#but regardless please enjoy in all its blurriness!
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been thinkin of tryin sludgification down at the bayou. heard it's cool.
#jrwi#jrwi bitb#jrwi blood in the bayou#bitb#blood in the bayou#still not quite sure how to make low-res stuff crisp on tumblr#but regardless please enjoy in all its blurriness!
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hiii
im not sure this is the right place to ask, but i have no idea where else to look. sometime ago i read a story made here on tumblr as a response to a prompt/concept/idea. id like to reread it as i really enjoyed it but i cant for the life of me find it again. its been a while so the details are blurry but what i remember is that the hero, who was the reader, 2nd person pov, was summoned to a fantasy magic world as a champion to fight a war. hero was fighting in a sort of trio with the princess of the kingdom and her knight. they deliberately didnt tell hero they cant return home but hero found out. these people, while considered the good guys, werent exactly good. i think there was a socioeconomic abuse problem in regards to the monarchy the princess was part of. regardless, the bit of the story that was posted showed the moment the hero decided to join the villain, who i think was an evil wizard guy. the dialogue was very good as the villain also didnt entirely fit with his role of antagonist and had freed the people previously enslaved by the monarchy. lots of grey area ethics. very engaging. the villain does a big reveal like ooh they are lying to u and using u, they cant send u back home!! and hero is like yeah, i know, im tired, what do u have to offer?
anyways it was really a lot better than what i managed to summarize and id really really love to find it again. if anyone knows of it, please tell me where i can find it. thank u!!!!
oof I am so sorry I can't remember this one specifically. if anyone else does, or if you're the writer themselves? please help this person
all the best!
- L
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saw these tags by @ratts-reblogs on my post abt Soda's lip detail when he's fighting and i literally SQUEALED
because BOY DO I LOOOVE NOTICING CHARACTER QUIRKS !! so here's a small list of other little details that i gush over but have never talked abt ::
- in Exhibition mode, when you select Don you can see that he has a particularly unique stance;; both of his feet face the same direction despite his torso facing the camera - it looks pretty hilarious ! super bad visual guide i had to outline bcuz its hard to see from the regular, blurry image
- in Tiger's Title Defense intermission, his clones have a lot of cutesie animations ! the left clone scrunches his nose and eyes (moving his mustache along with it), and fidgets with his shoes quite some ! the clone furthest to the right nods his head in agreement with the middle clone and his mustache moves a lot with it as well !! additionally, after the real Tiger reminds them that it's time to gather up for the fight, the left clone makes a frustrated / disapproving face by furrowing his brows and squinting his eyes , and the right clone looks very confused as the other clones disappear !
(the video above is a clipped version of Gaming Evolution's video on YouTube ! full credit to their upload and content;; this does not belong to me !! video linked here ! 🩷)
- in Kaiser's TD select screen, he has an adorable little nose scrunch that wiggles his mustache along with it !
(GIF taken from this video !! all credit 2 Gaming Evolution 🩷)
- when you KO Bull, as he spins to fall down , you can hear an odd creaking noise ; i believe this is meant to resemble the sound a mechanical bull makes when it's particularly riled up !
- in Soda's idle animation, he has a very unique way of moving; Macho Man, who has a similar animation, shuffles his feet back and forth. Soda, on the other hand, shuffles his feet side to side ! it looks super silly 🥹 GIF added below so u can see !
(the video i GIFed this from is linked beneath the next listed detail!)
- when Don knocks you down, most of the time the "GET UP" / counting screen obscures his face ,, but when u CAN see, u may notice that as he laughs and shakes his glove, he raises his right eyebrow in unison ! this comically small and blurry GIF is probably no help but take what u can get
(SRRY ABT THE GIF i can't seem to find a good video that shows it,, however the video i GIFed this from is linked here !! full credit to the original uploader 🩷)
THERE'S PROBABLY A LOT OF OBVIOUS ONES IN HERE IM SRRYY but they're ones that i absolutely love regardless 🩷 if anybody has other little details they notice please please tell me i literally adore miniscule little quirks in their characters it adds so much i swear ✝️ also apologies for the poorly cut videos and hilariously crunchy GIFs, ive never done this before in my life but i wanted to give visuals so u will b forced 2 enjoy my terrible attempts at them 🫡
#punch out!! wii#punch out wii#punch out#don flamenco#von kaiser#great tiger#bald bull#soda popinski#btw let me know if u would like the @ removed !! i just wanted u to see this in case u havent noticed these other details and wanted to kno#<- but i know not everybody is comfy with direct mentions ! i apologize if this is bothersome#the small gifs r my fav tho theyre soo silly#this took absolutely forever btw omfg .. Tumblr linking system / text features when i GET U
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Check-in Spotlight
For our June 1st check-in we asked some our writers to share a little of what they’ve been working on! Please read them below.
The feeling of his lips on mine is strange. It’s warm, his lips are soft, I think to myself. I tilt my head up to offer a better angle, but he’s already pulled away. I open my eyes to the blurry darkness of my tent and see Hadrien walking away. I open my mouth to say something, but he’s already lifting the fabric of the door to leave. He’s gone and I’m left with a heavy feeling in my chest. That same warmth I feel whenever he’s around me. When I realize that the feeling is consuming my thoughts like this, I know I’m damned.
from @ilikeitalyanormalamount
The rules Nations are subjected to are stupid.
Clarification—the rules *European Nations* are subjected to are stupid. This, Prussia is acutely aware of, as he sits in a cramped jail cell somewhere in the middle of Bohemia.
from @neioo
At the end of the year 1830, Austria hosts a ball for the Nations of Europe, as he does every year. Similarly, every single year, he wonders why he still bothers at all, as placing all of these incident-prone beings into a singular space, within reach of any sort of alcohol, is more or less asking for something to break. Regardless, it is an excuse for most Nations like Austria to gossip, for others, like Wales, to gather blackmail material to use at a later date, and for a few, like Romano, to enjoy a lot of free food, a lot of Schadenfreude, and maybe someone else for the night.
from @snowywolff
France leant his head on his elbow and watched England’s fingers, remembering there fat gold rings with inlaid expensive stones. Smaller hands, a youth’s hands- skin stained black with gunpowder beneath torn lace. England had never been able to keep himself from ruining his clothes. He walked through delicate things like cobwebs, hardly seeing them at all, a magpie-like need for finery without understanding its function.
from @oumaheroes
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it's meee, the qianqing anon✨ it certainly been a while since ive been in your asks jsjdjdjd the uni has been crazy and the finals were approaching so i had to force my focus on studying instead of screaming about my faves to anyone who was willing to listen :") but now that that's out of the way for a while now because the second semester has already started, im free to go back to my deranged brainrots sjejejejjeke
OH I ALMOST FORGOT very very late merry christmas (if you celebrated) and happy new years!! 🎉🎉
im rewatching the second season of tgcf at the moment and im going crazy over the small lqq moments i missed in my first watch wjejejek he's just such an amazing character and soo 😍 i love/hate that im now restarting the angst 😭😭
SOMEHOW I ALSO MISSED THE BRIEF BLURRY SHI WUDU CAMEO AND I WAS SCREAMING ABOUT IT FOR HALF AN HOUR TO MY FRIEND!! I CANT WAIT TO SEE HIM IN HIS FULL CORRUPTED GLORY IF WE EVER GET GHE BLACK WATER ARC ANIMATED!! he actually might be in my top three favorite characters from tgcf even if i don't talk about him nearly as much as i talk about mq
anyways. LQQ!! i know i already watched everything and i know that i know what's going to happen but man i am not prepared to go through that again! while i am EXTREMELY glad that we got to see him boil qr alive AND slice him in half, THE PAIN THE ANGUISH THE CONFLICT JWJWIEKEKKEJJE
i don't think i will be getting him out of my head anytime soon :")) im even more salty that he doesn't get a more important scenes later in the series :((
unfortunately ive been a bit brain-dead because of the most boring subjects in the world ughhh so i don't have any new lqq and mq thoughts :(( if you do pls share with me, im dying for every crumb of creativity available skkekekeke
also idk if i mentioned this in my last ask, but it makes me so happy that both you and your followers like these little lqq/mq rants 🥹 it makes me excited to share whatever new idea pops into my brain and know that there are somewhere ppl who get just as excited about them as i do
anyways, i hope you're doing well!! 😽😽
Welcome back qianqing anon!!!
I hope finals went well for you and that you’ve been able to catch your breath again. I also hope you enjoyed the holiday season!
Every time I see or think about donghua lqq I feel so grateful to the production team for depicting the way lqq feels and expresses himself so intensely. I know we all know this by now but his arc really is my favorite within the entire story,,, 🥹 It’s a shame we really only see him in the early chapters and the final ones— I genuinely think his story could easily be its own novel/extra.
Also where does shi wudu show up???! If it’s later in s2 then I haven’t spotted him yet cos I,,,,, still haven’t gotten around to finishing s2 (life got in the way of quality time in lqq land 😭). I feel you though— I find shi wudu interesting in such a way where I love his character but I also feel he 100% got what was coming to him LMAO. Blackwater arc is gonna be so wild to see.
But!! Back to qianqing lol. I was thinking earlier about the fact that lqq answers any personal communication array regardless of who is contacting him. Meanwhile mq haunts the public communication array but gives this vibe that not a lot of people have access to his personal array,,,, made me think about how mq seems like the type who always reaches out to lqq privately, knowing that lqq will always answer, but refuses to give his password in return. Lqq probably asked him once and mq probably told him something like “It’s pointless when I know you’ll answer me no matter what.” (Bonus: maybe mq finally decides to hand his password over when lqq ends up going down to the mortal realm to seek his revenge— like it’s mq’s way of telling lqq that he’s concerned but without flat out saying he’s concerned for lqq LOL)
Anyway! Please always feel free to slide into the inbox. I may be slow to reply to these but they really do make my day. The qianqing brainrot never sleeps 😂
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I have a few!! 7 and 9 for elle, 20 and 23 for zee, 25 and 34 for azuramenth, please! I know that's quite a few, so you don't have to answer them all lol I'm just so curious
"You don't have to answer all of them" OKAY WELL I DID SO TOO BAD!!!!!!!!!!! Sticking these under a read more bc its very long. Since it is SO easy for me to get carried away when talking about my ocs
7) Elle's favorite animal? Why?
This is a tough one, it's not really something I've dived into yet! I think the strongest answer I have for this at the moment is bears. She admires their strength and ferocity while also finding their appearance very endearing; it's a nice contrast. I'll think about this some more!
9) Elle's favorite and least favorite foods? Is she a picky eater/does she have dietary restrictions?
I havent picked out a favorite/least favorite food for elle yet but I can at least tell you about her eating habits! She's not so much a picky eater, at least not ideally. She loves to try new foods and likes a lot of stuff! However, she ultimately has to shoot a lot of stuff down though due to her stomach being very sensitive. She feels sick very easily (whether thats due to a food being rich/heavy, not having the right texture, or just being too much food in general), so as a result she's very peckish.
20) Can zee drive?
Short answer, yes, zee can drive. She's a very skilled pilot of any vehicle. But while this is something she can do, it's not like she has a car of her own. As far as I know cars don't exist in the raposa world unless the creator or hero personally draws them into the world, so they're not really regulated/common? She would much rather traverse on foot anyway, even if they were common.
23) How would you describe zee's voice? Can she sing?
Zee's voice is fairly gruff. It falls at a fairly low octave and she often has some degree of vocal fry going on, whether talking or singing. She's loud!!! And as for speech patterns, she exaggerates her words a lot to make her point, both in tone and volume. She enjoys humming more than singing, but she does sing every now and again, usually while she's out at sea or doing something boring.
25) How good/bad is azuramenth's hearing and eyesight?
Extremely interesting question!!! Warning you ahead of time, this question is going to have a long-winded answer since it delves into some general species info that I've worked on before, namely that of angels and demons since Azuramenth/Azurael has had experience being both. For context, angels and demons aren't so much an elusive, ever-changing thing in the world of a businessmans cult, but they're actual defined species that share similar traits. Granted, a species mortals don't know anything about (or at least most of them!), but a species regardless.
Angels do not have the ability to hear. They communicate strictly through the transferring of information, which can be a bit tricky to define in a concise manner. Think of it this way: when an angel wants to communicate with another angel, said angel they are "talking" to will suddenly come to know the information as if it is simply fact. If conversing with a mortal, while the mortal speaks aloud, the angel will read their thoughts pertaining to the words they're speaking and will understand it in that manner. They converse vocally regardless, even if it falls on "deaf" ears. An angel's vision tends to be blurry due to their exposure to bright lights in their environments. To further this, the light they emit themselves shines onto the backs of their eyeballs, causing a mild case of blindness. They are completely blind in the dark as their eyes can't adjust.
As for the other side of this question, demons have an incredibly sharp sense of both vision and hearing. Their senses are much more grounded to reality than an angel's senses would be. They converse as mortals would. It should be noted that while their vision is extremely strong (much stronger than the average mortal), they have difficulty seeing in environments with a lot of light. This is largely due to how intensely keen their sight is, and light tends to be too sharp on eyes that sensitive. It's also worth nothing that not all demons have eyes and/or ears, but their other senses are heightened.
34) How would azuramenth describe herself?
If you were to ask her, Azuramenth would likely only define herself as a very blunt "strong" or "powerful." Maybe even "angry." It's difficult to get much else out of her. For this hypothetical though, if she didn't have as many walls raised, "hurting" would be another one. "Sorry."
#knawing off my arm after being asked about complicated species information ive come up with. i love talking about that shit#THIS WAS SO MUCH FUN THANK YOU FOR ASKING ALL OF THESE!!!!!!!!#laika answers#elle#zee#azuramenth
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Letter 3 • my earliest Memory of her
Have I ever told you about my mother?
Honestly I don’t remember.
My earliest memory of her was when I was 12, 7 years ago. That night I hadn’t eaten once, everyone was having a day off so there was no one to cook and she said she would. I ended up falling asleep for 5 hours after I had gotten home from my daily walk, the time was 8:45. And I asked her for food. I remember the look on her face, it was a look of pure disgust, she yelled at me and before I knew it my eyes were puffy and I couldn’t see.
I don’t remember what she said, only that she refused to cook for me. It went from cooking to something else to just more stupid things I had done slightly wrong in that past week. I can’t say I hate my mother but I definitely disliked her. The night she died I didn’t find myself crying of sadness,I only felt free. Like a burden had been lifted off of my shoulders. I cried, but of happiness. Unlike my father, who at that moment was holding her hand, his eyes just had blurry as I was the night she yelled at me.
He got worse after that day. He yelled and screamed and cried until he couldn’t anymore. It was painful to watch such a loving man become so horrid.
But even now, I wonder if he thinks about all her wrongdoings as she did mine, I wonder if he could, would he shout at her the way she did with me? All because of some slight mistakes? Did he believe she had to be perfect like she did to me?
Nevertheless, she’s gone now. She died of a heart attack. And now all that is left is her memory, her bed, and the stain she left on me. The change in my once so perfect attitude to life. I used to think the world was beautiful, that it was magic. Now I only see it as a joke, as a filthy place people go to just to lose and repeat it all over again.
This world is a loop, and losing is its ongoing motive.
I said this world is poison didn’t I?
Please, my dove. Do not burden people the way my mother did, and do not feel burdened when I so inevitably become victim to the worlds cruel ways. I’ll come back to you, regardless of what I am and who I am. Promise you’ll accept me again? Like you have the many times we’ve met before. In my dreams or real life. It isn’t impossible to think that we haven’t been together in a past life.
I believe I am rambling again. Im sorry, next time I Write i will try to not talk about my thoughts as much as I do. Unless you like that of course? If you enjoy listening to my thoughts and feelings, please let me know. I’ll tell you everything.
I love you.
#spotify#neglect#toxic#family#hycandicth post office#i love you#my dove#be safe#for me#don’t be fooled#by our cruel world
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intro!!
hi guys, we're the Unwritten Reprise System and this is our blog just for those of us interested in having a tumblr! some introductions:
E:
hey I'm the host of this system, and I probably won't be super active here since I have a blog of my own. this is for the others mostly bc we had the other blog pre-syscovery and we're not ready to come out over there. so we put this together so they'll have a place to be themselves and don't have to mask as me.
Sunny:
hello!! I'm an oc introject and Sunny isn't my name but it is what I'll be going by on here! I love attention and talking to people so I wanted a tumblr of my own. I'm not sure how much other people in the system will be using this blog so most posts will probably be from me. we'll tag with who's speaking regardless as long as we're not super blurry or anything
my pronouns are he/him but I really don't care! I'm also aro-ace and pretty averse with both of those things so please keep that in mind if you're directly interacting with me lol. Obviously not gonna police anyone else's posting or anything like that of course👍
uuh fun facts I like omori depsite never having played it and I also like crows :) I also like pokemon and that I have actually played
Ash:
not my real name either. she/her. I enjoy reading and mistborn.
anyway last thing: exclus aren't welcome in general. sysmeds dni, we welcome systems of ALL origins and anywhere on the plural spectrum. don't start syscourse on our blog, its just exhausting. racists, queerphobes, transphobes, sysmeds, ableists, etc will all get blocked. some of us are religious so if you are uncomfortable with that follow at your own discretion
but yeah happy to be here and finally get this blog in working order, looking forward to hopefully making some good friends and mutuals and stuff <3
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Lady of The Night (Namjoon x Reader)
Pairing: Namjoon x Reader
Word Count: 13.3k
Warnings: 18+, Yandere, Obsession, Victorian Era, Time Travel, Misogyny, Jack The Ripper Murders, Forced Relationships, Forced Stripping and Dressing, Blood (Lots of it), Gore, Fear, Panic/Anxiety, Discussions of dead bodies, Depictions of a corpse, Depictions of Wounds, Use of Drugs, Illicit Behaviors
I do not condone the acts displayed in this story nor do I believe any members of BTS would actually engage in this type of behavior. This is simply written for entertainment purposes and should not be taken as a reflection of my own values, opinions, or morals.
Preview: You had been plunged backwards through time for a reason, and maybe this was the reason. This was the world’s most infamous cold case. What were the chances that a journalist would slip through the cracks in time and stumble into the East End of 1891? The only conclusion you could draw was that you were meant to identify who the ripper was.
You knew nothing about time travel regardless of the pop culture you had consumed. For all you knew, changing the events of the past would not create a ripple effect but instead a branch. And, as horrifying as this scenario was, your curiosity was going to get the better of you. You needed to know, even if it meant following around the egotistical self proclaimed genius that had sheltered you.
A/N: Yay! It’s my first fic up after my two week break! So, this is pertaining to the Jack The Ripper Murders. For storytelling purposes, the timeline of events has been altered as well as details of the crimes. This story may not be for everyone so please read the warnings and take them into consideration before reading. Your mental health and wellbeing should always be your number one priority. That being said, I hope you enjoy! 💜💜💜
You could see your blurry reflection in the glass of the watch face you held in your hands.
You wiped away your tears with the heel of your palm violently as you sniffled tiredly. It had been a long day.
You were coming to terms with the fact that you were the last living member of your family, everyone else had died and moved on. Your mother had been young when she had you, but she was also young when she left you. Mere moments after you had been given life and were brought into the world, she had departed shortly after.
All you had ever known was the warm, comforting embrace of your grandfather. He had been more like your father your entire life and now he had left too. And all you had to remember him by was his old, Victorian house, some grainy photographs, and his pocket watch.
Today had been the day you learned of his last will and testament, and he had left you everything he had ever owned, especially that pocket watch. He had carried it everywhere with him for as long as you could remember, the long, silver chain neatly clipped to his vest at all times. He would often remove the watch from his pocket, swiping his thumb over the sealed lid fondly before flicking it open and tracking the time. He had never once been late to anything, something he bragged about often.
If you closed your eyes, you could visualize a scene that was not unfamiliar to you. You would be seated on the floor in a pile of pillows by the fireplace, the flames crackling and emanating a comforting warmth. The scent of black cherry tobacco wafting under your nose as your grandfather settled a thick book on his knees, pausing his reading aloud to puff at his tobacco pipe. You would giggle happily, wrapping your quilt tighter around your body as you watched him attempt to blow smoke rings. He would then slip his hand into his pocket and remove the watch, the chain clinking about as he flipped the watch open.
“It’s almost half past nine, don’t you have school tomorrow?” He would ask you, raising one eyebrow in questioning.
You, at ten years old, were familiar with what this meant, and you absolutely refused to head up those creaky stairs to bed when the two of you were in the middle of embarking on an adventure.
“Please, just one more chapter!” You would beg, eyes wide and watery with a pout settled on your lips.
“Alright,” He would concede after a long pause of faux thinking, “We do have time, don’t we?”
But that's where your grandfather was wrong. You didn’t have nearly enough time. You were twenty two when time came and took a hold of your grandfather and left you in the dust. That was the thing about time, it moved quickly and was unforgiving. Twenty two years was not enough, you were far too young when you said your last goodbyes.
Fuck, and now you were crying again.
You laughed humorlessly to yourself, pulling the sleeve of your jacket over your hand and wiping your tears away again. Crying would do you no good, he would want you to be happy. Death did not mean the end of a life, it meant the celebration of one, was something he had once told you.
It was time to start celebrating then.
You uncorked a bottle of wine, throwing the cork into the sink and having a staring match with a wine glass before you sighed and grabbed the bottle by its neck and left the room. You lit the fireplace before sitting down in your grandfather’s chair, throwing a leg up on his ottoman and taking a swig from the bottle. That made you feel a little better.
You tilted your head back before turning your face into the fabric, the scent of black cherry tobacco still clung to the chair. Your eyes burned again with unshed tears as you nestled your head closer to it, breathing the scent in deeply before taking a longer swig of wine from the bottle. You were sure you looked pathetic.
You groaned in irritation, the last thing you had wanted to do was throw yourself a pity party yet here you were, drowning your problems in wine like a young mom who is questioning why she didn’t use protection.
You sat up, grabbing the neck of the bottle and setting it on the side table before standing up on weak knees. It was too weird being in that room without him. You weren’t ready to move on so quickly. So, you killed the fire and shuffled up the creaky stairs and headed to your bedroom down the hall.
Once the door clicked shut behind you, you flung your clothes off into the corner of the room and grabbed an old, large, band shirt you tended to use as pajamas. After you slipped the raggedy fabric over your head you slid beneath your sheets, fisting the comforter in your hand and pulling it up to your nose.
You could see the silver of the watch glinting under the moonlight on your night stand. Without much thought you reached across your bed and grabbed it, pulling it under the blanket with you. You twirled the delicate chain around your fingers as you pressed the latched watch to your chest. Your eyes fluttered shut as sleep tugged at your mind. But, despite that, your head was still filled with the memories of him that you tried to shake away.
You missed him, and you wanted to go back and see him again.
~~~~~~~
When you woke up the next morning, it was to the smell of warm food wafting throughout the house. In your delirium you rolled over and buried your face into your pillow, you were sure it was just your grandfather whipping something up.
And then you were jolting awake. There were two things you knew: one, your grandfather was a terrible cook who considered spam as breakfast, and two: he was dead.
You shot up in bed, your sheets pooling around your waist as you cocked your head towards the door, listening in silence. You could faintly hear the sound of pots and pans clinking and the clacking of heels along the wood floor of the hallway.
Someone was in the house.
You snatched your phone from your bedside table and slipped free from the warmth of your bed. The pocket watch swung into your thigh, the chain still wrapped around your fingers from the night before. You kept your phone on the ready, prepared to dial the emergency line in seconds.
When you opened the door you stuck your head out into the hallway, swinging it from right to left. You couldn’t see anybody, but the scent of food had gotten stronger.
You allowed your door to swing shut behind you, the knob clicking with an air of finality. The floorboards were cold beneath your bare feet as you made your way down the stairs, dodging each squeaky board from years of practice. You knew this house like the back of your hand.
Once you had descended the stairs you found yourself in the first floor hallway, the kitchen door to your right. Your eyes fluttered shut and you took in a deep breath before tensing your body with determination and flinging the door open so hard that it slammed against the wall.
A cry of shock echoed through the kitchen, the clash of pot and pans forcing a scream from your throat in response. Standing in front of you was what appeared to be a maid, her wispy brown hair tied into a bun at the base of her neck beneath a hat matching the long black dress and crisp white apron she donned. She looked like she had been pulled straight out of the nineteenth century.
The two of you stared at each other in shock for a moment after your scream had died down and fizzled out. Her hand laid limply on her chest over her heart as her shoulders heaved with surprised breaths.
Her gaze flickered up and down your form, her cheeks quickly reddening at your state of undress.
“I cannot believe this!” She suddenly cried, throwing down the spatula she held in her other hand. “I’ve told the young master numerous times to stop consorting with heathens like yourself!”
“Heathen?” You echoed in confusion. “Hold on, what the fuck are you doing in my house?!”
“In your home? The audacity! You lay with the young master once and you believe yourself to be the lady of the estate? I will not have a harlot like you traipsing around!” She yelled back.
“Lady, what the fuck are you on? You’re the one who broke into my house! Get out!” You screamed.
“Emmett, Emmett come quickly! The young master let in another stray!” She called.
In a matter of seconds a man entered the room dressed in a three piece suit and gloves, he looked much like a butler.
“Again? This is the third one this month, Mary.” He sighed in disgust, eyeing your form. “The indecency of this one, running around naked.”
You were speechless, all you could do was dumbly look down at your bare legs. The shirt you wore was fairly big, it covered everything important. Still, you grabbed at the hem and harshly pulled it down further, your mouth agape at his words.
“Come now...miss. It’ll do you little good to linger here, we wouldn’t want to get the authorities mixed up in this, they aren’t fond of your kind as you know I’m sure.”
You couldn’t think of anything to say until he approached you, gripping your arm roughly and tugging you out of the kitchen.
“Get your fucking hands of off me, fucker!” You yelled, struggling to free yourself from his grasp.
He tutted to himself as he ripped the front door open, “Such colorful language and such poor manners. Well, I suppose that is to be expected from women of your status.”
“Stop!” You cried, digging your heels into the floor. “You can’t throw me out of my own house! If you don’t leave I’ll call the cops, I swear!”
The butler merely shook his head, tired and annoyed with your antics. “Have a pleasant day, and for your own sake, find yourself a husband and stay off of the streets.”
And with that, he threw you out onto the front porch and slammed the heavy, mahogany door shut, the lock clicking into place. You spent the following moments banging your fists against the door and demanding to be let back in, once you realized how futile that was you unlocked your phone and dialed the emergency line.
But you weren’t met with anything, no ringing, no voicemail, nothing. Your face scrunched up in confusion, your phone didn’t have a signal...how was that even possible?
And that was when you realized, for certain, that something was very wrong. When you finally looked up from your phone, you were surrounded by trees.
You stumbled backwards in surprise, knocking into the front door behind you. All of the houses that once lined your street were gone. For miles around you all you could see was a dense forest and dirt and gravel roads. Your sweet, elderly neighbors house was gone, the ice cream shop that you could once see from your house was gone, the sidewalks and the fire hydrants were missing. It was as if they had never been there in the first place.
“What the fuck?” You whispered to yourself, your stomach turning and your heartbeat thundering violently in your chest.
Everything was gone, how was that possible? Where did everyone go? Where did all of the buildings go? There was no way that they could all have been decimated and replaced with trees that towered higher than your house in one night. What in the absolute fuck was happening?
You crouched down to your knees, weaving your fingers through your messy hair as panicked sobs wracked your body. You had no explanation for what was happening, you had no idea what the hell was going on. Your phone wasn’t working, you were kicked out of your own home, and everyone was missing.
You sat there for a moment, crying to yourself in a complete and utter panic before you realized that you needed to at least try and find someone who could help you. You allowed yourself a few more moments to squeeze out some more tears, heave your last sobs, and dry your wet face. You had done a lot of crying the past few days, enough tears to last you a lifetime. It was time to get to work now and figure out what was going on.
So, you stepped foot onto the manicured lawn before you and made your way to the dilapidated road ahead of you. The dirt and gravel dug into the bare skin of your feet causing you to wince and jump in pain. It was better and easier to walk alongside the road rather than on it.
The more you walked, and the further you walked, it became apparent that it was not only your street that had suffered changes overnight, but your entire town. What had once been a shopping district you frequented often in your teens was now a sea of never-ending trees. You hadn’t seen this much greenery since you went hiking years ago.
The home that you remembered was much different from the sights you were seeing now. Your house had been the only Victorian on the street, the others newer builds that had popped up over the decades. It looked like any other street you had ever seen, an amalgamation of history in a couple blocks. But now, it appeared to be a clean slate, devoid of noise, devoid of life, and devoid of structure.
In an eerie way, you felt like you were at the beginning of time, back before humanity had cultivated the earth and turned vibrant greenery into concrete jungles. It was as beautiful and it was lonely, if you hadn’t had that run in with the maid and the butler earlier, you could have assumed you were the only person on earth. How startling and stifling that would have been, to be just a house plopped in the middle of nowhere, with not a person in sight.
It was not unlike how you felt now, alone walking alongside an empty road surrounded by trees. You could feel the miles passing as dirt clung to the soles of your feet, the skin burning in protest as you continued walking aimlessly in search of any signs of another person or house in the area.
The thick layer of dark clouds hanging in the sky was not doing anything for your mood. You were certain you would be doomed to spend the day or possibly even the night in the trees trying to take cover from the onslaught of rain that was sure to come.
And, just as you had predicted, all it took was one roll of thunder through the sky before the clouds let loose a torrent of rain. Your only saving grace was that the rainfall was not ice cold, but lukewarm. Your other concern was that where there was thunder, there would be lightning. At least you weren’t the tallest thing in the area though, a tree was more likely to be struck than you were. But that would be the cherry on top of your shitty day wouldn’t it, to be struck by lighting as well?
But, just as your hopes were about as low and hell, you spotted something in the distance. The structure was familiar, you were certain you had seen those peaked roofs and stone walls many times before. Yesterday you had been driving on the highway when you passed the country club, and now you were certain that’s where you were. Where you stood now and once been home to a highway, and mere miles away was the country club you had passed everyday on your way to work.
If you were lucky, the staff would take pity on you and maybe you could shower and get some food in you before you called the authorities to deal with those intruders of yours.
By the time you finally made it up to the country club, you were completely soaked to the bone. The only pieces of clothing you had on, being your underwear and your oversized t-shirt, were drenched with water. You looked like a drowned rat if you were being honest with yourself.
But, even in your panicked and miserable state, you took notice of a few things. The signs that once held directions and the name of the club were gone, nothing there that even hinted at their prior existence. The parking lot was long gone as well, not to mention the caged in tennis courts and the golf grounds. It was all missing. The only thing that stood as familiar to you was the large, Victorian manor itself, and the grand water fountain in the center of the roundabout. This roundabout was made of gravel though, instead of the cement you remembered it being. And, to your disdain, the tiny pieces of gravel had returned to puncture the delicate skin of our feet once more.
You were tired, you were cranky, and you were wet. All you wanted to do at this point was run inside and collapse on the polished floor.
You sped over the gravel as fast as you could before running up the stone steps, sliding under the cover of the roof that was fixed over the front door. You raised your hand up and curled your numb fingers around the door knocker. And, with difficulty, you swung the door knocker against the rich wood of the front door frantically. If there was a doorbell you would have been annoyingly ringing it nonstop, so you had to settle for banging the door knocker violently instead.
While you were mid swing the door was ripped open violently, your soaked form almost being tugged inside as you were still attached to the knocker. A man stood in front of you, he too was dressed in a three piece suit, gloves adorning his hands and polished oxfords sitting under the hem of his pant legs. His suit was much finer than the butler’s from before, but the expression on his face was just as, if not even more, stern than the butler that came before him.
“Please,” You huffed out, using your best pleading gaze. “I need help.”
“I think you are mistaken, miss. I do not believe you have any business with the master of this estate.” He responded coolly, a harsh edge to his tone.
“Wait please!” You cried as he backed away and attempted to shut the door. You gripped the door frame, wedging your arm in place to keep it from closing. “I just need to use your phone.”
“I’m sorry miss, but -”
“Claude? Who’s at the door?” Another voice echoed from inside.
“Please, can I come in for just a second?!” You called inside as you heard the click of footsteps approaching the door.
“Master, I think it would be best if you let me take care of this.”
“It’s alright, Claude, step aside.” The voice responded. The butler, Claude, edged away from the door in uncertainty before disappearing inside the depths of the club.
Seconds later, a new man replaced him, opening the door much wider than the butler had. Your heart dropped into your stomach in astonishment and embarrassment. He was probably the most attractive man you had ever had the privilege of seeing and for a moment you were convinced you had fallen into an alternate universe because all of the men you had seen on a daily basis were nothing in comparison to him.
He was rather tall with tan skin, dark hair, and a set of dangerous dimples. It took everything in you to restrain yourself from delicately poking one of those smooth craters in his cheeks that was calling out to you.
With a sudden jolt you realized he had been staring at you just as intently as you had been staring at him. His lips had parted and his eyes had darkened. You could feel his gaze traveling over the dips of your collarbones and the exposed flesh of your legs and arms before settling on the thin fabric that stretched over your chest.
Heat instantly flooded beneath the skin of your face, your arms crossing over your chest. In your moment of hysteria you had forgotten your lack of bra and the rain. You were sure this man had seen more than you had wanted to show him.
His tongue swiped over his lower lip at your action, his dark, half lidded eyes flicking up to meet your own in a rather sensual stare.
“Are you a lady of the night?” He asked, his voice deeper than before.
Ah, that was a term that you had become rather accustomed to today. Well it’s synonyms at least: heathen, harlot, and now lady of the night.
“No!” You cried in frustration, you had no issues with sex workers, what you did have an issue with was that because of your state of dress everyone had come to assume you were looking for some!
“Please, I just need help.” You sighed, your shoulders dropping from the stress you had endured all day.
The look in his eyes had all but disappeared after your omission of the truth. You were not a lady of the night, you were just scared, confused, and in need of help.
“Come inside.” He said, opening the door wider.
You looked up at him in surprise, shocked to see a gentle smile gracing his lips. Before he could regret offering you shelter, you hastily entered the front room, your arms still wrapped securely around you as you felt the warmth of the building rush through you.
Yet again, though, you noticed things were different. The front desk was gone, the signs pointing to the bathrooms and the changing rooms were missing, and there weren’t any people other than yourself and the man that stood before you.
“Where is everyone?” You asked him, turning to face the man as he closed the door behind the two of you.
“What do you mean?” He asked you, equally as confused as you were.
“This is a country club...where are all of the guests?”
“Country club?” He laughed, his dimples becoming more prominent as his eyes filled with mirth. “This is my home, there isn’t a country club for miles.”
“What?” You whispered to yourself, the water from your shirt sliding off of you and tapping against the wood of the floor rhythmically.
“They’re still fairly new after all, not many around here I’m afraid. You must be lost then?” He mused.
“What do you mean they’re new? They’ve been around for years, this is one. I’ve been here numerous times!” You explained, exasperated.
“Are you feeling well, miss?” He asked, stepping closer to you without letting his gaze wander as it had before.
No, you weren’t feeling well at all, you were incredibly fucking confused. What he was saying didn’t make any sense, none at all. Country clubs weren’t new, they had been around for over a century now.
And that was when it all began to make sense. All of the pieces suddenly had fallen into place. All the houses on your street were gone, the shopping center, the highway, the signs and the parking lot were missing from the country club. Your phone was unable to get a signal in the hours that had passed. You had encountered four strangers that spoke in a manner you had not heard often and dressed like they were from a different era.
“What - what year is it?” You asked, your body trembling now from anxiety and from your wet shirt.
“1891, of course.” He responded, his face appearing even more confused than it had before. He was looking at you in concern as well, he wasn’t sure why you would be asking him such an obvious and ridiculous question.
“Oh.” Was all you managed to say as you began to stumble backwards, your legs going weak underneath you as you slumped to the ground. Your vision was focusing and un-focusing, your head feeling light as you could faintly hear his panicked voice in front of you. It was beginning to sound further and further away though as your bare thighs met the cold, wood floor beneath you.
You were having a stressful day.
~~~~~~~
When you woke it was to a cold compress against your forehead and the feeling of a plush mattress beneath you. For a moment you thought that you were at home again, that the past few hours had all been some fever dream and your grandfather was taking care of you in your state.
But the feeling of the thin, silver chain still wrapped around your fingers assured you otherwise. That had not been a dream in the slightest.
You jerked forward, the cold cloth flying onto your lap as your hands scrambled across the top of the duvet reflexively searching for your phone.
“It’s alright, relax, you’ll only worsen your condition!” A voice seethed as hands settled on your shoulders and coaxed you back against the pillows behind you.
It was him again, the man with the dimples.
“You have a fever, it won’t do you any good to move around too much.” He lectured you, his hand waving around as he scolded you.
You quickly caught sight of something wrapped up in his ringed fingers, it was your phone.
“Give that back!” You yelled, snatching your phone back from his hands and holding it tight against your chest. You were glad that your phone was password protected, not that he would ever know what to do with it even if he managed to unlock it by accident.
“What is it exactly?” He asked you as he relented, taking a seat in a chair that had been moved to your bedside.
“It’s none of your business, that’s what it is.” You replied, shooting him a look that he reciprocated with shock and astoundment. He probably had never been spoken to like that before, a man with what you could only assume held power, status, and wealth. There was a part of you while still shocked at your predicament enjoyed the idea of fucking with some rich people.
“As a guest in my home I think I have every right to know.” He shot back with a quirk of his brow, jerking his chin up.
The audacity. So, as petty as it was, you refused to dignify his statement with a response.
“Fine, if you won’t tell me then I’ll have to assume you don’t know what it is either and you stole it just like you did that watch. It’s to be expected of someone of your...nature.” He insinuated, his gaze flicking over your form from head to toe.
“My nature?” You replied, your skin going hot with untapped irritation.
“Well, a prostitute of course.” He answered with such certainty it made you want to scream.
“For fuck’s sake how many times do I have to say I’m not!” You yelled, throwing your head back against the pillows.
“Well of course you are, with that way you looked coming up here you were practically naked, how could you not be a pros-”
“First of all,” you interrupted, “The proper term is sex worker and you have no right judging women who have no other choice and even if they did choose it you still have no right to demean them for taking up a profession that employs a service and receives payment for it like any other job!”
“Secondly, the manner in which I am dressed does not mean you get to make baseless assumptions about me or my job without knowing why I look this way in the first place.”
He sat there for a moment, stunned. A long pause of silence passed between the two of you before a smile split across his face, those dimples returning in full force.
“I’m Kim Namjoon, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“Did I ask?” You retorted, annoyed, and overall confused from his sudden change in demeanor. A voice echoed in the back of your mind that maybe he had a thing for women putting him in his place but you quickly shoved that down in embarrassment.
“Well it’s only proper, you’re already in my bed anyways I figured you should know my name.” He replied with a boyish smirk.
You choked in confusion and shock before softly muttering your name in response. You did owe him that much, he had taken you in and taken care of you. That was the only thing you would give him though, his prior attitude still stung.
“I’d like to inform you that despite your progressive thoughts not everyone will see eye to eye with you, miss. You’re lucky you found your way here, there’s a murderer stalking these streets.”
“A murderer?” You echoed, your blood chilling in your veins.
“You don’t know of Jack the Ripper? That’s what the public titled him at least.” He explained.
Holy shit, the timing was perfect. Namjoon had told you the year was 1891, whatever had caused your slip through time sent you right back into the tailend of the Jack the Ripper murders. You had been lucky that he hadn’t stumbled across you, because despite your beliefs that your attire didn’t mean anything, everyone you had met had mistaken you for a sex worker. It would be expected that the infamous ripper himself would have thought the same and your name would have joined the list of victims.
That was too close of a call for you.
“Has he killed recently?” You asked out of morbid curiosity, you were hoping, selfishly, that you had arrived after his last victim.
“He’s been rather active, I should know, I’m the one investigating him.” He said, a look of irritation falling over his features as he crossed his leg over the other, his tongue poking against the inside of his cheek.
“You’re an officer, then?” You asked.
He responded with an annoyed snort, rolling his eyes. “Thankfully no, I’m more of a private investigator. I’ve been employed by some officials high in the government to do the work the police have been ruining as of late. How embarrassing, three years and they still haven’t managed to pin the murderer.”
Ah, so you had struck a nerve. He didn’t like the police, noted.
“Tell me more.” You probed, your genuine curiosity winning over your unease.
Namjoon appeared to gather himself, his gaze that had once been far off returning to you. “Detail such grizzly deaths to a lady? I’m afraid not.”
“Where I come from we don’t take sexism lightly, Namjoon. And, not to mention, I’m a journalist. Trust me, I can handle it.” What you said was true, as a journalist you were receiving a once in a lifetime opportunity, you were given the chance to witness the investigation of the world’s most well known cold case.
“You’re a strange woman, unlike any other I’ve ever met before.” He said softly, an amused light in his eyes.
“You’d be surprised just how much we are capable of.” You shot back.
“Fair enough,” He smiled, enthralled with the back and forth the two of you had engaged in. “I’ll tell you more in my study, I’ll send for a maid to help you dress.” He said before standing up and heading towards the bedroom door.
“I’m interested to hear your thoughts.” He called over his shoulder before the door clicked shut.
As soon as he left, you felt like you could breathe freely, a deep exhale of air passing between your lips.
So, you had slipped through time. Your thumb rested between your lips as you nervously chewed at your nail. You were coming to terms with the fact that somehow, some way, you had retreated into the year 1891. The next issue that you needed to resolve was how you were going to get back to your own timeline. You didn't belong here, that was for sure. Just from your previous conversation with Namjoon you knew that you were drastically different from anyone of this era. At this point, you were sure that was bound to get you in some sort of trouble. It was probably best to lay low around people other than Namjoon who had already been exposed to your modern ideals.
As you sat, stewing in your thoughts, a series of gentle knocks echoed from the door to the bedroom. You peeled the sheets away from your body and stilled for a moment. Somebody had changed your clothes. Where you had once worn your faded tour shirt you were now dressed in a long, flowing, silk nightgown that just brushed the tops of your toes. It was rather pretty and ridiculously comfortable but that didn't lessen your anxiety from having a new state of dress from what you had passed out in.
Another set of knocks, less gentle ones this time, spurred you to move faster. As soon as your bare feet met the plush carpet beneath you, you rushed to the door. Upon opening it, a maid stood there. She held a few items in her arms, her face obscured by the dense pile of fabric she cradled. Without saying a word you moved aside and held the door open for her. You could faintly hear her mumble out a weak thank you, muffled by what she held.
She shuffled over to the bed and dropped everything on top of the mattress with a heave that swung her small body with it.
"Alright, Miss. Are you ready?" She asked, turning to face you with a pleasant smile.
"Ready for what exactly?" You replied.
"Well, to dress you of course."
Your face flushed in embarrassment, that was something you had conveniently forgotten, people of higher status like your host did not dress themselves in this period.
"Oh, that's alright, I can manage on my own."
"Are you certain?" She asked, an apprehensive look crossing her features as she stopped laying out the clothing items, her hands halting over a corset.
Fuck.
"On second thought I would love the help." Yeah, there was no fucking way you were learning to lace that thing on your own.
You hadn’t realized just how much of a struggle it would have been to dress yourself had you not appreciated the help the maid had given you. In Victorian fashion, layers were undeniable and you couldn’t help but flinch at the thought of how hot these women had to get in the warmer months.
You had also assumed the corset would have been troublesome, given how you always heard about its bad rep via movies and literature. In reality, it was quite comfortable. It wasn’t overbearingly tight and you could breathe perfectly fine without a single hint of dizziness. You couldn’t help but ask the maid about this in astonishment.
She giggled as she smoothed your dress, “Tightlacing you mean? Why, is there someone you’re trying to impress?”
Your face burned with heat at her insinuation, “No, no, I was just curious.”
“It is quite fashionable, but not very practical, no?” She said with a hint of a smile as she stepped back from you. “Well, if that’s all you’ll be needing of me the master is waiting for you in his study, would you like me to escort you? It’s not very far.”
“Oh no, I’m sure I’ve distracted you enough, if you could just point the way that’d be very much appreciated.”
“Of course!” She chirped, guiding you into the hallway of the manor. “Just head straight down that way, it’s the door at the very end of the hall!”
“Thank you for all of your help.” You smiled gratefully before your turn and began your walk through the hallway.
The manor was gorgeous with pane glass windows that stretched from the length of the floor to just below the ceiling that were framed with thick, velvet curtains. The floor beneath your shoes was parquet and a deep mahogany that shone proudly in the daylight that filtered into the hallway. You had not seen all of the manor but you knew, just from this glimpse, that the rest of it radiated wealth and power just like its master.
The clicking of your shoes against the polished hardwood echoed down the length of the corridor as you approached the doors to the study. You had never been to this floor of the manor in your timeline, it had been long since roped off and only elite members were allowed access. Now, it appeared you could roam freely to your heart's content.
Your knuckles brushed against the door, three knocks in quick succession sounding out into the quiet hallways and study.
“Come in.” Namjoon called, his voice steady yet distracted.
You pulled the heavy doors open and slipped into the study. Upon entering you noticed a number of things, for one the study resembled that of a library. The space was vast with bookshelves towering over you as well as everything else in the room.
Namjoon was seated behind a desk, his fingers resting at his temples while he flipped through a set of papers placed on the surface of the table. While the rest of the manor had appeared clean, almost sterile really, this space had gone untouched by the staff. Various books laid open or bookmarked on the floors, couches, and his desk.
Upon further inspection you noticed textbooks and medical journals strewn about, anatomy pages glaring back at you.
“Are you a doctor, Namjoon?” You asked, lifting one of the textbooks up to get a closer look at what he had been reading.
“A doctor?” He laughed, “I consider myself to be more of a scholar, really-”
Whatever else he had meant to say ceased, the words failing to part his lips. He was looking at you again, not unlike the way he had looked at you when you had appeared on his doorstep scantily clad and drowning in a torrent of rain.
He made you uncomfortable.
“Look at you, looking like a lady. You could have fooled me if I did not know any better.” He said, the corner of his lips tugging up into a sarcastic grin.
“Such a gentleman.” You huffed with an exaggerated roll of your eyes. “If you’re not a doctor then what is the point in reading things like this?”
“To catch a killer, you must think like a killer.” He hummed, tapping the tip of his forefinger against the side of his head.
“You’ll never catch him.” You said, the words escaping you before you could even think about the repercussions they would have.
“And why would you think that?” He asked, his eyes narrowing with a challenging look to them, the irises were dark and sent a cold chill down the length of your spine.
“Call it intuition.” You replied, thinking quickly on your feet. “If countless others who are far more qualified and knowledgeable have failed to find him, it’s improbable one individual will bring him down.”
You had unknowingly just challenged his intellect, if this were a dance you would have quite literally just stepped on your partner's toes.
Namjoon stood quickly, his chair shooting back as he rounded the desk and approached you. You stumbled backwards in surprise but did not manage to dodge him as he matched your pace. His hands had settled on your waist, spinning you around to pull you back into his chest.
His voice was soft and mellow beside your ear as he spoke, “Each victim was a prostitute, all found in the east end of town. Already there is a location and a motive, no?”
“Now, here is what I find interesting.” He hummed, swiftly gripping your chin and pushing your head back onto his shoulder. His fingers ever so lightly brushed down the column of your throat before drawing a line across it from left to right.
“Immediately he slits their throat, and right after? Disembowelment.” He said, his other hand that was settled on your waist migrated to your lower abdomen, his fingers caressing another line over the clothed flesh.
“Most people, those ‘investigators’ for example, would say he hates women. But on the contrary, I think he is quite fascinated. With every murder he takes something that is uniquely theirs, would you happen to know what that is?”
“Their womb.” You managed to say. You were trembling and you were certain that he could feel it. He was scaring you, the reality of your situation was suddenly becoming rather apparent.
That could have been you.
“Exactly, and to do something like that you would need some medical background, especially considering the speed and technique with which he does it.” He confirmed, his hands resting on your waist once more, this time turning you to face him.
“So, if I were a ripper who was fascinated by women, where would I be?”
“Well...everywhere?” You replied, stepping out of his hold.
“Yes and no. We have a pattern and a motive, someone who is targeting prostitutes in the East End. My money would be on a hub for illicit activities, and with my sources I have a clue as to where he will strike next.”
That piqued your interest. “And where would that be?”
“If I know anything, it’s that the rich don’t like to follow rules and love a good party. Every now and then viscounts, dukes, and aristocrats alike will gather and dabble in illicit activities together. These parties change location every now and again, but most commonly we see them in the East End. Chances are, we can find a doctor with devious intentions at the hub of them. So, do I seem qualified to you?”
“This was your way of proving your capability to me?” You huffed, shaking your head.
“Yes, and it appeared to work.” He smiled, leaning back against his desk with his arms spread behind him on its surface.
“Well, luckily for you, I’m interested.” You responded, jutting your chin out as you crossed your arms over your chest.
“Interested?” He echoed.
“If you want to catch a killer, what better way is there to do so than draw him out?”
“You’re offering yourself as bait? Are you neurotic?!” He laughed, shaking his head from side to side as he popped off of his desk. “Do you really think I would allow that in good conscience?”
“I don’t need your permission to do anything, Namjoon. What I am offering is an agreement of mutual satisfaction. You get a way to bait the killer and I get the story of a lifetime.”
You had been plunged backwards through time for a reason, and maybe this was the reason. This was the world’s most infamous cold case. What were the chances that a journalist would slip through the cracks in time and stumble into the East End of 1891? The only conclusion you could draw was that you were meant to identify who the ripper was.
You knew nothing about time travel regardless of the pop culture you had consumed. For all you knew, changing the events of the past would not create a ripple effect but instead a branch. And, as horrifying as this scenario was, your curiosity was going to get the better of you. You needed to know, even if it meant following around the egotistical self proclaimed genius that had sheltered you.
“So, do we have a deal? You asked, extending your hand out to him.
The silence that hung between the two of you was unsettling. His dark eyes lingered on your hand for a moment before flicking up to your face and back down. His lips were pursed in thought and you could tell he was debating with himself heavily. There was a soft ringing in your ears as the quiet stretched on.
A sudden smile spread over his face, one that you thought almost appeared devious. He laughed to himself and then shook his head before breaching the space between you and gripping your much smaller hand in his own. He gave your hand a firm shake before tugging you forwards and pressing a light kiss to the back of your hand with a grin.
“We have a deal.” He confirmed.
“What a fucking flirt.” You grumbled to yourself beneath your breath, anxiously sliding your hand over the fabric of your skirt. “So, when will this party take place?”
“One week from now.” He said, raising his hand to hold up one finger.
That was much longer than you had wanted to spend in the Victorian era. Far much longer.
“And what will we do in the meantime?”
“Well investigate, of course.”
~~~~~~~
Days had passed in Namjoon’s company, and for all of the investigating the three of you (Namjoon, Claude, and yourself) had done, no results were accomplished. But, on the other hand no murders had been committed in the East End.
You were halfway through the week until the party, and despite your efforts there was absolutely nothing. You were becoming as frustrated as the inhabitants of the East End as well as your fellow investigators. Among all of your “resources,” you were caught at a dead end just as the police were.
You had heard of Jack the Ripper in your youth, you were once an avid true crime fan. But, for the life of you, you could not remember who the next victim was and where their corpses would be found. And for all you knew, protecting that individual would only cause someone else to lose their life. Time was tricky and fickle, and if it was set in stone, it did not matter who would die so long as someone was drafted into the void.
You assumed.
Your host had been...strange, to put it simply. You had thought to yourself that that was just in his nature, he was easily distracted, unfocused, yet insanely intelligent. But his mannerisms were unusual. He seemed completely unfazed by the case he had been assigned to, the only moments in which he showed a visceral response were when he dealt with you, or the police force. He hated them intensely, you could only assume because of how ineptly they were handling the case itself.
And, most frequently, you found yourself going head to head with him. And boy, did he enjoy the challenge. And, if you were bold enough to admit it, you would say he derived pleasure from the arguments the two of you would get into. He would constantly fix you with that confident smirk, the one that told you he believed he was always one step ahead of you. And fuck, did it piss you off. And he was very much aware of that. He loved a good challenge and you were far different from any of the women he knew of.
He often wondered how far he could push you before you snapped.
And if his cocky behavior wasn’t enough to piss you off, it was how much of a blatant flirt he was. There was nothing more frustrating than someone arguing with you while flirting with you at the same time. And your constant refusal and rebuttal to his advances only seemed to fuel the fire.
The cover of night time became your one refuge, that was when you had an excuse to stay away from him. You could have the whole night to yourself and be free of him until the morning.
Usually.
Normally, you slept through the night. But for some reason your body woke you. It was either late at night or extremely early in the morning. No sunlight entered the room, it was still incredibly dark.
At first, everything appeared to be perfectly normal. That was of course until you noticed a figure seated in the chair by your window mere feet away. You immediately jumped and began to scramble backwards out of the bed, the sheets twisting around your legs and slowing you down.
It was the call of your name that made you freeze.
Namjoon was sitting in your room at an ungodly hour...watching you.
“Namjoon?” You hissed, pulling the sheets back up to your chin. “What the fuck are you doing?”
“I didn’t want to wake you.” He answered, pressing his palms onto the armrests and pushing himself up to stand.
“I really wish you would have.” You grunted, pulling the blanket around you even tighter. “Do you know how creepy you -”
“Two more women are dead.”
Silence.
“What happened?” You whispered, your fingers going limp.
“One woman was murdered late last night and the other an hour ago. It was a double event.” His tone was flat, completely absent of affect.
The three of you could only hold him off for so long, and it looks like he lashed out as soon as he was given the chance. Two women within the span of a few hours were killed, and you couldn’t help but feel like that was your fault.
No matter what you do, someone will die.
“What do we do now?” You asked, sullenly looking to him from your point on the bed.
“We have to go meet with the authorities.” He answered, distaste evident in his voice when he uttered the word ‘authorities.’
“Come, we don’t have much time.” He urged you, snapping the sheets back to the foot of the bed while pulling you up to your feet.
You stumbled as he tugged you forward, your head spinning from the sudden motion. You were struggling to see, your eyes still heavy with sleep despite the dreadful news you had heard. The feeling of his hands at the back of your nightdress certainly shocked you awake.
“What do you think you’re doing?” You snapped, smacking his hands away from you.
He appeared frustrated, his eyes dark and his face set in irritation at your refusal. “I just told you, we don’t have much time. All of the maids are still asleep, it’s far too early to call one of them for help and you certainly don’t know how to dress yourself.”
“I can manage on my own, I don’t need your ‘help’.” You argued, stepping away from him in an attempt to create some distance between the two of you. “You don’t know the first thing about women’s clothes anyways.”
His jaw tensed, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment before releasing an annoyed sigh. “Trust me I have undone a few corsets in my time, it’s not as difficult as you make it out to be.”
“And just as I said, I can dress myself I am not a fucking child.”
Before you could move his arm shot forward and his hand wrapped around your forearm tightly. Despite your struggling he yanked you towards him, his other hand gripping your elbow.
“As stupid and insufferable as you like to think I am, I know you are not from here.” He said, his voice low and dangerously quiet. “You don’t speak, act, or even walk like you are from here. The more you hide from me the harder this is going to be. You need help, now you can either be a brat and I have to force you to do as I say, or you can play along and we can get this done and get to work. It’s up to you.”
He had just told you he knew you were a time traveler without explicitly saying it. At least that was the way you took it. But the way in which he spoke to you did not seem to insinuate that he meant that you were a foreigner. Many of your interactions with him would have led him to believe you were from a different time and, not to mention, you had done a terrible job of hiding your phone from him the first day you arrived. You had done a poor job of concealing that from someone as smart as him.
“And what if I don’t want you to see me?” You tried one last time.
“It wouldn’t be anything I haven’t already seen.”
So, he was the one who had changed you the first day you had arrived in 1891. There were many red flags waving in the back of your head, and like an idiotic bull you had failed to recognize a single one of them. Some journalist you were, you had missed all of the finite details.
“Turn around.” He finally said, his voice firm.
And, with no other choice, you did. It was incredibly awkward on your end. Despite the attractiveness of your host, you had no desire for him to strip and dress you. Unfortunately for you, he did not care. You understood the urgency to leave and your little spat had already delayed your departure. But you were a person who valued your dignity and autonomy, you weren’t built to live in a society such as this one.
You tried your best not to focus on the feeling of his touch, but it was incredibly hard to ignore. Instead of touching you as little as possible, it felt like he took every chance to caress, graze, and linger on every inch of bared skin.
For a moment, all movement stilled. You were only halfway dressed, your corset exposing everything upwards of your chest leaving your collarbones, arms, shoulders, and neck on display. You shuddered at the sudden feeling of fingers smoothing over the column of your throat, not unlike the incident in Namjoon’s study.
He was absolutely quiet as he pressed his face into the juncture of your neck and shoulder, softly breathing in and out as his fingers continued to stroke the skin of your throat from left to right in a gentle, slow, sawing motion. Your heart was pumping frantically in your chest in what could only be described as fear. Your back was ramrod straight, a harsh line in comparison to the relaxed form behind you.
Why were you so afraid of him? It was like every nerve and muscle in your form was begging you to leap away and run for your life. But he wasn’t dangerous, right?
You jolted at the feeling of lips just brushing against your shoulder as he pulled away from you and finished helping you dress, far quicker than he had been before. His demeanor was suddenly resigned, professional, and cold. It was like he had suddenly mustered a sense of self control in mere seconds.
Who exactly was Kim Namjoon?
Said man was retreating in the direction of your bedroom door, his hand grasping the doorknob as he called over his shoulder, “Meet me out front, and please be quick about it.”
That was when a thought suddenly intruded your mind.
“Namjoon? How did you get into my room? The door was locked.”
He stiffened for a moment, his hand tightening around the doorknob causing the muscle to strain and his knuckles to whiten. He said nothing, his head jerked to the side for a moment like he was gesturing in disbelief.
He raised his head and stared at you, and then without saying anything, he left.
~~~~~~~
You stared at the face of your pocket watch, the delicate chain wrapped around your gloved fingers. The hands of the watch were still, the familiar ticking of the watch was silent. It was like time had completely stopped. And in a way, maybe it had.
The carriage halted to a stop spurring you to snap the watch cover closed and pin it back into place.
Your companion quickly exited and stood outside, reaching his hand out to you to help guide you from the compartment. Despite the sudden animosity between the two of you, you placed your hand in his own and allowed him to help you down. The layered skirts of your dress swirled around your ankles, they were heavy and made it hard to climb in and out of transportation. Begrudgingly, you managed to say your thanks between gritted teeth.
“Try to behave.” He whispered beside your ear offering his arm to you.
You hooked your arm into the crook of his elbow and allowed him to lead the way. If you had it your way you would be fifteen feet in front of him carving your own path through the East End. But, your lack of knowledge of Victorian etiquette had already managed to get you in trouble and the last thing that you needed was more trouble.
“Where are we going?” You asked, quickening your pace to match his long strides.
“The previous crime scene has already been cleaned up by the task force, but the one from this morning is still intact. I have been instructed to go over their findings as well as conduct my own investigation.” He explained.
“Alright, what can I do?”
“What you can do is stay right here.” He instructed, bringing the two of you to a stop at the mouth of a narrow alleyway. It was already blocked off, warning the public to steer clear of the area.
“You have to be kidding? You really expect me to wait here for you while you go and investigate? I don’t take kindly to being told to just sit and look pretty, Namjoon.” You glared.
Namjoon titled his head back and let out a sound of annoyance, his shoulders rising and falling dramatically with an exasperated sigh. “For once, will you please listen to me? This is an active investigation and I am asking you, a civilian, to stay put. I swear, I will tell you everything you need to know for your story, alright?”
Another bitter silence passed between the two of you. He knew you were incredibly dissatisfied with what he had said. But he was just as stubborn as you were, that being the reason the two of you butted heads so often.
He shook his head, jaw tensed with anger as he stepped away from you heading in the direction of the alley way.
“Stay put!” He called over his shoulder, waving his hand at you as he disappeared, his form melting into the darkness of the alley that had yet to see the glow of the early morning sunrise.
Now that, that pissed you off. You were not some dog that would obey his every command, the more he told you not to do something the more it made you want to do it.
You waited for a few moments, for his sake and for the very fact that it would piss him off that you refused to listen. You were an impatient woman, and you would be damned if you listened to a single thing he said.
The air was crisp and cool with the lack of sunlight, your breath fogging the space in front of you as you slunk down the dark alleyway. You could hear Namjoon’s voice echoing down the brick tunnel, he sounded enraged. There were several other voices attempting to speak over him, but they were evidently failing.
And then there was the smell, it was horrid. The cramped space was packed full of the scent, it was indescribable. The only prominent smell that was familiar was the tangy, coppery odor of blood thick in the morning air.
But what you hadn’t been expecting was that the body was still there, slumped against the ground haphazardly like it was nothing more than trash. An officer was still there, knelt down next to her body. He was prodding her flesh with a grimace, holding a handkerchief over his nose to block out the scent.
“Christ, she’s still warm!” He called out, jumping up to head back to the investigators while giving you a full view of the carnage laid out before you. “He could still be close by!”
Multiple sensations bombarded you at once. A scream was caught in your throat as your stomach began to churn from the sight before you. You raised a gloved hand to cover your nose and mouth as you leaned against the wall, your knees feeling weak.
It was bad, worse than you could have possibly imagined.
There was blood, more blood than you had ever seen in your entire life. And whatever it was that was laying before you just barely looked human. But the parts that did look familiar was what made it so unsettling, so wrong, so horrifying.
Namjoon was calling your name.
You were still in shock when he grabbed you, his hand cupping the back of your neck and forcing your face into his chest blocking the grotesque view you once had. His other arm wrapped around your shoulders, cradling you closer to him.
“Her...her face.” You stuttered, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes.
“Are you that inept at your jobs that you couldn’t keep a civilian from entering a fucking crime scene?!” He yelled over your head, his voice vibrating deep in his chest.
“I told you to stay put.” He mumbled, his lips pressed to the crown of your head while his thumb stroked the side of your face as you shook in his hold. This was the gentlest he had ever been with you.
You had never seen anything like that before. Whatever words he had spoken were falling on deaf ears, a sharp ring was echoing throughout your head, numb tears streaking your face and ruining his jacket.
You could feel his hands slide to the curve of your jaw, forcing your head up to look at him and only him.
“From now on, you listen to me, okay?” He said, his eyes darting over your face to make sure you were retaining what he was saying.
You weren’t sure what was more concerning to you. The fact that he was suddenly so gentle with you, or the fact that he paid no mind to the corpse mere feet away from the two of you.
There was something wrong with Kim Namjoon.
~~~~~~~
Whatever investigation Namjoon had managed to conduct during your moments of shellshock provided nothing new. The choice of murder was the same, albeit the brutality was by far the worst of all the victims before.
Her body had been warm indicating the perpetrator could still have been close by, but despite that knowledge the search parties could not find the culprit that had been described. There was no man covered in blood hiding in the shadows of the East End, he had disappeared like he had never been there in the first place.
A few days after the murder had taken place, Namjoon had informed you the killer had made contact. His face was grim as he described what had transpired. A letter and a parcel had arrived addressed to the taskforce, inside was what appeared to be a human kidney and a letter signed with a flourish, “Jack The Ripper.”
He was playing with them.
Your dreams were plagued with the memories of the sights you had seen that day in the early morning light of the alleyway. And instead of forcing you into submission, it made you angry. The initial sight had rendered you imobile, weak, and defenseless. You had never seen a human look like that. But with each dream you dreamt as the week melted away, you festered in guilt and rage.
Your fellow Victorian journalists had called him a monster, but you knew better. He was not a monster, he was a coward preying on women in the veil of darkness. Cowards harmed the weak and the defenseless, he was a caricature of a monster.
And you wanted nothing more than to rip the Halloween mask off of that faux monster.
This thought is what lent you strength as you and Namjoon reentered the East End, prepared to once and for all unmask the killer that had escaped the two of you.
You were dressed expensively, and rather salaciously, to blend in with the aristocrats around you. Namjoon and Claude appeared comfortable in the environment and it made you wonder if this had not been their first time attending an illicit party. Namjoon had explained to you before that he was often hired by government officials to do the jobs the police often failed to do, so it would not be unexpected if he had been there more than once.
You were bombarded by various sights that had you sticking close to your companions. When Namjoon said “illicit” parties, he meant it. The amount of illegal activities taking place was astounding. No matter where you looked, something was going on. Various partygoers were drinking unmarked liquids, inhaling unidentified substances, or swapping large amounts of money for some unknown service (although you had an inkling as to what they may be).
At one point in the night you had tried to locate a bathroom only for Namjoon to pull you away from the door you had attempted to open.
“I wouldn’t go in there if I were you.” He said with an all knowing, tight lipped grin.
“Really, and why not?” You asked, your hand resting on your cinched waist.
“I didn’t picture you as one for...group activities.”
“Group activities...there’s an orgy in there?!” You whisper yelled, frantically wiping your hand on your skirts with wide eyes.
Namjoon wheezed out a laugh, guiding you away from the room and back towards the center of the pseudo ballroom. “What can I say, this is a sinner’s paradise.”
“Sinner’s paradise, more like Chlamydia’s Palace.” You huffed, your cheeks hot.
Namjoon laughed again only to be stopped by the presence of his butler, Claude. His hand concealed his mouth as he whispered something to Namjoon. Whatever it was he said seemed to please Namjoon while also provoking an indescribable look to wash over his handsome features.
As soon as Claude stepped back, Namjoon spoke. “I need you to stay right here, okay? Don’t talk to anyone, don’t drink anything, just keep to yourself until I return.”
Your eyebrows pinched together in irritation and confusion, “But, Namjoon -”
“Remember what happened the last time you refused to listen to me?” He snapped, raising his eyebrows in emphasis.
You pressed your lips together, turning your head to the side. Yes, you did remember what had happened the last time you ignored his instructions.
Namjoon sighed, propping his finger under your chin and turning your head to look at him. “Please, trust me on this one thing.”
You thought to yourself for a moment, the last time you didn’t listen it hadn’t exactly gone well for you. This was just one thing he was asking of you after all of the things he had done for you, he was asking for just one moment of cooperation.
You lowered his hand from your chin and took a breath. “Okay, I trust you.”
A look of pure elation erupted on his face. He gave you a wide grin, his dimples deepening in his cheeks.
“I’ll be back.” He said before retreating into the crowd with Claude following close behind.
And then you were alone, but not alone for nearly long enough.
Your hands fiddled with the pocket watch your grandfather had gifted you as you walked, your head down and your gaze focused on the glass face of the watch. It was almost like everything had gone wrong after he had died and left it in your possession.
Far too distracted from your internal thoughts and the presence of the watch, you missed the incoming form barreling towards you. Within seconds you were knocked to the floor, the layers of your skirts luckily breaking your fall.
“Ah! Sorry, sorry, sorry, my bad! In a rush, I’m quite late I’m afraid.” The voice rushed out, a slight wheeze accompanying it as he appeared breathless.
You felt two hands grasp your own and carefully help you into an upright position.
“It’s fine, I’m fine.” You said, irritation clear in your tone.
“No really! Forgive me, it’s my mistake.” He said.
You adjusted your dress, making sure all of the important bits were in place before finally looking up to see who exactly this man was.
You were not expecting it to be him. Not at all.
“Grandpa?” You asked softly, taken aback.
It was him, he looked years younger than when you had last seen him, but it was him. You had gone through countless scrapbooks as a child and the face that was staring back at you was the younger version of the man that had raised you.
“What?” He laughed, his eyes crinkling as his shoulders shook.
Your gaze zeroed in on the chain of the watch clipped to his pocket. And, without saying a word, you pulled your own watch free and showed it to him.
All mirth completely left his body, like the flame of a candle being snuffed out. His lips parted in shock and distress as his eyes traced over his own initials carved into your watch. His hand patted his own chest frantically as he pulled the watch free and held it beside your own.
They were identical, down to every nick and scratch in the silver finish.
“How did you get here?” He asked, his voice low and serious in a way you had never heard before. “Did they send you?”
“Did who send me? Nobody sent me. I just woke up here, other people were living in my house and everything was gone.” You explained as he pulled you to a corner of the ballroom.
“This isn’t right,” He mumbled, flipping open his own watch. “You’re a time anomaly, there can’t be two of us here at the same time.”
“Two of us?” You echoed.
“Time travelers, dear, it runs in the family I’m afraid. What was I thinking about giving that to you without explaining?” He said, his words flying so quickly to the point that you were struggling to keep up.
“Then let’s leave, show me how to get out of here! There has to be a way!”
“You can’t just leave, you’re here for a purpose, you didn’t just come here by accident.” He said as a blue glow began to steadily thrum and pulse from his watch. “Oh no.”
“Oh no? What, what’s happening?”
“I have to go, I’m being called back. Whatever you do, you cannot change anything, do you understand? Who are you staying with, what have you done?”
“I haven’t changed anything that I know of. I’ve been staying with Kim Namjoon.”
His eyes widened as the watch began to pulse even stronger than before. “Kim Namjoon! Listen to me, you need to go, you need to get as far away as possible he -”
But before he could finish what he was saying he disappeared. It was like he had blipped out of existence, like he had never been there at all.
You spun around in a circle, trying to see if he was truly gone. All of the party goers did not appear to be phased, it was like they hadn’t seen a single thing that occurred. How was that possible? Fuck that, how was any of this possible?
All you knew was that you were going to follow his advice and get the fuck out of there and out of the East End.
You forced yourself through the thick crowds of people, pushing, checking, and elbowing away anyone that got in your way. You winced as one particular shove sent a whole glass of wine pouring down the cleavage and dress of one inebriated woman. It didn’t really matter though, you were sure she could afford another one with the way she had been slamming back drinks all night.
You threw open various doors in an attempt to find a way out, each time you were met with an increasingly more disgusting or disturbing sight. You didn’t even know some of those positions were possible for fuck’s sake.
Finally, when you threw open a door you were met with the smell of crisp, fresh air. A way out.
It was a slim alleyway of the East End, just barely illuminated by the crescent moon that hung in the pitch black darkness of the sky. A sudden sense of paranoia washed over you, the last time you were in an alleyway it had ended poorly. But you knew you didn’t have time to think about that.
Oh, if only you did.
The minute your heeled feet met the ground you were greeted with that all too familiar scent. There was blood nearby and lots of it. You could hear shuffling a few yards away, and you knew that you fucked up.
Your throat felt tight as you attempted to swallow, you were certain you could taste the blood on your tongue from how strong the smell was. And, when you finally turned to face whatever was in that alley, you were horrified.
A few yards away you spotted three figures, two on the ground and one leaning against the wall. And beneath the three of them, a crimson river steadily flowed through the cobblestone.
You took a step back, your heels scuffing the stone spurring only two of the figures to look up at you. A scream bubbled in your chest at what you saw. Claude was hunched over the figure of a woman, blood splattered over his face and down the leather apron he wore over his clothes. You could see bloodied tools in his grip as he settled back on his hunches, pausing his motions mid incision.
And then there was Namjoon, the once blank look he wore on his face suddenly lighting up with intrigue at the sight of you.
“Claude? Why don’t you take the lady home.” He spoke, gesturing to the corpse.
Claude looked between you and Namjoon for a moment, appearing conflicted. But he did not hesitate any longer as he scooped up the woman’s corpse and retreated down in the dark depths of the alley.
Namjoon was quick as he approached you, you barely made it a few feet away before he grabbed you by your forearms and pinned you up against the wall, hushing you as panicked cries parted your painted lips.
“I’m sorry, darling. But, I did tell you to stay put didn’t I?”
“Why?” You managed to say as you trembled in his hold, ugly sobs wracking your entire form.
“Women only want me for one thing I’m afraid. My money. I thought that maybe I could help those women who had nothing, that they could give me love in return if they didn’t know who I was. But they were just the same, motivated by money. I would give them my love and beg them to stop selling themselves but they just wouldn’t listen to me. Every single one of them failed my little test. They were greedy, and selfish. They didn’t deserve to be women. So, I hurt them just like they hurt me.”
You didn’t know what to do or what to say, you could only focus on the rising feeling of panic in your chest.
“I knew someone would eventually catch on to what was happening. But how ironic was it that they assigned me to the case out of all people? Those fucking investigators are so inept they never saw it coming. And Claude, well his loyalty was extremely helpful. If you don’t want to be caught, don’t commit the crime yourself.” He whispered.
“All I wanted was to give them my love, but each and every single one of them broke my heart. All of them except for you.” He said, pressing a kiss to your cheek that made you violently flinch.
“You were such a little spitfire, and when you showed up to my door I thought I was going to have to kill you on sight. But you proved me wrong, you’re the only one deserving of my love.”
A blue light suddenly lit up the space between you, the glow of the watch casting sinister shadows over the ripper's face.
Immediately he reached for the watch at the same time as you, and without much effort he wrenched the watch free from your hands and shoved you down to the ground. Your head met the stone first and on impact black spots blurred your vision.
The watch pulsed vibrantly in his hands, humming like a heartbeat. A wicked laugh shook his shoulders as he flipped the face open.
“So this is how you did it?” He asked, swinging the watch by it’s chain recklessly.
“Namjoon, don't’!” You cried, struggling to stand.
But it was too late. A feral scream ripped its way out of your throat as you watched him slam the watch into the ground and violently dig the heel of his shoe into it. The glass shattered, the metal bent, and the blue glow stuttered, weakly thrumming before fizzling out and plunging the alley into darkness.
The ripper stalked down the alley and stood over you, a viscous smile pulling at his cheeks as he slowly tilted his head to the side.
“Don’t look so surprised my love, there is only one way I’d ever let you leave me.”
#bts#bts namjoon#bts x reader#namjoon#kim namjoon#namjoon x reader#kim namjoon x reader#yander#yandere bts#yandere namjoon#bts fanfic#yandere namjoon x reader#yandere kpop#yandere bts x reader#bts rm#rm x reade#yandere rm x reader#jack the ripper au#victorian au
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Merit & Magic: Chapter One
Quick Note: Before this goes on, I’d like to say that I’m not just including one OC, but technically two in this story! One of them is the main character, and the other is just the name I chose to use for the prefect in Ramshackle Dorm. I hope it doesn’t confuse the storyline! If it does, I’ll see if I need to change it to Yuu or something to make things easier. Enjoy!
- Chapter One -
[ Mirror Chamber ]
08:35 PM - Friday
I turned to face the man who had spoken, seeing the headmage of Night Raven College greet me with a smile. His enigmatic nature, among other rumors about him, had reached even the small plot of land my family called home. Though we lived farther out from anyone we knew, I had learned lots of things about the famed Villain-themed school, and I was now standing within its walls. I was dumbfounded by everything, so I didn’t say much until he addressed me again.
“Allow me to introduce myself: I am Headmage Crowley. I trust you understand what’s going on now?”
I shook my head, partly to answer his question and partly to clear my head. I found my voice and said: “What am I doing here?”
He chuckled, “Since I’m such a generous teacher, I will explain. You were chosen by the Dark Mirror based on your talents and skill, as well as your comprehension and usage of magic. Now, if you would be so kind as to stand at the mirror, we’ll get you sorted into your dorm.”
Despite my protesting, I was brought in front of the aforementioned mirror. It stood ominously in the center of the room. If I hadn’t known more about Night Raven, I would’ve assumed this was all part of some sick ritual or cult initiation. Perhaps it was, and it hadn’t even been addressed. Regardless, I soon saw a face in the mirror, its features neutral enough. Yet somehow, it gave off the impression of being less than pleased to deal with me. The mirror’s voice boomed, its tenor reverberating in my chest with its words. “You who stand before us all, reveal thy name to me.”
I swallowed hard. There was no way I was going to do this, right? My heart said no, but my body acted on its own. I heard my own voice as if I was watching this all happen like a dream: “My name is Anne. Annemarie Cybele.”
I waited with bated breath as the mirror closed its eyes, making a not so subtle face while it processed my name. It muttered things inaudibly while we all waited, a silence forming in the chamber that felt almost suppressive. We all flinched as the chamber lit up in a golden flash, the mirror’s voice thundering out: “You will join Savanaclaw!”
I could hear my heart beating in my ears. That couldn’t have been right. Savanaclaw was the toughest dorm out of the ones available. The difficulty of the dorm wasn’t measured by intellect or wiles or charm alone. Savanaclaw measured its values by physical strength as well as craftiness and cunning. Sure, some of the other dorms were highly renowned, in terms of power and strength. Diasomnia was the top one for them, but it was not uncontested. The sheer unbridled power of the current students in Diasomnia could be blindsided by the might of Savanaclaw, if they weren’t careful.
Amidst the cheering and roars of the crowd, I could feel everything go blurry again. I guess I was still in shock from everything, because I soon found myself on the floor. Before long, I could feel someone lift me up, though I had no chance to object as I slipped out of consciousness again. I couldn’t tell who had picked me up, but I didn’t feel scared in their arms. In some weird way, I almost felt… safe. Whoever it was carrying me must’ve been someone I trusted more than anyone else around, for me to feel that way. That, or I was just stressed and overwhelmed from everything going on.
[ Infirmary ]
10:57 PM - Friday
When I woke up again, I found that I was in a soft bed. An ice pack was on my head where I fell, and I could barely move without feeling in pain. “This passing out and waking up is getting old,” I said to myself.
I sat up shakily, trying to figure out where I was now. From the medical stuff around me, I guessed I had been taken to an infirmary after passing out. As for who had brought me there, I wasn’t sure. All I knew was there were a couple of guys who had been sitting in a corner of the room, occasionally eyeing me until one of them realized I was awake. They were all still in ceremonial robes, so I couldn’t tell which dorms they were from. It didn’t take much to guess when they came to talk to me, though.
One of them with a diamond under his right eye smiled brightly at me, saying: “Wow, you’re awake again! You took a nasty fall during the ceremony. It’s all over Magicam now!”
Another with a club under his eye cut the diamond guy a look. “Can’t you tell she’s not feeling well, Cater? Have some compassion and maybe check on her instead of Magicam for once.”
Diamond Eye gave his friend a hurt look before being interrupted by a feminine voice to my right: “Cut it out, will ya? She just woke up. Give her some space.”
The two from before backed up, but Club Dude spoke up as they went to leave. “Sorry, we just wanted to make sure she was alright before heading back to our dorm.”
As he exited the infirmary, Diamond Eye said before being dragged along by his robes: “Besides, it’s not every year we get a student like her!”
Silence filled the room as I looked to my right, seeing who had sent those guys away. It was a female student, also in ceremonial robes. At her side was a cat-like creature, its forked tail and fiery-blue ears making me realize it was anything but a common feline. The female smiled at me, asking quietly: “You okay? I’m sure you’re all out of sorts from everything.”
I nodded, surprised at how normal she was compared to my previous company. She chuckled, “I remember my first time waking up here. I was just as confused, if not more so. I had no idea what all of this was or what I was even doing here. But, enough about me. You said your name was Anne, right?”
I nodded again, not feeling in the mood to talk. The female spoke instead, introducing herself and her company. “I’m Calliope, and this is Grim. We’re almost second year students by now, but I hope that doesn’t stop us from getting to know you better.”
She rested a hand over her clavicle as she spoke, brushing against a brooch I noticed at that moment. It was a ram’s head with a gray background. It wasn’t like any of the other insignias I recognized from what I knew of Night Raven. Was she from a completely different dorm?
I didn’t get the chance to ask as the creature she referred to as Grim exclaimed: “Haha, just you wait! I’m gonna show you just how great and powerful I am, and how I couldn’t have been here without Calliope. We’re kind of a team, even though I’m the leader!”
Calliope rolled her eyes, “Whatever you say, Grim. Aside from that, we can talk more when you’ve recovered and start learning how to operate here. In the meantime, we’ll let you rest. If you need anything, stop by Ramshackle Dorm. You’ll know it when you find it on campus.”
Grim sighed, annoyance in his features as he whined: “Ugh, do we have to wait to show off our skills? It’s been forever since the last time I got to use my magic!”
Calliope chuckled and gestured to the door. “C’mon, Grim. Let’s go to bed. We all could use some rest from tonight’s events. G’nite, Anne!”
With that, they left, and silence filled the room again. I laid my head back into the pillow on my bed. What was going on anymore? I wanted to cry and scream and punch a wall all at once, though I’m not sure that would’ve helped me feel better. I just didn’t understand. All of my hard work and the work of my family, and I got picked for Night Raven? There had to have been a mistake. It didn’t make any sense. We weren’t Villains at all, nor was I aware of any relations to such in my heritage. Surely this was some fluke or a stroke of bad luck, right?
I sighed heavily, feeling as if there was a weight on my chest. I couldn't answer any of the questions that were racing through my head at the moment, nor was I sure if I would be able to do so anytime soon. All I could do now was as Calliope said: rest and get my energy back. Then, when I was better, maybe I could find a way to escape or even ask the headmage to send me back to my family. If there was one thing I wouldn’t compromise on, it was becoming a Villain when I was raised to do the right thing. I didn’t belong in a school that taught people how to do evil things. Then again, Calliope didn’t seem too evil, and she was the closest person to normal that I had met so far.
My head reeled from everything I was thinking about, and I groaned. Laying back down, I closed my eyes. I just needed to rest, regardless of what was to come. I couldn’t face it all while I was drowsy and unwell. With a heavy sigh, I tried to forget everything and sleep.
I wish I could say that I had some horrible thing happen to inconvenience me, but I didn’t. The sleep I got that night was the best rest I had in a while. The staff that came in the morning to check on me were so polite, and breakfast was wonderful. After a medical exam, I was cleared to leave and found a campus-issued suit on my bed along with robes from the ceremony. I guessed that was their way of welcoming me to the school, although it was a bit cut-and-dry.
With a quick wardrobe change, I found my way out of the infirmary and into the main building of Night Raven. The ornate decorum that I saw while walking through the halls fascinated me. Even if I was sure I wasn’t meant to be here, I enjoyed what I was learning about the mysterious school.
Students traveled in packs of three or four, sometimes bigger numbers if it was a friend group or club. I could overhear bits of conversations as I walked on. I had no idea where I was going; truth be told, I was just going with the flow of the crowd I had gotten caught up in from the infirmary. Soon, I found myself in the cafeteria, the smells of pastry and savory meats making me smile. Whatever was cooking smelled fantastic.
In my distracted state, I bumped into a group of people. I dropped the things I had brought with me from the infirmary, hearing someone say: “Oop! Looks like someone wasn’t paying attention.”
When I looked up, I met the gaze of two guys: one with a heart over his left eye and one with a spade on his face. They reminded me of the two guys who had come to check on me the night before, so I wondered if the facial markings meant they were part of the same dorm. As I snapped out of my thoughts, I could hear Spade Face say: “Hey, you’re the student who passed out at the ceremony. Are you alright?”
I nodded, trying to find my voice as he helped me pick up my things. His friend chuckled, “What’s this? Loosey-Deucey’s flirting with the new girl?”
I raised a brow, displeased with the teasing. What I said next was polite, but my intent behind it was anything but; “Excuse me?”
Suddenly, a familiar voice joined in. “Hey, it’s her! Calliope, she’s out of the infirmary!”
I found myself face to face with Calliope again, which gave me some relief. She was the only one I found myself trusting at the moment, especially since I didn’t know who these other people were. Grim hovered nearby as Calliope spoke. “Hey, Anne! I didn’t realize they were gonna let you out today, but I’m glad to see you!”
I nodded to her, “Same here. Who are these jokers?”
The Heart Guy laughed, “Nice card joke there! I’m Ace Trappola. And, as you might’ve guessed from his nickname-”
Spade Face cut in: “Enough with that! My name is Deuce Spade. I’m sorry for his antics. What’s your name again?”
I introduced myself the same way I had at the ceremony: “I’m Anne Cybele.”
Ace rubbed the back of his neck while whistling. “Oh, I remember now. You got set up with Savanaclaw, right?”
Grim took on a look of distaste at the mention of that dorm. He crossed his paws in front of his chest; “So, you get stuck with the meatheads? Good luck with that.”
Calliope batted at Grim, “Knock it off! We all should know by now that Savanaclaw isn’t solely for the athletes on campus. They’re as crafty and sneaky as Octavienelle sometimes, given what we’ve seen before.”
Deuce nodded. “I’m just glad they don’t always put that to use, honesty.”
I shook my head, confused beyond belief. “I’m sorry, is there something I’m missing?”
Ace chuckled: “Ah, that’s right! You haven’t learned about the Overblot incidents and stuff that we’ve been dealing with.”
Calliope shrugged as she walked closer to me, “It’s not something to worry about; not now, anyways. You just got here, and I wouldn’t want to add to your confusion and shock. I’m guessing no one’s given you a tour or explanation of what happens here at Night Raven, so why don’t you join us?”
Grim cackled, “Yeah! We’ll show you the ropes and get you set on your way!”
I looked amongst everyone around me, seeing them all share a look of expectancy. With a head shake and a sigh, I asked: “What have I got to lose? Let’s go.”
They all exclaimed in excitement, and off we went to adventure; wherever that led us.
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◇ Bio ◇ Info About Me Below the Cut ◇
▪︎ Link to my ao3 ▪︎ Profile Picture by @slimeshade ▪︎
○ Fandoms - | ☆Hollow Knight | Rain World | Bug Fables | How to Train Your Dragon | Wings of Fire | Saiki K | ○
Basic Info:
- Call me Akira <3
- I'm 18
- I use It/Its Pronouns
- I'm AroAce
- I'm always very welcome to chat as well, just message me! Might take awhile to reply, but I will eventually!!
- Aside from writing, my other major hobby is crochet!! I do amigurumi (stuffed animals) 99% of the time, though, lol
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Tags:
- 'Akira yells into the void' - Personal tag.
- 'Akira scribbles' - Drawing and Writing.
- 'Flower Kitty Marigold' - My kitty <3
- 'Akiras Blorbos' - OC tag.
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Misc Info:
- If I don't wanna interact for any reason, I just block people. So it's pretty easy to tell if I don't want to interact.
- I swear a lot, so keep that in mind if you follow me.
- If you need me to add a tag to something, please don't hesitate to tell me! I'd rather have it tagged properly as soon as I can.
- If you tag me in a tag game, I probably won't do it, but I really really appreciate the tag regardless!! Makes me very happy to see qwq
- Feel free to tag me in posts you think I'll like, I don't mind haha. Dragons are a freebie <3
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And that's all :] Thank you for taking the time to read this! Hope you enjoy your stay <3
[ID: An image of two cats playing. There is an adult cat with white fur and patches of orange along the back and tail, and a kitten who is jumping on them, who is pure grey. The cats in the image are very blurry and caught in movement, with the shape of the kitten too blurry to make out.]
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#Akira yells into the void#Akira scribbles#Flower kitty marigold#<- Tags. Info in bio about them.#Httyd au#wof au#eldritch au#pokemon au#werewolf au#parahumans au#punk au#deaf saiki#scug saiki#iterator saiki#hk bugdragon au#hkrw au#hk bugdragon shiver au#<- my various aus
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Fluff Drabbles
☁️ Yoongi Fluff ☁️
warnings: poetically implied smut, slight Angst. Longing. Lil sprinkle of heartache and hopelessness.
word count 2.4k
A/N: Im purely publishing this on the notion that when sending this to my bestie @countingyoongis it made her "flip the soul she doesn't have" thought that was good enough reason. Anyways, enjoy!
“I’ll be here, waiting.”
Maybe it was the way you watched the world go by. Maybe it was the way you missed your family. A life constantly on the road never faired well for you. Sure, for him a decade on the road doing a job he loved with his best friends, never seemed to phase him. But countless birthdays and Christmases were missed, your family opening presents without you. You missed hearing your brothers argue about making your mother her tea. Your mothers laugh at the way your family dog would spin in circles; excitement racing through their body. Your friends who yearned for your company. Dissipated into the background that was your blurry life, travelling the world with the love of your life.
You felt empty when you were alone lately. Finding little joy in the things you used to. Plants withered and games unplayed; kept in boxes for you to deal with another time. The moments spent with him were the best moments of your life. The realest moments you could ask for. Sleepy flights where he would curl up into your side, cheeks rising like bread and heavy eyes as he mumbled incoherently to you. Moments you watched him on stage, giving his all. Even after injuries, falls, criticisms. You loved him all the while.
Even in the moments of early morning, before the sun graced the sky, you’d sit in silence, alone with your thoughts. Unable to find sleep while your boyfriend was counting sheep; mouth slightly agape with the odd snore. Sleeping in the foetal position as steadily moving hands without rhythm or agenda; fumbled through the sheets to find you. Interrupting your thoughts. You watching the world go by through a microscopic lens. Before he was pulling you against him and lulling you to a welcomed sleep.
Tours of Europe. Sight seeing under hidden cloak of masks and guards. The Eiffel Tower standing in prominence around a large garden park. Unable to hold him like you wanted to or to take that cliché photo of a stolen kiss in the foreground. The Temple of Zeus, looking out over the mountain top to the streets of Athens below at sunset. Casting oranges, purples and golds into the sky. Spending the moment together, but not how you wanted. Not how you craved. Walking the streets of Amsterdam, admiring the flowing water of the river Amstel. Bicycles with tinkling bells that adorned your ears. Quiet. Quaint. Light touches and feeble displays of watered-down affection. Pretending to be, nothing but friends. It was hard. There was no doubt. Being the secret girlfriend of one of the most famous K-pop idols in the world was gruelling; heart wrenching. Wanting just to be. Without stolen glances or whispers. To be with one another, regardless of consequence.
But in the night, when pretence of ‘just friends’ was disregarded; Thrown within piles of discarded clothes. He would hold you in exhilarating ways. Making your heart stop and run as if in tandem. On repeat. Forever. Light touches no longer feather like as strong hands smoothed hair from your face and lips connected with yours in passion so fierce your lips would pray to bleed. Pray to crumble apart under the sheer pressure. The weight of his own, cracked; against yours. Wanton and excruciating. Muffled groans of your name whittled into your skin as you would cry for him. In ways one could only imagine. Pressed against you so your skin would suffocate in his own. Hands held with dedicated influence as bodies mould as one.
But after all was done. Sweat cold to the touch as tangles of limbs tangled their way into crisp white hotel sheets instead. Held in the moment. Not wanting to let you go. Hands spearing through your hair as eyes glassy, stared deep into your soul. No words were uttered, only breath shared. Moments like this is what you cherished. Wistfulness overwhelming you. There was nowhere else in the world you would rather be. From the deepest depths of your heart, your soul belonged to him and him only. Though your mind; a woeful friend in your darkest moments and a constant shadow in joy, would often voice its unwanted thoughts of whether this was enough. Whether it was enough to live happily with him, but irrevocably without him. Happily in secret. But were you happy?
Never one to brandish your personal life on the highest billboards. A secret life seemed fine to you. But as time went on and appreciation was questioned. Affection shunted into the darkness. Your thoughts wandered into the unholy depths of your hell. A rabbit warren of twists and tunnels. Doubt. Jealousy. Questions of Self-worth. These thoughts followed you to every concert, as he would look out to see thousands of adoring fans. A gloomy cloud that hung over you. Over every cup of coffee, a faltering smile. Clawing at your chest in small bursts as you found yourself awake. Again. Silence for everyone but you as the warren would flood with hopelessness.
It was then he found you that morning. Light not even breaching the horizon as you sat, gazing into nothingness. The void that was your heart. Wholly consumed by him and the fear of losing him. The fear of him drifting away like the cherry blossoms floating along the river Amstel. A cursory touch found your restless form in the early hours. An incoherent mumble of your name as sleep filled eyes fluttered open delicately to look vacantly at you. Engaged with the sudden knowledge of your dazed state.
“Tink.” He mumbled. Affectionate nickname travelling through sheets to greet your troubled form.
“You’re awake?” he would ask.
You hummed non committedly as he shuffled closer to you. Hands on your thigh soothingly. In comfort as his dreary eyes assessed you. Planting one kiss on your thigh. Then a second. The lip-smacking sound donned with nothing but tenderness and contentment.
“What’s up? Tell me.”
No pretences could be grasped at here. No excuses as to why you looked sullenly into his eyes, shaking with contained emotions. He grabbed your small hand in his, squeezing it reassuringly; urging you to go on. You mustered every bit of strength within you to ask the question that toppled from your lips moments later and once you had, you realised everything would be brought to light and you could no longer hide in the shadows; the deepest caverns of your desires.
“Do you love me?”
Silence befell the room, his brows furrowed as he forced himself to sit up in front of you. Hand still in yours, unwavering; constant. A reminder of your tether to him.
“Of course I do, you know I love you. More than anything.” He mumbled, his hand smoothing over your messed head of hair.
Fingers placed on your jaw as his thumb soothed circles on your cheek. A kiss placed delicately, full of purpose on your forehead. Looking back into your hooded eyes as he ran his other thumb along your knuckles. Only your breathing could be heard within the room. Both calm and collected although, in the way that he looked at you, mirroring your upset. You felt yourself gasping for breath.
“Do you not feel loved?”
The words crumbled your refrain from showing your emotions. A rogue tear had slipped from your eye and he effortlessly caught it with the pad of his thumb. A small whimper sounded from your lips before you were enveloped into his arms. No words said as he held you. Held you until the world stopped spinning and everything stopped being overwhelming. Your face resting in the crook of his neck, his scent that brought you solace. Peeled oranges and coffee on a rainy Sunday morning. Keeping you calm as he held you in silence. His grip tight on you as if you would slip away, never to be found again.
A mumble of words. “I’m here. I’ll always be here. I’m so sorry.”
Silence.
“Please stay.”
Your heart broke at hearing his words. Hearing his silent worry for you. The same worry you had been holding in for months. Lingering at every grace of his hand. Every kiss. Would it be the last time you would feel his lips against yours? The last touch? The last time you’d see his endearing smile; all gums and not much else. All the while he felt the same. Fleeting glances your way to make sure you were still with him. By his side. Would it be the last time he could run his fingers through your hair? The last kiss pressed to your skin in the dark of the night? He craved all that was you in every waking moment. In his sleep he would hold you close to him like his most prized possession. He pushed everyone away apart from the boys and you. You stayed. You stayed for him. Now he felt everything falling apart.
Never hearing your reply, just broken sobs as he could feel tears threaten to spill from his own eyes. Finally parting from you. He gazed into your eyes, puffy and sad from crying. Something he had only seen you do once before.
“I don’t know.”
He felt his world cave in. was it not enough anymore? Just to love you? In any way that he could? In that moment he cursed his job for not letting you be. For you both to just be, in love. Happily. Healthily. Openly. He knew how much it hurt to never hold hands in public. Confined to closed hotel rooms and dark alleyways where he would steal a kiss. A need he had been carrying with him the whole day. Smiling as he would finally feel your lips against his. Bracing you against an old brick wall. Unjudging and unyielding like his love.
“I miss my home. My family. My friends” You began to stutter, feeling your emotions drown you as you tried to swim your way to the surface for breath.
“Yoongi, I love you but I don’t think I can love you in secret anymore. Not when I’m on my own.”
He heard your heartfelt words wretch through his chest. Like a sincere punch straight to his gut. Precise but untamed. Thoughts rushed to mind in all the ways he could keep you here, with him. Get you to stay. Every idea falling flat as he looked at your face. Now tear stained cheeks and furrowed brows. Flushed and hopeless. Not knowing where else to turn. Being forced into a decision you never wanted to make.
“Okay...I love you, but okay.” He said solemnly, admitting defeat.
His words shocked you, just like that, it was over? He saw the shock and sudden hurt on your face before he continued; practically straddling you now as he pressed both of his hands to cup your face.
“Don’t think for 1 second I’m letting you go that easily. I fucking love you and I can’t risk losing you.” He nuzzled his nose against yours before kissing away your tears. Kissing your closed eyelids before kissing your temples then down to your nose. Finally landing a firm solidifying kiss on your lips.
“I’ll let you go on 1 condition.” He looked into your eyes. Searching for something in them. Something to soothe his aching heart.
Your eyes fluttered to meet his, no more than a couple of inches away. Eyes silently urging him to continue.
“Come back to me, please?” you could hear his voice break and you could feel your heart tearing in two. Tearing away from the cavity it once called home in your chest. You knew in that moment, the way his eyes searched yours, bed head bordering on crazy with dark strands falling into his eyes. He looked at you with adoration and hope. Love and kindness. Your heart belonged to him and only him. A sob wracked your bones as you nodded, barely containing the urge to kiss him as you pulled him against you. He kissed back fervently. Your hands quickly hanging from the nape of his neck as his hands splayed out across your ribs. Pulling your heated skin against his own. Mouths moving as one with desire and wanton need to be with one another. Never to part. His lips, mumbled against yours, once. Twice. Before-
“I’ll fix this. All of it. No more secrets. I just want to be with you. Completely.”
You nodded in agreement to his statement, chest constricting at sudden emotions you had been holding back that rapt against your chest, begging to be set free. Lips connecting again and again as hands wandered and grabbed at one another. You found him above you as you familiarised yourselves within the sheets. Holding one another so close; breathing each other in. you chuckled dryly as he rolled off of you, breathing laboured as he glanced your way, meeting his eyes. Swollen lips from kissing, his tongue sliding over the seam of his lip before a small smile graced his features. Close mouthed but sincere.
“I just need to go home. Then I’ll come back.” You encouraged him.
You looked at him, looking at you. White sheets, meeting his pale skin. Old t shirt hanging off to the right slightly, showing cool expanse of collar bone and his necklace you got him that one time he had been staring at it when you visited an old street market in Spain. Even though he said he wasn’t; repeatedly but still smiled like the lovable dork when you presented him with it later that day. Dark eyes, still ebbed with sleep lingering in the corners; were shining and strands of dark hair graced his forehead, grazing his eyebrows slightly. His lips, parted with the odd swipe of his tongue for moisture. Hand appearing from under sheets to flourish the back of his knuckle against your cheekbone. Stealing a quick kiss on it as it passed your lips.
“I promise.” You whispered; afraid the word would be cursed if uttered at any greater volume.
A light began peering through the crack in the hotel room curtains, signalling the sun rising and a new day beginning. The light; feasting upon his form. Illuminating a profile of his face in golden light; basking in it. You were enamoured and ardently consumed by all that was him. In every lifetime. For the rest of your life time. You were his. He was yours.
Taking your hand in his, he kissed it once. “I’ll be here…Waiting.”
© sunnysidejoon - 2021 - do not repost on any site, or translate without express permission from author.
Hope you guys enjoyed! I take requests so please do ask 😊
Love Always
Mac 🧡💜
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birthday prince (3)
summary: virgil decides roman deserves a day off.
words: 2,100 / ship: prinxiety (roman/virgil)
author’s note: this is part three of my Giving The Gay Anything He Wants series for roman’s birthday (june 4)! all ships are written implied romantic but i’m not stopping you from interpreting it otherwise. check the end notes on ao3 for credit on these gifts (bc i don’t know where to put them in this post)! i hope you enjoy!!
part 1 (roceit) | part 2 (logince) | part 3 (prinxiety)
part 4 (royality) | part 5 (dlampts)
read on ao3
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“Best two out of three.”
“I thought this was a birthday gift!”
“Yes and?”
“So why don’t I automatically get to pick the first movie?”
“Because I know you’re on a princess kick and full offense, if I have to deal with a talking animal as the comedic relief sidekick, I might actually die.”
“... Okay. Fine, okay, that’s fair.”
“On shoot.”
One, two, three, shoot — Virgil’s scissors versus Roman’s paper meant that the birthday boy did, in fact, not get to pick the first movie. He feigned upset for only a few moments longer before flopping back into their pillow fort. He supposed, given all the hard work Virgil had put into this, he could put up with one non-princess Disney film.
Earlier in the day, Virgil had rather unceremoniously kicked Roman out of his own room, claiming he had something important to do. Were it not for how close they’d grown, Roman would have been upset and suspicious; he trusted Virgil now, though, and knew that nothing would go wrong. He’d spent an hour playing cards with Logan and Patton before Virgil shouted for him from upstairs. When he’d arrived back to his room, it looked almost unrecognizable. It was mostly illuminated by fairy lights, providing a cozier feel than what he was used to; the floor to ceiling windows looked out into a rainy forest instead of the usual rolling hills; his bed had been turned into a truly impressive collection of blankets, pillows, cushions, and stuffed animals. The canopy had been removed which bothered him a little but only until he realized the projector that had been set up, pointing at the ceiling. There was a basket at the foot of the bed, filled with snacks and bottled drinks. Roman figured they could stay here for the next twenty four hours and be perfectly fine.
Surrounded by what was possibly every soft thing to be found in the Mindscape, Roman clutched Mrs. Fluffybottom to his chest as Virgil got the movie set up. She’d been his favorite plushie for the entirety of his existence; he’d taken her on many adventures over the years but she’d comforted him through a number of breakdowns too. He swore there was actually something magical about her.
Virgil threw himself down next to Roman; he had swapped out his usual hoodie for one that was fully dark purple and had even longer sleeves. After Roman had stopped gawking around his room, Virgil had tossed a sweater at him. It was so bright it was practically neon but it was rainbow print and he loved it. He’d immediately changed out of his t-shirt and had grabbed Virgil in a tight hug. Roman definitely intended on starting a sweater paw fight at some point during their movie marathon.
“You good with Hercules?”
“No comedic relief sidekicks, huh?”
“Phil is not a sidekick!”
“What? Are you trying to tell me right now that Philoctetes is a main character? You can’t say he isn’t comedic relief! He gets hurt just for laughs way too often!”
“No! I mean. Maybe?”
Roman laughed, bumping his shoulder against Virgil’s. “Whatever, you dork. Of course I’m good with it. You could have picked The Black Cauldron and I would’ve been good.”
“Talking animal. Comic relief. Sidekick. Gurgi checks all of those boxes. I would’ve been going against my own word.”
“Hmm, fair,” Roman said, humming a little.
As the Muses began singing them through the opening, Roman took a moment to appreciate everything Virgil was doing for him. The basket of goodies was stocked with every one of Roman’s favorite snacks, including enough chocolate to make him sick. In fact, it’d been the first thing he’d decided on, before Virgil could even tell him what the plan for the day was. Not that it was really much of a plan, anyway. Today specifically had been set aside just for Virgil to spoil Roman however he wanted. That apparently meant marathoning Disney movies, napping as much as they pleased, and eating all the junk food they wanted. It was a far cry from how Roman usually spent his time; what with all of the projects he was constantly juggling, or the content he had to help Thomas produce, or the issues to take care of in the Fantasy Realm. He didn’t really realize even how hard he was always working.
Apparently, however, Virgil had.
Something was shoved into his face, startling him out of his thoughts. He shot a glare at Virgil, who was watching the movie and acting totally inconspicuous. The item turned out to be a stuffed dragon, one he didn’t recognize from his usual pile of plushies. The scales were shimmery, a nice ombre of purple and blue shades, the wings were tucked against the body, and… Holding his hand against the stomach was warmer than the rest, as if it had a belly full of fire. That was so cool! He squeezed it tight in his arms and went back to watching the movie, feeling even comfier than before.
With the credits rolling, Virgil ushered them both out of bed and into a couple minutes of stretching.
“I’m not having you complain to me later on when your bones start creaking.”
“You make it sound like I’m so old, Virgil!”
“Older than me,” Virgil teased. He ducked out of the way of a thrown cushion. “Oh, is that what we’re doing?!”
Roman took a face full of pillow and suddenly it was on. He couldn’t begin to guess how long they fought for, darting around the room and over the bed, swinging their feather-filled weapons at each other. He did know that by the time he collapsed on the floor, he was breathless with laughter. Virgil was so far gone that he’d dissolved into alternating between wheezes and complete silence. Eventually, they did manage to get back into their nest of blankets, though there was plenty of shoving, poking, and tickling as they did so.
“I dunno if I’ll make it through this next movie so pick one that I won’t mind falling asleep during.”
“You besmirch the name of Disney if you think there’s a single film boring enough to allow that!”
“You dozed off the first time we watched The Good Dinosaur.”
Roman spluttered. “I had just come back from a week-long quest! And that’s Pixar!”
Virgil actually cackled. “You can’t pull that excuse! Disney owns Pixar!”
“Stop bullying me,” Roman cried, “it’s my birthday!”
“It’s two days before your birthday, actually, so I can bully you all I like.”
“I’m picking The Black Cauldron, then! See how you like dozing off during your favorite movie.”
It perhaps hadn’t been his best choice. With Virgil snuggled into his side, warm and soft, the sound of his even breathing accompanying the utter lack of any songs… Well, Roman really didn’t last much longer. They found each other in the Dreamscape. Edges were fuzzy, sounds were muffled, and touch was electric. The Dream Palace was a blurry shape in the distance, attracting his attention every so often when its crystal spires caught the light. Virgil sort of just appeared, as if created from the colors of the setting sun. Roman had a feeling he was made of the field of flowers he’d woken up in.
“I like it here,” Virgil said, sitting down next to Roman.
“Remy does a nice job with it,” Roman agreed, slowly picking daisies and dandelions to weave into a crown.
“You do, too,” Virgil argued. “You have a hand in almost everything, you know.”
Roman frowned at him. “I do not.”
“Yes, Ro,” Virgil insisted, “you do. The Memory Archives look the way that they do because you and Logan watched one episode of Doctor Who together and had the inspiration to redesign.”
Roman chuckled, a little nervously. “I guess.”
“Memory Lane doesn’t hurt Patton because it knows better than to hurt anyone you love. It might be connected to him and his room, but you’re the one that created that safety net.”
“Virgil…” Roman tried, voice slightly strangled.
“I just need you to know how important you are. You aren’t told enough.”
“It’s fine—”
“You’re important, Roman. You matter. You make a difference.”
Roman finally stopped trying to tie together the stems of the flowers. Virgil took his shaking hands into his own and held them tightly. It was just enough that Roman could actually feel it versus the tingly sensation that the Dreamscape normally worked with.
“We love you. We appreciate you and your hard work.”
If it weren’t for that everything around them was already blurry, Roman might not have noticed his vision swimming when tears filled his eyes. It was hard to not know suddenly that he was crying, though, regardless of how physically present he was in this space.
Virgil let go of his hands and instead, cradled his face gently. “I know I go against you sometimes but in the long run, I want you to be just as happy as you make the rest of us.”
He waited a moment longer before smiling and squishing Roman’s cheeks. Roman giggled a bit in response. Virgil gave him two careful pats before pulling away. Picking up the flower crown Roman had abandoned, he set to work on finishing it. Roman wiped his tears away and sat still in the sunshine, content to simply let himself soak it up until he was completely warm from the inside out.
When they woke, the screen projected onto the ceiling was displaying a screensaver of 3D pipes. The forest outside the windows had been replaced with a cliffside view of the ocean. Virgil stirred next to him, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He absentmindedly pressed a kiss to Roman’s cheek before getting out of bed. He was gone for a little while, during which Roman found two more plushies that he didn’t recognize. They were a gryphon and a lion, both extremely soft to the touch, and with fierce expressions that reminded Roman of how Virgil looked when he was in fight mode. He wondered how these new stuffed animals kept sneaking into his collection but he certainly wasn’t complaining.
When Virgil returned, Roman burst into laughter, because yes, he supposed there was no chance of sneaking that one into the pile.
“There won’t be any room for me in bed, Virgil!”
“Guess you better get used to sleeping on the floor then,” Virgil said, dropping the massive Simba plushie on top of Roman.
This just made Roman laugh harder. The fabric on this one was fluffier than on the others, something he could sink his fingers into if he wanted. It was nearly as big as him, or maybe it just felt like that right now since it was smothering him. Before he could move it, though, Virgil sank himself down onto it as well.
“Virgil!!” Roman gasped between snickers. “Get off, you fiend!”
“Hmm…” Virgil hummed, pondering. From where he was laying, he could just barely look directly into Roman’s eyes. This made it all the funnier when he finally decided, in the most deadpan tone, “nah.”
After some wrestling, which led to them both falling out of bed and Roman bumping his elbow and howling for five minutes about his funny bone before Virgil kissed it better, they were finally settled back in to continue their movie marathon.
They watched Moana, Tarzan, and, Mary Poppins before sleep began to take them once more. Seeing as the sun had sunk below the sea quite some time ago, it was safe to assume it was late enough to call it a night.
“I got you…” Virgil paused to yawn. “Got you one more thing…”
“Vee—”
“‘S not much.” He held out Mrs. Fluffybottom for Roman to take. “I just… I made it so that she can never be hurt.”
For a moment, Roman’s lethargy was chased away by astonishment and surprise. He could feel the enchantment just from holding her, though it was passing by the second as the magic was fully absorbed.
“I know you… take her on adventures a lot. Fightin’ bad guys ‘n stuff.” Virgil shifted further into the blankets as sleep continued to take hold on him. “Wanna keep her safe. Know you will, anyway. But jus’ in case.”
Roman rolled onto his side so that he was facing Virgil. He kept the bunny plush tucked between them and took one of Virgil’s hands in his. “Thank you…”
“Love you. Happy birthday, princey,” Virgil told him, papping him once more on the cheek.
Sleep settled over them quickly after. Roman would wake in the morning, feeling more secure and warm than he had in quite some time, surrounded by plushies and Virgil’s arms, and know that he had so much to be grateful for.
#sanders sides fan fiction#prinxiety#prinxiety fan fiction#roman sanders#virgil sanders#gifts for roman's bday#dani writes
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I like the concept of a yandere bathing their darling. It's the extra layer of vulnerability that's spine-chilling and humiliating for the darling, to say the least. I'm curious to know what this scenario would be like with Ochako and Katsuki, if that's alright. They're a sweet pair, after-all. "What could go wrong"?
These two really are one of my favorite pairs, if only because of the ‘friendly rivalry’ they’d have when it comes to their Darling. And grooming is just so symbolic… it’s impossible to resist, honestly.
TW: Unhealthy Relationships and Psychological Abuse.
~
It must’ve been Ochaco’s idea.
She was always the one who came up with these kinds of things, activities and gifts so coddling, they never failed to leave a bitter taste in your mouth, regardless of how much you cared for your partners. Katsuki wasn’t better, changing the apartment’s locks twice a week and leaving another hidden camera in your room every other day, but he gave you distance when you asked for it, and he didn’t push when you put your foot down. Ochaco didn’t push either, honestly.
No, she didn’t push. You were sure of that.
When you tried to put up barriers with her, she shoved.
That was how you ended up displaced and bared and curled into yourself, your knees pulled into your chest despite the warm water that surrounded you. Her bath was massive, circular and tiled, giving its occupants more than enough space to sit apart, and yet, Ochaco insisted on slotting herself against you, her chest pressed against your back and her legs on either of your sides. Her hands alternating between massaging your shoulders and tracing aimless patterns into your skin, the line between the two actions becoming more and more blurry with each passing second. A collection of Katsuki’s expensive soaps and products sat less than an arm’s length away, but they went unused. You couldn’t delude yourself into thinking her goal was cleanliness, anymore.
She hummed, lightly, but stopped as you both heard the front door of her apartment unlock. You tensed further, moving to push yourself up, but Ochaco only crossed her arms over your midriff, keeping you pressed against her as she spoke. “He’ll find us,” She assured, nuzzling into the back of your neck absentmindedly. “Give me a few more minutes, angel.”
You didn’t answer, but you didn’t resist, biting the inside of your cheek and listening to the distant sounds of rummaging and muttering. It must’ve been a bad day, but you weren’t surprised. Every day was a bad day, when you had a temper as easily affected as Katsuki’s. “He sounds angry,” You mumbled, for lack of a better response. “We should greet him. It’ll cheer him up.”
Ochaco didn’t indulge you with an argument. Instead, she held you tighter, keeping you held against her until the bathroom door swung open, knocking against the nearest wall with a sudden, unnerving thud. Katsuki only hesitated for a moment, giving himself time to sigh and shake his head before making his way towards you. Ochaco glanced over him as he rolled his sleeves, but she only bothered breaking the silence once he was seated on the edge of the tub, his glower just beginning to burn into your form. “Rough day, buttercup?”
“Fuck off, round face.” His tone was stern, harsh, but he was gentle as he ran his fingers through your damn hair, combing it out the knots like it was second nature. It was relaxing to him, you guessed, it must’ve been. No one would do something they didn’t enjoy with so much care. “You know I had to deal with that fucking terrorist attack alone, today. If things were a little rough, it’s only because someone couldn’t get off their lazy ass and help.”
Ochaco leaned towards him, narrowing her eyes, but you interrupted before she could respond. “There was a terrorist attack?” You asked, perking up. Ochaco’d been home since you woke up, but she hadn’t mentioned anything. You weren’t allowed to watch the news when she around to catch you, either. “Where? When? Did anyone get hurt? Uraraka, why didn't you--”
You were cut off by Ochaco’s laugh, unstifled and obvious. Like she didn’t care whether or not you heard. “We agreed you’d stop worrying about that kind of thing when you stopped working,” She said, squeezing your side playfully. “Don’t get too excited, now. You’ll give the poor boy a heart attack.”
“I can still worry,” You countered, glaring over your shoulder. “I’m not a hero anymore, but that doesn’t mean I stopped caring about human lives. If there’s another villain group trying to rise up, I have the right to know about it.”
Katsuki was the one to grin, this time, a low chuckle seeping its way through pursed lips. He made an attempt to hide his disapproval, but it was half-hearted, only furthering the pang of hurt that ran through your chest. For a moment, you considered voicing your discontent, but with how sad it would make Ochaco and how angry Katsuki would get… it wasn’t worth it. You didn’t have the energy for another screaming match. “No, you can’t. ‘Human lives’ aren’t what’s important, not anymore. Call it a compromise.” His hand left your hair, dropping to your chest, barely skimming over your collarbone before rising back to your chin, catching your jaw in a tight, firm hold between his forefinger and thumb. You grimaced, attempting to jerk out of his hold, but Ochaco caught your shoulders, draping herself over you and keeping you in place. She was exposed, uncovered and on-display, but you were so much more exposed than she was, so much more vulnerable. You always were, when you found yourself pinned between her and Katsuki.
“You get to stop caring about everything that goes on out there-” He spat the words, as if the world outside of their apartment was something to be feared. A danger you should be thankful to be free of, rather than a burden you desperately missed carrying. “-and we get to make sure you don’t trip over your own feet and crack your fucking skull open. Everybody wins, yeah?”
“And it’s so stressful to have our baby fretting over every little thing.” Ochaco was on her knees, by now, kneeling as she made herself comfortable in the crook of your shoulder. “We’re the heroes, and you’re our favorite little cheerleader. If you’re going to be stubborn and focus on something you don’t have a say in anymore…” She trailed off, straightening her back. You could feel her smile press into the top of her head as she looked towards Katsuki. “We might have to tie ‘em up after all, Bakugo. Just like you wanted.”
Katsuki flushed, stuttering out something embarrassed and incomprehensible, but you went place, Ochaco’s remark serving as a grim reminder to the reality of your relationship, to the real reason you stayed, even with Katsuki’s paranoia and Ochaco’s pampering, her coddling, her baths. It was a joke, you knew that, a reminder of an off-hand comment Katsuki must’ve made once or twice, but there was a gnawing, lasting feeling that you shouldn’t try to test your theory. That you should behave, before one of them thought of something worse than petnames and misinformation.
While the two were still bickering, you took Katsuki’s hand, moving it to your cheek and leaning into it. “You’re right,” You admitted, your scowl softened into a meek, submissive frown. A frown Katsuki could tolerate. “I’m… I’m being immature, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t bring it up, especially when you two work so hard to keep me safe. That’d just be ungrateful.”
Katsuki smiled, and Ochaco nodded, stripping you of what was left of your defenses. They’re both so pleased with the development, they don’t even notice it.
The water had gone cold minutes ago.
#yandere#yandere love#yandere x reader#yandere x you#yandere prompt#yandere imagines#yandere scenerio#yandere oneshot#yandere drabble#yandere boku no hero academia#boku no hero academia#bnha imagines#boku no hero academia imagines#yandere boku no hero academia imagines#my hero academia#my hero academia imagines#yandere my hero academia#yandere my hero academia imagines#yandere bnha#yandere kachaco#bakugou x reader#yandere bakugo#yandere katsuki#katsuki x reader#yandere bakugou#bakugo x reader#yandere uraraka#yandere ochaco#ochaco x reader#yanderecore
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foreign affairs | part three | d.c.
m. de lafayette x reader
summary: In 2020, Representative Y/n L/n is up for reelection. Lafayette, Y/n’s former best friend and current French socialite and playboy, decides this is the time to walk back into her life.
word count: 5.3k
author’s note: this is the last chapter of this series! it’s been so much fun writing this for you guys, hope you’ve enjoyed it. fair warning, this chapter/ending is pretty melancholic.
trailer | previous
Although his grandmother had wanted him to be, Lafayette wasn’t Catholic.
Like any other Parisian, he might attend a special Christmas or Easter service, but he wouldn’t call himself a Catholic. His grandmother had always wanted him to be more devout in his faith. Since his father had died when he was young and his mother was a young woman just starting off her political career, his grandmother raised him for the most part.
She was an organist and would play for different churches every weekend, never finding a church she liked well enough to stay very long. His grandmother had even taught Lafayette to play a few songs. At one point, she had bought Lafayette a crucifix on a chain to keep with him.
It wasn’t one of those cool, sleek chains you would see people wearing proudly. It was a silver chain with dark beads on it, something you might see an old lady wearing. A silver chain with a tiny Jesus on a tiny cross. He had lost it almost immediately.
Lafayette had always had a habit of misplacing items. In high school, he had conveniently lost his homework on multiple occasions. He was always losing just one half of a pair of socks. Could you imagine how stupid he looked walking around with one black sock and one white sock on? He couldn’t even remember how many times he had woken up hungover with no idea of where his wallet or keys were.
The point is, Lafayette was a grown man who was used to losing things. Yet, no matter how many items he lost, he still wasn’t prepared to lose Y/n.
And yes, he knew it was all his fault. Everything seemed to be his fault these days. Lafayette wasn’t even denying that he had made another huge mistake. What kind of idiot sleeps with the secretary of the girl he was in love with? Seriously, why did I write such an idiot?
It had been eight years since Paris. After all this time, Lafayette was just as proficient at destroying his relationship with Y/n as he had been when they were younger. You would think that he would learn from his mistakes, or Y/n would have been able to forgive him, but no. Maybe they were young and stupid then, but they were still very much young and very much stupid.
Lafayette had made a stupid decision. If it hadn’t been clear to him the night before, it was blatantly apparent to him the next morning while Sybil was getting dressed.
“Last night was a mistake.” He cringed at his words as soon as he said them. Last time he had woken up next to a girl and told her it was a mistake, it didn’t go so well.
“Not in a bad way, I mean,” Lafayette quickly amended. “I am sorry, was that rude to say?”
Sybil gave him a look that he couldn’t quite read. “No, it’s alright. I agree with you.”
“You do?”
“Yes,” she nodded, “it was unprofessional, and by the looks of it, it didn’t help you get whoever she is off your mind.”
Lafayette rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, looking at the bed or the floor or the window or at anyone but her. “You are right. I just... Anyway, this can’t happen again.”
“No, never. It was a bad idea to begin with,” Sybil muttered.
There was a silence that fell between them, neither of them knowing what to say until Lafayette awkwardly said, “I’ll see you around, then.”
“Right, right. Are you going to Congresswoman L/n’s election night party?” It was more of a way to fill the silence than actual curiosity.
At the reminder of Y/n, Lafayette had to stop him self from outwardly groaning, but he couldn’t help but grimace. If things with her hadn’t been messed up before, they definitely would be now.
“I should attend that, shouldn’t I? I’m just not sure Y/n will want me there.”
“You are a major donor,” Sybil pointed out. “It would make sense. If you and the Congresswoman don’t get along, why do you come around the office so often and make contributions?”
He didn’t even know how to respond to that, and his silence was telling. Suddenly everything clicked for Sybil. The frequent visits to Congresswoman L/n’s office. The disappointment on his face when she had told him Y/n specifically didn’t want to talk to him. The woman Sybil had asked him about last night. The way he called her by her first name.
“Oh no. The woman you’re in love with is Congresswoman L/n, isn’t it?” Sybil pieced it together.
Lafayette’s mouth hung open silently, his eyes told her she was correct.
“I never would have kissed you if I had known. I never would have done a lot of things with you if I had known. My boss? Please tell me I’m wrong about this.”
“You’re not.”
She groaned. “And it was so obvious, wasn’t it?”
“It’s obvious?”
“Of course! How did I not realize until now? I don’t want to get in the middle of anything, I just didn’t know.”
“You’re not getting in the middle of anything.” Lafayette shook his head. “I ruined any chance I had with Y/n long before last night. I really think she wants me out of her life this time. I should get on the next plane back to France, shouldn’t I?”
“Are you asking me, your one night stand, for advice?” Sybil said. “Not going to lie, this is a first for me. You’re going to miss the election night party if you leave.”
“Does it matter if I go to this event? Y/n doesn’t want to be with me, showing up to a party isn’t going to change that.”
“Look,” Sybil said firmly, “if you really love her, does it really matter if she wants to be with you or not? If you love her, you should want what’s best for her and her career, even if that means she still doesn’t want to be with you.”
He bit his cheek and thought her words over. “I get that, it’s just...”
“It’s your decision. Regardless of whatever happened between the two of you, she could use your support at the election party. Think about it, okay?”
John Adams was going to win the race, he had been ahead in the polls for weeks now. Thomas Jefferson had run an admirable campaign, well, as admirable as a campaign could be that outwardly trashed congress members in the media. Y/n never took his insults personally, even though she knew Jefferson wanted her to.
Tonight she wasn’t going to let thoughts of Jefferson get her down, even though the news anchors on the television would continuously bring him up. Tonight was going to be a big win for the Democratic party. Jefferson was trailing Adams in electoral votes, and there were only a few states left to be accounted for.
Y/n has spent most of the night talking with voters and showing off some of her bartending skills at the venue they had rented out for the election party. She was having a lively conversation with a single-mom when Lafayette walked in the door. Suddenly, it was like she had tunnel vision. Everyone else was dark and blurry, but everything about Lafayette seemed to be vibrant and in focus.
Since the last time she had seen him, Y/n had been doing her best not to waste her time thinking about him. Not that it was an easy task to do, Lafayette had a way of being memorable. Still, Y/n had bigger things to focus on than an old flame.
Now election night had finally rolled around. No politician was bothering Y/n because they were too focused on the presidential election or their own reelections. And at this time at night, the polls in Y/n’s district had closed. There was no more campaigning she could do at this moment, so she had nothing to distract her from her former best friend who was staring at her from the other side of the room.
Saying a brief apology to the woman she was talking to, Y/n began weaving her way through the crowd until she was standing a foot a way from Lafayette. Her red lips formed a cordial smile, and to any onlooker, it looked like a kind greeting between two acquaintances.
“I didn’t think you would show up,” Y/n said cooly.
He bit the inside of his cheek and tilted his head to the said ever so slightly. “I almost didn’t. I know things have been awkward between us lately, but I wanted to show my support for your success. No matter what happens between us, I’m always going to have your back Y/n.”
Her mouth parted slightly, a little surprised and touched by his response. When she didn’t respond, Lafayette quickly added on, “but I can always leave if you don’t want me here.”
“No, no.” She closed her mouth and shook her head. “No, stay. I want you to stay.”
A small smile began making its way across Lafayette’s features. He opened his mouth to say something else, but Nathan had appeared at Y/n’s shoulder.
“Sorry to interrupt,” Nathan said, adjusting his glasses. “Good to see you could make it, Monsieur de Lafayette. You think I could borrow the Congresswoman for a moment?” He turned to face Y/n. “They’re about to call your election.”
“Of course, I’ll see you around, Lafayette.” She gave him another smile before Nathan ushered her to the front of the room where a local newscaster was announcing the results for her district.
The room went quiet and the volume on the tv was turned up. The anchor smiled at the camera and announced, “...and it looks like Representative Y/n L/n has won her reelection campaign by a large margin. Horatio Gates trailed the congresswoman by...”
Y/n wouldn’t know how much she had beaten Horatio Gates by until the next moment. Everything after the anchor announced she had won reelection went unheard. An upbeat victory song had begun playing somewhere in the room, yelling and cheering warmed Y/n from her toes up to her head. Her mouth hung open for the longest time, and before she knew it, she was pulling the nearest person, Nathan, into a tight hug.
At some point, reporters had swarmed the venue and Y/n began giving out answers to all the questions they threw at her. There were a lot of congratulations and thank yous going around, and Y/n nearly lost herself in all the wonderful chaos. There was more wonderful chaos when John Adams was announced the next president of the United States later that evening, but Y/n hadn’t even been given enough time to soak in her own victory.
Don't follow men out to the street at 3 a.m.
The election party officially ended at midnight, but that didn't stop people from staying for a few more hours. At 3 a.m. there were maybe five people left at the party. Now that most people were gone Lafayette decided he would approach Y/n one last time.
“Hey, I just wanted to make sure I congratulated you on your win again before I head back to France,” he said.
Y/n blinked. “You’re going home?”
“Early tomorrow morning.”
Y/n’s mouth hung open slightly, but she didn't say anything. Lafayette gave her a thin smile, a polite nod, and then headed out the door.
He had already exited the venue when Y/n processed what had happened. Not heeding my earlier warning, she followed Lafayette out onto the street at 3:00 a.m.
“So that's it, then, is it?” She called after him. “That’s the end?”
He turned around and raised an eyebrow. “The end of what?”
“The end of us. You're just going to leave?”
“Us? What do you want me to say, Y/n? That I regret what I did? That I'm sorry? Because I've already tried that.” He sounded exhausted. “You are just tormenting me now. Do you know how much this is hurting me?”
“You?” Y/n couldn't believe he was acting like the victim. “This is all on you. I can't count how many times you’ve hurt me
“What, you think I don't know that I messed up? You think I don’t regret the decisions I made every day?” Lafayette ran a hand through his hair. “Chèrie, I've used every kind of soap I have, and I still don't feel clean.”
The raw honesty in his words struck both of him deeply. A heavy silence settled between them. Eventually Lafayette reached into his pocket and pulled out two items. He desperately thrusted the objects into her open palm.
“I've been holding on to those for years. I don't want to keep them any longer.”
Y/n looked at the items he had given her. One was an old, worn ticket from a concert. The other item was a necklace. The one she had worn on their one shared night together. Y/n thought she had lost it and never expected to see it again.
“I dated lots of women when I was younger,” he admitted. “It never ended well. I've never been good at being sincere. Every relationship I've been in I ruined. You want to know why we never dated? Because I loved you. To the moon and back.”
“To the moon and back?” She repeated.
He nodded. “I loved you since I've known you. I couldn't let you be another girl I ruin things with. I guess everyone knew we were in love with each other except for us. Even Molly figured it out. That's why we broke up.
“Why didn't we ever tell each other?”
“We were just kids,” he suggested. “We spent all our time watching lovers in rom-coms tell each other what we were too afraid to tell ourselves.”
Y/n stared at the items she held in her hand. She let the ticket and the necklace fall from her hand onto the dark street below.
“This doesn't change anything.” She shook her head. “You walk in dreams. Dreams of what once was, what could have been, and what never will be. You hold onto the tangible things a ticket stub from our first concert, the necklace I lost years ago. You hold onto these objects because they make your dreams feel a little more real. Something you can touch or see, but in the end? It's all in your head.”
“What are you saying, Y/n?”
“Lafayette, I don’t doubt for a second that you loved me. Maybe you still love me. It’s just not enough to make up for all the ways we’ve hurt each other. I’m tired of being hurt, okay?” Y/n tugged at the sleeves of her coat, trying to find the words to tell him what needed to be said. “I’m finally happy and successful. I’m changing the world.”
“I knew you would. I always knew you would.”
In the next few months, Y/n would replay that evening again and again in her mind until it would drive her to the brink of madness. “Out of sight, out of mind” was a proverb Y/n wouldn’t understand until four months after the election night, when the words Lafayette had spoken to her on the street seemed like an eternity ago. When a year passed, that night seemed almost like a figment of her imagination now.
Besides, Y/n didn’t have a lot of time to think about events that had conspired over a year ago now. She had legislation to pass and funding to allocate. There was never a slow day in D.C.
“Y/n, you saw what Fox News said about you this morning?” Nathan asked, setting down a cup of coffee.
More focused on the steaming cup of coffee that had been set down in front of her than anything Nathan had said, she gave him a noncommittal shrug. “I don’t know. Was it anything new?”
Nathan considered for a moment before shaking his head. “No, not really. They were just informing the public that you’re a radical leftist who wants to abolish ICE and free healthcare for all.”
Y/n scoffed. “They figured out I wan’t to keep families together and take care of the health of millions of American citizens? Oh no.”
“You’re not bothered by any of this?”
“Well, they’re not wrong? By all definitions, I am a radical leftist.” She shrugged and pulled the warm cup of coffee closer to her. “Besides, anyone who’s watching Fox News already has a biased opinion toward me. We’ve got bigger things to worry about, yeah?”
“Yeah,” Nathan agreed. “For one thing, France announced its support for your foreign aid bill. If your bill gets passed, they pledged to match whatever amount we’re spending on foreign aid.”
This seemed to wake Y/n up in a way that her coffee just couldn’t. “Really? That’s the best news I’ve heard all day.”
“I’m glad you think so. I’ve lined an interview up for you and a French diplomat in an hour downtown. You ready to go?”
Y/n sat up straight in her chair. “You really sprung this on me! Nathan, I haven’t had anytime to prep.”
He rolled his eyes and handed her a thick binder. “It’ll just be a few questions, mostly just to show the public a picture of you and a French official side by side. You can handle any questions, you wrote the damn bill. Besides, we can prep in the car.”
Y/n figured she had no points left to argue, likely Nathan’s intention. Begrudgingly, she followed Nathan out to the front of the building and they got into the backseat of the car. They began going back and forth, Nathan asking her questions on the foreign aid bill, and Y/n responding with well articulated answers.
“See? I told you you had nothing to worry about,” Nathan said in the elevator, finally closing the binder.
Y/n rolled her eyes. “That’s because I’m just magnificent and well-spoken.”
“Yes, yes you are. You’re going to kill this interview.”
The elevator dinged and the doors opened. They began walking over to a small hair and makeup set up, and Y/n froze when she saw who was already on set laughing with the interviewer. She turned on her heel and jabbed a finger into Nathan’s chest.
“You didn’t tell me Lafayette was the French diplomat!” She hissed.
Nathan’s mouth fell open in mock surprise. “Did I forget to mention that to you? How silly of me.”
“Nathan, I swear to God. I wouldn’t have agreed to this if I had known Lafayette would be here!”
“Then it’s a good thing I didn’t tell you, huh?”
Y/n scowled at him. “I haven’t spoken to him in over a year, and last time we spoke, well...”
“I know you’re not on the best terms. Maybe this will help bury the hatchet.” Nathan suggested.
“Nathan, we need to can--”
“Oh dear, it seems I’m getting a call. I should really take this. I’ll see you back at the office, Y/n.” He motioned to his phone that was clearly not ringing and retreated back to the elevator.
After quietly cursing Nathan under her breath, Y/n resigned to her fate and allowed for some intern to touch up her hair and makeup. When they were done, she was ushered onto set in a seat next to Lafayette and across from their interviewer, J.P. Martin.
“It’s nice to finally meet you, Congresswoman L/n.” J.P. Martin said with a disarming grin. “I’m glad you could make it to this interview on such short notice.”
She forced a smile, “thank you for letting me discuss my foreign aid bill.”
Y/n could feel Lafayette’s lingering gaze on her skin, but she refused to take her eyes off the interviewer in front of her. J.P. Martin said something else flattering that Y/n didn’t take to heart, then someone on the crew began to count down, then they were rolling.
“Today I’m joined with Representative Y/n L/n and Ambassador Lafayette to discuss L/n’s foreign aid bill,” J.P. looked straight into the camera with a wide grin. “Before we get into the details of all that, it’s my understanding that Representative L/n and Ambassador Lafayette have a history. Is this true?”
She froze in her chair. How had this interviewer find out what happened between her and Lafayette? Would this be a scandal she found in the newspaper the next morning? In all the time she had taken with Nathan to prep for this interview, she was already caught off guard by the first question.
“Yes, this is very true. Y/n and I go way back. We met when she was studying abroad in Paris and quickly became close friends,” Lafayette said. Y/n finally glanced over at him, and he gave her a reassuring smile.
“Well how about that?” J.P. directed his next question at Y/n. “Was it intimidating being friends with President de La Rivière’s son?”
Y/n was feeling more relaxed now after the initial shock. “At first, yes. Of course it was. I’m pretty sure I tripped over my feet the first time I met President de La Rivière.”
“You didn’t!” J.P. said with an amused gasp.
Lafayette chuckled and nodded. “She did. I remember my mother asking me afterwards why I was friends with that awkward American.”
“Oh, I can imagine,” J.P. was positively beaming.
“I think my mother understands now that Y/n is the youngest woman serving in the United States Congress,” Lafayette was subtlety pointing out Y/n’s accomplishments. “And speaking as her son and an official ambassador from France, I can confidently say President de La Rivière was impressed with Y/n’s foreign aid bill.”
“So impressed that the French government has promised to match the amount the U.S. is spending if the bill gets passed.” J.P. turned to face Y/n, his expression turning more serious. “Tell me, Congresswoman, why do we need to increase the amount of money we spend on foreign aid? We’re already spending 39.2 billion on foreign aid.”
Y/n smiled when he asked this. Really smiled. These were the kind of questions she had prepared to answer, and she knew she had Lafayette to thank for the topic change. “J.P., most Americans think 10% of government spending should be spent on foreign aid.”
“Yes, that seems reasonable,” J.P. nodded.
“39.2 billion might seem like a big number,” Y/n continued, “but that’s less than one percent of our federal budget.”
“Is that true?”
The rest of the interview went fairly well. Y/n had intelligent answers to each question J.P. asked, and Lafayette was there to assure J.P. that France was in full support of Y/n’s bill. Before she knew it, J.P. was saying they were out of time and thanking both her and Lafayette for coming to the interview.
The crew began to disperse quickly once the interview had commenced. Now that the interview was over, the realization that Lafayette was standing beside her begun to sink in. She loved the idea of walking off the set and never seeing him again, but unfortunately, they were both headed in the direction of the singular elevator.
“I assume you’re going to the lobby as well?” Lafayette asked, pressing the down button on the elevator.
Y/n nodded. “I am.”
The elevator opened and Lafayette gestured for her to step in first before following behind her. They stood in silence for a moment. Y/n hated how slow this elevator was moving, a fact that she hadn’t noticed on the ride up.
Finally, Y/n caved and she spoke to fill the silence. “I didn’t know you were back in the United States.”
He gave her a sideways look, doing his best to hide a smile. “I’m the French Ambassador to the United States now, Y/n. Did you really not know that?”
She clicked her head and shrugged. “I might’ve read it somewhere, I guess I just forgot. I’m a busy person.”
“Oh, I know.”
Y/n turned to face Lafayette and considered him for a moment. “I suppose you’re a busy person as well, now. How’d you get this gig, nepotism?”
Lafayette laughed and leaned against the wall of the elevator. “Believe it or not, I’m extremely qualified. I’ve served as a representative for France in the EU for a couple years, worked in the state department, long with other places.”
The elevator finally opened up to the lobby, but now Y/n wasn’t ready to end their conversation. “Huh. I guess I forgot that you’re actually a pretty intelligent person under all those layers.”
“Layers of what?” He asked with an amused grin.
“Layers of stupidity.” Y/n shrugged.
Lafayette chuckled and held the door open for her. “I guess that’s fair.”
“It’s more than fair,” Y/n sighed. She looked back at him over her shoulder. “So what is it that ambassadors actually do? I’ve always been curious.”
“A lot of ceremonial gifts and handshakes,” Lafayette admitted. ��But very important handshakes. I met with President Adams last week, and I’m headed to meet with Washington at Mount Vernon now.”
“Sounds luxurious. Maybe I should’ve considered becoming an ambassador if it meant I get to spend time with President Washington.”
He paused. “Well, meeting with Washington is more for personal reasons than anything to do with being an ambassador.”
“Oh yeah?” Y/n raised an eyebrow. “I forgot you were best friends with every prominent American.”
“You’re not wrong,” he grinned. “Can’t help it that everyone loves me. Democrats and Republicans. I’m planning to have dinner with Jefferson next month. And I used to be best friends with the illustrious Representative Y/n L/n.”
His words were teasing, but he noticed when Y/n tensed when he said “used to be.” She opened her mouth to respond, then closed it again. Shifting from foot to foot awkwardly, Lafayette cleared his throat and asked, “What’s next for you?”
She considered him for a moment before responding earnestly. “The Oval Office, eventually.”
“Really?”
“Are you surprised?”
He chuckled and shook his head. “Not really. I always knew you were destined for great things, Y/n.”
“Did you, now?”
“Yes, in fact,” Lafayette reached into his pocket and took out a checkbook and a pen. “Let me be one of the first investors to your presidential campaign.”
He handed her the check he had just written. Y/n stared at the check she had been handed, still not entirely processing the extra zero written on the dotted line.
“Is this a joke?”
“No, it takes a lot of money to run for president.”
“I know that, but why would you…” She trailed off, then narrowed her eyes as a thought occurred to her. “This is just you trying to win me over by spending absurd amounts of time and money on things you don’t actually care about. I’ve seen this before.”
“You’ve seen what?”
“This exact scene.” Looking around seemed to solidify Y/n’s conception. They were standing on a sidewalk. Maybe Y/n and been young and naïve in the past, but now she knew how to recognize patterns. She recognized this one. How many times before had the pair of them ended up on a sidewalk together? And how had it ended for Y/n each time?
She counted five times now. The first was the day she had met him. It was Paris, and he had a completely disarming smile that made Y/n trust him immediately.
The next time it was late, both of them were drunk, and they were laughing in the dark while they waited for a cab to drive by.
The third time was in New York, ice cream cones in both of their hands and heartbreak on the agenda. That night she had remembered especially well.
The fourth had been about a year ago now, and although she had tried to forget it, it had been burned into the back of her mind like a scar that would never heal.
This would be the fifth time, and this time she knew better.
Each sidewalk rendezvous went the same way. Every time. And worse yet, they always ended the same.
“What is this scene?” Lafayette asked, genuinely confused.
“It starts innocent enough, doesn’t it? Just two friends on a sidewalk. But this is how it goes,” she laid out the scene for him. “You’ll reach into your pocket and pull out a cigarette. I’ll tell you how unhealthy it is, but you’ll smoke anyway. We’ll smile and laugh, until it gets to the point where we don’t want to be friends anymore. Then you’ll lean in and kiss me, or, at least, I’ll be wishing you’d kiss me.
Not such a bad scene, is it? Except every time it ends the same. You’ll wake up in someone else’s bed and break my heart. I’m just so tired of letting you do this to me! I’ve finally figured you out, and it’s not going to happen again. You’re my best friend, Lafayette, but I can’t keep letting you hurt me.”
When she had finished her rant, a quietness settled between the two of them. Lafayette watched her carefully, waiting to see if she had anything else to say, but it seemed that she had gotten everything off her chest now.
“That’s not what’s going to happen this time,” he finally said.
She looked into his eyes to figure out if she really believed him. Did she really want to believe him? “No? How can you be sure?”
“There are a few things in your “Lafayette breaks Y/n’s heart” equation that have changed. First of all, I stopped smoking a while ago,” he informed her.
Y/n was beyond surprised. For as long as she had known him, he had always been a smoker. It was part of his personality and was synonymous with his name. If there were two things that she was sure she could count on, it would be Lafayette smoking cigarettes and breaking her heart. Had he really quit?
“Second,” Lafayette continued on, “I’m not going to kiss you.”
“You’re not?” She almost sounded disappointed.
“Not this time. We learned our lesson, didn’t we?” He sighed, adjusted his jacket, and let his eyes fall to the cement at his feet. “You’ve ruined me. I’m never going to be able to love anyone the way I love you. And God, I love you so much.”
His heart felt heavy, like it was sinking further and further into his chest and he didn’t know if he would be able to find it again. There was a moment of silence to mourn something that had been lost. “You know I love you. You know that, right?”
Another certain truth. “Of course I do.”
“Good. I couldn’t live with myself if you didn’t know. I love you, and I can’t tell you how much I hate that that isn’t enough.”
She smiled. The kind of smile you give when you know that something lovely is coming to an end. Sometimes there is nothing you can do but smile.
His voice was tender when he spoke again. “No one ever told me that being in love would hurt this much. Am I a sadist for wanting to love you more?”
“No, darling, you’re just a romantic. That’s the worst we could be.”
Lafayette nodded because he couldn’t find it inside himself to smile. His town car showed up to take him to the airport at that moment. He bit the inside of his cheek, considering the different things he had enough time to say. Lafayette shook his head when he came to the decision that there was nothing left to say. He had already made it to the car and opened the door when he changed his mind.
“You know,” Y/n addressed Lafayette once more. “This might be crazy, but no matter what happened between us, I always thought it would be you and I in the end.”
Lafayette paused and pulled away from the car. He hesitated before making his way to Y/n. He gently held her chin between two fingers, looking her deep in her eyes as if he was searching for her soul.
“To the moon and back, remember?” He pressed a kiss to her forehead, then parted from her and got in the waiting car.
Not everyone gets the fairytale ending you see in movies. But they loved. Really loved. And that was enough.
Real love isn’t like the movies. No, it’s painful and warm and terribly strong. Mostly it’s good.
#the end#hope this was a satisfying end#although i know its not#was this angsty?#i think so#lafayette x reader angst#marquis de Lafayette#lafayette imagine#lafayette x reader#lafayette#hamilton#hamilton imagine#Daveed Diggs#daveed diggs x reader#Modern!AU#imagine daveed diggs#imagine#hamiltonxreader#xreader#reader insert
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i don’t remember actually sending a request, sorry about that- anyway, how about the noctu team realizing they’re crushing on the manager? make it like a puppy crush for aiyachi bc the baby is only 14
(Here are the hcs! Please forgive me. I don’t know why they took so long to post. :< But I’m happy with the result! I hope you’ll like it too. Thank you for requesting! These are really cute to think about.)
Noctu Team With a Crush HCs (Aitachi, Kirr, Nine, and Day)
🎯 Aitachi 🎯
Aitachi looks up to a lot of people. He’s not bothered by the fact that most of them might be older and taller. That just means they’ve got more years under their belt and plenty of wisdom to share with him.
He’s so used to being around adults that your presence doesn’t faze him in the slightest.
Intimidation? He knows no such thing! Aitaichi hardly considers fear when you treat him with the same respect as everyone else.
Just don’t baby him. Aitachi may be the smallest and youngest out of the group, but that doesn’t mean he’s a child. He’s a mature Reaper with the courage and strength of a true, pure-hearted warrior!
That’s why he’s always willing to put his life on the line if you’re ever in danger, which is extreme and illogical considering he’s already died once and is now immortal.
He means well, but you’ll still clarify that he doesn’t need to go to such lengths to ensure your safety.
“I’ll be fine,” you told him after a vengeful spirit tried to attack you. “You don’t have to worry so much. As long as no one’s hurt, we can continue with our work, right?”
The very next morning you find a talisman on your desk, along with a small note telling you to keep it close whenever you’re in danger.
Since then, you’ve kept it as a good luck charm, knowing that as long as you’re careful you won’t fall prey to any wandering spirits.
Aitachi takes up the role as your unofficial errand boy ever since he discovered the special spot on your desk for the doll he made. He insists on bringing you every important document because it’s a warrior’s duty to provide for those in need.
His fellow Noctu Reapers think it’s quite charming that he does this, especially Day, who makes all sorts of comments doting on how his “little brother” is so helpful and sweet.
You’re grateful that Aitachi’s so willing to lend a hand without a single complaint, and you make sure he knows just how thankful you are.
Even if the gesture is reserved for that of a child, you still pat him on the head. Aitachi pouted about it at first, saying that head pats aren’t suited for warriors.
Now he just blushes at the contact, proud to have gotten your recognition.
He’s almost like Day in a sense, unintentionally following you around like a lost hound.
It’s quite obvious that he’s got a case of young puppy love.
He’s making another talisman doll for you when he comes to the realization of his wholesome feelings.
Are warriors even supposed to feel this way?
He’s stuck thinking about it the whole day, and he’ll probably be less confident to admit to it.
In the meantime, though, he’ll continue helping you to the best of his ability, secretly doing everything he can to be considered your number one. Almost like a teacher’s pet, but in this case it’s manager’s pet.
All of those talisman dolls are starting to pile up on your desk, as well as his innocent adoration for his hard-working manager.
🏹 Kirr 🏹
Having a crush is such a foreign concept to Kirr.
When he first heard the word, he took it quite literally, wondering why anyone would want to crush another person. That should only happen in a survival scenario where life and death is at stake and you’re facing an enemy with negative intentions.
Yet as he learns more about what it means in a romantic sense, it gives him more confusion. So a crush is a strong sense of admiration for another person?
In that case, wouldn’t it be his manager who he holds in high esteem?
He doesn’t really know how to bring this topic up with the others, so he’s debating it internally. It’s definitely a struggle for poor Kirr, who can’t seem to figure out whether or not what he’s feeling is a crush or just simple respect for his colleague.
So he ends up watching how the Reapers act around you. They’re so kind and sociable. And he acts the same, albeit at a serious level where most jokes go over his head.
Kirr is so busy troubling himself with these inner debates that he doesn’t even register when someone’s trying to talk to him, and it’s a bit concerning.
One afternoon he’s sharpening the arrowheads on the ends of his arrows when he sees you crossing the field. And you look serene as you walk, not paying any mind to the wind that rustles your clothes.
He’s shared plenty of conversations with you before, but during those times he never had a chance to appreciate you in all your astounding form.
It’s almost too much for him, and a slew of feelings catch his heart in a vice.
Maybe he does have a crush after all.
But where are all these emotions coming from? Based off of what he’s heard from the Department, Kirr knows that a crush is normal for everyone of all ages. It’s a sign that you’ve taken romantic interest in someone.
He wonders what one does with feelings like these. Obviously he could confess or get to know you more, but something’s holding him back. Suddenly, he’s become indecisive.
Normally, when he’s hunting, it’s easy to rely on logic and instincts. Now he’s not so sure which will help him out in this situation.
When you catch his staring and wave, a smile on your face, Kirr holds up his arm, returning the gesture. You really are a great person; your personality glimmers underneath the glare of the sun, and he’s glad that someone so amazing is his manager.
Logic might fail in this case, and instincts won’t get him anywhere as he has no idea where to begin. So maybe he’ll settle on his heart, following it like it’s a searchlight in the blurry haze of confusion that’s overtaken his reasoning.
Kirr’s definitely going to gravitate towards you more as he tries to navigate his newfound feelings. He’s doing his best, so please encourage him.
🎼 Nine 🎼
He catches you slacking off one day, absorbed in the videos on your mobile device.
Nine isn’t one to snoop, but he does happen to catch the swish of a colorful pen against a sheet of unwrinkled paper. He knows what it is at once.
You’re watching calligraphy videos.
“Do you enjoy that, Manager?” he’ll ask, awaiting your answer.
Once you confirm that you do like it, Nine’ll be happy to know that his manager shares similar interests with him.
Since then, the two of you have bonded over calligraphy, and Nine’s even showed you what his skillful hands can do. Just give him a pretty pen and some paper and he’ll be scribbling all sorts of gorgeous words.
He finds that the best word to write is your name, which is a tad confusing, but you seem honored.
Before he can even register the extent of your relationship, you’re already inviting him to places. Whether it’s in your office talking over paperwork or rendezvousing in the human world during a successful mission, Nine enjoys your presence.
Nine realizes that every day spent in your company is fun, albeit a dangerous erosion to his heart, which is beginning to wear at its foundation.
He manages to stay composed, but there’s something strange in how he hopes of eventually surpassing the border known as friendship.
He’s not used to getting so close to others; usually he keeps his distance, only upholding a conversation when needed. But now he feels as though he’ll lose you if he doesn’t stick around, and the idea of that is crushing.
You’re already such a ray of sunshine, a soothing force against the hectic work days, so he wants to ensure that you’re also content.
He’s writing down the remnants of a composition he recalls, testing his memory of his distant past life, when everything starts to click into place. The stars align as he writes in the final notes, reviewing the completed composition with tranquil eyes.
If he’s right, it should be played slow and steady, transitioning between notes of melancholic hope and satisfied bitterness. Quite a tragic piece, if he’s being honest, but maybe that was his intention. Or his memory might be faulty. Either way, he’s certain that this composition describes his inner turmoil perfectly. Bittersweet like chocolate and uncertain like his intuition.
Nine can’t remember the name to this particular composition, so he writes the first thing that comes to his mind.
The moment he finishes writing your name is definitive proof of what he’s feeling.
Some would say it’s a crush, and others would say it’s unfiltered endearment. Regardless of what it is, it holds the same implications.
Nine’s in love.
Though his previous life was cut short and he refuses to sort through his cracked past, he has all the time in the world to start anew. And that’s all he needs to act upon these feelings that have blossomed.
It’ll take time, but he knows that he’ll be able to confess when he’s certain that his love isn’t completely one-sided.
In the 14th Department, Nine seems to wear his smile purposefully, and there’s a bright shine in his gaze.
🍦 Day 🍦
He’s with you 24/7. At least, that’s what it feels like to you.
Realistically, it’s because of your role as manager. But at some point he just starts to forget that that’s your job and he begins to consider you a friend.
He’s in your office all the time, sitting on a swivel chair or trying to lounge on your desk while you’re writing up reports.
In the beginning, you would always kick him out, lightly advising him that work hours are not play hours—even if there aren’t any ongoing missions.
But Day is so loyal, constantly flitting around you like a butterfly. He seems to smile even brighter when you address him, and despite his carefree demeanor he wants to provide as much help as he can.
“Let me carry that, Manager!” or “Hey, hey! We should get ice cream to celebrate your hard work. I want to take you to the best place. You have to try the new flavors with me!”
You give up pushing him away and start to welcome him into your office.
The other Reapers begin to suspect something’s up, especially those who are more perceptive than the others. Day’s own team members can’t help but wonder what’s got him so fascinated with you.
He claims he can never be bored when he’s around you, which proves to be true because this man can talk about anything and everything.
All it takes is for you to mention that you’re in the mood for something sweet, and he’ll be on that topic faster than a moth to a light.
Without meaning to, he memorizes all of the information he learns about you, accidentally mentioning some facts during a conversation.
It makes you realize just how close he pays attention to you.
Even Nyang Lead Manager has noticed his attachment, but he’s uninterested for the most part. As long as Day doesn’t let himself get distracted from work, he’s not bothered.
But it makes things harder for you. Your focus diminishes whenever he’s near, so much so that you begin to take in different aspects of his actions.
He rarely blushes, but when he does it’s usually whenever you do something that warrants bashfulness. And he’s started to compliment you a lot now, always recognizing changes to your fashion.
Day happens to be relaxing in his dorm, reading an ancient tome about magic and its connection to the heart, when it finally makes sense.
Wait. Hold on.
He peers at the symbols with undeterred intensity, recalling memories of you and him. Eerily, his feelings fit the exact description in the book.
He really does spend a lot of time with you, and you’ve been occupying his thoughts day and night since he first got to know you. Some would say it’s too much, but you can never have enough of something you love.
Love. That’s the word he was looking for.
He’s in love. True, real, authentic love.
Day pops up from his sitting position so fast it almost throws him off balance. The other Noctu members look at him in confusion, but he’s too busy to even give them an explanation.
Now wired with too much excitement to feel worried, he rushes through the 14th Department, completely shirtless and in a hurry to get to your office so he can give you a rambling soapbox speech about his inner thoughts and feelings.
Someone give him a shirt before he gets himself in trouble with Nyang.
#afterl!fe#after l!fe#afterl!fe aitachi#afterl!fe kirr#afterl!fe nine#afterl!fe day#noctu team#night team#crush headcanons#afterl!fe x reader#afterl!fe headcanons#afterl!fe hcs#afterl!fe the sacred kaleidoscope#aitachi#kirr#nine#day
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