever he left to accomplish, he succeeded.

He comes closer, taking tentative steps until you can smell his familiar cologne; you’ve forgotten tall he is, and you have to lift your chin to maintain eye contact. The toes of his dress shoes touch the tips of your kitten heels.

“You’re back,” you whisper.

He nods. “I am.”

There are so many things you want to say to him, but you can’t think of a single one right now. It’s like his presence is driving you into sensory overload, and you’re only acutely aware of the rate at which your heart hammers against your ribcage, so loudly you swear he’s close enough to hear it. The two of you spend a few moments standing in silence, taking in the sight and sound of each other without a word.

Then, unable to stand it any longer, you move towards him. The last thing V hears is your sigh of relief against the shell of his ear before you wrap your arms around his neck.

The first time you hugged him, he’d stood in shocked silence, his arms staying frozen by his side. At the time, he was unable to accept his affections for you when Rika was still so prominent in his heart and mind.

But he readily holds you now, his arms circling around your waist, pulling you close with so much fervor that it feels more like a promise than a hug.

You stay entwined for as long as you see fit and then pull away, but V doesn’t let you go far; he hooks a slender finger beneath your chin and leans in close, finally lowering his mouth to yours.

It’s a wonderful blur that you barely remember. The pressure of his lips on your own causes your back to dip slightly, but he’s quick to steady you with an hand against the small of your back. He kisses you gently, deeply, as if the ground’s disappeared beneath his feet and you’re the only thing keeping him afloat; his knuckles turn pale where he grips your waist and your jaw, his lips flushed pink where they touch yours. You bring your hands to the sides of his neck, rising up on your tippy toes, thinking to yourself, this is entirely worth the wait.

Your pulse continues to pound a dizzying rhythm long after his lips have left yours. He nuzzles his forehead against your own, his lashes splayed softly against your skin.

“You have completely,” he says, “completely enamored me, Y/N. I’ve fallen for your kindness and purity, your stability and courage — I’ve fallen for you. And I’m so sorry that it took me this long to realize it.

“Even when I was thousands of miles away, you were with me. I heard your voice in the wind. I saw your face when I closed my eyes. I dreamt of you when I fell asleep.” His eyes swim. “I’ve longed for you for as long as I’ve known you, all two years and eleven days.”

You don’t even notice you’re crying until he brushes your tears away with caring hands.

“I love you, my angel. I’ve missed you so much.” His fingers tremble, but his voice remains steady. “And I’m ready to spend the rest of my life proving it to you, if only you’ll let me.”

You taste salt on your tongue where his tears have fallen, but you don’t care, tangling a hand in his hair and kissing him until he knows your answer.

Yes, yes, yes.

#jihyun x reader #jihyun x mc #jihyun kim x reader #v x reader #v x mc #mystic messenger #mystic messenger oneshots #mystic messenger imagines #mine

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