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keep-the-wolves-close · 8 months

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Steady Heart

Chapter 3: Me and the Devil

Pairing: Slow-burn Kayce Dutton × OFC Stella Daniels

Rating: M? (Still figuring out the rating system) (might eventually be M anyhow)

Warnings: violence, language, I’m not even sure what to add, I think this chapter is pretty tame?

Word count: 4,892ish

I would love to give credits to @dameronscopilot for being a sounding board for me during this whole process, giving outsider insight, a cheerleader, and allowing me to screech at her about things that have happened during the writing process. I seriously couldn't have gotten this far.

Author’s note: I hope everyone is enjoying so far! I hope you love this chapter as well! 💛🤓

After Stella had jumped out Abigail’s stall window, she raced to the bunkhouse. She was pretty sure she had left her keys on the kitchen table. Swinging the door open, she saw the orange wrist strap on the table in front of her. She bounded forward and snatched them off the table then raced off to her car. Her brother and Colby had perplexed looks on their faces, but they shook it off as she drove away.

Pulling up to Monica and Kayce’s portion of the reservation, she got a few weird looks before people realized who it was. She placed the car in park behind Kayce’s truck. Hopping out she heard Tate holler from across the yard.

“Aunt Stella!”

“Hey lil dude!” She let out a small oomph as he ran into her legs and gave her a quick hug.

“Me and dad found a dinosaur! Come look!” He grabbed her hand and tugged her in the direction of a giant crater.

“A dinosaur?! What? That’s so cool!” She exclaimed. Most people would probably just be placating him, but Stella actually thought it was pretty neat. She gave Kayce a glance and a smile as his son dragged her past him. Stella slid her glasses back up her nose. Tate hopped down into the hole and explained everything he could about the fossil at lightning speed.

Kayce strolled up to the edge of the crater he had made in his yard. He focused on Stella and watched her show genuine interest in what his son talked about. He thought it was sweet.

“So you wanted to talk about a horse?”

Stella nodded and backed up from the hole. “Yeah, about Tank.”

“That horse, which you’ve apparently named,” he gave her a pointed look, knowing how she was once she named something, “was a gift to my father. That’s his problem now.”

“And by default it’s a problem child that I also have to work with.”

“Well that’s part of your job, Stell.”

“Thank you, smart ass. I know that. However, that horse is very much yours.” Stella gave him a sharp look of her own. “His demeanor and deliberate, planned movement says it all.” She giggled at the memory of this morning. “Not to mention his high distaste for your father. He barely listens to me, let alone anyone else that isn’t you.” Kayce snorted in amusement. “Hell, he almost wrecked your dad this morning before I got to them. He flipped on him.”

“I feel like it’s an even trade then.”

“Kayce…” Stella chided him. “There was also something else I wanted to tell you —,” before she could get any further, the sound of a truck caught their attention. Stella’s heart dropped as she saw that it was John. She wasn’t sure what exactly the conversation she overheard was about, but she knew it couldn’t be good. She also wasn’t entirely positive they didn’t hear her trying to leave.

She bit her lip as she tried to convince herself that John hadn’t heard her. He had bigger fish to fry it seemed. Surely he wouldn’t be concerned with some random noises in a barn.

John walked up to the twosome. “Stella, what are you doing here?”

“I was talkin’ about that horse like you asked, sir.” He raised an eyebrow at her, wondering why she came here just for that.

He looked at Kayce. “I’m gonna go see my grandson.” He then walked over to the fossil and Tate.

Stella turned to her best friend. “Hey, I got Monica some flowers. Is it okay if I go to the house?”

Kayce shrugged. “Yeah, just knock first.”

Grabbing them out of her passenger seat, she made her way to the front door. She thumped the door a few times before she heard light footsteps make their way to the door. She was greeted with Kayce’s wife looking confused.

“Hey, Stella. What are you doing here?”

“I had to talk to Kayce about that horse he gave his dad. John asked me to this mornin’. I had asked Kayce if I could meet him here and he said it was okay with you guys. I hope you don’t mind?” Stella brought the flowers close to her stomach.

“No, no. It’s okay. Come in.” Monica ushered her inside.

“I brought these for you. That’s also why I wanted to stop by here. I’m really sorry about your brother.” Stella couldn't even begin to fully understand the feeling. If she went far enough into the thought, it made her want to shut down at the thought of losing Ryan. She might not have been the biggest fan of Robert herself, but she wouldn’t have wished death on him.

It was quiet as Monica studied Stella. Almost as if she was feeling out her intentions. “Yeah, me too.” Monica stepped forward to take the flowers and the condolences. She gave Stella a quiet thank you and placed them in the center of the dining table. Stella let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.

“So what about that horse?” Monica busied herself in the kitchen cleaning up from breakfast before her shower.

“Oh it’s a thousand times your husband's horse. I told Kayce that I understood it was a present to his dad, but he’s not the one that works with the horses every day. So that means that mustang is my problem as well. If his dad lets me keep the position, that is. I’m good at my job. I mean as good as Kayce and Lee got me to be, but that stud ain’t gonna completely listen to anyone who isn’t Kayce.”

Monica huffed out a laugh as she placed the dish towel on the counter. “That sounds about right for him.” Stella joined her with a laugh of her own. Monica motioned to the couch. “Let’s sit.” Monica seated herself on the plush couch but the window. “So how are you holding up? You seem fine, but you’re just like Kayce. You hide it well.”

Stella shrugged with a flat chuckle. “I wouldn’t say we hide it well. I like to call it compartmentalizing.” She made eye contact with Monica. Both women knew the best friends held things in, dealt with them alone, and eventually reached a boiling point. Stella was blowing smoke. “I dunno.” She reached down to fiddle with a loose string from the couch. “I suppose I’m alright. I’m more worried about Kayce because it was his brother. You know?”

“I do.” Monica paused. “But Lee was also your coworker. Your friend. The Duttons aren’t the only ones who lost someone. All of the employees did too.” Monica was being logical. Stella struggled with feeling selfish, even though her grief was just as appropriate as the Duttons’ was.

Monica chimed in again. “You’re allowed to miss him. You’re allowed to be sad, Stella. I’m almost certain Kayce would tell you the same thing.”

Lee had been around for the very formative years of her life. And just like Kayce, Lee had been a constant. Stella pushed her glasses back up and looked at Monica. “I know.”

Monica sighed. “I can hear your “but” forming already.” The one thing she wished Stella wouldn’t do, was ignore herself to take care of everyone else she cared about.

Stella groaned. “I just don’t want anyone to worry about me. Plus, do you know how hard it is to talk to a bunch of cowboys about feelings?”

Monica nodded. “Yeah I do. I have one who’s clammed up tight, remember?” She looked out the window at her husband and father in law. “Has he said anything to you? At all?”

“No. He usually goes to you before me, which I would expect.” Stella crossed her leg over the other at the knee. “Enough about me. How are you? Like truly? Because you lost someone too.”

There was a sigh and a long pause from Monica. The dark haired woman looked longingly out the window again at her husband. “I’m alright. Taking it day by day. Trying to work through the feelings as they come. I’m just confused as to why he won’t talk to me about what happened out there.”

“I know it’s not my place, but can I offer my opinion?” Stella looked between the window and Monica.

Monica shrugged. “Sure. It couldn’t hurt. You knew him before I did.”

“Coming from someone who, like we determined earlier, also clams up when things get heavy, he probably doesn’t want you to have to carry the burden. He wants to make sure you and Tate are good and safe. He wants to worry about himself last. I don’t think it’s out of distrust or anything like that.” Stella pursed her lips in contemplation. “Just like I do with the horses, let him come to you. Drop little reminders that you’re here to talk when he’s ready. He will definitely take his time, but he’ll break, and make his way to you.”

“I hope you’re right.” They both heard John’s truck pull away.

“I think that’s my cue. I’ll talk to Kayce again about Tank some other day.” Both women stood. Stella asked, “can I give you a hug?” Monica nodded and they embraced just long enough for the sentiment to be passed between them.

“Thank you. Be safe on your way home, yeah?”

Stella giggled. “I always try, but I make no promises.” Stella winked and headed out the door. She almost tripped over Kayce, who was now seated on the steps that led up to the porch. “Shit!”

“Sorry, Stell. Dad just left.”

“Yeah I heard. What did he have to say?”

Kayce didn’t look at her. “Ah, just his usual bullshit. You know him.”

Stella scrunched her face up at his back. Something felt off. She noticed he was quieter than normal. He wasn’t lying, but to Stella, it felt like he was glazing over something. She placed a pin in that for later, deciding to choose her battles today.

Stella hopped down to the bottom of the stairs. “I’m gonna head out too. I’ll talk to you more about Tank man later on, okay?”

“Yeah.”

She turned and peered intently at him. “You sure you’re okay?” It was a loaded question, but she had to ask. She couldn’t bring herself to leave without doing so.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. You be safe on the way home.”

She laughed. “Why does everybody think I’m gonna drive off the road?” She walked over to her car and Kayce followed.

“I know you, that’s why.”

“Pfft. Yeah. Sure you do, cowboy.” She stood up on the sidebar of the car to see over top in Tate’s direction. “See ya later lil dude!”

They heard a faint response of, “Bye Aunt Stella!”

She turned her gaze back to Kayce as she swung into her car. “See ya later, cowboy.” She smiled at her best friend’s wife still standing in the doorway. “Monica.” Kayce shut her door behind her.

Stella had gotten back to the ranch in one piece. She decided to hang out with her brother for a little bit. She missed him. The craziness of the last few days had taken over and she needed her safety net. The siblings sat in the same position on Ryan’s top bunk. Their backs were against the wall, their legs drawn up not quite to their chest, but high enough to have their feet on the bed.

They looked like they did when they were younger. There were many nights spent like this before they got to the Yellowstone, and even after. Some nights they were planning their next steps, others Ryan was comforting Stella; letting her know everything was going to be alright and he would stop at nothing to keep her safe. Other nights they were just happy being.

Stella had her arms crossed against her lap. She let out a big breath as her eyes closed. Things in the house were quieter tonight. For that, she was thankful. She might be able to sneak in a nap before she headed home.

Ryan visibly watched Stella decompress. He was happy she still felt safe with him and the other guys. He always wanted to be her safe space. He nudged her shoulder lightly with his own.

“What, Ry?” Stella cracked open her eyes. He raised his eyebrows and nodded at her. She acknowledged him back with her own sleepy nod.

He leaned fully against the wall and slid close to her. He whispered. “You know you can talk to me about it, right?”

Stella’s head thudded back against the wall and she sighed. “Yeah, I know.” She started picking at the side of her nails. “I just don’t… know. What do you expect me to say?”

“I mean are you sad? Angry? Devastated? Hurt?” He suggested.

“I’m all of those things, Ryan. He wasn’t just my coworker, or my boss. He was a friend, too.” She thought about what Monica had said to her this morning. She placed her hands on her knees, bracing herself back against the wall. “There’s legitimately nothing I can do to change the fact that he’s gone. Hell, I wasn’t here when it happened. Even me being here wouldn’t have stopped anything.”

“It might have given you some closure though.”

Stella audibly groaned with annoyance. “That’s the thing. Even if I had closure,” she put air quotes around the word, “it still wouldn’t have stopped it from happening. You get what I’m saying?”

Ryan’s voice became stern. “I do, but you haven’t said anything to anyone about it. I don’t want you to internalize it, Stella.”

“I just, I don’t know what to say. I have no words. Yes, I’m sad. Yes, I’m experiencing the hole left behind. I’m going through the same shit y’all are. I just don’t want to talk about it.” Stella huffed and started to hop off the bunk.

Ryan grabbed her arm. Her head snapped back in his direction. “Ryan Stephen, let me go.” She ordered him with a low voice.

“Look, just come to me if you need to. Please?” He gave her his best version of puppy dog eyes.

Her tone softened. “Okay okay. I will if, if, I need to.”

He decided to go shower, leaving her to her own devices. Her gaze panned around the room. Jake and Ethan played the arcade game in the corner. Lloyd was at the table. Colby and Fred sat off to the side, and Jimmy was laid out on his top bunk. Stella could tell he was in a lot of pain from however long they had him on Tank. She felt for him.

Everything was business as usual. There was still a somber tone amongst the bunkhouse, but it wasn’t as heavy as it had been.

Lloyd called out to her. “Hey little bit.” She grinned at him and shuffled over.

“Yessir?”

“Care to keep an old cowboy company?”

“I would love to, my good sir.” She happily plopped down in the chair next to him. Ecstatic to be distracted from the thoughts brought on by the conversation with her brother. They started to play silent two man poker. They were just honing their skills, no real betting going on.

Ryan came out of the shower. He called out to the other guys. “Okay showers up.”

Stella looked up at the movement. She dramatically covered her eyes, as Ryan was only in a towel. “Oh my god, put your shirt on! My eyes!”

“Oh shut the fuck up, Stella!” Ryan threw the aforementioned shirt at her. She caught it and let out a cackle. She tossed it back to him. Stella started to respond to him, but Colby and Fred started to get loud with Jimmy.

“Would you two shit heads leave him be?” Stella rose from her seat. Lloyd put a hand on her arm gently to keep her in her spot. She and Fred never got along. She tolerated him a good portion of the time, but more often than not, she wanted to smack the shit out of him.

Ryan sighed, but walked closer to his sister. “Don’t start,” he whispered to her. As soon as she heard those words, she wanted to set fire to the whole place.

“And what are you gonna do princess?” Fred patronized her, adding fuel and striking the match.

“Princess?!” She snapped with lightning speed around Lloyd and leapt across the room. “I’ll show you princess you son of a bitch!” Ryan raced forward and grabbed her around the waist causing her to snap like a rubber band forward and back. Ryan heard the air leave her as she connected with his chest and started swinging.

“Fuck you Fred!” Stella shouted. Ryan wrestled her for the upper hand. Stella pushed and shoved at Ryan’s hands and arms. She pushed his head. She tried to step on his toes. Anything to get him to let her go. Colby tried to keep Fred back with the same amount of dedication. They didn’t want either of them to get their hands on the other.

“Stella!” He struggled against her pull. “Stella! Stop!” Ryan yelled at his little sister.

“No Ryan! Let her get her ass handed to her! Your bitch of a sister needs to be taken down a peg or two!” Fred screamed.

Stella pulled forward hard and heavy. Ryan’s hold on her slipped. She launched her body as fast and hard as she could at Fred. Fred wasn’t expecting her to make contact with her fist, but the crack of his jaw as it snapped shut was heard around the whole house. It was deathly silent as he staggered back.

“You dirty whore!” Fred screamed as he lunged at Stella. He grabbed for Stella’s neck, but Ryan stepped in his way. Ryan shoved his sister backward to Lloyd. He squared his jaw and stood to his full height.

His voice was deadly. “If you’re feelin’ froggy, Fred. Leap.” His eyebrows jumped upward as he said leap. “But the second you touch my sister?” He stepped closer to Fred to get in his face and make his point clear. “I will cut your fuckin’ head off and not feel any remorse.”

“I’ll help him feed you to the fuckin’ bears!” Stella screamed while she fought against Lloyd.

Lloyd hollered, wrestling Stella back. “Knock it the fuck off! All of you!” They all stopped and looked at him. It was rare that Lloyd would raise his voice.

He practically handed Stella to her brother. “Ryan take her outside.” He pointed to Fred. “You simmer down.”

Ryan dragged her back toward the door. She finally stopped fighting against it and went outside. She let out a snarl and kicked at the dirt. Her knuckles let her know they were angry from the hit. She shook her hand. ‘That’s gonna suck in the mornin.’

“You should have let me punch him in the throat. Give him something to choke on.”

“Listen, I know we all don’t like him, but you can’t be doing that.” Fred would have most likely beaten the absolute hell out of her. He had no control over his anger.

“He fuckin’ deserves it though.” She shouted.

They heard the gravel crunching off to the side. “Who deserves what?” John asked.

“Fred deserves to have his ass beat within an inch of his life.” Stella explained hotly.

Ryan scolded her. “Stella!”

She glared at her brother and fixed her glasses. She held her hands out to the side. “What? Fred is a bully and I’m just saying what we’ve all been thinking.” Ryan remained silent because he knew she was right.

John let them settle out then interrupted. “Stella, I actually came down here to ask if I could talk to you for a minute.”

“Sure. What’s up?”

“It’s about that mustang. Come to the barn with me so I can show you.”

“What did y’all do to him??” She rushed to the barn.

She got in there and hurried her way over to Tank. Both Tank and Abigail made happy noises at her approach. She pet the mare quickly, and moved to Tank to look him over.

John followed behind her at a slow pace. He took his time and observed her doing what she did best, what he paid her for, but also in general. He needed to decide if she was taking Lee’s place. It depended on how the next few minutes went.

He knew she was hot headed, exemplified by the previous conversation about Fred; but she was focused when she actually put her mind to whatever she was doing. Quiet, but could be boisterous with the right people. Smart and mean, a dangerous combination. Kayce wouldn’t have chosen to be her friend if there wasn’t some level of trust there. Lee wouldn’t have worked with her if he didn’t think she was trustworthy. He shut the small door behind him with a thud.

Stella stood and looked at the door and then to him with her brows crinkled. Her chest rose and fell with shallow breaths. The expression on John’s face was impassive. That bothered her. She hated that he was one of the few people she couldn’t figure out. Even Rip seemed to have more expressions than John did some days.

“He looks fine, sir. What did you need to show me about him?”

“I didn’t bring you in here to talk about the horse, Stella.” Dread ran through her.

“Oh?” She raised her eyebrows in question as she tried to keep her face flat. Her heart jumped wildly in her chest as she hoped he wasn’t about to interrogate her. Her mouth fell open to take in more air. She started to feel like the walls were closing in.

“Why were you at Kayce’s today?”

She leaned against the outside wall of the stalls. “I told you sir. I was talkin’ to him about Tank because not only has he become your responsibility, mood swings and all, he also became mine.”

“Is that so?” John leaned a shoulder against the wall.

She shrugged. “I mean, yeah. It’s part of my job. It’s what you pay me for. I also hadn’t seen him since —,” she cut herself off. She didn’t want to think about the loss more than she had to, but also didn’t want to put salt in John’s wounds either. “— well, you know. So I wanted to check up on him. Monica too.”

“When Jamie showed up this morning, where’d you run off to?” He grilled her.

“I got a text from Kayce that it was cool to stop by. So I went to my car to head out.” He stared at her in contemplation.

“I just find it very convenient that you ended up there after Jamie talked to me. Here. In the barn.”

“I mean, I left before you did?” Stella tilted her head confused and adjusted the frames on her face. “What did he talk to you about?”

“That doesn’t matter. What does matter, is why you feel so comfortable lying to my face.” Her mouth dropped open, opening and closing, but she couldn’t seem to find words. “That’s right. I saw you sneak around the broad side.”

Stella’s mind grasped for anything she could muster. There was absolutely nothing she could find.

He questioned. “What did you hear?”

“N-not much, sir.” She fought to get the words out.

“What did you hear, Stella?”

She swallowed hard, stood up straight, and came to her full height. She squared her shoulders, prepared for whatever storm was brewing. “I was originally gonna call Kayce. That’s why I stepped away, to find somewhere quiet. I chose to leave the barn at the point I did because it wasn’t my place to know what was being spoken about. I had heard more than I should have, and I didn’t want this to happen.” She motioned between them. “I was gonna leave and ignore it.”

She continued. Her voice got stronger as she went. “I don’t even know the context of what you were talking about. So I’m just as much in the dark now as I was before.”

“Damnit, Stella. Don’t make me ask you again.” John’s voice was harsh.

“Jesus, Mr. Dutton.” Calling him that was a habit that she hadn’t ever really broken out of. “I overheard you ask if they, whoever they are, had identified Kayce. For what? I don’t know. Then something about who the investigators were and something about Lee. That’s it. I promise. I don’t even really remember what I heard because I didn’t wanna hear it in the first place.” She slapped her hands down on her thighs in frustration.

It was deathly quiet in the space between them. Stella glared at him trying to catch her breath. The fact that she tried, and failed, to give Kayce a heads up about whatever his dad was bringing his way would stay with her until she was six feet under. She cocked her jaw to the side and ran her tongue along the side of her teeth. Being put on the spot by not only her best friend’s father, but also her boss, really killed her vibe.

John studied her closely. In the 12 years he had known her, she had never toed too far over the line. That was a feat in and of itself, especially being his youngest son’s best friend. There had been moments when she had needed some coaching to get back to the straight side of things. It was the normal rebellion of a teenager that John expected. Ryan and the wranglers had reined her in well during those times. John had expected that.

As she grew older, the fire inside her grew as well, but she put it to good use. She was a damn hard worker. She could put his men to shame most days. She also fiercely protected his son. His ranch. He respected that in her. She also wasn’t afraid to stand her ground. ‘Must come from dealing with all those stubborn horses.’ His thoughts broke in between. ‘Or dealing with your hard headed children.’

She had been around for a lot of things. She hadn’t ever mentioned anything about the affairs of the ranch to anyone that he was aware of. John didn’t know if she had actually picked up on the events that happened around her, but he wanted to give her intelligence more credit than that.

“Sir,” she fixed her glasses while she cleared her throat and continued, “I understand you’re worried about discretion here. I’m not gonna say anything to anyone. Why would I? Especially when I don’t know what it was about in the first place?” It didn’t make sense to Stella. Logically or otherwise. I mean to give Kayce a heads up that his father was on his way to spew some of his regular bullshit? Yeah, but she wouldn’t just go tell Joan at the local grocery market.

She had seen John angry at other people, but now his ire was directed at her, and her foundation felt shaken. She was reminded of when she stood up for Kayce when she was 18. That day and the following weeks were a doozie.

This job was her livelihood. Her brother’s. This place had become home. John kept quiet while she pleaded her case.

“That’s why I left and was gonna ignore it. I didn’t hear anything, I didn’t see anything.” Stella admitted. “I’ve never told anyone anything I may have ever caught. And if you think I would say something that would potentially jeopardize Kayce?” She shook her head. “You’re dead wrong.” Her voice hardened with the last sentence as she looked him directly in the eyes. She was banking that she had that working for her.

The fact that Rip trusted her, that Lee and Kayce trusted her, said a lot. Even though she had been around for so many years, for John, her lying to him made it a little harder to give his trust to her.

John’s lips pursed together. “You’re on thin ice, little girl. Tread carefully.” He left through the door behind him.

She sagged back against Abigail’s stall door. The mare walked up and stuck her head through the door and nuzzled at Stella’s back. Tank gazed at her from the side. They both knew she was stressed at this point. She had no idea where that left her in John's eyes. She didn’t know if she was fired, or kicked off the ranch, or anything.

After Stella had gotten herself calmed down some, she returned to the bunkhouse. She knew she couldn’t let herself go in front of Ryan, or Lloyd, shaken. They would immediately know something was wrong and grill her to the third degree.

“Hey, Ry?”

The man in question glanced up from the cards in front of him. “Yeah Stellee, what’s up?”

“I’m gonna head home for the night. I’ve gotta work more with Tank tomorrow, so I’ll see you then. Okay?”

He nodded and stood. “Yeah I’ll see you then, sis.” He wrapped her in a hug and she breathed for the first time since the barn. He rubbed her back quickly and released her. “You text me when you get home. And be careful.” He gave her a stern gaze. She faked a giggle and acknowledged him with a nod. She waved to Lloyd and made her exit swift. She had a lot to think about on her way home.

Comments, thoughts, commentary, and asks are welcome! Just please be gentle lol. 🤓

#yellowstone #kayce dutton #luke grimes #yellowstonetv #ian bohen #ryan #ian bohen : ryan #yellowstone fanfiction #yellowstone fanfic #kayce dutton fan fiction #kayce dutton fanfic

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ladysomething · 1 month

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The most recent chap of where you go, I go was incredible, you are truly the most talented!!!!! I could literally fill up your inbox talking about this fic, I love it so much and I literally don’t have all the words to express how obsessed I am with it!!! And your other f1 fics!! Everything you write is so amazing!!

I love how much tension/suspense there is in wygig, and I’m having so much fun trying to figure out what I think is going to happen later in the fic based on the hints (or at least what I think are hints lol) you drop in each chapter, and just based on how each new chapter unfolds. Like, in the most recent chapter, Max made the comment about how he’s seen an omega go through mate withdrawal before, and I think that tells us a bit more about what Kelly was going through. And the way Christian seems weirdly informed about Max’s plans and intentions with Charles’ could just be Max being close to his boss, but combined with the clear distaste and distrust Max has for Charles’ current team, I am incredibly excited to see what’s going to happen once they make it to a racetrack. And then in chapter 3, Charles’ dad told Charles that alphas presentation can be triggered, and then in ch4 Max says that his path to this moment started when he was 13 and presented as an alpha? Did Charles’ trigger Max’s presentation 👀 I can’t wait to find out! youre so good at weaving in hints, that I never actually know when something is a hint though, it’s never obvious and it keeps the fic so exciting.

And I also love the way seemingly tiny details show up again (like in chapter 2 when Charles throws the flowers over the balcony and max makes note of the empty vase in ch4), it just makes your writing seem so thoughtful and cohesive.

and I’m not a writer at all, but I love learning about the behind-the-scenes process. So I’m v curious if you don’t mind sharing some details about how you keep track of everything you have/haven’t revealed, how you decide what hints to drop or details to mention, how far advance do you plan all of it, etc.? And it’s probably way too early to share anything about wygig, but if you have any fav bits of foreshadowing or tiny recurring details from any of your other fics then I’d love to know what they are!! Only if you don’t mind sharing ofc <3

this ask got way out of control, i am so sorry, I just admire the hell out of your talent and cannot contain my excitement for your writing

this was the best thing to wake up to this morning.

I'm going to answer below the cut so I don't clog people's feeds because I want my answer to be as long as your beautiful ask!

firstly ... there are a LOT of hints, even in the first four chapters. you can probably safely assume that if it made you go "hmm" then it's going to come up again at some point.

I love the examples you came up with! I will confirm that they are all hints, however .... the conclusions you drew were not all correct. some were, but some weren't. you'll just have to wait to find out which is which 😊

I LOVE that you noticed the vase thing! whenever I read stories I'm always so bad at picking up on those details, but when I write them they're all so deliberate so I'm always amazed and delighted when people see them.

in terms of how I keep track of everything ... well for this story I have the amazing and gorgeous @saiyanwitcher helping me. this story wouldn't be half of what it is without her. I would say like 1/4 is me remembering details, 1/4 is her remembering details, and then 1/2 is the very detailed outline we have. it's 10 pages long.

here is a heavily redacted screenshot of ch 1 in the outline.

from there, I just kind of ... put it together and write. and then make a note of little details that need to be revised.

in terms of how I decide what hints to drop when, I would say there's a mix of reasons. some of it is just what the plot and characters demand, but then other times it's just my instinct, and other times it's just sheer experience. I've been writing for a long time - you kind of learn along the way what makes sense and what doesn't. but I also read a LOT, and when I read I take fairly extensive notes of things I liked and didn't like, and that always informs how I write, too.

in terms out far in advance things are planned, I would say it really depends on the story. WYGIG for example has been quite meticulously planned since SaiyanWitcher came to me with the idea of an omegaverse fic. so we know pretty much everything there is to know about the fic and how the plot progresses.

I like to have written a few chapters before I post, because sometimes when I start to write the vibe changes and I need to be able to go back and adjust little details. It's also why I don't like to immediately post what I've written and instead like to have a few chapters in the can - it means I can go back and add in more/less foreshadowing, depending on how the later chapters are playing out.

but also, sometimes things just happen. I'm writing ch 8 at the moment, and only yesterday SaiyanWitcher and I were like "hey what if we do this for ch 9" so now there's a new extra chapter bc we had an idea and it fits and we want to do it. so that wasn't planned in advance at all haha. sometimes you've just gotta go with the flow!

ok now ... in terms of fave parts of foreshadowing for WYGIG. unfortunately it IS too early for me to share most of them.

BUT! one I've only seen a couple people bring up is Max's aversion to Charles reciprocating the bite - I love that one.

I also just asked SaiyanWitcher what hers are and she said the Mercedes mechanic (a great choice), and Pierre (another GREAT choice). Though he's less foreshadowing and more of a recurring plot point lol.

from my other fics ... tbh I don't think I've ever really done as much foreshadowing in them as WYGIG.

in saying that, one really does stick out .. minor spoilers for if you haven't read Give Me That Fire but I LOVED dropping all the hints about "the final night" that happened that broke Max and Charles up for good. I knew from the first sentence I wrote for that fic that it was all leading up to that reveal and how careless Max was about Arthur, and seeing people theorise about what had happened and then being horrified that the truth was so much worse than what they expected was so bloody satisfying.

also there weren't really any major plot twists in the brocedes fic that had foreshadowing, but the slow reveal of their backstory juxtaposed with cutting forward to lewis at the lestappen wedding was also a personal favourite. that fic was by far the hardest thing I've ever written, and took one of the biggest emotional tolls. so the slow build of the horror at the piece by piece reveal of what lewis and nico had done to each other ended up being a very big personal achievement. I adore that fic, even though it's devastating.

now, I think I've yapped enough!

thank you so much for your beautiful and thoughtful ask, it's made my weekend. I'm so delighted that you're enjoying WYGIG so much and I hope that you continue to love it!

#anon ask #lestappen fic #where you go i go #give me that fire #are we out of the woods yet

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thunderstroked · 3 months

Text

Kill the Carrot || Mona & Felix

TIMING: current. LOCATION: somewhere in town. PARTIES: @recoveringdreamer & @thunderstroked SUMMARY: felix offers to build mona a snowmona. CONTENT: none!

Mona stood across from Felix, her arms crossed. She watched with an arched brow as they put on the finishing touches to the snowman he said was supposed to be her. “The tail looks lopsided, and what’s wrong with its ears?” They didn’t look like fox ears, but like something else– a squirrel’s, maybe. Mona stuck her hands into her pockets after a moment, taking a step around the snowman to get a better look. “You really went out and bought carrots for this? That’s a waste of money.” She wore a pinched expression as she critiqued the snowman. Despite her distaste, she was a little flattered– mostly because somebody had taken the time out of their day to spend time with her. She was used to being alone, for the most part, so this was nice. Even if she didn’t agree with their artistic talent.

—

Felix was not an artist. They liked to try to be, sometimes — they’d done a few of those ‘sip and paint’ classes, where you had a glass of wine and followed along on some painting or another — but they’d never been particularly good at it. They had clumsy hands and a little too much doubt to make up for it. Still, when it snowed, it was pretty much impossible not to try to put their nonexistent sculpting skills to the test. And since they’d happened to be hanging out with Mona, they’d had a ready made model right there! It was perfect.

Or, it would have been, if the Snowmona looked anything like the Regular Mona.

“I know, I know! It’s — It’s a process, okay, it’s abstract. It’s an artist’s vision! You’re not allowed to say art is bad, Mona!” They grinned, putting the last stone in place in the Snowmona’s mouth and taking a step back to look at their work. It was truly terrible. “It looks great!”

—

“I’ve seen abstract. I don’t think this is abstract.” She didn’t really know what abstract art looked like, but she was almost positive that this was not it. It didn’t really matter, though. At their comment, Mona arched a brow. “I’m allowed to say anything is bad if it’s bad, what do you mean?” She could’ve been nicer, but she didn’t see much of a point.

She stopped circling the snowman and opened her mouth to speak before snapping it shut. Mona made a noise at the back of her throat before approaching the snowman, adjusting the carrot nose. “My nose isn’t even this long. You could’ve at least cut it in half.” She frowned before looking back over at Felix.

Now partially distracted, she barely noticed the slight movement from the snowman.

—

“It could be abstract! Have you ever seen the art from… uh…” Felix wasn’t really familiar with artists. “That one guy? He’ll put somebody’s eye on their chin! And their nose on their forehead! I put your eyes and nose where they’re supposed to be.” The Snowmona was bad. The Snowmona was really, really bad. Felix wasn’t really sure why they were even trying to pretend like it wasn’t bad, because it was an undeniable kind of thing, but here they were.

They squinted at the carrot nose. “That’s just how you make snowpeople. With carrot noses.” They turned away from the Snowmona to look at the Regular Mona with a shrug. “I don’t think it’s that bad! I think it’s… I mean, it’s really lifelike. It’s almost like it’s moving!” They gestured back to the Snowmona, which… wait. Was it moving? “Uh… Hey, Mona? You don’t secretly have the ability to animate snow, do you?”

—

“I don’t know who you’re talking about, but his art also sounds bad.” She figured that Felix wouldn’t take her insults to heart, and if he did, then that was their fault. Mona no longer wanted to look at the snowman. It didn’t look good, and she hated the idea that this is what she looked like to somebody.

It moved again and Mona took a careful step back. There was the small trowel that Felix had used to dig up the snow, but would it do anything against what might be inside of the snowman? Probably not. At their question, she gaped. “Why would a fox be able to move snow? That doesn’t make sense, Felix!” It moved again, this time fully– twiggy arms spreading outward. The mouth that’d been closed with rocks was now gaping, icy teeth showing in their full glory. Mona stared at it, then looked back over at Felix. “This is your fault.”

—

“The guy!” Felix insisted. “He’s famous!” But that didn’t help, did it? If they couldn’t provide the name of the artist — which they couldn’t — then any further description would only serve to further muddle the waters. With a defeated sigh, they shrugged. “His art probably sucks,” they allowed. They remembered thinking so as a kid in art history class, anyway.

But there were bigger things to worry about. Things like the fact that the Snowmona was moving now, taking steps towards them with feet it didn’t have. Its movement was a strange shuffle, like scooting. And they knew before they asked that it probably wasn’t Mona doing it, but… well, there was still some quiet disappointment at the revelation. “Yeah,” they sighed, “that’s kind of what I figured.” The Snowmona held its hands out towards them both, and Felix took a step back, dragging Mona back with him. “Should we run, do you think? It, um… It isn’t fast.”

—

“Some famous people are bad. Do you not pay attention to the news?” The pitch of Mona’s voice rose as the snowman moved again. Of course this would happen to her. Of course a new friend would create something ugly of her and it’d be possessed or something. Wasn’t she supposed to be the one doing the possessing? Not that she’d done it frequently, but she’d done it enough times to understand the ins and outs of it, and she was almost positive that was not the case here.

“Run, and let somebody else figure it out? Sounds like the perfect idea.” Mona motioned them to follow her, backing up slightly. The snowman moved forward an inch, and then another, its giant mouth open. She half-expected to smell something, carrots, maybe, but it was just ice and the animalistic scent of Felix who was standing next to her. “Why did this happen? What did you do? Do Balams bring things to life?” She cut her gaze from the snowman to Felix. “Tell me you can kill it.”

—

“No, I know! But I don’t — People like his art. I don’t know much about him as a person. He was around a long time ago, I think, so he probably does suck. Or did? I don’t know if he’s alive. He’s probably not. Unless he’s undead? Or fae. Maybe he’s fae?” They were rambling again. They knew that. They had a tendency of it, sometimes. But Mona knew that by now, and she didn’t seem to mind it much. Felix liked that about her, liked the way she enjoyed hanging out with them even when they were difficult to hang out with.

Okay, when she put it like that, running seemed… Kind of bad. They shouldn’t just leave the problem for someone else, should they? It was their problem. They’d created it! They were practically the parents of this particular problem. “We can… lure it away from people,” Felix decided. Maybe they could just… release it into the woods. “I didn’t mean to! I don’t think balam can bring things to life. I mean, it — It’s never happened before? I’ve made snowmen before, and I can promise that this is a first. Definitely a first.” They deflated a little. “Do we have to kill it? Maybe we can… humanely release it?”

—

Felix was rambling, and while Mona was interested in his theories and wanted to pick his brain about what historical figures might not be so human, now wasn’t the time. Now was the time to get away from the snow creature that seemed to want to sink its icicles into their flesh. Of course this would happen in this godforsaken town– of course things couldn’t be normal. She should have listened to her gut when first arriving, but it was too late for that now.

“Lure it away? Towards us?” Mona’s brows furrowed, then she looked back over at the snowman who was getting closer to them. The urge to leave Felix behind was strong, but the sad look in his eyes made her stay put– it was a perpetual thing. “Are you sure? I think there is a first time for everything, and this might be your first time bringing something to life.” She swallowed thickly and took another step back. At his comment about humanely releasing it, she shot a glare at him. “Felix, we need to destroy this thing, do you see its teeth?” As if trying to show them off, the snowman gained speed, beelining for Felix. Mona’s urge to run was strong, but she couldn’t just leave Felix behind. “We need to run or do something, you’re about to get stabbed!” Air filled Mona’s lungs as she yelled at the snowman, but that did nothing to deter it from going for Felix. “And don’t you dare apologize to this thing once we kill it, Felix. Do you hear me?!”

—

“I don’t want it to eat anyone!” Felix’s voice rose an octave, shriller than their usual fare at the very concept. If a Snowmona that they created ate someone, wouldn’t that kind of make it their fault that that person was eaten? The Snowmona was, like, their kid! Kind of! They didn’t want their kid to eat people! Even if they still had absolutely no idea how this was happening.

They tried to consider Mona’s theory — that this was a balam quirk — but it didn’t really fit. Felix had grown up with their siblings, and they’d definitely built snowpeople in the woods a time or two both before and after their father plucked them from society. None of those snowpeople had ever come to life. “Have you ever built a snowperson before?” Felix demanded, squinting at Mona. “Maybe this is a kumiho thing! Because I’ve built lots of snowpeople, and this is a first!” They shifted a little as she turned to glare at him, sheepish. “I don’t know! It feels mean to kill it. We literally brought it to life with our bare hands! And it’s you! I don’t want to kill you, Mona!”

As they said it, the Snowmona made a swing for them, giant icicle ready for the stabbing. Felix was able to dodge easily enough — it really was slow — but their feelings were a little hurt, and they flashed the mound of snow a look to convey this. He’d been standing up for the Snowmona! It was a little rude to try to kill him after that. “Okay! Okay, we can — do we have to call it killing? Maybe we just… melt it?”

—

“No, I’ve never built a snowperson before!” She thought that was fairly obvious by her lack of opinion, but she could understand– Felix might be looking for someone else to blame, but Mona was sure that she wasn’t the person that should be blamed for this, especially. Maybe other things, but not the giant snow freak that was coming towards them. “Why would you even suggest that?! I’m not capable of bringing things to life! I would know! I’m old!” Her shouting did nothing to deter the snowman from its quick approach. She wanted to run, but she stood firmly next to Felix.

“Felix, I didn’t touch this thing! You made it! You even added the carrot! The pebbles– how did it get teeth?! Did you do that when I wasn’t looking?!” Their argument was devolving into nothing– pointing fingers would only get them into more trouble and she knew it. This was like it was back home– in a place she couldn’t recognize anymore, and Felix held certain mannerisms that reminded her of her siblings. It brought her grief, but in this moment, it was mostly familiarity.

The snowman was a violent thing, and as far as Mona was concerned, she wasn’t violent. Only when she needed to be. “It’s alive, we want it dead, I’m pretty sure that amounts to killing it!” The snowman was slow in movement, but the icy teeth looked deadly all the same. At Felix’s recommendation of melting it, Mona froze, looking down at her hands, then back to Felix. “I could have done this the entire time? Why didn’t you suggest it before!” It was the most obvious way to solve their current predicament, but still. Would her foxfire even work against it? It was worth a try.

Mona concentrated on the way the heat felt in her hands, watched as the orb punched a hole through the snowman’s chest, but it did little to deter it. “Um, I think it needs to be more.”

—

“Just because you’re old doesn’t mean there aren’t things you could learn! Maybe it’s rare! Maybe this is a rare thing that some kumiho do and you’re special!” That didn’t sound right. But neither did the idea that Felix had somehow brought the snow creature to life. They tried to remember the details of Frosty the Snowman, humming the song under their breath to try to help them with the lyrics. It had been a hat, hadn’t it? A hat had brought Frosty’s jolly soul to life. But the Snowmona wasn’t wearing a hat, and it didn’t look particularly jolly, either. If anything, it looked a little murderous. Which, hey, wasn’t that far off from how Mona Mona looked right now, so maybe that had something to do with it!

Briefly, Felix considered suggesting that Mona be a little less frustrated with the situation, but that only seemed like a sure-fire way to make her more upset. So he shrugged, looking back to the Snowmona warily. “I never gave it teeth,” he promised quickly. “I wouldn’t do that! Snowpeople don’t need teeth. They don’t eat food. And — I mean, they wouldn’t be able to brush them. They don’t have access to running water and toothpaste.”

But the Snowmona’s inability to brush teeth it shouldn’t have had was less important than the way it was moving towards them now. Felix could recognize murderous intent when they saw it; they had a whole lot of experience with it at work. “I don’t want it dead! I just — you know — don’t want it to kill us!” Could it kill them? How dangerous, exactly, was a snowperson? It didn’t have any weapons, and how much damage could it really do with twig arms?

Still, melting it was probably the only way to really eliminate any danger, and Mona seemed to have a plan. Felix watched with some interest as she shot… something at her snow clone, punching a hole through its chest. They didn’t know much about kumiho, but they thought it was a cool trick all the same. “Maybe — Maybe we need to use fire-fire? Like a lighter? Or a — I don’t have a flamethrower.”

—

“I think I would know if I could bring things to life!” From the brink of death, sure, but her shadow still reflected a second tail, which meant that she hadn’t somehow broke the laws of– well, whatever gumiho magic was, and brought something inanimate into a soulful existence. Mona wasn’t totally sure that it wasn’t Felix who’d done something to create this, since they’d been the only one actually touching the snowman, but now wasn’t the time to continue arguing.

“Maybe it wants to eat the carrot you used for the nose! You know, I told you not to make it a nose!” Mona assumed that because the snowman was moving, it could detect them in other ways. Its beady little eyes and its large, gaping mouth served as a reminder that they were in danger, and Mona hated being in danger. There was no thrill in nearly dying, not when she’d already come so close before.

“Do you just carry around a flame thrower?!” Mona took a large step back to avoid a swipe of the twig arm as the snowman plowed towards them, frost at his backend spraying into the air. She’d seen something in a movie once, a can of hairspray and a lighter, but she had neither– and she didn’t assume Felix had anything to help the cause, either. She focused her energy and shot another ball of fire at the snowman, this time punching a second hole through its forehead. It staggered this time, but was still moving towards them.

“I’m never going to let you live this down, if we survive this. Felix, I’ve been through so much and if I die to a snowman I will figure out a way to haunt the hell out of you!” The snowman launched again, this time at her, and nearly caught her forearm. “Stop! Stop it! This is not what I was promised!” Another ball of fox fire flung towards the snowman, this time through its middle. She needed to not worry so much about conserving energy and instead save her and Felix’s skin. A shriek left the gumiho as the snowman lunged for her, twigged arms extended out. Mona launched a series of fox fire balls from her hands, as if punching through the air with her palms. The fire burned holes through several parts of the snowman, leaving it to look like a piece of poorly drawn swiss cheese.

—

“Have you ever tried to bring a snowperson to life before? Maybe this is just the first time you’ve tried it!” Except Mona hadn’t been trying to bring the Snowmona to life, had she? There was no way she’d done it consciously, at least — she hadn’t even wanted to build it in the first place. But Felix hadn’t done anything consciously, either, so… the only alternative was some weird Wicked’s Rest magic. Felix wasn’t really up to speed on most magical things. They’d been raised with full knowledge of the supernatural, but only as it related to balam. Exorcists, mediums, other shifters, hunters… those were things they knew about. Spellcasters, fae, undead and the like? It was all much less defined in their mind.

Whatever this was, it must have been something related to those lesser known things, then. Maybe a spellcaster had done this as a joke, or maybe some fae was doing… something. Felix wasn’t entirely sure if this was within a fae’s abilities, but given their experiences? They were willing to distrust fae as a general rule. “I don’t think it would eat its own nose! It’s not even reaching for the nose.” The carrot hung between the eyes and the mouth, limp and sad. It wasn’t a very good carrot; maybe that was the problem. Maybe the Snowmona was upset that Felix hadn’t given it a better carrot for its nose.

“No! That’s why I don’t have one!” They didn’t even want a flamethrower. Those seemed a little overwhelming. Kind of scary? Not fun. Felix didn’t love fire, anyway. It made the jaguar anxious, or it made Felix anxious, or both. Mona’s balls of energy seemed to be having some effect, at least in slowing the snow creature down, but Felix knew they were going to need more than that. “What if — What if we get it to follow us inside somewhere? Where there’s heating?”

The Snowmona continued to come towards them both, and Felix continued to scramble backwards. “It really doesn’t like you! Do you think — Does it want to take over your life? Because it looks like you?” The questions were hurriedly whispered, as if he was afraid the mound of snow might overhear and take offense. It would probably take a lot more offense to the way Mona put a few holes in it with the fox fire blasts, of course, but there was no way for Felix to prevent it from knowing about those. “What do you think? Should we, uh, try to get it inside? It’ll melt pretty fast in the heat!” Especially with the new holes in its torso.

—

Mona didn’t use her abilities often– most of the time trying to conserve any and all energy for the inevitable downfall she might face– though, she guessed this was close to that. She inhaled sharply, moving backwards, sweat beading at the back of her neck and forehead. She wanted to go home, wanted to have a nice dinner, and go to sleep– not face whatever this was.

The snowman that’d come to life begged for more attention, however– another swing of its twiggy little arm, this time swiping helplessly through the air, not even close to either her or Felix. It was still charging towards them– or sliding. Mona wasn’t really sure what to call the movement, but Felix’s words caused her lips to form an o as she looked over at him. “That thing looks nothing like me! Why are you insulting me, Felix?!”

But now wasn’t the time to address how he viewed her. She had access to mirrors, she knew she was beautiful, and for Felix to say that this monster looked like her, it was appalling. “Sure, we can take it to somebody else– make it their problem!” Exasperated, Mona took a wide step back, giving the snowman enough room to move without touching her. There seemed to be nobody else seeing what they were currently going through, so to repeat back this stupid adventure might gain her nothing but a concerned glance. She hated that she was in this position.

She whirled around, desperate to see anything that might help. “Do you think that– it’s a store full of hot tubs.” Mona frowned, then looked over at Felix. “We should drown it.”

—

The Snowmona’s attempts to attack were… almost sad. The little guy would have never made it in the Grit Pit, that much was certain. It was clumsy, uncoordinated. Was that just because it was made out of snow, or was it because Felix had been the one to create it? Had they doomed it to an unsuccessful life? They almost felt bad for it… except for the whole ‘attempted murder’ bit. If it weren’t attacking them and Mona, they would have felt way worse.

“I’m not insulting you! It doesn’t look exactly like you. I just think it looks like what you’d look like if you were made out of snow.” Or… Felix’s interpretation of what she’d look like made out of snow. They probably could have done a better job. The ears were bad. They could admit that the ears were very, very bad. But they’d only really seen Mona’s fox ears, like, twice, and both times had seen them focused elsewhere! Felix thought he probably deserved a little bit of slack.

Desperation was beginning to build. The Snowmona didn’t seem entirely dangerous — its arms were made of sticks and it wasn’t very good at using them — but it was pretty determined, and that was a problem. Felix, like Mona, scanned the area for solutions, but it was her who found a good one. “Hot water?” That wasn’t a bad idea. “Yeah! Yeah, that’ll, uh… That’ll be quick.” That was kinder, wasn’t it? A quick death? (Was it a death? Was the Snowmona alive? The question bothered Felix more than it should have.) “Come on. We can lead it over that way, and then… bring it inside.”

They ducked past the mound of snow, pausing to shove at it in an attempt to goad it into following them. It seemed to work. The Snowmona turned around, painfully slow, and began shuffling towards Felix as he made his way towards Uncle Sal’s Bathtub Emporium across the street.

—

“I think I would be a much hotter snow creature, Felix! Except without the heat, because then I’d melt.” It was ironic considering they were trying to melt the suddenly live snowman. Maybe she’d melt from the inside out or something, if that were even possible. Mona wasn’t sure how she’d gotten herself into this situation. It was absurd, really.

This town was severely fucked up, Mona decided. As soon as Esther was back, she was leaving. It would be better that way, anyway. It was only a matter of time before photos of her fox form got back to her family somehow. The idea that somebody in her family could have ties to this town was in itself laughable, but she didn’t want to chance it.

And she would not die to a snowman version of herself. She refused.

Luckily, it seemed like Felix was okay with the idea of drowning their new friend, and Mona followed after them obediently, far enough away from the snowman in case she accidentally gained its attention again. It hobbled after Felix painfully slow, and Mona could see Felix’s retreating figure through the holes she had managed to punch through its chest. “Do you like water? You may also need to go in.”

There was an employee who greeted them at the door, eyes wide by the sight of the animated snowman. “We need to use your hot tub, the hottest one. Do you know which one that is?”

The woman slowly lifted a hand, finger extended towards a bright blue tub.

—

“Snow creatures aren’t supposed to be hot! And not — I mean, not just for temperature reasons. There are a lot of reasons why snow shouldn’t be hot!” There was a hint of desperation in Felix’s voice, though it was more to do with the overall situation than the conversation at hand. After all, this wasn’t the sort of thing they knew how to resolve, and there was always some stress in that. Selfishly, they were glad to be experiencing it with Mona. She was much better at keeping a cooler head than he was.

She was also better at planning. The hot tub idea was a good one, and much better than anything Felix might have come up with. If left to their own devices, they weren’t sure how they would have gotten rid of the Snowmona; it was probably best not to ask that question for fear of the answer. It didn’t matter, anyway. Mona was here, so Felix would go with her plan.

He led the Snowmona towards the hot tub store, wincing at how slow the process was. It was kind of a relief, in a way; if the plan somehow failed, they probably weren’t in any real danger of being hurt by something that moved this slowly. Felix smiled at the employee who greeted them, though it was a strained thing. He thanked her quietly as she pointed them towards a hot hot tub, continuing to lead the Snowmona towards it.

“I don’t want to get in,” they admitted as they reached the edge of the tub. “I — I mean, I know it’s warm in the tub, but it’ll be cold when I get out of it, and I don’t have a change of clothes! What if I turn into a Snowfelix and you have to melt me? I don’t want to be melted!”

—

“Well, you didn’t try very hard to make me hot at all! And maybe if you did, then we wouldn’t be running into the issue of your creation trying to kill us!” The argument was not so much an argument as it was a slew of words being thrown from one direction to the next, all in the hopes to quickly get rid of the problem facing them. Mona didn’t like being in danger as much as the next guy– she was too stingy about her extra tail, and the idea of having to cure some fatal injury on either herself or Felix because of a snowman was pissing her off, even if it hadn’t yet happened.

The way that the snowman hobbled up towards the hot tub was painful to watch– eerily slow, but its dripping fangs made of ice were nothing to laugh at. She was convinced that one swift movement, and Felix’s head would pop off.

By the lack of reaction from the employee, Mona had to wonder how many times she’d been in this situation, or if this was the first. Were they the best part of this woman’s day, or the worst? Mona got a look at her nametag, Kendall. Poor Kendall. At least they could prevent the snowman from killing her, too.

But Felix was stopping, explaining that the water wasn’t something he wanted to interact with and Mona felt herself becoming frustrated. “So it makes sense for me to do it, then?” She glanced over her shoulder, noticing that Kendall was now nowhere to be found. She knew that if she shifted and then came back, she’d be wet all the same, so the idea of going into fox form would do nothing for her to keep dry. “You got us into this! You made it!” She pointed at a rack of towels and a branded t-shirt and sweatpant set. “I’ll buy you those. Or steal them, either or. Get in, Felix, you’re going swimming with your monster.”

—

“Why would I try to make you hot? I don’t think that’s why it’s trying to kill us.” Though they didn’t know for sure, did they? Maybe this was retribution for Felix not making the Snowmona hot. But how did you make a snowperson hot? Why would you? Were these really questions they should be worrying about now? They probably had bigger things to worry about, what with the Snowmona and all. (Could the Snowmona also throw foxfire? Snow foxfire? Felix didn’t really want to find out.)

In the heat of the store, the Snowmona was dripping. A puddle of water trailed behind it as it approached Felix, bearing its icy fangs. “I’m sorry!” Felix shouted at the slowly approaching mound of snow. “I’m sorry I didn’t make you hot! I didn’t know you’d want to be hot! I didn’t know you’d want anything at all, actually, but I definitely didn’t know you’d want to be hot! I would have tried to make you hotter if I knew!” The Snowmona didn’t seem to care for the apology. It continued to approach, and it continued to drip, and Felix stood at the edge of the bubbling hot tub with no desire to go any further.

At Mona’s promise to steal clothes for him, Felix let out a low sound of frustration. Mona had a point — they were the one who’d made the Snowmona. It was only fair that they be the one to destroy it, too. With a quiet groan, he stepped backwards into the hot tub, wincing at the unpleasant sensation of hot water rising up the fabric of his pants.

The Snowmona closed in. It bore its teeth again, and then — pop! A fox version of the snowy beast stood at the edge of the tub, letting out the strangest sound Felix had ever heard before leaping towards them, icy claws at the ready. Felix closed his eyes, holding his breath and submerging himself in the warm water. When they rose back up, the Snowmona was gone. A carrot floated in the bubbling water. Felix picked it up with a frown. “Should we give this to the hot tub employee person? I feel bad.”

—

“Look at me, Felix! I’m hot! Why wouldn’t you try to make something that looks like me also hot!” Mona felt as though her argument held a lot of weight, because of course it made sense that if she were hot, something created in her vision would also be attractive, right? Though, she had admit– she didn’t think there was any single way to make a snowman hot. Unless it was literally.

Felix was apologizing to the snowman, and honestly, that was the least weird thing to happen today. It was actually fairly in character for them to do so. Mona stood to the side, hands balled into fists, the fear of this not working and creating something more dangerous at the tip of her mind. What would they do in that case? Mona would run, probably– all care for assisting Felix out the window.

Mildly satisfied with the way that Felix at least took ownership for his mistake (the snow monster being the mistake, not so much it not being hot), Mona took a few steps back, anticipating something to happen once the snowman was in the water. But something did happen. In a flurry of motion, smoke and mirrors– a fox appeared, and though it looked nothing like her form, she had to say it was uncanny. “What the fu–” Before she could get the rest of her words out, it was lunging at Felix who was submerging themself into the water.

The snow fox disappeared almost instantly after making contact with the hot bubbling water. A carrot remained, and Mona felt disgusted that this had happened at all. She looked up at Felix as he emerged from beneath the water, and she pointed at him. “Why the hell would she want the carrot? What if it’s possessed? What if that’s what made the snowman alive? We need to burn that. Felix get out, we need to burn the carrot.”

She was so convinced that the carrot was what had done this that she reached forward, swiping it from Felix’s hand to submerge it back beneath the water. “We’re drowning this carrot, then we’re burning it.”

—

“I am not an artist!” Felix replied, sounding a little put out. How could they be expected to make a snowperson hot? Was that even a possible thing to achieve? They didn’t even think Michelangelo would have been able to do it — the artist or the Ninja Turtle. There was only so much that was physically possible, after all.

It was also the least of their worries. Was it a risk, trying to defeat the Snowmona in this way? Was there a chance they made things worse, somehow? Logic dictated that melting the snow would be the best way to rid themselves of their problem, but what could logic possibly tell them about a problem that included a snowperson coming to life and trying to chase them down? For all they knew, the Snowmona wanted them to try to melt it. But Felix had no better ideas, and he didn’t think Mona did, either. It was this, or it was nothing. And they definitely didn’t want to do nothing.

The snowfox was a surprise. It didn’t look much more like Mona’s fox form than the Snowmona looked like her human form, but it had two tails and sharp teeth and Felix would rather not figure out how much more of Mona was within it. (They were pretty sure Mona-Mona would bite them if it came down to it. They didn’t want Snowmona to do it in her stead.)

The plus side, of course, was that the Snowmona, even if it did have properties of the actual Mona, was still made of snow. It hit the water and it was gone in an instant, so fast that blinking might have caused you to miss the fact that it had jumped at all. Felix, sitting fully clothed and submerged in the hot tub, felt a little silly now that the danger — however big or small it may have been — had passed. They looked back to Mona, looking from her to the carrot. “Do you think so?” Had the carrot really caused all this? “Wouldn’t burning it just… cook the carrot?”

Aforementioned carrot was gone from his hand in a heartbeat, transferred to Mona and dunked beneath the water in the tub where he still sat. “I think I’m stew right now,” Felix commented, making a face as they climbed out of the hot tub. “It doesn’t feel possessed, does it? It just feels like a carrot. Is it — you don’t think it’s a ghost carrot, do you? Like… the spirit of a carrot that was eaten?”

—

“I can tell!” Mona wasn’t really sure what else to say now that the snowman had completely disappeared. She wondered if in the event the store froze over, if the snowman would come back to life even more powerful than before. She hoped not, considering it’d be a hot-tub shaped ice cube wreaking havoc across town.

“No, cooking would imply eating the carrot, and I can’t let you get possessed either.” Though, Mona wasn’t sure if that wasn’t already the case for Felix. He had a spirit living inside of him, wasn’t that possession? It was a little more complicated than that and she knew it, but she hadn’t yet gotten the munchies for what lived inside of them, so she called that a win. Maybe it was something else entirely, especially considering she’d never really run into a balam until arriving in the states. There’d been stories, sure, but nothing that painted the real picture.

“That’s disgusting. Some things might want to eat you, but nobody here.” She released her grip on the carrot and it bobbed in the water again. “Here.” She grabbed the t-shirt and a pair of bright purple sweatpants that matched the company’s logo across the ass. “It’s really bold of them to think this is a good design.” She frowned at the pants as she passed it over to them. Mona returned to the hot tub and peered inside, pausing at his question. “You think…” She looked around before shaking her head. “I’m not going to risk shifting just to see if the carrot is possessed. Maybe later.”

—

“You don’t have to be mean,” Felix huffed, but it was clear that their feelings weren’t really hurt. It was just a matter of fact, their lack of artistic abilities. Any attempt to deny it was only going to embarrass the both of them, especially considering the ‘proof’ of this lack of ability displayed in the now-melted Snowmona.

He looked down at the carrot, softened by the bubbling water in the tub. “I’m not going to get possessed!” It wasn’t impossible for a balam to be possessed, though it was uncommon. Felix already had one extra spirit living in their chest — there wasn’t much room for more. “And you can cook something without eating it! It’s just… a little wasteful, I guess?” Was it wasteful not to eat this particular carrot? Maybe they should feed it to one of the reindeer wandering around town. They already seemed to be prone to violence, so it probably wouldn’t matter much if they got possessed.

Felix took the clothes Mona offered them, going to stand behind a hot tub as they undressed. It felt a little silly, considering he’d been naked in public plenty of times in the aftermath of shifts, but it was a hard habit to break. “Well, that’s not really fair,” they commented, pulling off the soaked shirt and making a face at the way the fabric stuck to their skin. “You’re the only one here, and I know you don’t want to eat me.” They pulled on the dry shirt, and then the sweatpants. They were soft, and certainly warmer than their soaked clothing, which they folded as best they could and tucked under their arm. “I could shift my eyes,” they offered. “Do you think I should?”

—

“There is a difference between being honest and being mean, and I’m not being mean!” Maybe she was being a little mean, but Mona felt as though she had the right to do so. Felix had nearly killed the both of them with a snowman. She still wasn’t sure how it had come to life, but she didn’t figure that was so important now that it had melted.

Mona frowned, “so you’re telling me that you wanted to cook and eat the carrot after building that– the replica of me? I don’t believe it.” She continued on, squinting at him, “you don’t even really look like you eat carrots, so I’m not sure where you’d be going with this, anyway.” The idea that he would have pawned the carrot off to her afterwards disappointed her a little more than the actual live-action snowman did.

“Why do you want somebody to eat you, Felix? Do you hate yourself that much?” She knew the answer, could see it in the way he never defended himself. It was a little cruel, imposing that trait onto him, she realized. “You should love yourself. It’s important. I’m sure you’d be delicious to somebody, somewhere, but not right now.” She flexed her fingers, averting her eyes as Felix undressed. She’d seen naked body upon naked body, and while that’d been in beings like herself, something outside of that felt… rude. She moved towards the wall with accessories and grabbed a tote bag, chucking it over her shoulder at Felix so they could put their wet clothes inside.

“You can do that?” Mona whirled around, eyes bright and round.

—

“Sometimes honesty is mean!” Felix protested. Deep down, though, they knew Mona didn’t mean it as an insult. They also knew that she was right. His snow carving skills left a lot to be desired, and it was pretty much impossible to claim anything to the contrary. Even if the Snowmona hadn’t come alive and tried to kill them (was it trying to kill them?), it was hard to pretend that it had been an accurate depiction of Mona herself.

It must have been at least a little accurate, though. It had turned into a fox in the end. That was a pretty accurate detail.

The carrot was a little less accurate. And when she put it like that, it did sound a little weirder. Felix frowned, looking at the carrot again. “Well, I don’t want to eat it. I just think it’s bad to let it go to waste. It’s not good to waste food.” They’d gotten pretty into that mentality when living with their father in the woods. Every part of the things killed for meat were used in one way or another, and nothing was thrown away. The same had gone for things grown in the family garden. It was a difficult habit to break here, even if only for a single carrot.

“I don’t want anyone to eat me,” he replied, though he’d already forgotten the actual point of the conversation. “I’m just saying, like, I don’t think I’d taste bad. I think plenty of things would like eating me.” They shifted a little, the rest of her statement hitting a little closer to home than he’d liked to admit even if they knew it had all been said in jest. They folded their wet clothes as best they could, the fabric not quite dry enough to be molded into anything more than a ball of shirt and pants, and they trotted over to Mona once fully dressed to tuck everything into the bag she’d grabbed.

At her question, they glanced up at her, a little surprised. “Oh! Yeah. The, uh… The jaguar can see ghosts, because he’s a spirit. So when I’m using his eyes, I can see them, too.”

—

“But you used the carrot for the nose. Were you going to eat it afterwards? I don’t eat carrots.” She only liked them candied, and even then, it was a stretch. Mona looked up at the wall of items that displayed the company’s logo across them. She knew she wasn’t great with graphic design, but they should really fire whoever they employed.

With a sigh, she turned back around, eyebrow arched. “In this town, you might be right.” Plenty of things would probably sink their teeth into her, if given the chance. Of course, she’d never want to find out– she was far too self-preserving for that. Mona crossed her arms over her chest and watched as Felix deposited the wet clothes into the bag.

“That’s…” She tilted her head to the side, looking up at Felix. Squinting slightly, she tried to see if there was anything she could see in Felix’s gaze. “I can only see ghosts when in fox form, and I assume that’s also through my eyes.” They were a lot more alike than she’d originally anticipated, despite being on opposite ends of the food chain. “But I can’t partial shift, not on purpose, at least.” Her ears and tail that sprouted at inopportune moments were a reminder of that.

“You guys should leave.”

It was Kendall’s voice that interjected. She held a broom at the ready, eyes wide with fear. “You don’t have to pay, but you should leave– you should definitely leave. Please.”

Mona looked over at Felix with another sigh. “Come on, grab the carrot so we can go and kill it.”

#para: kill the carrot #para: felix #wickedswriting

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cheerfulmelancholies · 8 months

Text

Paradise Rock

Another one from the archives. I wrote this waaaay back in high school for a project, I believe. I did post it on Wattpad but I haven't used that in ages so I figured I'd migrate what little I have from it to here. This was interesting to work on and a bit challenging for me because I usually don't write in this style and I was still just figuring out horror. I also wanted to try making it vaguely mysterious but I was never really satisfied with it and even now I'm still trying to improve on that genre. It definitely reads like my writing from that time period, lol. I actually forgot all about this but it's nice to see how and where I've improved and what I still incorporate into my works.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy this blast from my past I dug up. To avoid any confusion in advance, time passes with each new paragraph.

He awakens with a jolt, drenched in sweat and panting. He's disoriented, panicked and has no idea who the middle-aged couple standing over him are. His head feels foggy and it takes his sluggish brain several seconds to realize that the gray-eyed, raven-haired teen staring at him from across the room is his reflection. It takes him a few moments after that to process what the couple is saying.

He is unsure of everything. Nothing is adding up and when he tries to put together what broken pieces he does have they always leave him with even more questions. His parents told him that he cannot remember simply because of an accident and that his memories will return soon enough. He shouldn't push himself so hard to remember, they say. They tell him to just relax and let it run its course. Something deep in the haze of his mind refuses to let that happen.

He hears quiet whispers that warn him of trouble.

He often wanders through the house aimlessly, feeling as if he should be doing something important. He still can't remember a thing and he thinks he's beginning to annoy his parents with his constant drifting. There are snippets of visions he can't decipher; pieces of jewelry, people laughing, faces that he feels he should know. There's something... important about them. Every time an image flashes briefly in his mind, however, he mentions it to his parents and they say it is nothing to worry about. He's always been 'somewhat delusional.' They go so far as to call him extremely paranoid, as he often claims that things appear to be off and how something, possibly even someone, is telling him there is something wrong.

"It's all right," they always say with a smile. "There's nothing wrong here."

Only there is. He knows there is. Things are happening here that shouldn't be, he can see it.

Why don't they notice the people in the shadows, with their silent pleas, or hear the hushed whispers of some invisible being?

Their gentle reassurances do nothing to quell this gut feeling of his and they certainly can't hide the sheer wrongness of this place. However, they continue to tell him that he's fine, that it's just a phase and that things will be better soon. So why, then, have they not gotten better? He's heard that line since the beginning and he never believed it then either.

Their faces begin to scare him. They scare him even more than the voices that whisper in the back of his mind for him to run, run as far away as he can and don't look back.

There never used to be so many.

Their smiles, which are supposed to be beaming with love and understanding, are now taut with distress and discomfort. Sometimes he catches glimpses of something darker underneath the thinly veiled distaste, though it could be his frantic mind playing tricks on him. In any case, they continue to speak to him all friendly-like, and laugh and joke and play as though there is nothing wrong. Outwardly he believes it, but deep inside he knows that it's all a lie and, somewhere even deeper within himself than he can imagine, he knows he has to do something. He's wasted too much time already.

They like to act as if he doesn't remember, couldn't possibly, not with all the things supposedly wrong with his head.

He knows he's not crazy.

They think he's incapable of recalling their slip-ups, the things said that he was never meant to hear. They seem to believe, perhaps through some outside force not at all affected by common science, that he cannot hear their hushed voices radiating from a back room or through a closed door if he wishes to be near enough. Or, just as likely, they don't think he'll do such a thing. No matter the reason, he hears every word with ease and remembers even easier.

Catching people's nervous habits seems to be his natural talent. It's been the one and only thing he can count on in this place, ever since waking up in his room a couple weeks ago with his 'parents' watching over him. The twitch of a hand, the fiddling of an item, the quick glance of an eye. He can name every single flaw about their demeanor and point it out in his sleep. They are terrible liars, surely they must realize that by now.

It doesn't matter how long it took himself to notice.

There is no point in them keeping secrets, he's said as much. Still, they carry on the charade. He's not sure whether they're lying to themselves at this point or if they just don't know any other way to live.

Lying awake in bed one night, ignoring the harsh syllables in his mind and staring vehemently at the dancing silhouettes on the walls that are only getting worse, he wonders. The tight smiles have morphed into disgusted grimaces and he still hasn't received any straightforward answers about his past, his memories. They keep telling him--insisting, really--that he shouldn't be worried about it. He just has to trust them, his parents. They know what's best for him.

Is that why he's never allowed outside? Is it why they get so defensive when he questions them on how different they look from himself? Why they hate when he ponders why he can't interact much with the 'neighbors'?

He feels like he shouldn't believe a word they say. The voices constantly tell him that it's not his imagination running wild and that he needs to leave before it's too late.

He doesn't know who to trust anymore. On one hand, there they are, the people he calls his family. They are supposed to love him more than anything no matter what and, so far, they haven't hurt him in any way. Then there's the talking in his head that mysteriously turned up ever since that first seed of doubt planted itself in his heart. He felt it take root mere hours after regaining consciousness from a supposed accident that he still can't recall. He knows the disembodied voices aren't entirely misleading; he can see through most of the lies with ease. The voices tell him to get away from these people who want to hurt him. Some part of his brain not attacked by the barrage of warnings can tell there's some truth in those whispered words. There's somewhere he has to go.

There's something important he's left behind somewhere.

He can't recognize them anymore. They are not who he thought them to be, who they told him they were. All falsities are gone, their kindness replaced with an inhuman malice that he couldn't possibly have imagined even if he wanted to. He can see it now, more clearly than he ever wanted. He regrets his choice of ignorance.

Rushing out of the house, he takes in the neighborhood, with the brightly painted homes and vibrant flowers. Until now, he'd only seen a small section of the street from the living room windows; a quaint little suburban neighborhood. He now knows it is nothing more than a front for something much, much darker. He can even see it in the people. They look at him, some from porches and others walking along the sidewalks, but he does not see their happy smiles or friendly waves. All he sees are the sinister glares and hungry eyes that are no longer lurking in the background. It's all out in the open, unable to be pinned on his 'mental instability' that he is certain never existed.

He remembers now and he knows it has nothing to do with what his 'parents' told him, what they told all the others before him.

He dreads the possibilities if he'd just blindly accepted their lies.

He turns and sees them too, his false parents, glaring at him in the same way the rest are. It is at that moment he fully grasps the severity of the situation and just how much of an idiot he has been. The voices beg him to run and he does, full sprint, dodging clawing hands and fists. He has no idea where he's going and glances behind himself to see them give chase with snarls and screams. He decides location is irrelevant.

Panting and drenched in sweat he stops, hunched over with his hands on his knees. He is behind a seemingly empty library and the voices are telling him to enter, but he doesn't. He's seen more than enough horror movies to know that you don't corner yourself in a building when there are things trying to kill you, not to mention that it was giving him a bad feeling. He isn't about to put all his faith in a bunch of disembodied voices that did little more than endlessly scream at him to run, no matter how good the advice had been. He feels safer out in the open where he's less likely to be trapped.

Having regained his breath, he stands and listens for any approaching footsteps. There is no sound at all, not even wind.

"Thank you," is all he says as he lets himself drop to the ground. His breathing is no longer labored but his legs ache too much to stand unnecessarily, and he could use a chance to get his bearings. He knows this isn't the place he came from; if one could transition that easily from woods to suburbs then deforestation was worse than he thought. None of the buildings ring any bells and he can't spot a single recognizable feature in the light of the setting sun.

He sighs and wonders how he'd ever forgotten in the first place. His real parents, his sister, his entire life. How had it all slipped out of his mind so easily? What made him believe the nonsense those people fed him? Things didn't feel right from the very beginning. An accident that couldn't be named, blaming the voices and his mistrust on some mental condition, amnesia... And it took him a month to realize the truth. He was supposed to be better than that. Of course the voices would know what they were talking about, they likely had first hand experience...

Something lightly brushes his shoulder and he gasps before leaping up, cursing himself for getting so distracted.

There's nothing there. There are no demon townsfolk ready to devour him and nothing from the library, just empty space. He lets out a shaky breath and continues to stare at the spot where he'd been sitting. The voices have all gone quiet and he feels as though he might miss something important if he turns away.

Just as he's about to give up and look for a new hiding spot the air shimmers, but only for a moment. In a rare twist, it's not something that frightens him. He can hear what seems to be a voice--outside of his head, for once--but can't quite make out what it's saying until he leans in close. The area distorts again, shaking and warping like rippling water, and then he hears it.

"...nt."

It sounds far away, so faint he can hardly hear it, but he knows who it is and that it's calling his name.

"Trent."

It's louder now and the air violently shifts as though the girl on the other side is trying to reach through and grab him. He smiles at the thought.

The silence erupts as footsteps rapidly approach from all around him and he hears horrid sounds, voices morphing into animalistic growls and shrieking. Knowing he's out of time, he reaches his arm into the rippling air in front of him and is mortified at the fact that it does nothing more than give his appendage the same distorted look. The creatures are closing in on him--all beady eyes, sharp teeth and claws--and he has no choice but to dive headfirst into the bubble, hoping and praying that something would happen and he'd be warped back home to his real family, where he wanted to be.

How ironic that it had been the exact opposite that led him here in the first place.

They surround him. Their twisted too-wide smiles and gleaming eyes are all he can see and he becomes frantic, thrashing around in the distorted pocket. Jumping in had been a terrible idea because now he can't escape, can't breathe and his world is quickly darkening. The creatures who called themselves his parents take the front of the crowd, watching his struggle with glee. He looks away from their eyes, their pupils like two glowing red marbles, and curses himself for being so foolish. He stops struggling against the force of the bubble. He'd much rather suffocate than die at the hands of these monsters.

Just as he resigns himself to such a fate, he feels the air stretch and shake and suddenly a human hand is reaching for him. Before the monsters can get their claws on him he is being pulled through what he assumes is space itself, as when he opens his eyes he is lying on his back in the middle of a small clearing surrounded by trees, with his sister--his real living, breathing twin sister--hunched worriedly over him, the sun's rays illuminating her dark hair.

Her eyes are scrunched shut and her hand is poised in the air; he hardly has the chance to blink before she slaps him across the face. He lets out a gasp and she jolts back onto her butt with a shriek.

"Kate?" he says, still in shock. He watches her stare at him incredulously before she has to wipe at her eyes.

"Trent, you idiot!" she shouts, ignoring his shocked expression and crawling back over to his side. "Are you okay?" She takes out her phone and turns on the flashlight so she can try to shine it into his eyes to check his pupils. She gives up when he pushes her away and instead begins pacing. "Mom and Dad were so worried. I was so worried. What's wrong with you? Why would you do this?"

He is still recovering from both the slap and the experience as he shakily gets to his feet and stares. "Huh?" is all he can manage.

Kate whirls and storms back over to him, making him flinch in preparation for another slap. She grabs him by the shoulders and gives him a light shake. "Trent, we thought something might have happened! Usually you at least text me when you do stupid crap like this."

He gasps. "That's right." He steps back when she appears to consider another assault. "I... I ran away."

"I know," she says softly. Her frustration dissipates and she is left standing there like the lost younger sister she is. Though well into her teens and only younger by mere minutes, even she has her limits on what she can handle alone. "It was really stupid you know..."

"That means I'm not crazy," Trent mutters to himself. He's never felt so relieved. A grin forms before he can stop it. "I'm not insane!" A few birds can be heard fluttering away in the trees.

She is both surprised at his sudden outburst and mildly annoyed that her sentiment was cut off so rudely. "Of course you aren't," she says, folding her arms. "I know you're special up there but it's nothing like that." She watches him survey the surrounding area, wide-eyed and ecstatic like a kid in a candy store, and considers rescinding her previous statement. Next thing she knows, he has her in a tight hug, and she can practically feel her ribs bending under the pressure.

"You were gone for five whole days," she wheezes. She awkwardly pats him on the back, asking to be released. When she can breathe again, she adds, "We've all been worried sick. You might be close to eighteen but Mom was practically hysterical. You should really be thanking me that I convinced her not to file a report for you just yet. I told her you were probably just hiding out at a hotel somewhere, and that you'd turn up eventually. You took enough clothes and stuff with you, after all. That only worked for the first few days. She called off work this morning and is probably still harassing people with pictures of you, asking if they'd seen you at all.

"I got worried when you didn't at least shoot me a quick text saying you were okay so I started my own search. I knew you wouldn't go stay at a hotel or somewhere obvious like that after the fight we all had, and there really aren't many places you'd go to if you ran away from home." She takes a breath and stares at him, gray eyes full of concern. "What were you even thinking? You're lucky nothing ate you. When I saw your body just lying spread eagle in the dirt I freaking lost it and scared half the wildlife away. I thought you were dead." Her voice cracks and she sniffles back a few rebellious tears.

Trent absently wraps his arms around her again, gentler this time, and ponders how any of this could even be possible. Five days? He'd been trapped in that nightmare for a month. Not to mention, his body couldn't possibly have been here if it had been...

"Hey. Are you alright?" Kate pulls away and looks him dead in the eyes, mirror images of her own. She watches them come back into focus and she can see her worry reflected back. "Did something happen? How'd you pass out? You didn't hit your head, did you?"

He doesn't remember that. Everything else came rushing back the moment he realized the truth about what was happening, everything except how he'd gotten there in the first place. The supposed 'accident' was still a mystery. "I... I don't know. I don't think anything hurt me..."

"You don't remember? You sure you didn't hit your head or something?" She checked his vitals when she first found him. His breathing, pulse and temperature all seemed normal, or as normal as she had an understanding of. He was still alive and that had been all that really mattered. There's still no blood to be found and aside from his odd confusion, he seems okay mentally. She can't hep but wonder if she missed something.

Trent flinches and tries to get away as her hands feel around his scalp. "Stop it," he says, backing up a few steps. "I'm fine. I didn't hit my head." At least, not in the real world, he thinks.

"Are you sure you're okay? Nothing hurts?"

"Aside from the slightly stinging bitch-slap, no. I'm not in any pain."

Kate lets out a cough to mask a laugh before meeting his gaze again. "Sorry. I couldn't wake you." Her light smile fades when she sees the look on his face.

"How did you find me?" He can't wrap his head around any of this. He was teleported, wasn't he? Like in the stories. He'd somehow ended up in another plane of existence. Or had he left his body behind somehow? Is that what happened? People's souls were ripped out of their bodies, brought into that horrid place, and what was left in the mortal plane eventually got devoured by the animals?

"A hunch," she says, shrugging. "I'd already tried all your usual spots and none of your friends even knew you'd ran off. I just... had this feeling..."

"But how did you find me here?" They were standing in the middle of the woods, probably some sixteen miles or so away from home. Unless he'd been tagged with a GPS tracker at birth, there was no way anyone could have found him so quickly.

"I don't really know myself," she says, looking around. "It just... seemed like the right place to come. I remembered a few days ago before everything boiled over and the fight happened that you and some friends were going on about Paradise Rock." She nods at the unusually shaped rock standing tall at the center of the clearing, right behind her brother.

Trent suddenly feels a chill when he turns and catches sight of the thing, its odd proportions and strange markings--scrapes, lines and gouges that couldn't have come from nature--setting off some primal feeling of fear. His sister's hand is grasping his wrist before he can get too absorbed in the chunk of stone that he swears is whispering to him.

"We should head back," she says, bringing a hand to his forehead. "I think you might be dehydrated or something." The distant glaze leaves his eyes after a few moments.

"Wait." He pulls his arm free and shakes his head to clear it. "Something did happen, okay? I got... pulled into wherever it is those people in the stories went. Except... It's not like the stories at all. I couldn't remember anything. There were these people, they said they were my parents. They kept telling me I had this bad accident and that everything would be okay. I almost believed them."

Kate is staring at him like he'd just lost his mind and suggested they go live in a swamp and groom alligators for a living. He can't stop though, he has to tell someone. "I started hearing these voices and seeing things and having these weird visions. They--my fake parents--told me I was still recovering from my accident. Then they said I was mentally ill. I still couldn't remember, so I just went with it. But the voices wouldn't stop. They kept telling me to leave and that they were lying. I didn't know what to do but I know I didn't trust those people completely. I had this nagging feeling that if I let it go then something horrible would happen.

"Then I just sort of snapped out of it. I finally saw them all for what they were. Demons, or something close to it. I don't know. I just knew I had to get out of there before they could turn me into a disembodied voice like the others. So I ran as fast as I could until I lost them by this library."

"Library?" Kate's brows are furrowed and she's hopelessly lost. Her brother doesn't try to elaborate, just continues on with his insane story.

"The voices were telling me to go inside, but I didn't. It gave me the creeps, y'know? So I waited and tried to figure out what to do, then you showed up. Sort of. I heard you calling me." He finishes with a crooked grin.

"I... You were still breathing okay and everything, so I started shouting at you to wake you up. If you hadn't started twitching I would've had to find reception to call an ambulance. I thought giving you a good jolt would get you to come to." Her eyes are narrowed, though not with anger. She's squinting at him as though he were some sort of puzzle and it was taking all her brainpower to figure him out.

Trent deflates. "You don't believe me." If his own twin wasn't convinced, what chance did he have against his parents? His mother would likely be too relieved that he was home safe to be angry, but his dad...

"It's not that I don't believe you," she says as his shoulders sag. "It's just... You know how Mom and Dad are. They don't believe in all that supernatural stuff. I'm not saying that this couldn't have happened. It can and does, to absolutely anybody, but they aren't gonna accept some out-there story like that. Do you have any idea how mentally unstable you just sounded?"

Trent chews his lip. Even if she backs him up, he still has no chance of proving it happened. He knows Kate believes him, he can see that in the way she's staring at the rock with a bothered expression. His parents, however, are not going to accept a story like that; if anything, they'd grill him for trying to frighten his sister with ghost stories on top of everything else. "Let's get out of here," he finally says, pulling her attention away from the stone.

The two of them slowly make their way through the clearing, up the gentle slope, and into the trees. As Trent tells her where he left his bike and bags he catches her glancing warily at the rock one final time before it disappears into the surrounding bark and foliage. Another chill creeps up his spine and he rubs his arms to stop the goosebumps forming as a single whisper grazes the back of his mind.

"Come back, Trent."

#my writing #writers on tumblr #creative writing #writeblr

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sukirichi · 3 years

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earned it [02]

Gojo Satoru is a firm believer that if you work hard for it then you shall earn it. But on the other side, he’s not unfamiliar with his own sins. He also believes that there is punishment due for his sins as he’s earned it.

cw. mentions of murder, suggestive content, unedited fic

notes. err, i’m only doing this on impulse. i would like to continue it, but i think part one stands enough for itself :> i might delete this if i don’t like it a few days later lollll

series masterlist

Your infamous customer hadn’t arrived even as the restaurant closed. You watched close enough, fidgety in your movements and often bumping into other servers, all because your gaze kept darting back to the front door, awaiting his presence.

There’s no actual reason why you want to see him. Maybe it’s because he left an impression? The guy didn’t even budge after finding out someone had snuck into the kitchen to poison him, leaving you to wonder why anyone wanted to kill him. Not that it was any of your business, but you figured it was only common between powerful people who are equally greedy. Still, you’re unfocussed in your work, apologizing every now and then when your boss shook their head at you.

Thankfully, you managed to get back to your old pace. Thoughts of the white-haired tall man left the room at the same time everyone did, leaving only you and your boss in the locker room. You ended up working two shifts again on this weekend, your co-worker asking you to cover for them due to sudden family issues.

It’s tiring, that much is for sure, but you won’t complain when it’s more money down in your pocket. You’re dazzled, however, as you leave the locker room and see that your main chefs are still there.

Upon seeing you, they immediately usher you into a lone table, table 98 that remained untouched the whole night, a two lit candles illuminating the otherwise darkness of the isolated restaurant. Only this time, it’s occupied by him no less, his azure eyes flittering up to yours at the sound of your hesitant footsteps.

You’ve been looking for him the whole night, yet now that he’s in front of you, you don’t have any words to say. Instead, you bow down deep, the hands clasped in your lap shaking.

“S-Sir.”

“No need to be so nervous. I only wish to discuss something with you,” his laugh is so carefree, lighthearted as he gestures to the empty spot across him. “Take a seat,” Wordlessly, you foolow his orders and dash down to the seat, spine straight and head held high. There’s a hint of amusement in his small smile, but he doesn’t tease you, save for the lilting tone he held. “So you’re in sophomore year of university?”

“Yes, Sir. How’d you know?” You furrowed your brows, unsure of whether you’re supposed to expensive meal served in two.

Gosh, and this was on page three too, a single meal cost at least six months’ worth of rent.

“I pulled a string or two,” he lifts one shoulder lazily, waving his knife in the air. “And please, call me Satoru. Assuming we come to an understanding, things will go well for the both of us. You are in need of financial aid, yes?” You nod, utterly clueless in where this is leading, but Satoru’s already made up his mind long before he came here that he found no need in beating around the bush.

“Good. Then what do you say about being my sugar baby?”

“S-sugar baby?” you repeat the word first in confusion, then with distaste. He simply hums around the meat he’s eating, as if it’s a normal occurrence for him to inquire such things, and you scoff, crossing your arms on your chest.

You don’t care that this guy is your precious customer – he was just the same as everyone else.

“Is that the reason why you asked me to stay behind? Do you think you can just pay people to sleep with you? It may have worked on others, but not to me. I would rather keep my dignity than be with you,” you breathe hard after your rant, slapping your palms down on the table. The impact of it makes the table shake, his hand reflexively reaching to steady his wine glass. “As for what happened yesterday, you don’t have to thank me about it. I did what any right-minded person would.”

“And if I said I never wanted to be saved?” he asks, his tone still so calm that it further infuriates you. You stare at him, stunned and mouth gaping. “Sit down. I didn’t mean it that way.”

“Thank you for graciousness, Sir, but I really don’t—”

“Angel,” You freeze at the nickname. He chuckles with his forehead pressed to his clasped hands, “Do you really think I need to pay people to sleep with me? I could have anyone I want,” his voice falls an octave or two, the sonorous warning rumbling something…alien inside your body. You stand there, unable to move, and he easily sees through this as he hides a smirk behind his drink. “Sit down. I’m not done talking to you.”

You don’t know what snapped in you to actually follow, but his words weren’t just that. They were always laced with eased dominance, the words leaving his lips coming out as a command. No, it was more like a hypnotizing order, and you’re nothing but a puppet enslaved by it.

His smile only grows bigger, and you hate that he looks ridiculously handsome under the dim lights of the room. Life would’ve been much easier if this man had been ugly.

“As I was saying, this relationship should be casual, no strings attached. I’d prefer if you’re exclusive to me, and in return, I’ll cover all your school fees and everything else. As for the sex,” he cuts his eyes straight to yours, an intense burning heat in them. You squirm in your seat, a little intimidated, albeit excited, by this proposition too, though you’d rather die than let him know that, “I don’t need that from you. I just want someone to talk to.”

“You’re paying me to talk to you?”

“No,” he chuckles, “I’m saying you form a relationship with me in exchange of financial aid. You’d be similar to a lover, nothing less of a friend,” he stares at his drink so hard like he was having a debate with it. A few seconds later, he found his answer, the gleam in his eyes surreptitious as he says, “Someone I can trust.”

You huff. Surely it wasn’t easy as that. “Why me?”

“No reason,” he shrugged, “I just find you endearing, that is all,” You lean back on your seat, trying to process all this. The hesitance must be written all over your face because he adjusts his tie, sliding a white business card your way before sliding his chair back in. At least he’s well-mannered enough to do that. “You can take your time to think about it. There’s no need to rush.”

Somehow, seeing his figure retreat triggers something within you. You watch as silhouettes emerge from the darkness trail after him; must be his security team, serving as an additional note that what you so struggled to achieve was likely nothing for him.

Was it fear? Desperation? Shame?

You don’t know, you won’t ever really know, but you run up to him anyway, brave enough to tug at his sleeve. The guards surrounding him tense up at the contact, stepping away only when he raises a finger that spoke a thousand words.

“You-you’ll pay for everything?”

With his back turned to you, you failed to see that victorious grin he wore. “And everything more,” he reassured. He turns around to confirm your submission, but you’re quivering under his towering frame, poor hands clutched around the card so tightly he won’t be surprised if you break it. He chuckles, coaxing the worries out of you as he caresses your cheek, his breath evident of expensive liquor hitting your cheeks. “Relax, angel. It’s not like you’re selling your soul to the devil.”

Your pupils blow wide at the close proximity. If he was attractive before, it’s nothing compared to the clarity of his sharp, angular features that are softened by his playful smile. Oddly enough, his thumb caressing your cheeks is tender yet calloused.

There’s no telling when who put who under a spell, because you’re clutching helplessly at his suit jacket, whispering, “Am I not?”

You are, he wants to say, but you’re so innocent, so vulnerable – such an angel, he can’t help but hum in his head – that he doesn’t have the heart to let you know. He already knew things were bound to fall out of place one another, but until that hasn’t happened yet, he’ll have to keep you close. He’ll make you his.

“I’ll take good care of you,” he declares so confidently that you couldn’t even question his capability to do so you, and for a moment, just a moment, your knees weaken under his stare. “Now that, I can promise.”

Should you have pulled away then? When he leaned down to seal the contract with a kiss, should you have pulled away then? Or better yet, could you even pull away then?

You’ve been so alone your whole life that each moment with him is awakening, soul-crushing, mind-shattering and so damn weakening that you should’ve pulled away then. If anyone were to tell you you’d share your first kiss after work hours with a man whose name you don’t even know of, you’d tell them they were crazy, crazier if they claimed you would enjoy it.

But you did. Oh, you did, you were addicted to him – his taste, his scent, his touch, everything about him – that when he pulled away, taking away every last breath in your lung that formerly remained taint-free by him, you’re left wanting. Craving.

And he knows this. How could he not? Your eyes are hazy with lust, chest pressed against his firm ones that would soon be the same body you found home over and over again. You’re not the only left intoxicated from this sudden agreement. Whatever you feel, he feels it twice as much after years of watching you from the sidelines, asking himself a million times over what it is about you that pulled him in so much in the first place.

The innocence? The dedication? The youthful naivety?

Gojo wants to laugh at himself. It was never any of those – he simply wanted to fool himself that maybe he’s worthy of this, of your love, of your purity. He’s selfish, manipulative, heartless, and he wants nothing more than someone like you to make him feel like he’s everything he’s not.

He steps forward to brush his nose against yours; breathing in the tiny gasps you reward him with. And he’s barely even touched you.

“I look forward to our next meeting,” he rasps, butterfly touches all the way down your back to hold you flush against him, letting you feel that he’s all muscle and hardness, while you’re the complete opposite, composed of softness and little ghosting kisses. Perhaps when he gives you by a name, he was right to call you – “My Angel.”

The loud blaring of your alarm cuts through the silence of the room, its shrill sound piercing your ears. You groan, blindly patting the bedside table to swipe snooze. The spot next to you has been cold for a while now, but it’s normal for Satoru to leave early for work that you burrow yourself deeper in the covers. Five more minutes of sleep shouldn’t be so bad; it’s the weekend, anyway. You’ve got nothing else to do.

Waking up after that, on the other hand, now that is an impending task on itself.

You’re beyond sore, your inner thighs littered with handprints and your shoulder covered in love bites. “Jeez,” you mutter to yourself, stepping out of the bathroom. Tying your robe around you, you go out your shared bedroom, rubbing your eyes to get the sleep out.

It’s past noon already – Satoru really wore you out. And fuck, you could barely walk. You had to grip the counters just to sit on the stools, and even then, you’re wincing from the pain.

He should be doing paperwork in his office right now or something; he never really told you what to do. You don’t feel like asking either since he’s made it clear he prefers to keep his personal life, well…personal. But nevertheless, you swing your legs back and forth on the stool, texting him a quick I love you baby :)

Satoru doesn’t reply.

Usually, he’d respond in a few minutes, always supplied with a wink and an eggplant emoji. It was so him to act this way, that when those few minutes turned into a few hours and you’re met with radio silence, you can’t help but worry.

You try to brush it off, ignoring the deafening silence that rings all over his penthouse. He’s busy, he’s working, he’s got things to do – that’s all it is.

You convince yourself hard enough that you’ve cleaned the place until it’s sparkling, your reflection bouncing off the black marble floors. Every minute, though, your mind would race back to him. Not thinking about him proved to be a really daunting task because you think of him when you’re eating, reminiscing the way he’d always surprise you with a back hug, muttering morning angel all over your skin just to distract you from your meal. You think of him as you’re killing time with boring dramas; if he was here, he’d nudge your leg with his foot, pushing your shorts until it exposes your panties. He’d make sure you don’t get to focus at all, riling you up and kissing you hard that the show playing becomes nothing but background noise. You think of him, you dream of him, you remember him – and yet, you can’t feel him.

Nails bitten down to the skin, you scramble for your phone, swiping call over his contact. It doesn’t go through. Now that’s another odd thing; Satoru never fails to pick up your calls.

“He’s just busy,” you lie to yourself, telling the same thing over and over again even as night falls and you’re staring at the empty left side of the bed, hands smoothing over where the curve of his body would’ve been. “He’s just busy,” you say once more, giving into the exhaustion brought on by your worries. “He’ll come home soon. He always will.”

Except he didn’t.

And that was two weeks ago.

“Angel, I got you—” Satoru immediately clamps his shut, his footsteps muted as he walks closer to you. You’ve been dating for a few months now, and you’re still very wary of the nature of your relationship so you refuse to move in with him. He doesn’t mind, he respects your space and decisions, but now he’s starting to regret letting you have your way. You’re hunched over your swiveling chair, cheek pressed against the opened textbook and glasses perched on your hair. The lamp desk illuminates the dark circles lining your eyes, his heart breaking at the sight.

Thanks to his help, you’ve been able to spend more time focusing on your studies. It should be comforting, but Satoru’s heart aches as he thinks of what you’ve been like prior to meeting him.

How long have you stayed up all night just to pass your exams? How long have you cried yourself to sleep, unable to handle the burden placed by the world on your shoulders at such a young age? How long have you had to turn down friends’ invites to parties with a forced smile because you had to go to work? How many times have you stared at a failing mark, teeth clenched because you studied well for it; your exhaustion just got the best of you and muddled your brain?

Satoru places the beer and dinner he’s got you on his way back home on top of your one-man dining table, pressing a kiss at the top of your head. You look so beautiful this way – unaware, unknowing, and focused in nothing but the future ahead of you that you don’t bother yourself with his past.

Perhaps…it was comforting, after all.

He’d rather have you worry over your own studies than worry about him. Satoru can’t stomach the idea of you – his precious angel – being involved in his own shit, possibly get caught between the crossfire. It pains him to say it, but he doesn’t want you getting too close for comfort.

So he stays there by your side, simply because it would expel all ideas of you wanting to be beside him. He’ll be right where you’re safe, and the sigh that leaves your lips when he moves you to your bed, fitting in his long, lanky bed on your cramped mattress an immense struggle. As if feeling that you’re finally home, you snuggle closer to his chest, murmuring sweet nothings that tug at his heartstrings.

Satoru rubs circles at your back, staring so hard at the chipped paint on your wall that he’s sure he’s got it burned in his memory.

Now that he thinks about it, he should’ve been satisfied with that. He should’ve held back in his desire to have more of you. He should’ve just tucked you in and left, but he was never really in control of himself. Before he knew it, he’s pulled in by you too much, encouraging him to move in with you under the lie it’s easier to keep an eye on you.

Had he just left you earlier…would things have been different then?

He’s asked himself this question too many times. Satoru always came to one conclusion. He loved you way too much that it consumed him, and soon the love he held for you slowly burned you inch by inch. The only way to save you was to pull away – but he wasn’t ready for that yet, not now – but he’s too scared, too deep in love that he ignores the warning signals and holds you close instead, finding comfort in the warmth of your arms.

Fuck. Satoru downs his second drink, glaring at everyone beneath his shades. Geto snickers beside him, sending side eyes to his boss every now and then just to check. Of course, Satoru’s not actually going to pass out, he was no lightweight, but he’d been uneasy every since that pretentious gold envelope landed on his desk.

One of the downsides of being a mafia leader meant you had to mingle with other clan shit, including him of all people. There were always new leaders popping out of nowhere, Satoru quote unquoting, criminals be spawning like maniacs.

For fourteen years – fourteen fucking years – his clan had been in bad blood with the Zen’ins. They were pretty new in the illegal side of business, starting off as a powerful name in the trade industry before they got interested in oil. One thing led to another, the family began to realize they could have so much more if they turned a blind eye to a law or to, soon shifting into illegal weaponry trade, human trafficking, then drug manufacturing.

These bastards had the audacity to insult the Gojo Clan when Satoru’s family dropped by to strike a contract out of curiosity to their goods, only to be turned down because they’re ‘barbaric’ and ‘informal.’

Satoru still remembers that humiliating moment of being escorted out by bodyguards, but he held his head high, vowing to show that bastard Zen’in guy that the Gojo’s were one of the powerhouses for a reason. He doesn’t even know where the elderly guy got his confidence from. Mafia business was not the same as their former expertise, yet they acted all high and mighty with their rules and standard of being sophisticated even in a life or death situation.

Gojo doesn’t know whether he should be happy or sad that the old man died, his son taking over just as soon as his father perished. He would’ve celebrated with a whiskey or two, except the new clan leader was quite adamant in cleaning up their name to prove he would not create the same mistake his father did.

The new leader threw a large cruise party, inviting pretty much everyone they were chummy with, and Satoru has never felt more out of place. He recognized a face or two, but he couldn’t really give a fuck. He hated events like this – it was all about establishing power and face.

Satoru groaned under his breath, swiping at another flute as a waiter passed by. He felt the bubbles fizzle down his throat, the slight burning sensation somewhat easing his nerves.

He leans back at the wall and checks his watch for what seemed like the hundredth time that night. It’s been two fucking hours since they arrived, and the host still hadn’t arrived. If they planned on being ‘fashionably late’ Satoru won’t hesitate to slice someone’s neck tonight. He hates his time being wasted the most, and his eyes slid over to his friend’s still posture, looking like he just saw a ghost.

“Suguru,” he sighs through his mouth, “Don’t be so tense. This is a formal event – no blood will be shed tonight.” Suguru had a weird skill of being able to read Satoru’s thoughts that he raised his hands in surrender, silently promising that he’s not going to kill anyone.

“You’re not sure of that.”

“I won’t lose my composure, if that’s what you’re worried about,” he rolls his eyes, not looking back as he effortlessly places the empty glass back to another waiter. Satoru stands next to his friend, sucking his teeth out of boredom. Suguru, on the other hand, is tenser than ever, his eyes locked onto something in the middle of the crowd that began to cheer.

Faintly, somewhere at the back of his mind, Satoru hears someone whistle in signal. A few seconds later, the fireworks are lit and decorate the night sky, bursts of gold and beauty accompanying the entrance of the woman who’s so effortlessly caught everyone’s eye tonight.

Satoru is rooted to his spot, taking off his glasses the same time the crowd parts. Then, his breath is knocked away from his body, his heart pumping so hard he actually struggled to breathe.

Because you’re there, smiling and waving at the crowd as if it’s second nature to you. Seven years of being apart from one another and Satoru is still bewitched each time he lays his eyes on you. You’re the same…from your face down to the angelic feeling you always carried, but at the same time, you’re different. Gone was his precious angel who shied away from too much attention, his precious angel who would’ve never worn such a bodacious ring embedded on her left ring finger. Your smile is more charismatic, confident, and even fierce compared to the small, private ones you always shared with him – he almost couldn’t recognize you.

As if feeling someone’s eyes on you, you spot him leaning languidly against the walls, those lips you used to kiss turned downwards.

Seven years ago, you would’ve kissed him until he smiles again, singing to your pouty and clingy boyfriend who never voiced out the reason of his troubles. Seven years ago, he would’ve carried you and swung you around, showering you with affection as he reminds you how lucky he is to have you.

But this was no longer the past – that much is clear from when he left you without another word.

Still, you smile at him, an empty one that showed nothing but concealed anger. He was sure though, so fucking sure, that for a split second, he saw you light up. That may have been seven years ago, but you loved each other to the point of insanity – surely you still held some sort of fondness of him.

Satoru takes long, self-assured stride towards you, his gaze never leaving yours with his hands tucked into his pockets. There’s no telling what he’ll do, but in his mind, it’s clear.

You still love him, he still loves you. He’ll do something about it. It doesn’t matter what, he just will. That was until a young man closer to your age with blond hair and pierced earrings, narrow feline eyes lined with eyeliner hobbles beside you, his weight supported by a cane that Satoru stops in his movements.

He’d recognize that face anywhere.

The youngest and perhaps most mischievous leader of them all, Naoya Zen’in. Albeit not as hard-headed as his father in comparison with his rather laid-back and welcoming nature, Satoru knows a monster when he sees it. It takes one to know one, after all, and despite the heir being crippled from a former accident, his intelligence and power was not to be overlooked through his appearance and coy smiles.

In fact, he might even be more dangerous than his old man, this theory only proven when his arms snake around your waist. The matching rings gleam from under the light, and you press yourself closer to him to whisper in his ear, your attention very much still on Satoru.

Satoru’s entire body burns.

“Still there, Sir?” Suguru asks, gripping his boss’ bicep to hold him back. Smart of him, Satoru exhales through his nose, unable to stop his glare from darting to your husband’s.

He’s heard of you, of him, of how his most annoying rival had a phenomenal trophy wife who looked harmless at first look, but was actually the brains of most of his operations. Satoru forgets how to breathe normally because he’s heard of you, and the rumors he’s gotten wind of about Naoya’s trophy wife are nothing less of how dedicated and perfect the two of you are.

Slapping Suguru’s arm away from him, Satoru grits his teeth. “Get me a drink.”

His precious angel was gone. No, this woman that stood before him…you were an entirely different entity, something darker, something along the lines that were more like him.

What exactly happened the day he left you?

taglist: @ladywaifuuwrites @savantsoulfinder @my-reality-is-in-my-head tagging the ones who asked for part 2, please let me know if you’d like to be added or removed!

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favoniuscodex · 3 years

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detention. [tartaglia x reader]

prompt: high school delinquent tartaglia w/ student council president reader pairing: childe/tartaglia x f!reader word count: 2.1k warnings: mentions of sexual harassment, (very little) blood, childe enjoying fighting other people like always, but overall very lighthearted! a/n: bye i got carried away with this one, this is certainly not a short scenario lol. part of my 900 follower event!

“you’re in here?” an all-too-familiar voice says incredulously, causing you to cringe. you look up from the homework in front of you and make eye contact with the incredibly smug ginger-haired boy who leans in the entrance of the classroom, ocean-blue eyes twinkling with amusement.

“it’s no surprise that you would be here,” you retort, before going back to your schoolwork. you furrow your eyebrows as you hear his footsteps approach you and bite back a sigh as he chooses the seat directly next to you. he drags the chair out from underneath his chosen desk noisily across the linoleum floor and you take a deep breath as you hear its metal legs groan against the dilapidated flooring.

“so,” the boy persists, sitting down in his chair backwards and leaning forward on the backrest, looking over at you. “how’d the princess end up in detention?”

“shouldn’t you be using this time to do homework?” you deflect and he genuinely laughs, as if the thought was preposterous for you to suggest.

“sorry, sweetheart, i don’t exactly have…” he pauses, before turning the worksheet underneath your palms towards him and sliding it to the edge of your desk. “what the hell even is this? this is definitely some alien language.”

“it’s multivariable calculus,” you explain and look over at him with a stoic expression, only to see his eyes widen and a smirk form on his face.

“you know how to do that shit?” he breathes in awe, folding his arms on the backrest of the chair. he lets out a huff of amusement as you grumpily move the paper back to its original position. “that’s kind of hot.”

you rip your gaze from him and stare at the paper in front of you, doing your best to ignore his comments. your eyes instinctively widen a bit in shock and you feel heat rise to your face and childe lets out a soft laugh in response.

“ajax,” you begin in an attempt to collect yourself. “some of us actually desire to pass our classes.” your voice is level as you brush off his flirtations, but you feel your heart beating wildly. the boy, childe, knew how to flirt with you just as well as he knew how to annoy you.

“ah, princess,” the boy chuckles, his voice dropping low with condescension. “it’s tartaglia. you’re asking for trouble when you call me that~.” he’s amused at your words, leaning in closer to you.

“i’m not calling you by your dumb soundcloud rapper name,” you insist as you attempt to focus on finding the surface area of some hyperboloid given by the equation on the worksheet before you. the noise of your mechanical pencil scratching at the paper in front of you fills the air between the two of you as childe stares at you in shock, before letting out a sharp laugh.

“you’re adorable,” he confesses, but you simply huff in displeasure and lean in closer to your worksheet, trying to block him out. “for real though, how’d such an insouciant girl like you end up in here?”

you choose to ignore him, before you process his words and look at him in confusion. “w... what do you think insouciant means?” you almost sound aghast at his words and childe shrugs in response.

“hm,” he responds, as if he’s actually pondering, before a smile returns to his face. “don’t know, don’t care~. guess i used it wrong, huh?”

“yes.” you respond, but before you can continue your work, ajax reaches over and snatches the mechanical pencil out of your hand.

“answer the question and i’ll leave you alone,” he says, holding the pencil out of your reach as you fruitlessly try to grab it back.

“fine,” you respond bitterly. “i punched someone in the face.”

you glance at him and watch his eyes widen, a grin spreading over his face.

“holy shit, that’s so hot. i never thought you’d do something like that. jeez.” his face flushes with excitement as he leans forward, unceremoniously dropping the pencil in front of him. his words are excited and you suddenly wish you had lied and told him you were late to class. “so, like, did they ask you one too many times for homework answers? were you stopping them from trying to take your president seat? did they beat your score on the last chem test? there’s so many possibilities…”

he sighs almost dreamily. you grab your freshly retrieved pencil far too tightly in irritation and return to the paper before you. “no,” you respond, your voice uncharacteristically sharper than the usual tone of distaste you held towards childe. his smile suddenly drops, noticing that the air between the two of you had turned from slight irritation to full, seething anger. his eyebrows furrow in concern.

“princess,” he says lowly, words cautious. “why’d you punch someone?” his words are authoritative, but you knew that if you said you didn’t want to talk about it, he’d find a way to drop the topic. plus, he’d probably find out eventually. the event had happened in a busy hallway after all and you were the refined student council president who had never broken a rule before in her life.

you let out a sigh of defeat, closing your eyes briefly, before turning in your chair to face ajax. his cerulean irises pierce into yours with a seriousness you had never seen before and you decide that maybe, despite all of the ways he annoys you and makes your heart beat faster, you can trust him. after all, he’s always kept all of his promises to you, throughout all the times he’s stopped to pester you whenever he saw you, whether it be in the hallway, in class, or outside of school.

“okay,” you begin, letting out a nervous huff of air, running your palms across your thighs in a comforting motion. “i... punched a guy who… wouldn’t take no for an answer. he crossed a few boundaries and… got a fist to the face because of it.”

your friends had always complained about how childe was bad news, constantly running into trouble with others and winding up in detention half the time because of it. if you had counted correctly, he had been suspended twice for reasons you hadn’t bothered to ask about, because in your eyes, the boy was no more than a harmless pest, always smiling, cheerful, and persistent in trying to flirt with you and in trying to become your friend. despite your half hearted attempts to shoo him away, ajax would always bounce back and increase his flirtations, never failing to make your heart beat faster.

but now, as you watched his fists clench on his thighs, his knuckles turning white and his fingernails digging sharply into his skin, you realize that the ajax you had experienced was a far cry from what most people experienced. his expression looks murderous and you realize that maybe he had actually earned the fearsome nickname of tartaglia. you suddenly appreciate the fact that you weren’t on the delinquent’s bad side, because the rage that swirls in his baby blues makes your blood run cold. it also makes your heart beat faster, but not in fear.

you silently question why you were finding tartaglia’s attractive. such a reaction was a massive red flag, but you figured you could probably use it to decorate your walls, splay it across the length of your bed, and stare at it in admiration. you begin to ponder what other decorations you could use in your bedroom, including a six foot tall redhead with the clearest blue eyes you had ever seen, but childe’s words snap you out of your reverie.

“who did it?” his words are steely and foreboding, uttered in a lower tone than you’ve ever heard him speak with. normal people were of the mind that snitches get stitches, but luckily, you were a goody-two-shoes who loved to rat on everyone. you smile giddily, cheeks warm from admiring the rage that churned within the man before you, and part your lips to respond. however, the trill of the end of day bell interrupts the two of you, signaling the beginning of detention.

childe lets out a huff of contempt and interrupts you before you can once again try to say the words. “yeah, okay, whatever, don’t worry about it. just... work on your homework or something.” he says dismissively and you’re briefly confused until you see him whip out a textbook.

holy shit, he actually goes to class? you wonder, before seeing him flip open the pages, put the book in his lap, then nestle his cell phone with in the pages in a haphazard attempt to seem like he is studying. you watch briefly as his fingers fly across the touchscreen and his thumbs type out an angry message to some person you couldn’t see the contact name of.

the teacher at the front of the room commands your attention and you pay attention to their words before returning to your homework, only bothering to glance over at him every few minutes. his position remains unchanged for the rest of the detention session, furiously typing nearly the entire time.

when detention ends, he leaves wordlessly. rather than pestering you to accompany him somewhere, he simply slams his textbook shut, tosses it hastily in his backpack, and storms out of the room without making eye contact with you.

---

school begins the next day and you are standing at your locker and grabbing your textbooks when a familiar, chipper voice interrupts you.

“heya, princess!” he greets, peering around the metal door of your locker.

“hey,” you respond unamused, before turning to look at him and ask him what he wants, but the sight of the boy causes you to freeze in your tracks. his eye is mottled with purple, yellow, and blue bruises and his bottom lip is busted open. his hair is disheveled and there’s a proud look in his eye as he smiles at you, before wincing at the action as his lip begins to bleed once more.

“what happened to you?” you ask incredulously before turning to rifle through your backpack for a tissue to give to ajax.

“ah,” childe responds in a mischievous tone. “let’s just say you won’t have to worry about a certain problem anymore.”

“you’re still here,” you instinctively respond as your fingers finally grasp the packet of tissues in your backpack. upon actually digesting his words, you nearly drop the tissues before hastily pulling one out of the packet and holding it out to him. “wait, what? did you fight him?” you stare at him with eyes blown wide open and he smugly smiles at you in response before cheekily taking the tissue from your hands and wiping the blood off his chin.

“yep!” his voice is far too cheerful for the situation at hand, but you can’t help but crack a smile at his words. “a knight always has to protect his princess.”

your face flushes with heat and you instinctively look away from him, unsure of what to make of such a bold flirtation. you let out a nervous giggle, taken aback by him being so forward about literally beating the shit out of a guy on your behalf. “you’re insane,” you say, but your happiness can’t help but leak into your words and grins at you, eyes shining with admiration.

“go to dinner with me.” he blurts out confidently, but a faint nervousness hides in his expression. despite his best attempts to seem nonchalant, you see right through it, but such vulnerability in his appearance causes you to respond without hesitation.

“okay.” you respond softly and a shy smile begins to creep over your face as ajax blinks at you in surprise.

“oh... cool,” his words are dazed, as if he hadn’t expected such a response, but his smile only grows wider. “awesome, yeah, cool.” his attempts to play it cool fail, especially as he stumbles a bit when he tries to lean on the door of your locker, only to have it swing out from under his weight.

“a princess always has to thank her knight, after all,” you respond with a soft giggle and childe’s expression softens, a smitten expression crossing his face. the warning bell for first period rings and childe holds out a freshly bandage hand to you.

you place your hand in his and he holds your hand with such a featherlight touch that, if not for the bandages that brush against your skin, you would have doubted that he ever could have hurt anyone. besides, you knew he only would hurt people who were asking for it.

#got war flashbacks to a certain fic i SHOULD be working on while writing the word 'knight'#hm i like this dynamic im just not sure how i feel abt this piece as a whole #childe x reader #genshin impact x reader #tartaglia x reader #childe scenarios #*writing #*my writing #*childe #*tartaglia #*fic #*900 follower event

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husbandohunter · 3 years

Text

Stardew Impact [Stardew Valley+Genshin Impact x Reader]

Part 2/3 Zhongli, Xiao

Synopsis: “A mysterious phenomenon brought you and your s/o to an unfamiliar world: Pelican Town! Without the power of Visions, the two of you begin to learn the life of what it takes to be...a farmer?”

(DOMESTIC FARM LIFE ROUND TWO)

Genre: Fluff

Others

Diluc and Kaeya

Albedo and Childe

(A/n): This was meant to be part 3 but I couldn't wait to write xiao. Plus Ive been writing Albedo for almost the whole month already Word count_2.6k

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Xiao

• Thrown in an unfamiliar environment puts Xiao on high alert. Instincts kick in and his hand subconciously grabs for his spear. Nothing. Not even his vision activated. Xiao's gaze darts all over before landing on your figure. He sighs in relief, you're safe, that much he can decipher as of now.

• Stripped of his power, left with only claws and teeth (if must) to protect you from any dangers, he was ansty with every little thing.

• The villagers are so nice??? For what reason must they have to act so friendly to strangers (Xiao wonders). The Mayor even granted you two a vast farmland free of charge.

• Shortly he realized he no longer had his karmaic debt. Xiao wasn't sure how to live his life in this state. He dedicated his entire existence to years of slaughter and suffering that it became the only thing he knew. He won't admit it of course, he'll just throw in scoffs and remarks about how mundane activities are a waste of time when in reality, he just has no clue on how to handle them.

• Thats why the first day was difficult as you both try to figure out how to plant parnsips. Deciding it was better to go with an experiment, you split the share of seeds in half and used what basic knowledge you had on farming to finish the job. Xiao on the other hand tried copying what you did….though the outcome wasn't so desirable it was a mess. (His trained hands have taught him to be on the rough side).

• He doesn't bother socializing with the townspeople even though he has no karmaic debt to worry about. Xiao thinks you're more than enough anyways so what's the point?

• Robin is the only person who can tolerate him for obvious reasons (cough Sebastian cough) she knows exactly how to deal with his personality type. His glares don't faze her, she simply thinks its just a teenage phase of some sort.

• Eventually they become mutuals, Xiao thinks Robin is similar to Verr Goldet in a way. Since he's the one who does the heavy labour of chopping down trees and mining stones for building upgrades, he gets a chance to visit her house quite often. He comes back with lots of recipes too.

• You find out that his adepti blood never left him. Xiao doesn't need sleep so you better believe it when he tells you the next morning that he spent the whole night watering all 300 of your crops (watering is the only process he's good at for farming).

• Sometimes you catch him staring out of the window, wondering what he may be thinking. Life was so much more different, almost hard to recognize. Was this real? Is it okay for it to be real, just this once? Ever since he committed his duty to Morax, Xiao didn't dream of a time when everything would be peaceful. Yet here he is, no longer a weapon but on a journey to find out what it's like to live as a normal person.

• Spring: Every morning you find him kneeling behind the cabin with the pet cat (yes, cats seem to suit Xiao very much). He just stares at them, hesitant if he wanted to pet their fur or rub their chin. So he continues to glare intensely, scaring your cat away :(

• Whenever you wanted to attend any of the town's festivities, Xiao wouldn't even hide his distastefulness but goes with you regardless. Why do mortals consider hiding eggs and finding them a fun activity? And what kind of a name is Flower Dance? Can't they just call it a dance?

• Though…he does like the sight of you wearing a flower crown. Xiao likes putting stuff in your hair.

Since setting foot upon this new world, time seemed to have slowed down to the point that almost everything felt like an eternity. And you didn't mind, with him by your side, you wouldn't mind if it did last forever.

The lull of the grass was the only sound Xiao could hear as he closed his eyes and rested his head on your lap. You maneuvered across his scalp in small, subtle motions, surprised with how warm he felt against the heat your palm. He stirs a little and lets out a soft breath before turning his face to lay on the side.

You were slightly intrigued by the yaksha's new demeanor. From far away, Xiao was an intimidating man, even during the first time you laid eyes him, his presence felt similar to a knife pointing at anyone who dares to come too close. But now, the face that usually held his signature annoyance melted into something you never thought you'd see as the sun rays brushed against the surface of his fair skin. You observed the way his dark eyebrows stayed in a relaxed arch. The red crescents lining right above his beautiful long lashes and the sound of soft snores through parted lips. It was hard to believe that this man was the same person who claimed to have ended a thousand lives through thousands of years.

Did he fall asleep already?

Gently moving away the strands away from his cheekbone, hovered your gaze above him and whispered, "I thought adepti don't need rest."

"Hmph," Xiao responds, though there was no harshness in his tone, "Quit trying to be difficult, I didn't tell you to stop."

The smug grin on your face only widens. You lean downward and said to his ear, "And what's the magic word~?"

Xiao sighs at your antics. You were truly pushing your luck today and he simply didn't have the patience to entertain you. Without a warning, he grabs your wrist and pulls you down, foreheads pressing until you were but a breath away. The adepti conquers, he does not plead.

• Summer: As expected, your parnsnips weren't able to grow as much. Thus, this season was going to be the one to make up for the lost profit. Xiao is very good at hunting, perhaps the best in the entire town. Though the way he catches fish is rather peculiar, said by the folks. He prefers to carve a spear made of wood and repeatedly stabs the lake until results show. Xiao dislikes the old fashioned way, he says its unproductive and it unecissarily takes too much time.

• But as much as he scared the whole town, they were extremely grateful when he cleaned up the slime issues happening in the mines. You could say that he grew very popular since then and eventually mustered up the courage to greet him a hello whenever he passes by.

• You nudge him to reply back. Xiao usually shoots you a glare but slowly, he learns the courtesy of acknowledging someone's prescence.

• Fall: You woke up to a burnt smell coming from the kitchen. Xiao just thought he would return the favour since you always worked so hard. (He was actually trying to figure out what a 'whisk' was. It was no wonder why there were eggshells in the dish!)

• You realized that Xiao was taking more initation compared to before. At night, when you thought the animals were actively jumping in the barns, the noise was actually from Xiao trying to adjust himself to the ways of tending the field. After learning what TV was, he would always switch to the channel "Livin off the land" to gain some insight. Truly, Xiao was greatful even though he knew he eventually had to return to his duties, he wanted to utilize the current days the best way he could. And what better way was it to just make you happy in return?

• Winter: This was the season to test the accumulation of Xiao's abilities: you caught a cold and he had to manage everything in his own. Xiao scolded you for not wearing enough and being too careless but at the same he considered that you must've been working too hard.

• Goes to Robin for help. She basically became his mom now. Prepares the food and leaves them in the fridge, she teaches Xiao how to use the phone in case he needed any help and also lets him know where all the essentials are.

• Xiao stayed by your side the whole time even though you told him you'd be fine. But he refuses, he may no longer be a gaurdian but he was your gaurdian. That role never changed.

~~x~~

Zhongli

• You wake up on a soft bed with Zhongli sitting at a chair nearby. He hands you a cup of brewed water but you're still blatlantly confused. Seems like everything was taken care of by Zhongli, it ends up with him explaining everything to you.

• The folks instantly assumes you both as a married couple. Who could blame them? He did carry your unconcious body all the way to town while asking for a local doctor. You can bet that the ladies wish they were you at that moment. Zhongli took care of everything, including with the contract with the new farm.

• It didn't take long for you both to adjust to the new lifestyle. Zhongli's accumulated knowledge was enough to last all four seasons. Days past by peacefully as you shared the tasks. He'd place down the stone paths towards the gate and you busied yourself with decorating the house. After that was done, Zhongli would rest upon the rocking chair outside your door (like the grandpa he is) and sometimes you'd join him in one reading session. His voice was soothing, you eventually dipped into a slumber as the evening grew colder. Just like always, your beloved brings his arm to encapsulate you from the wind, brushing his thumb against your skin subconciously while you snore softly into his shoulder.

• In a way, the townsfolk were right. You both do act like a married couple. It's basically domestic life with Zhongli in a nutshell.

• He gets connected with Gunther and lands a role in the Museum. Since he's there so often, Zhongli also manages to be acquainted with Elliot as well. Two men who have a common interest with books while speaking in poetic prose. Their conversation would last for hours to the point Gunther had to kick them out of the library!

• Veeeery good with the children, not in an entertaining way but its just the aura he reeks. Penny usually had trouble dealing with Vincent since he never seems to be able to focus but the minute Zhongli speaks, he's all ears. Not only that he was also very good with the elderly. He even recommended some herbs George could take to soothe his back issues.

• Problem is that he still forgets to bring his wallet and Childe isn't here to save him. So once you stepped foot into the Stardrop Saloon and Gus calls you over, he tells you about the cost he owed to his tab….

• But this tranquil life full of genuinity and deprived of sovereignty, he was overjoyed to be able to spend it with you. Because he knew you were unlike him, that all humans were born with an expiry date. He knew so well that after every new greeting, he would have to face the goodbyes over and over until the world eventually came to an end. He knew you were also going to be part of those many goodbyes while he would still be here.

• But as Zhongli walks amongst the fallen leaves, he remembered the beauty that carries within every new beginning. They brought him to you and he would never hesitate to trade his gnosis for it.

Spring: You shot up your bed when Zhongli blast the TV at full volume. He apologizes, saying that he was simply trying to change the channel. You figured it was best for him to go outside before he somehow glitches the screen until it couldn't repair itself (Robin charges for repairs).

• Every thursday you both go to Pierre's store to complete your grocery shopping. He offers to push the cart as you fill the basket with all the necessities (plus it saves you the trouble of having him tossing whatever he sees without looking at the price tag).

• Every afternoon you order a take out from the Saloon, sharing the meal while sitting at the fountain's edge near the community center. Every evening Zhongli would take you to explore the rest of the vast farmland, discovering places you weren't even aware of. It was no wonder why everyone thought you were a married couple.

• Summer: Since the cabin was too small for a bathroom, you guys would have to travel up the mountains in order to get to the Spa house (cue sweatiness x10).

• The concept of hotsprings was derived from Inazuma so it was no surprise that Liyue eventually took it after him. Zhongli had collected some incense from foraging items over the past few months, he knows whats up. But overall he gives the best bath sessions (hands down) and you were the one who insisted in joining him. He was a gentle and sweet lover, always putting your needs before his. Ancient artifacts and old history books have always been precious to him, he treated you no differently.

The heartbeat of the oceans continues to rock back and forth until they brush up on the sandy shore, washing away the two pairs of footprints left behind by a man and a woman.

Gold against gold, his amber eyes reflected against the scenery. Millions of lights flashed among the sea when the sun began to climb down from the sky, it's rays hugged across the valley like an ethereal glow bestowed by the heavens as summer's wind brought even more warmth than what he had currently felt. You trance ahead of with the same light shaping around your form.

"Oh hey there's another rainbow shell," you waved at him before running off, "I'll be back!"

How is it that you still continue to shine like gold in his memories?

Zhongli suddenly ponders at the chapters laying ahead of him. He spent so many years turning each page without ever reaching a conclusion, forever searching the fabled happy endings written in fairytale books, but he knew his immortality wouldn't grant him that wish.

Thus, the formal archon raised his pen and reweaves his own story. He envisions his future with you by his side, engraving every detail until it was immortalized in his memories.

Perhaps I shouldn't keep her waiting.

With a renewed resolve, Zhongli clutches the gemstone tightly in his palm, he seals the page with the final contract between your future and his.

• Fall: After getting your first house upgrade, it was time for the next event: the ceremony. Yes, Zhongli would only have a wedding if Liyue traditions were involved. Everyone was invited of course, they were quite intrigued with the flashy setup such as lanterns and fireworks (you were a little worried with where he got the budget for such items) and Zhongli even educated Gus about some recipes he can use for the Saloon.

• You found out that Zhongli was saving all his money for this day (it was no wonder that he couldn't pay for his tab!). Old habits die hard, it was a shame that he didn't have his powers to craft the right items, but at least he got to sea you in a traditional eastern dress (it's the part he was looming forward to the most).

• Fall is the best season. One you wouldn't forget.

• Winter: Ah he finally learns how to use technology after three seasons. He only knows two channels from the TV which was 'Livin off the Land' and the weather channel. Zhongli oftens talks to himself as he tries to figure out more mechanics, he seems to be extremely absorbed in the most basic things.

• The miner of the house. But instead of using them to upgrade tools and donating them to the museum, Zhongli likes to keep some of them for collection. You could say your house also had a little museum in the other room.

• Romcom movies and soap operas. You can't change my mind that this is what you both spend your time watching as the snowstorm rages outside.

#genshin impact #stardew valley #genshin impact headcanons #xiao x reader #zhongli x reader #xiao headcanons #zhongli #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact xiao #genshin impact scenarios #genshin impact imagines #genshin scenarios #genshin imagines #genshin impact zhongli #genshin xiao #genshin zhongli #nya-writes

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yostresswritinggirl · 3 years

Note

and, if Albedo have his own personal botanist, what about xiao have his own personal chef, or something like that? the reader working at wangshu inn as the chef or maid 👀 (this the request... If you want to make something from this absurd idea 👀👀)

Hehe I like your thought process, anon. Albedo and Xiao really just: 😏👉👉 *finger guns* 👈👈 😑 for having reader assistants in my masterlist huh.

Making this solely a personal chef/maid thing would defo make this response hella short so I added in more info and background just like I did with Albedo's, so I hope you guys end up enjoying this one too!!

It isn't an absurd idea, but I sure as hell made an absurd answer to it kek

Xiao's Devoted "Chef"

Xiao with a Reader who is not only his Personal Chef but assistant

Background (let's gooo)

The arrival of the Adepti Yaksha in Wangshu Inn was really something I've been intrigued about for a while now, but I won't make much assumptions here because his banner is coming and more info would be given to us.

Xiao had long since been residing in and spends a majority of his time in this Inn yet its owners, Verr Goldet and Huai'an, barely knows anything about the adepti or his lifestyle.

So on a sunny, quaint day like any other where calmness passes through the lands without worry, they expected the Adepti to resign himself to a moment of peace and rest too.

So color them surprised when they save the familiar silhouette of the adepti ascending to the top floor. Porcelain white skin and clear tank top glittered with fresh blood as a broken and bruised figure lays unconscious in his arms. The couple was thankful that there were no customers out and about that day, because it would be a disaster for an audience to witness such a thing. Also bad for business, but they'll hold that in at the back of their mind.

Skilled workers were quick to work with their seemingly extensive experience with such a protocol. As they tended to the victim, the Boss stayed behind to tend to and inquire with the Adepti. Yet such a conversation between them came out strained:

There were no visible wounds that require immediate medical attention but there was a look in his eyes that feels much more broken than anything they can fix. Verr's hands hover over him in an attempt to urge him to clean up his still bloodied form. His amber eyes that were usually sharp looks through a distance light-years away.

"Xiao," the woman started and the eyes snapped out of its reverie, subtly looking around to ground himself. "What happened? And are you okay?"

"Their- the parents died from a Hilichurl ambush, I was only able to save the child," his crossed arms gripped at his forearm in the realization of his utter mistake. "32 seconds."

"32 seconds?" The Mondstadtian offered a fresh set of hot towels he had taken, and he had flinched when he saw the carnage that stuck close to his skin.

"I was 32 seconds late."

Your parents were adventurers who brought you with them as big fans of traveling and nomadic lifestyle, no set home yet freely living by. You were in your younger teens and you'd clarified you had no other family to go to.

The death of your parents came as an obvious shock to your young self yet you grieved in silence and sobs, as the only person you trust hovers next to where you rest in silent contemplation.

Verr knows that look, and it was something she hasn't seen on the Adepti before. Of pure guilt and a sense of responsibility.

That night you rested surprisingly nightmare-free as your savior stands his ground next to where you rest.

Present Times

The couple had adopted you into the Inn family without a second's hesitance and you were thankful for them as you were to Xiao. You were no heavy expense or disadvantage and that made it all the more easier to adapt into your new lifestyle.

Despite no words or explanation, you were perfectly aware of the deeds your savior had done to save you and keep you alive, and with that you had sworn to serve him until the end of your time. A life for a life, equivalent exchange.

Coming into terms with being in Liyue and the Inn, your life choices were meddled with commerce and the importance of livelihood. You were young but your guilt of being under the care of such people forced you to take on any and every responsibility you can handle.

Despite your background you were expertly skilled with cooking. Your mother and father always taught you the importance of a meal for adventurers whenever you'd camped out. And your special touch on dishes that saves adventurers had drawn in many appetites.

Business boomed and the Inn wasn't just famous for being a temporary residence, but a sanctuary that offers tastes paired with the divine sense of Celestia. You became Wangshu Inn's Head Chef, with your sous-chef Smiley Yanxiao.

At times where Xiao is forced to make rounds to seize looming threats, he'd find himself picking fresh and healthy ingredients he'd find on the way back and present to you for new recipes to experiment on.

But you also pride yourself with a different title, or titles: The Adepti's Personal Chef, Tender of the Yaksha, Adepti's Devotee.

This title was emphasized by the Sigil of Permission sewn into an armband hanging by your right arm, something you proudly wear even beyond the walls of the Inn.

You found out the Adepti's favorite during your daily visit and breaks, usually done so by hanging out in the balcony with him with a brand new recipe you recently made and wanted to test out.

While he sat parallel to you, he eyed the transparent syrup and the gelatinous substance in the obvious curiousity he shows for all your new creations, silently awaiting your opinion by watching your expression: whenever you show even the slightest distaste, he'll pointedly ignore his curiousity and the dish altogether. And if you express such pride and achievement, his interest will get the better of him, if you haven't offered the dish quickly enough.

"What is this?" He'd finally ask after your delighted moans, indulging on your own creation.

"Mmm, Almond Tofu... do you wish to try it?" Without an answer he'd pick up the only spoon on the plate and tasted it himself. And just like that, he'd froze, eyes full blown in surprise and awe.

"Do you like it?" He can only hum in response as he scarfs down the plate by himself, chewing respectfully yet with a hint of vigor in every scoop. "It tastes... like dreams..." the way he looked at you, with eyes possessing such childlike wonder, you couldn't help but fall.

After that, Xiao had requested a daily plate/offering of it. It became a routine to the point that all workers heard of the favoritism and are encouraged to learn the recipe. But it's usually your dish that is served, unless special occasions calls for someone else.

There has been an influx of dormers and adventurers recently as citizens around Teyvat flock to the Liyue continent in hopes to watch the most extravagant celebration of the new year, the Lantern Rite Festival.

Your best efforts manning the kitchen together with Yanxiao took gruelling hours just to prepare for the dinner's first course even with hours of prep time available. Even both bosses had to lend some hands as your sous-chef can barely keep up with your stride. And after the dishes are finally distributed to the dining hall, you were already set in cleaning up the kitchen, and before you knew it-

"It has been an hour."

"It was a busy day, I'm sorry, Xiao." You could only muster a mumble in guilt as you kept your head down on the usual table, refusing to look at the disapproving expression he definitely wore, except he doesn't. His face has the slightest hints of worry and wonder at your deflated composure.

But his focus now was on the food he has been craving the whole day, already digging into his dessert. And you just tried your hardest not to fall asleep on the cold, wooden tabletop. Until your tummy rumbled through the silence.

A hum. "You haven't eaten?" You shake your head as you lift your head, gazing at the cute sight of your guardian tilting his head to the side in slight distaste for your lifestyle. You open your mouth to retort until you felt the cold utensil touch your bottom lip. "Here, I saved you the last bite. After this, get yourself a meal and retreat to your quarters, I don't want to hear any excuses." He softly urges a little push with the spoon so you get the hint, and you wrap your lips around it, chewing and gulping down cold dessert. He offered his favorite food, used the same spoon, and spoon fed you with it—

"Wha... don't- don't bite the spoon," you squeeze your eyes tight from the embarrassing thoughts in your head.

When people wish to have an audience with Xiao, most of the time they head to you for guidance after inquiring with Verr. They require a sigil of permission, and most of the times, your own sigil has been under fire a lot in their desperation.

An old merchant who desperately wants to hire the adepti to aid his caravan with personal security once tried to claw at your armband, but a split second after the tip of his fingers had touched the cloth, he was blown away to the nearest wall.

"What-," a pressure on your left shoulder pulls your other against a lean chest, protectively squeezing as a polearm materialized in front of you. You can feel the ragged vibrations of the Yaksha's unusually heavy breaths, his amber eyes sharp and dangerous, dilated like a predator.

"What gives you the idea that you had the authority to lay a hand on my assistant?" Black and teal embers conjure around you two as a dark shadow slowly creeps up from the ground. "That is their sigil of permission; I want nothing to do with you mere mortals."

If not for Verr and the other staff, things would have gone gruesome and unsightly for the business. Yes, business. Everyone disliked the guy enough to care more about the Inn than his actual well-being. When he'd come to, he was forced out of the Inn (he would have done so himself anyways as he was already traumatized).

"Sir Xiao, why did you do that?"

"He didn't have a Sigil, he was pretty much asking for it. And why have you gone formal?" You pouted at him and his only response was a quirked eyebrow. Walking over to stand behind him, you slowly wiggled your arms through the gap between his waist and slack arms, finding it easy enough with how thin his waist is as you wrapped him in a hug.

He tensed from the secretly ticklish feeling before letting down his guard in your arms. This was one of your leeway as his most devoted follower. Your constant exposure with the aid of the divine sigil has made you immune to the negative effects of Adeptal energy, enough to make him nigh worry about your safety around him anymore.

And him letting you hug him like this... let's just say it's from your mannerisms of comfort when you were still young and around him.

"Take an indefinite leave," Xiao broke the silence a few minutes after, forcing you to crane your head to the side to look at him. He meets your gaze with an amused glint. "You have no debt to pay here, you shouldn't be holed up in a place like this."

"It is true that me leaving wouldn't have majooor repercussions, but what's with the sudden idea?"

He huffs. "You're my only follower and yet you divide your attention serving temporary mortals that will pass by without remembrance. And besides," you tense at the sight of an upturn on the edge of lip, pearly whites subtly peeking, "personal does not mean sharing."

You were an adventurer at heart and it's time you indulge in that glorified life of excitement, with your guardian by your side. It was the only gift he can come up with for your undying devotion.

Holy - I had to cut this thing A LOT because I wrotE A HECKIN LOT WTF?! It's not even done in my mind, my goodness, there should be an adventuring unit here too but hhhh I got too conscious of the length sksksks I'm so sorry! P-Part 2-?

I enjoyed writing this a tad bit too much sksksks but now that the second to the last installation of this even is published, the next request should be the last one! And that means I'll have to stop the poll and start working on the requests for the 100 followers one! So if you haven't voted there, you should before it's too late!!

#exile.flower #exile.goblet #genshin impact #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact oneshots #genshin impact xiao #xiao #xiao x reader #i. fucked up #why do i always go haywire when given a simple prompt #i think this went too far hmm #followers special #gender neutral

817 notes · View notes

yellowsuitcase · 3 years

Text

Pansy’s Plot // Draco Malfoy

Request: hi there!! I just wanted to say i absolutely adore your writing, and was wondering if you could write something where the reader and draco are dating but pansy is jealous so she lies and makes draco think you cheated on him but in actual fact you didnt and it’s just super angsty and then fluffy. The prompts i chose were 94, 85, 55, 14, 1 and 34 of course i don’t mind at all if you don’t want to use them or leave a few out :)

A/N: Hello! Sorry this took so long to get written, but I wanted to make sure it was good so I took my time. Also, my arthritis was making writing a very painful process, with that being said, I likely won’t post anything else this week until the weekend because I need to rest my hand. But I hope you enjoy this and to the person who requested, I hope it’s everything you wanted! Side note, I did change some of the prompts to fit the story and I didn’t use 55.

Summary: Pansy tricks Draco into believing his girlfriend (Y/N) cheated on him with Blaise. Angst and fluff follow.

Warning(s): Swearing, physical beating up/hitting, non-consensual kissing/touching

Word Count: 4.6k

Prompts (list): 1, 14, 34, 85, 99

Y/N trudged into the Great Hall, looking miserable. She’d just had the worst potions class of her life. Snape had been teaching them how to make a memory potion, but she had mistakenly added the powdered sage before the stewed mandrake, causing the brew to bubble violently and splatter her Slytherin robes with putrid yellow liquid. It didn’t help that along with having unflattering stains, she now smelled like rotten roses.

As she dragged herself to the Slytherin table, she felt stares on the back of her head. She rolled her eyes and positioned her chin over her shoulder, instantly zeroing in on the Ravenclaw boy who was pointing his thumb at her and laughing with his mates. With a discreet flick of her fir wood wand, Y/N sent the boy’s noodles flying onto his face with a loud splat. She smirked to herself while tucking her wand back into her pocket. She continued walking and took her place at the table next to her boyfriend.

“Hello, Draco,” she said sweetly as she plopped down onto the bench. Her boyfriend looked up from his meal.

“Bloody hell, Y/N. Where have you been? And what happened to you?” he asked, his face scrunching up in disgust. It took everything in his willpower not to slide away from his potion covered girlfriend.

“Sorry, I’m a bit late. I fucked up in potions. Don’t worry, though, I’ll get cleaned up after I have my lunch. Besides, I hardly see you anymore with O.W.Ls coming up. I didn’t want to skip out on you,” she explained, shifting her gaze from the food in front of her to Draco's distasteful looking face.

“What, Malfoy? You don’t like the smell of a failed memory potion?” she questioned while playfully leaning closer to him. Draco couldn’t take it anymore; he scrambled to scoot away from her. This made Y/N begin to giggle. She pushed her head behind her ear and batted her eyelids mockingly.

“Why won’t you give me a kiss, love?” she asked with pouty lips, her hands making grabbing motions at the blonde boy. He opened his mouth to speak but was promptly interrupted by a snooty voice from across the table.

“Perhaps it’s because you smell worse than a dirty house-elf, Y/N,” sneered Pansy Parkinson, a dark-haired Slytherin girl who was particularly nasty. Draco watched as Y/N’s back straightened, and her angry eyes flickered to the hard-faced girl. He knew this look well, considering she’d given it to him quite a few times throughout their two-year relationship. If it had been anyone else receiving Y/N’s glare, he might’ve felt a bit scared for them. But this was Pansy, and not many were fond of her.

“I don’t remember asking for your opinion, Parkinson. But please, by all means, let’s hear your thoughts. Frankly, I didn’t think you had any up in that empty head of yours,” Y/N retorted, her voice calm and collected. Pansy’s face went redder than a tomato. She angrily stood up from her seat, leaving her untouched sandwich sitting on the table as she stormed out of the hall, her hair swishing behind her.

Y/N scoffed. “What a wanker. Honestly, hasn’t she got anything better to do?” she questioned, voicing her irritation. Draco slid close to his girlfriend and gently put his hands on her shoulders, rubbing them firmly. He felt the tension begin to leave her muscles.

“Don’t let her get to you, love. It’s only Parkinson. Since when did you get so worked up over what she says?” Draco asked.

Y/N remained silent. Truth be told, Pansy had been tormenting her for nearly a month now. Her usual snide remarks had never caused much of a ruse within Y/N before, but that was until she’d started attacking her and Draco’s relationship. Whenever Y/N would say goodnight to Draco and head up to the girls’ dormitory, she would be greeted by Pansy sitting next to her snotty friends. They’d sit on their beds and snicker when Y/N walked in. They’d always say things like, “You know, Draco only likes you because you’re easy,” or “He pities you, Y/N.” Not to mention all the times they'd called her a slag. At first, she was able to ignore it. But after numerous weeks of hearing such degrading and hurtful words, she’d begun to believe them.

Telling Draco wasn’t an option. Y/N was ashamed; she didn’t want Draco to be disappointed in her for letting Pansy get to her. The look on his face if she told him would be too much to stomach.

“Y/N? What’s wrong, babydoll?” Draco asked. His girlfriend’s silence was concerning him. Y/N turned to him and forced a smile onto her lips. “Nothing,” she assured him, “I’m fine.”

Draco looked skeptical but dismissed his worry and leaned in for a quick kiss. Y/N kissed him back, but after a few moments, she pulled away. “I’d better go get cleaned up before Transfiguration. McGonagall wouldn’t be pleased if I came in like this,” she laughed while gesturing to her soiled uniform. Draco smiled and nodded.

“I’ll see you in the common room after dinner, yeah?” he asked as Y/N stood up from the table and pushed her hair out of her face. She willed herself to look up and shake her head, yes. Her boyfriend still looked apprehensive. “See you then,” she choked out as she spun on her foot and made haste to leave the Great Hall.

--------

Later in the school day, Y/N was leaving her last class, Herbology, and was walking through the mysteriously empty corridors, the thought of a relaxing bath filling her head, when she ran smack into someone. She nearly toppled over from the impact, but the person she’d bumped into quickly seized her arm and pulled her close to their chest. Y/N instantly felt uncomfortable and pushed herself off of the tall figure. Upon looking up, she saw that Blaise Zabini had been the one to save her ass from hitting the floor. She’d never been one to forgo manners as many other Slytherins did, so she nodded her head and said, “Thanks, Zabini.”

He smirked down at her, his white teeth showing. “No problem, sweetheart,” he purred. A cold shudder ran down Y/N’s spine. She didn’t like this situation one bit; however, when she tried to distance herself and Blaise, he grabbed her upper arm and tugged her towards him. She found herself once again pressed up against the boy’s chest.

“Where you going, babydoll?” he asked. Bile rose up from Y/N’s stomach. When Draco called her babydoll, it was cute, but when the word fell from Blaise’s lips, she felt thoroughly sick. She wiggled her arm, trying desperately to remove it from his grasp. But it was to no avail. His fingers were wrapped around her bicep so firmly she could practically feel the bruises beginning to form.

Y/N continued to struggle against him. “Let go of me, you prat,” she grunted. Blaise didn't heed her words; instead, he stared at something behind her. Y/N looked over her shoulder, but before she had the chance to register who was there, Blaise took her chin in his fingers and forced his lips onto hers. Y/N squealed in shock and tried to use her free arm to push Blaise off. She felt fear overtake her entire body as she fought hard to get out of his clutches. But the boy was too powerful. Luckily for Y/N, she remembered what her father had always told her to do if a male ever tried to violate her. Hit him where it hurts. Without a moment's hesitation, she lifted her foot and rammed her knee into Blaise’s crotch with as much force as she could muster.

He grunted painfully and instantly let go of her, his hands flying to protect his private parts from any further harm. “Fucking bitch!” he yelled. Y/N backed away from him in fear. She was about to run away when she remembered that he had been staring behind her. Y/N turned around to see Pansy holding a camera in one hand and fresh pictures in the other. Her heart raced when she put two and two together. She’d been set up, and she was angry. Y/N whipped out her wand and pointed it at Pansy's head. Wordlessly, she sent the camera and pictures flying from her grasp and into her own. This didn’t please the Slytherin, who took out her own wand and angrily shouted, “Flipendo!” Before Y/N could react, she was sent flying backward, letting the camera and pictures fall from her hands.

When she fell, her head hit the floor hard enough that it bounced. She stayed still as pain pulsed through her entire skull. As she was recovering from the intense blow, Pansy strutted over to her. She laughed as she stood over her and glared down. “Look at you—what a pathetic excuse for a Slytherin. Can’t even properly defend yourself,” she sneered. Y/N, fueled by anger, jumped to her feet and shouted the first spell that came to mind without thinking. “Incarcerous!” Ropes shot from the tip of her wand and wrapped around Pansy’s chest and arms, rendering her defenseless and immobile. Adrenaline was still rushing in her bloodstream when a deep voice called out to her.

“Miss Y/L/N,” it bellowed. Y/N’s heart sank; she recognized that voice to be Severus Snape’s. Sighing, she tucked her wand into her robe and glanced to her left to see the greasy-haired professor. His robe was flowing behind him as he walked rapidly towards her. “Detention,” he declared. Y/N knew better than to argue; the last time she tried, she’d only earned herself another week of writing lines in Snape’s office. After nodding to her potions professor, she turned to go but then spotted the camera. It was in Blaise’s hands. He simply smirked at her and sauntered away.

No, no, no, Y/N thought as her heart sank. She felt as though she was rooted to the stone floor. It was obvious what Pansy and Blaise were planning to do with those photos. They had thought this out; they were going to show them to Draco. After she realized the shit she was in, Y/N knew there was only one thing she could do at this point. Get to Draco before they did.

She bent her knees and took off sprinting through the hallway, determination pumping through her body. But she was stopped short by the sound of her name coming from Snape. Reluctantly and defeatedly, she willed her feet to slow down. “Where do you think you’re going, young lady?” Snape called out to her. Y/N spun around slowly, a grimace plastered to her face. “My dorm,” she said uncertainly; her statement sounded more like a question.

Snape raised an eyebrow. “You’ll be coming with me to my office to serve your detention.” Y/N grumbled to herself angrily. She still couldn’t understand why Snape was never as nice to her as he was towards the rest of the Slytherin house. Y/N watched as Snape freed Pansy from her restraints. She got to her feet and thanked her head of house before strolling down the corridor, making sure to leer at Y/N when she passed. The urge to sock her in the jaw was strong, but Y/N refrained and followed after Snape, hoping to get detention over with as soon as possible.

--------

Draco was fiddling with a stray thread on his sweater when Pansy sat down next to him. He gave her a look. Pansy had a devilish smirk on her face. “Hello, Draco,” she cooed. The blonde shifted his weight so that he was farther away from Pansy. “What do you want?” he questioned. “I’m waiting for Y/N.”

Pansy’s head fell back as she let out a shrill laugh. “You won’t give a damn about her once you see this,” she declared cheerfully. Draco looked at her quizzically. “See what?” he hesitantly asked. Pansy wiggled her eyebrows and reached into her pocket. Slowly, she pulled out two pictures and passed one to Draco. His eyes studied her face before they downshifted to the photo in his lap. Draco’s confusion only grew when he saw what the picture was showing. Y/N and Blaise were pressed up against one another. Her hand was touching his chest, and he was caressing her cheek.

“What the fuck is this, Parkinson?” Draco spat violently. Pansy said nothing; she only handed him the second photo. Draco snatched it from her; his breathing stopped when he looked at it. It was a photo of them kissing. Blaise and Y/N had kissed. Draco felt betrayed, deceived, hoodwinked, you name it, he felt it. Questions began to flood his brain. How could she do this? How long had she been seeing Blaise? Was he not good enough for her? Had he done something to upset her? Panic began to rise within Draco.

“She’s been cheating on you for quite some time, Draco. I was going to tell you sooner, but I knew you wouldn’t believe me without proof,” Pansy said sweetly. She tentatively put her hand on Draco’s shoulder and began to rub up and down soothingly. He barely registered her touch as his world began to crumble. His heart was totally and utterly broken. He couldn’t think he couldn’t breathe. Nothing made sense to him at that moment.

“This must be so hard for you, Draco. I’m so sorry. But look on the bright side, now you can get rid of her. You have proof that she cheated. There’s no way she can deny what she did,” Pansy said a little too excitedly. But Draco paid her no mind; his eyes still hadn’t moved from the photographs in his palms.

“Where is she?” he asked through gritted teeth. Pansy sighed dejectedly. “Well, she attacked me in the hallway, but Snape caught her. I suspect she’s still in detention, but—” Pansy was cut off by Draco springing to his feet, the photos in his tight grip. “Where are you going?” she asked him; he was at the door. Without looking back, he said, “To find her.”

“Draco! Wait!” Pansy exclaimed, but Draco was already gone.

Snape’s office wasn’t far; it was in the dungeons along with the Slytherin common room and potions classroom. Draco’s heart was racing as he stormed through the hallways. He had no plan of action; he just knew he had to find her. Millions of possibilities ran through his head, but he didn't stop to ponder any of them. He rounded a corner and felt his breath catch in his throat. There she was. She looked distraught. When her eyes found Draco, she walked towards him immediately. Draco didn’t move from his spot. He let her come to him. When she reached him, she stared at him intently. A few moments of heavy silence passed before she decided to test the waters. “Draco?” she asked hesitantly.

“How long?” he retorted.

“How long? What do you mean?”

“Don’t play fucking dumb, Y/N. How long have you and Blaise been together, huh?”

Y/N’s face paled. “Draco, it is not what it looks like. Whatever Pansy told you isn’t true.”

Draco laughed. “She didn’t tell me. She showed me,” he replied in a strangely calm voice. Y/N felt tears spring to her eyes as Draco harshly shoved the photographs into her hands. She reluctantly looked down at the images of her and Blaise. She knew it looked terrible, but she was determined to make Draco believe her.

“What do you have to say for yourself? I mean, seriously, was I not good enough for you? Is that it?” Draco asked. Hurt was audible in his voice.

Y/N felt her heart shatter. “Draco, don’t talk like that, of course, you’re good enough for me. You’re more than enough. Please, you have to trust me, you have to believe me. I would never cheat on you; they set me up.” Y/N pleaded. Her eyes were wide with fear.

Draco scoffed and shook his head in disbelief. “Don’t lie to me, don’t make up stories. You cheated, and you didn’t care about the repercussions. Did you ever care? Was I just a game, just a toy for you?” He asked, his voice cracking.

“Of course I cared about you, Draco, I still do. I never fucking stopped caring about you... About us. Draco, I love you, please believe me, please let me explain,” she begged. But Draco wasn’t having it. He took a step backward; she took one forward. Draco clenched his fists. “Get away from me. We’re done.”

Y/N began to panic. “No, no, Draco, listen to me. Please don’t leave, please—”

“Shut up. Shut the fuck up! I don’t give a damn what you have to say. I don’t want to hear from you again, I don’t want to look at you. Do you understand me? Stay the fuck away from me,” Draco commanded. He continued backing up. This time, Y/N stayed put. Tears fell from her cheeks as she watched her lover leave. She felt her legs begin to tremble. She couldn't believe this was happening. It had only been a few hours ago that she had given him a good morning kiss. How had they ended up in this situation so fast? Her legs continued to shake, and eventually, she collapsed onto the cold floor. Sobs racked her body.

-----------

A few weeks later, Draco was sitting in his usual spot in the Great Hall. In Y/N’s place, however, sat Pansy. She was leaning on her hand and gazing at Draco mindlessly. Truth be told, it made Draco a bit uncomfortable. But he did his best to ignore her as he finished up his supper. The past week had been extremely hard for him. He’d hardly gotten any sleep due to the fact all he could think about was Y/N. The look on her face when he’d ended things was burned into his mind. She’d looked so heartbroken, almost as if she was the one who was hurting. Draco knew better than that; he knew he was the one who’d been deceived. He was the one who’d been cheated on, for crying out loud. If anyone was hurting, it was him.

Every time he saw an orange, her favorite fruit, he’d feel his heart clench. Whenever he’d pass the astronomy tower, he’d be reminded of all their time spent up there. The worst, however, was seeing her in the hallways. It hurt beyond belief to see her with Blaise. It just so happened that every time Draco saw them, Blaise's arm was around her waist. It made him sick to his stomach.

“You feeling alright, Dray?” Pansy inquired, pulling Draco out of his thoughts. He nodded and continued to pick at his shepherd's pie. “You don’t look, alright,” Pansy pushed further. Draco slammed his fist onto the table, making some fellow Slytherins irritated. He ignored them and glared at the girl next to him. “I found out a week ago that my girlfriend of two years has been cheating on me. Sorry, I’m not my usual fucking self,” he snapped. Pansy looked disturbed by his angry outburst and decided to remain silent for the rest of their meal.

Draco remained quiet as well; he didn’t like talking anymore. Hell, he didn’t like doing anything anymore. He felt so empty without her. She gave his life joy. Bullying first years and Harry Potter wasn’t the most fulfilling activity, neither was burying himself in his studies. But when Y/N was present, he was happy; he was important. Without her, he felt worthless.

Just then, Draco noticed the couple themselves walking towards the doors of the Great Hall. Blaise’s hand was wrapped around Y/N's arm. She looked a bit disgruntled. When the pair passed Draco and Pansy, Y/N made eye contact with the blonde boy. Her eyes seemed sad, pleading almost. This intrigued Draco more than he cared to admit. He watched them leave, waited a few seconds, then stood up from his seat.

“Draco, where are you going? You haven’t finished your dinner,” Pansy whined. He chose to ignore her and follow after his former lover instead.

When he walked through the doors, he headed for the stairs to the dungeons. He knew Y/N would always go straight to the common room after dinner; he could only hope that was still true. Draco could hear his heartbeat in his ears as he raced down the stone steps. He wasn’t quite sure what had possessed him to follow after the girl who cheated on him, but there he was running after her.

When he got to the bottom of the staircase, he became acutely aware of the lack of people in the Hogwarts basement. Usually, Slytherins would be lurking around every corner, but not tonight. It was too quiet for Draco's liking. He willed himself to calm down. Once he did, he heard the sound of hushed voices coming from his right. He quietly hastened down the dark corridor until he came to the end of it. “Leave me alone,” a familiar voice said. Draco knew it was Y/N, he felt his heart jump upon hearing her, but He stayed hidden behind a wall and urged himself to open his ears to the conversation around the corner.

“You and Parkinson have already ruined my relationship. Can’t you just leave me be now? I thought you were just helping her get those photos; why are you still bothering me?” Y/N asked. She sounded exasperated.

“Pansy did pay me well for those pictures, but I’m afraid I’ve taken a liking to you, sweetheart. You’re just too pretty to pass up.”

After a few beats, Y/N replied with a quiet, “Don’t touch me.” Anger began to boil within Draco, but he didn’t let his presence be known just yet. He wanted to continue eavesdropping on their conversation.

“What’s wrong, babydoll? Don’t like me?” Blaise asked tauntingly. Draco clenched his fists in an attempt to control his anger. But he knew it was only a matter of time before he lost his temper.

“Well, no shit Zabini. You fucking assaulted me and—” Y/N was cut off by a loud slap. This set Draco off; he launched himself off the wall and rounded the corner, wand out, and raised. Y/N and Blaise were shocked to see him here, but Blaise quickly masked his surprise and put his hands behind his back.

“Ah, Malfoy. Fancy seeing you here,” he said. Draco stormed up to him and pressed the tip of his wand to Blaise’s throat. He withdrew his hands slowly while staring at the wand, fear in his eyes. “Hey man, what the fuck are you doing?” he asked in a wavery voice.

“Did you hit her?” Draco asked. His voice was dark, his pupils were tiny as he glared at Blaise. The tall boy didn’t reply. Draco pressed his wand further into his neck. “Look at her, Zabini. Her cheek is burning red; I know you see it. So let me ask you again, did you fucking hit her? And don’t lie to me, you piece of shit.” Draco seethed. Y/N watched the exchange between the boys with terror on her face. She felt anything but safe.

Blaise gulped. “She was acting like a bitch,” he shrugged. Draco didn’t hesitate. “Petrificus Totalus!” Blaise fell backward onto the floor with a loud thud; he was now frozen. Draco stood over him, steaming as he tucked his wand into his pocket and reeled back his fist. “Draco, no!” Y/N yelled. But Draco was blind with rage. He rammed his fist into Blaise’s cheek. Y/N cried out for him to stop, but he hit him again and again. Blaise didn't make a peep as he was forced to endure Draco's brutal punches. Y/N looked on with tears streaming down her face. She didn’t try to stop him for fear he would turn on her.

Once Draco was satisfied with the pulp he had beat Balise into, he released him from his invisible bonds. The boy scrambled to his feet and ran off to the Slytherin common room, not wanting to test Draco’s patience any further. Draco watched him go as he examined the blood on his knuckles. At last, he and Y/N were alone. The blonde boy turned to Y/N. His stomach dropped when he saw her tear stricken face. Her eyes were filled with fear as she peered up at him from her spot on the floor. Draco hesitantly crouched down.

“Y/N… it’s okay. I’m not gonna hurt you,” he said softly. Y/N began to cry even more. Draco felt his stomach churn with regret, and he opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by Y/N.

“I didn’t cheat o-on you. Parkinson pu-put Zabini up to it. I didn’t kiss him willingly,” she stuttered, her body still rocking with sobs. Draco felt like a complete arsehole. He should've just let her explain that night. If he would've only heard her out, they could've avoided all of this.

Draco gently reached out his hand and waited until Y/N placed hers on top of it. He intertwined his fingers with hers. The warmth from her touch was a stark contrast to the icy feeling of his. He pulled her hand close and softly kissed it. “I believe you, love. I’m sorry I didn’t before, but I do now. Please forgive me.”

Y/N rubbed her nose and gradually opened her arms. Draco pulled her into a much-needed hug. He pressed his face into her shoulder and relished in the feeling of her arms around his. Even though it had only been a week, it had felt much longer. So to finally be back in each other’s embrace was like a breath of fresh air.

When they pulled away, Draco caressed her face and, with his thumb, began to wipe the tears from her soft cheeks. He noticed the fading red mark from Blaise’s slap, and he felt his fury begin to return. But Y/N saw this right away. She put her own hands on Draco’s face, forcing him to look her in the eyes. “I’m okay, just a little spooked is all,” she assured him. Draco saw right through her just like she’d seen through him. He knew she was terrified.

“You don’t have to put on a brave face for me, love. You’ve been hurt in so many ways, and I am so sorry. But I’m here now, and I promise you, nobody is going to lay another hand on you, okay? I’ve got you if you'll have me,” Draco said. Y/N smiled and pressed her forehead to his. They remained that way for a few moments before Draco pulled her into his lap. He stroked her hair comfortingly and began to rock her back and forth, calming her remaining tears.

After a few minutes of this, Y/N turned around in Draco’s grasp. She smiled and reached up to push his hair out of his face. Usually, it would be clean-cut and uniform, but that night’s events had turned it into a messy mop. She chuckled to herself, causing Draco to look at her quizzically. “What?” he asked. Y/N tilted her head and pursed her lips. “You’re just too cute, is all.”

Draco felt blush rush to his cheeks; he buried his face in Y/N’s shoulder yet again. She simply hummed contentedly and pressed a kiss to his head. “I missed you,” she mumbled. Draco lifted his head and placed a tender kiss on her lips. “I missed you too, my lovely.”

“Please don’t break up with me again. I was so sad,” Y/N said with pouty lips. Oh, how Draco had missed those. He leaned in for another kiss. “Don’t worry, I was really lonely without you. You’re stuck with me for the foreseeable future,” Draco declared. Y/N giggled. “Good,” she replied.

And suddenly...everything was okay again.

#Draco Malfoy #draco lucius malfoy #draco fanfiction #draco malfoy x yn #Draco #draco malfoy imagines #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x you #request #jealousy #pansy parkinson #Blaise Zabini #severus snape #professor snape #draco fluff #draco malfoy fluff #angst #draco malfoy angst

1K notes · View notes

godwrecks · 3 years

Text

𝗦𝘁𝗼𝗻𝗲𝗿 𝗦𝘂𝗻𝗮

𝗣𝘁. 𝟮 - 𝗪𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗬𝗼𝘂 𝗪𝗮𝗻𝘁

word count: 4.1k

tags; college au. angst. confession. fwb. drugs. fluff if you squint.

The first thing you registered was the light buzzing - no, vibrating of Suna’s phone. Much too dazed by your sleep, you didn’t wonder who was blowing up his messages this late at night. Raising up the sheets to shield your naked body from the cold, you tried to get some sleep, but Suna’s incessant tossing kept you from doing so.

You finally turned to him, eyes squinting at his illuminated face. “Why the fuck is your screen so bright?” You groaned and nuzzled into his chest, wrapping an arm around his bare torso. He merely chuckled, quickly putting away the phone.

“Why so cranky, you just woke up,” despite speaking in hushed sentences, his voice still dripped with mocking. Suna placed his hand on your hip, and though it remained in its station for a few seconds, he soon started trailing his fingers along your waistline.

“Can you even call it waking up? I didn’t sleep at all,” he cocked his head at that, bringing you in closer to him. “I guess I’m at fault for that.”

You smiled quietly, clearing your head as much as possible to get a wink of sleep, though you knew he’d be up and going soon. It had been a few weeks since the...incident, if that’s what you could call it. Nothing changed, really, for better or for worse. Sometimes he was more careful around you, but your relationship was only good for sex. That’s what you had to remind yourself, right? But everything remaining the same was what bugged you. You knew better than to demand more because this was never meant to go past fuck buddies. And while he started coming to you slightly less high, sometimes even seemingly sober, you knew better than to get your hopes up.

With your head like this on his chest, you could hear his heartbeat. Steady. Steady, while yours seemed to always mess up and skip around him. And yet with the slow rhythm of his heart, of his breathing, you surrendered to sleep.

When you woke up again, the sunlight was already rudely peeping past your curtains, and the other side of the bed was empty. Still adjusting to the light, you looked around the room slowly, filled with a strange relief when you found Suna dressing up.

“Practice?” You rubbed your eyes carefully, putting on a hoodie and wobbling when you stood up to reach him. He smiled arrogantly as he ran a hand through his hair, proud of the mess he made of you.

“Yeah. I gotta stop to get something on the way, so I’m heading out now.” His voice was still raspy from sleeping, some of his locks awkwardly falling over his eyes.

Though you wanted to smile at the sight, you knew he was talking about his plug and picking up shit from him. It wasn’t that you judged him for smoking - if that had been your preference, you would’ve known better than to get involved. You and Suna started out as friends, and you had been good friends for a long time at that. Some of the boys on the team always smoked together, and you almost always happened to be there with a few other girls, sometimes even taking a hit you’d be offered. Some of those girls were flings you’d never see again, others were girlfriends. But you were just a friend at the time, not thinking much of the tall and laid-back middle blocker.

“Will you be there tonight? For the party, I mean,” he spoke casually, sitting down on sheets that now smelled like him. “I’m not too sure. I have an assignment due, and I have to be up early tomorrow,” he nodded from his place, tying his boots. You hadn’t been going to many parties lately. The semester nearly ending meant your workload was accumulating, which also meant seeing Suna less. It was at parties and gatherings that you really got to see him, anyway - he was always busy with volleyball and zooted out of his mind most nights he was free. Your thoughts were abruptly cut when you felt his lips press against your forehead, finding an apologetic smile when you looked up.

“You’re starting to bore me,” he joked, but it still made your smile falter. You wanted to give yourself a good slap; since when had you become such a crybaby?

“I’m gonna go now, don’t miss me too much,” Suna stood in the door, offering a charming wink.

“Bye, loser,” you smiled back before shutting the door right in his face.

You had tuned into your laptop to absorb every piece of information from the lecture, or at least try to, as you sat in the library. A quick glance at the clock told you it was nearly midnight. Surprisingly, the library was open all night for students to study - go figure, maybe they guessed most procrastinate until the night thereof. You were taking a few sips from your drink when your phone lit up for an incoming call.

“Rin?” You spoke quietly, not bothering to decipher what the background noise was on his end.

“Baby! You picked up,” his voice was lighter than usual, a mixture of sweetness and relaxation. Suna was the type to become touchy when he was intoxicated, whether by alcohol or drugs. His hands wandered everywhere and he became extremely affectionate, even cuddly, though it was mostly him grabbing your ass. You had only ever seen it for yourself; it was what he did when you were around, and you didn’t have the heart to ask what he did, or who he did it with, when you were absent.

“What’s up?” You let out a sigh as you leaned back in your chair, fingers toying with the straw of your cup.

“I wanna see you,” he spoke and you guessed he had walked out of whatever room he was in.

“I’m studying right now. I told you, remember?”

“Mm, yeah, yeah, you did,” Suna grumbled before a sharp noise echoed through the line, followed by a curse.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, just knocked some shit over. Anyways, come on, just take a break.” You took in a sharp breath, wanting to knock your head against the wall. You knew when to say no, but when it came to him that never meant it was easy.

“I really can’t, Rin. If you just want a girl all over you, call someone else,” you flinched at your own tone, stupefied by the coldness of it.

Whilst you were pondering the source of your sudden anger, Suna was chuckling, probably shaking his head. “Hey, hey, where’s that coming from?”

“Well, I’m just giving you a disclaimer. I’d love to be there, but my grade for this class is desperately crying for help,” you laughed, hoping to cover up whatever that had been.

“So what? I just call someone else?”

“If that’s what you want right now,” you frowned, a detestable panic rushing through you. It was so stupid to even suggest so in the first place, what were you hoping to accomplish? Maybe you just wanted to check for yourself what happened when you weren’t there to satisfy him.

“Unfair, much?” He sighed, and you wished you were facing him right now, if only to catch a glimpse of what goes through his mind.

“How?” You ventured with a gulp, heart pounding against its cage.

“You’re the only girl who doesn’t sober me up,” your stomach twisted onto itself at the smirk on his voice. You felt sick yet couldn’t point down the reason why - there were several. You being foolish enough to even think of this fact as a confession, him only calling you because he just wanted his high to last. Was he using you? The thought raced through your mind, along with a few scenes of you laying next to him.

“Hey,” he blurted out seriously. Between you only remained the loudest silence you had heard.

“Hey,” you were utterly breathless, struggling for air as your lungs closed up and rebelled against your will. You wondered if this was truly so shocking. While you were in the back of his hair, this fear was always forced to the back of your mind. You had knowingly mistaken every moment for more than it was.

“Are you o-”

“I need to go, actually. I’m still at the library, so I should head home. Have fun, yeah?”

Before he could even reply, you ended the call, gripping your phone so tightly that your knuckles went white.

The ride to your apartment was loathsome, to say the least. Not even the loud music could keep you away from your thoughts long enough. You turned the engine off and made your way to the elevator. In the process of searching through your backpack, your phone almost slipped from your hands when you jumped in surprise, startled at the arm sticking through the closing doors.

Your heart dropped when they opened up to reveal a panting Suna staring right through you.

“Rin, what are you doing here?” You stammered when he pressed the button to your floor, nearing your figure.

“I came here to see you,” he was still slightly out of breath, eyes scanning you as if they were searching for something. Had he run for so long?

You took a look at your handwatch and cringed. It was late, but not late enough for him to come knock at your door.

“Thought you’d be busy until later,” you replied dryly, crossing your arms in front of your chest.

“Yeah, well, change of plans.” His sleazy eyes never left you, and you regretted not taking the stairs.

“I’m sorry I made you come all the way here, but you should go-” You stared at the hand wrapped around your wrist that pulled you closer until you stumbled forward.

“Don’t do that.”

You chuckled viciously, a sound that bruised him. “Sorry I’m not really in the mood to have sex right now.”

“You know that’s not what I’m here for.” Suna started to be visibly frustrated, or at least you thought so by the strength with which he was gripping the pole behind you.

“Then why are you here? That’s all we’ve ever done, Suna,” the name rolled off your tongue awkwardly, and as distasteful as it was for you, his flinch made it clear that he disliked it even more. The elevator doors opened and you walked out, straight to your apartment with the hopes that he’d stay behind.

“Oh, so now we’re back to the last-name basis?” You felt him right behind you, his heavy breathing audible.

“I’m sorry, okay?” You half-assed the apology as you struggled with your keys, the slight shake in your hands slowing you down.

After stepping inside, you turned just in time to see his shake head.

“Why are you being like this all of a sudden?”

Your eyes rolled back at his indifference. How could he be so dense? Was he feigning innocence like this was a game to the both of you? It may have been for him, but not for you.

“I don’t know!” A step towards him and you were already too close. You felt claustrophobic from the way he hovered above you. “Maybe because I feel fucking stupid? I know there’s nothing between us, I’m well aware,” the laugh that formed in your throat was bitter, yet it didn’t compare to the tightening of your chest. “But this just isn’t what I want anymore.”

Suna looked at you as if you had gone insane, unaware of the slight craze in his amber eyes. “What do you want?” He grabbed onto the door, stepping forward until he had cleared his way inside.

“Not this, not whatever you want out of me.”

The grin on his face, unlike his usual striking ones, branded an emotion he had never worn before. “Which is?”

“Making you cum while you’re high, apparently,” you sneered back, tearing his hand away from the door.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding,” Suna gritted through his teeth, slamming the door shut. You groaned, debating how hard you would have to smack his head with your backpack to give him a concussion.

“Oh, am I? You said so yourself.”

“You’re twisting my words,” he pointed his finger at you accusingly, fuming with every breath.

“How so?” This time you didn’t back off. Instead, you hit his chest, resisting the urge to claw at it so he’d at least keep a distance. “If you care to explain, go right ahead!”

“I never said that’s all I want,” his fingers pinched the bridge of his nose in an effort to keep calm, which was turning out difficult for the both of you.

“Right, because only seeing you after you've smoked wasn’t enough of a message. I don’t even see you throughout the day!”

“How is that only my fault? You never told me you wanted something else, and you were as happy to fuck as I was whenever I knocked on your door.” You could only scoff at his words, amazed he could even dare to try and blame you.

“You know damn well this isn’t on me. I'm not the unavailable one, I'm not the one that's always gone until it's convenient. I'm not the one who barges in and acts like they own me, or did you forget about that already?” You had begun to scream out without realizing, but the rage you felt burning through the cracks of your heart was urging to be released.

Suna stood there quietly, staring at you with distant eyes, like he was too busy making sense of his own thoughts to even mind yours. When the clock ticked away and he had still not spoken a word, you inhaled, bracing yourself.

“Listen, this was nice. And I’d like to stay as a friend, so let’s just leave it at this. If you had plainly admitted that all you ever wanted was sex, I would’be been slightly better now.” The words were calculated and detached as you held onto the sleeves of your cardigan.

“You’re not fucking getting it, it’s not just the sex that I want,” Suna finally mumbled, but your hand was already placed on the knob.

“Well it's all you ever cared to ask for.” You opened the door and stepped away, unable to look anywhere but at the floor.

“When I said I didn't wanna leave you, I didn't mean- I meant…” each word was a separate struggle, and you lacked the strength to bear it any longer.

“What did you mean, Rintaro?” You only offered a tired smile as he stood there once again like a fish out of water. A silent challenge he never took on.

It only took you a few seconds to decide to push him from behind towards the door. You were angry, and heartbroken, and definitely not okay, but something like this was not worth losing him over. Despite everything, he had been a great friend before.

“Have a good night,” and with that, you spelled away the image of the tall brunette you came to adore.

You were still dripping from your long shower, the robe you wore doing little to collect the water before it hit the floor. It was early afternoon, not even 24 hours after the fight, yet it felt like an eternity had passed. You hadn’t heard from Suna at all, and a part of you wondered if you would soon or if he would disappear for a while. Shaking the thoughts away, you walked over to the kitchen to grab a drink when the doorbell rang. You frowned, scrambling your brain for anything your friends had said about coming over, but you were sure none had the plans to visit. The moment you opened the door, the scent of musk and ginger washed over you.

“Please don’t shut the door on me, you seem to have taken a liking to it,” he blabbered out as soon as your eyes met. You hesitated, shifting your weight on your feet.

“What are you doing here?”

“Give me a chance?” You frowned, scanning his face for ulterior motives but all you found was honesty. Despite it, your stomach sank at the sight. Though you didn’t know if you had wanted to see him or not, you wouldn’t have imagined it would be this hard.

“Rin, really, what are you-” You couldn’t finish your sentence, too bewildered to properly speak. Another glance at his face told you he was sober - he even looked more put together than he usually did, though it looked like his volleyball uniform was under his outerwear.

“For someone who was so upset, you should at least give me the opportunity,” he joked tediously, ignoring the dense air that had formed between you two.

His smile was rueful, and genuine from what you could see. “Just...let me do this properly. Dress up and let’s go to my game,” he announced, hints of timidity teetering his voice.

You simply gazed at him, lips forming a thin line. “What are you doing? Just- what are you planning?”

“Nothing!” He swallowed down, raising up the hand that was holding two bags. You raised an eyebrow at it, unamused. “Here, I got you something.”

Receiving it from his cold hands, you looked carefully into it before digging through it. “You’re joking,” you hissed, dangling the pink lingerie in front of his face.

He was smug, toying with you for his pleasure as always. You would have too if you had not been in this situation.

“It was a joke. That’s not...really what,” he quickly delved into the other bag, holding out a small, black box. You surveyed it before cocking your head, taking it from him and opening it. The necklace inside was pretty - beautiful, actually. But you didn’t want his money, you wanted him, which was likely a harder request. “It’s not gifts that I want, Rin,” you sighed, now painfully aware that he would never be something you could predict.

“I know that, angel. But I never treated you, or did something nice for you, and most guys do with, you know,” he trailed off, eyes darting away from your face.

“My problem is you only calling me when you’re high. That issue won’t be solved with gifts,” you massaged your temple, slowly becoming a mess as you tried to put the pieces together and figure out what he was doing.

“I’m not a damn addict, princess. It’s not all I fucking care about,” Suna swore as he leaned against the door frame.

“I know that! I never said you were, but you can’t just go from only giving me that to acting as if you actually want us to be something more. So tell me, how am I supposed to feel?” Though your voice nearly broke, you held onto the door - determined to at least stand your ground. You had been clear with him. You had specified you couldn’t do this anymore, so the least he could do is respect that.

His eyes narrowed for a moment, glimmering ever so briefly that you wondered if the change had been a figment of your imagination. “Listen— I've never,” his chest trembled with a breath before he continued. “I've never been in love with someone, alright? I don’t know how it fucking feels, and that was the last thing I planned on doing. And don’t get me wrong, I was hooked on you from the very beginning. But then suddenly you're the only person I’m attracted to,” Suna’s voice was uncharacteristically weak, threatening to crack at any moment. “And believe me it wasn’t for lack of trying, because while my dick was inside someone else, all I could think about was how badly I wanted to see you. And I didn’t- I don’t know how to process that, all that you fucking make me feel. I don’t even know if I want to process it at all, if I’m being sincere.” His lips lifted into a pained smile that didn’t reach his tormented eyes. “But when you ended that call, you sounded so hurt I panicked. And I don't have a plan, and I'm rambling, and this is probably the most I’ve ever said at once, but if I know something, it’s that I can't let it end here,” his throat bobbed but his steps to you were resolute. You almost turned away when his hands cupped your cheek, spanning the skin delicately.

You couldn’t find your voice for all it was worth. It was hard to tell whether your brain was working faster than your heart.

“You say that, but,” you jerked when you felt a tear trickling down your cheek. Suna’s fingers stuttered undecidedly, but his thumb wiped away the salty trail. “Assuming you truly felt that way, you never acted on it. Actually, you acted very differently,” you hiccuped, biting the inside of your cheek in shame.

“You want me to be honest with you? I feel like such a mess around you, like I might explode. It’s easier to deal with that in certain situations. Hence me restricting our time with each other to me being high,” Suna murmured, shrugging a shoulder. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know how to deal with it. I was scared all the good I’d ever do for you is a nice fuck. What if that’s all I get until I mess up? You’ve got it so together and I’m here, not even able to talk about my stupid feelings.”

You gaped at his pale face: the beautiful carving of his features, the slight quavering of his bottom lip, the long eyelashes framing half-mast eyes.

“You mean that?”

He laughed at your simple question, likely expecting more after everything he had let out. You wanted to give him more, but you were unable to, still trapped in your fear that it would all be fake.

“I do. And I’m sure it can’t just be me who feels like this.” With a look at you, he pinched your cheek gently, looking for an answer.

“It’s not just you. Obviously,” you grumbled disapprovingly. It was pretty obvious to you, but he still smiled sweetly, the frenzy in his face slowly fading.

“I’ll probably miserably fail, but I at least wanna try. I wanna do this — with you. So please let me. And if it’s not enough for you even after that, then I won’t waste your time anymore. But give me the chance.” His hands lowered to your jaw and neck while he spoke the words, forcing you into a retreat.

“Rin, do you even know how relationships work?” You scoffed, quirking your eyebrows at the boy.

“Yes. No. In theory?” You couldn’t help but laugh at his response. He really was awfully cute sometimes.

You eyed his waist, reluctantly deciding to wrap your arms around it with a heavy sigh. “I’ll probably regret this and get my heart broken.”

“Hopefully it’s not your heart that gets broken,” Rin quickly added, looking down at your body with a sneaky grin. You glared at him, hiding away the smile on your lips.

“You know we have to like- go on dates. During the day and all?”

He nodded like this was a work interview and he was expecting the question.

“Okay, so get ready. Let’s go to my game,” he signaled over to your room given your bathrobe, but you could only stare at him cautiously.

“I mean it. Come cheer for me,” Rin leaned down to you with the whisper, reaching your eye level. You nodded, rushing to get dressed once he planted a kiss on your cheek.

“You know,” he started off casually, grabbing your hand. “I might’ve cried if you hadn’t come back with me.”

“Oh, really?” You smirked at him, curiosity filling you.

Swiftly noticing your mood shift, he explained. “Well I talked to some friends...for advice, or whatever. So if I had showed back alone, those two jerks would’ve never let me hear the end of it.”

He squeezed your hand as laughter soared through you, your free hand traveling to your abdomen when it began hurting. “Seriously?” You added when you managed to control the laughter, gaining a glare from Suna.

“Seriously.”

When your eyes had returned to the road ahead of you, he lifted your intertwined hands to his mouth, kissing the back of your palm.

“I’ll do this, so just don’t complain anymore okay?”

This was so long??? If you actually read all of it, THANK YOU LMAO. also sorry for the weird spaces sometimes, i like writing in docs so i don’t lose anything aha so it b weird sometimes idky. okay yeah thank you !!

art credit: damnzucoyy on tiktok

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hee4won · 3 years

Text

hate(d) | nishimura riki x reader

requested by @onionhaseyeo i’m so sorry if this isn’t what you wanted but for some reason i got super excited

a/n: this is my first time writing a fic(?) i guess it could be considered.. i just had an idea i liked for the request and it felt more like a fic than a headcanon :] i hope it’s not too bad !

word count: 2.1k

warnings: probably some grammatical errors, other than that none. (lowercase intended)

tags: e2l, slight angst, slight fluff

you hate nishimura riki. when you tell others how you feel about him they always have the same unoriginal response, “hate is such a strong word.” and that, is exactly why you chose it.

now, in order to really understand why your hatred runs so deep, let’s get into the Three W’s! WHY do you hate him so much? he stole your best friend, she ended up developing feelings for him and ghosting you, she moved away, he never apologized for it. WHEN did you realize nishimura riki was the worst thing to ever happen to you? 7th grade, it’s always 7th grade. WHERE did the beginning of the end commence? the cafeteria, your friend decided to spill her guts out in front of the whole lunch table, only to be humiliated not long after.

there you sat, glaring at the back of riki’s head. anyone from a mile away could sense your distaste when it came to him. truth be told, no one could understand why, and you never cared to explain. you figured the situation between the two of you or - just you and an unknowing boy - was personal and should be kept private. you were really good at keeping it a secret too, so good that riki himself couldn’t pinpoint the issue you had with him.

for the most part you did your best to avoid him, whether it be physically or when he was brought up in conversation between classmates. ni-ki, as people on good terms with him would address him, was a really friendly student. he didn’t pick fights, kept his teasing to a minimum, and somehow got good grades despite sleeping in and skipping classes.

going to school knowing his sweet, smiling face would be one of the first things you would see in the morning was what kept you in bed during first period. just the idea of him was revolting, and you simply weren’t strong enough to hold your ground right after waking up.

that was until your first period teacher emailed you letting you know a group project was coming up and it counted as 60% of your overall grade. all you could do was send a friendly reply, close the laptop, and scream into your pillow. you were going to be seeing nishimura riki for the first time in almost a month. which you considered to be the best month of your life.

you were alert all morning, barely getting any sleep the night before from how nervous you were. it actually wasn’t as bad as you thought. you were late, which meant everyone already picked who they were going to group with. and, to your luck, riki was nowhere to be foun-

*bump*

“oh my gosh, i am so sorry. . . y/n?” sigh, of course it had to be him. you flashed a limp smile and hurried over to an empty seat. you noticed his hand go forward then drop down to his side, almost like he was trying to bring you back. “oh! ni-ki,” even the teacher knows his nickname? how wonderful. “what perfect timing, you and y/n will be partners for the project, i’ll send the rubric out this afternoon. class dismissed!”

your legs were like jelly, since when did you become this way? sure, you hate him but. . . not being able to move? it was different, it was new. riki noticed the look of confusion on your face and cautiously made his way over to you once all the other students cleared the classroom. “hey, y/n. i haven’t seen you in a while, have you been doing alright?” why on earth was he concerned about you? so shameless.

“yeah, i’m fine, thanks,” you glared at him while standing up and purposefully bumping into his shoulder. bad move. your knees gave out right then, luckily, riki held onto you before you could hit the cold floor. you sighed in defeat, today just wasn’t your day, and mister nishimura just wasn’t the person you wanted to be this close to.

“do you need something? or is there another reason you won’t let go of my arm,” every word had a hint of poison mixed in it. riki muttered a small apology and quickly released you. “i just wanted to let you know that we can work on the project at my place, only if you want,” he gave a boxy closed-mouth smile, almost as if he was trying to act cute. disgusting.

“whatever, give me your address and i’ll come by at 4.” and with that, you two went your separate ways.

after school

as you made your way to riki’s house, you were running over every possible scenario that could occur. you wanted to avoid arguing, only because you took your grades very seriously. but does he? you couldn’t help but feel nervous and slightly jittery as you got closer to his front steps. oh! the door is open. but. . . no riki?

you called out for him a couple times until hearing laughter and the crunching of chips coming down from the second floor. of course, he’s playing the game. trudging up the stairs you wiped off your sweaty palms, mentally preparing yourself before inviting yourself into his room.

“sunghoon, shut up! it’s not even like that, you’re so weird,” he was so loud. “jake, you too! as if you haven’t been trying to swoon that girl in your third period for the past two months now. haha!” well, boys will be boys.

you open the door and riki notices immediately. he throws his headset and controller down to the floor. “y/n, you scared me,” he was almost out of breath. “oh my bad, i called out for you but you didn’t hear me so. . .” you fiddled with your fingers awkwardly. riki muttered a quick, “it’s okay” and gestured for you to take a seat on his bed.

picking up his headset, he told the cheeky upper-class boys that he would talk to them later. grabbing his supplies and computer, he took a seat next to you. you shifted away from him a little, not comfortable with the closeness between the two of you. he didn’t seem to notice, that or he just didn’t care.

“okay, so, have you already looked over the rubric?” crickets. “helloo, earth to y/n! have you checked the rubric yet?” “OH! yes, i have, ha,” you gave a quick reply, trying to pretend the awkward moment of you staring at him never happened.

ha? are you insane? you were nervous yes, and you thought it was because of the bad terms you two were on but. . . this nervousness felt a bit different.

“i also wrote up a quick outline during lunch,” you took the paper out of your bag and moved to hand it to him. “ooh nice, you’re such a scholar,” you gave him a lighthearted “shut up” before looking back at your laptop.

did he feel that? your fingers touched. they did touch, right? you can’t be imagining all of this. Y/N. WHAT ARE YOU DOING? YOU HATE HIM, REMEMBER?

“uh, y/n? why do you look like you’ve been holding in a wet fart for the past three minutes?” he was being playful while also holding genuine concern because of your recent actions. your jaw drops, you were always bad at keeping a poker face. but you knew you had to go back to your cold state, there was no way you were going to finish the project by gawking at him. he has such pretty lips by the way, how did you not notice sooner?

it had been a few hours since you guys started working on the project. you checked the time, 8:00 pm. “hey, riki,” you began with a small yawn. “y/n, you know you can call me ni-ki, right? that’s what all my friends call me,” his eyes suddenly widened noticing your discomfort. “wait, i mean. . . only if you want to!”

you cleared your throat and just asked for the bathroom. once inside and closing the door behind you, you felt the need to cry. sob, even. what is going on? why do you feel so bad for being around him? are you a traitor? is it wrong to be laughing and giggling like the two of you are besties?

you turned the water on, hoping it would drown out the sound of your muffled cries. unfortunately, you have some awfully loud sniffles. riki came running to where you were and knocked on the door. he spoke softly, “y/n? are you okay? can i come in?” what was the point in saying no? it is his house, and maybe if you told him. . . you’d feel better.

as you opened the door and looked up at him, the look of worry on his face made your heart ache. gosh, why do you care about him so much? he looked at your tear stained face and slowly reached out his hand, giving you a look that pleaded for your approval. you pass a small nod, and almost sank into the warmth of his hand on your cheek. he pulled you in for a hug as you cried for a little while longer. “do you wanna talk about it?”

here it was, here was the chance to let him know what you’ve been wanting to since 7th grade. you took a moment to steady your breathing and gather courage to look him in the eyes. you told him everything, from the beginning of 7th grade, to the day it all happened, all the way to where the two of you stood now.

he just sat there, probably trying to process everything you had randomly dumped on him. you were about to apologize and pack your things, but for some odd reason, he smiled? “ni-ki? what’s so funny? i was being serious,” his smile only grew bigger, “no i know, i just find it so funny how you had so much agaisnt me meanwhile i just wanted you to like me.”

he?? wanted you to like him??? hmmm. “what do you mean. . . wanted me to like you?” you were really curious, “i’ve had a crush on you since 7th grade, that’s why i rejected your friend later on. i never knew it would hurt you in the process, and for that i am sorry. very sorry.” you let out a small chuckle, “it’s not your fault, really. now that i’m older i think i was only mad that you two didn’t end up together because i liked you too. i just couldn’t live with myself for liking the same boy my best friend liked. it’s stupid, i know.”

riki reached out for your hand, which you obviously let him have. “you’re a good friend.” he flashed you a sweet and caring smile. you let out a sigh of relief, it felt like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders. all this time you had been pushing for yourself to hate him, while it was all just a plot to get rid of your feelings for him. crazy.

it was 11:00 pm.

you and riki had already finished the project and were laying on his floor. the both of you just staring at the ceiling and stealing glances at each other. what lovesick little kids.

after noticing the time, you hopped up and told him you really needed to go. he gave you a small pout with puppy eyes trying to get you to stay, and of course, it was hard but you’d rather leave now and see him later than get grounded and not see him for another month. “i can just text you, don’t make that face.”

he escorted you down the stairs, both of you moving discreetly, careful not to wake the boy’s parents. he opened the door for you and you turned around, gazing at him. “what are you thinking?” he asked with a tired smile on his face and small pieces of fluffy hair sticking up in every direction. you gave a shy smile and pecked his lips. he was very surprised, but also very happy.

“nothing.” you said, holding a cheeky grin in an attempt to hide your shyness. “wow, just to think that you hate my guts,” riki poked fun at you.

“hm, hate is such a strong word.”

“what would you call it then?”

“i would say. . . i hate(d) you. past tense.”

the two of you just laughed, both of you yawning shortly after.

“goodnight, mr. ni-ki.”

“goodnight, y/n.”

and with that, the two of you went your separate ways. but this time, with mutual feelings.

oh and btw, the project got you guys an A+ ;).

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thearchvillain · 3 years

Text

of horsefairs and maidens. part 1

nikolai lantsov x reader

link to part 2

summary: The weather is warm and the air thick with the scent of summer blossoms at the epicentre of horse auctions and races, Caryeva - and Nikolai Lantsov has been bored out of his mind for the past... what feels like an eternity. When even counting how many times his brother has made a fool of himself lost its appeal and became nearly tragic to watch, Nikolai retreated to the edges of the fair only to find that pretty girl Vasily had been dragging around all day hiding on the outskirts, seemingly desperate to escape the supposed Lantsov charm. Or whatever version of it Vasily had offered. "Tomorrow then.", he leaned down beside her, "I'll buy all your father's horses if that's what it takes." Watching her from the side he could just see the tiniest of smirks grace the corner of her lips, "That's an expensive sport you're wanting to try out." "Well, have I ever told you that I have a lot of money?" "Silly me, and here I was thinking you were a mere peasant." "Was it the humility? The rogue charm?"

word count: 2085

warnings: mentions of animal abuse, also Vasily being generally shitty as always

A/N - this is my first attempt at writing this sort of AU/imagine/excerpt, and I’ve gone overboard with the word count (as always), but I hope you will like it! i thought i might fit it into one part, but both Nikolai and the main character had so much to say I figured there would have to be another part thrown in there haha also we have some (briefly) confused!Nikolai, so I hope you enjoy that!

She'd hidden herself well, standing at the very edges of the fair where the trees cast their shadows long and wide in the evening sun, offering a pocket of peace to both the animals and the humans looking for a moment of silence, or cold breeze not laden with the scent of alcohol and sweat and horses.

Nikolai had been watching her for a while, straight-backed and still in her rider's outfit, standing near the rickety fence and looking at the horses not quite suited for the finer crowds that milled around the crown prince back at the heart of the fair. He supposed it was a good place to hide, not so much because of the forest behind them, but because his brother was far too vain to venture this far out.

"I saw you before, you're the girl who's been entertaining the crown prince.", he said, casually, noncommittally. She'd been ignoring the sound of his steps as he'd approached her from behind, drawn in by some sight before her, and even now she didn't so much as glance over her shoulder. Instead, she let out a sound that might have been a snort, but more lady-like, "Well, he's certainly not been entertaining me, so someone had to get the job done."

Nikolai stopped just short of the fence, to her left, and finally when the girl turned her head to see who she was speaking to he could see the brief flash of recognition in her eyes. So she hadn't known who she was speaking to. The surprise stayed there only for the briefest time, then morphed into something that might have been calculation, as if she were weighing her options - to speak of the prince to his brother this way was a dangerous game, at least if one wasn't familiar with Nikolai.

She finally settled on a slight nod, as graceful as it was superficial, "My apologies.", then she cocked an eyebrow, "Tell me, your highness, could this cost me my tongue?"

Cheeky. He smirked, "Only if it's me you're speaking of this way, and even then only because it would be a terrible lie. I'm wonderfully entertaining."

She made a noncommittal sound and looked back at her horses, "Does it run in the family?"

Nikolai felt personally slighted that the giant lump of muscle that was a horse a few meters away from them seemed more interesting to her than he did, but it wasn't like he was going to just back off, "At least give me a chance, it'd be a shame for you to think we're all like that."

"Like what?", she turned her clever eyes back to him and smiled, "You make it sound like I've implied the crown prince is not charming."

"Oh, you haven't. I'm the one implying it.", this seemed to draw out a chuckle from her. Take that, horse. "You're rather good at hiding distaste, I'll give you that."

"Who says I'm not hiding it now?"

"Ouch.", his hand went briefly to his chest in a theatrical display of hurt, "How come you're not nearly as charming to me as you've been to Vasily?"

"Because you don't seem like a jackass. How's that for the capital offence?"

"Personally, I see none, merely a good judge of character."

This time the chuckle she let over her lips was a bit less restrained, and he'd be damned if he didn't take that as a win. Now her eyes slid back to the meadow in front of them, beaten down by horseshoes and boots until it was nothing but mud, and Nikolai watched her watch that same horse she'd been staring at since he'd first spotted her. One could claim it was nothing special if it weren't for its size - he'd be damned if that wasn't the largest horse he'd seen since the army, and probably the roughest-looking.

"Do you have a penchant for the uglier specimen or are you just wondering about his size?"

The girl gave him the dirtiest look he'd been given in a while, "He's not ugly, just old and overworked.", then as if to sound less stern, "But he is a big boy, even for his breed."

Well, that attempt at a joke about his looks fell flat. He wasn't used to that. "How do you know?"

This seemed to be more her tune because she perked up and pointed one long, elegant finger at the horse, "Do you see the way he's walking? And the scars on his flank?", she didn't wait for the answer, he could hear the urgent irritation in her voice, "He's been severely abused - his hind leg has been broken and never set properly, and you rarely see a valuable work animal this scarred from beatings and equipment."

Now Nikolai looked, actually looked, he could see the ridges of old scars crisscrossing his entire body, and something off about the way he ambled around as if to put a distance between himself and the people. "I thought he was a warhorse, that those were battle wounds. Not something his owners would do to him."

He could see her soften a bit when she heard the shock and disgust that laced his tone, her eyes going briefly to him before she looked at the horse again, "Vasily wouldn't even look at him."

"You tried to show him to my brother?"

She frowned at his tone, "I had no choice! My father won't let me buy him, and he's going to be sold for meat if I don't get him before this hell show is over."

"You want to buy him?"

No, actually, this was the dirtiest look he'd received from a woman, "Well, of course. He deserves a peaceful, loving retirement. He's suffered enough."

Now it was Nikolai's turn to look incredulous, "I thought you were letting my brother drag you around like a prized mare because you wanted an actual prized mare."

She sputtered, incredulity lining her features before she finally found her voice, "Excuse me?"

"Not like that --"

"Like what then?"

Nikolai cleared his throat, if only to buy himself time, "Well, this went off the rails fairly quickly."

She turned her entire body towards him now, and he could feel the anger vibrating off her tiny frame in waves, all directed at him, "You were never on the damn rails."

Fair enough. "It says nothing of your character, anyone who listens to his drivel for an entire day should be well-compensated for their emotional trouble."

"I'll need to be well-compensated after this conversation."

"I don't think that old horse will do it though."

She smacked him on the arm. It took Nikolai a second to process what had just happened, as he looked down to his arm where her fist had punched him with all the righteousness of a woman scorned, then back up at her, incredulous once again. "I was joking."

"Try doing it again, but this time make it funny."

When Nikolai didn't answer quickly enough she put her hands on her hips and raised a brow, "Well?"

"Well-- my extensive education in diplomacy tells me I should ease off with the jokes and perhaps try to apologise?"

Her brow somehow went even higher, it made him feel young and squeamish.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to imply you were accompanying my brother for your gain."

"Oh, please, of course I've been advising him on horses because I want something out of him, why else would I listen to him compare me to a mare and act like he'd written me a sonnet."

"He compared you to a horse?"

"An expensive one, so it's fine in his mind.", she let out a shaky breath, the anger still simmering beneath the soft rosy tint that coloured her cheeks. Nikolai couldn't help but stare, taken aback by the simplicity of her intentions, her irritation - she'd been keeping her cool the entire day, nodding prettily whenever his brother said something, offering him her expertise only to have it thrown back in her face because she was not meant to be listened to, only showed off. And she was not a girl that wanted to be showed off or ignored, that much was clear.

"What?"

She turned to look at him, and Nikolai caught himself mid-stare, too absorbed in his thoughts to recognize that he'd been looking at her a bit too long. "Nothing, I'm just impressed."

"With what?"

"You.", he smirked, "I mean you've been suffering under his charms all day, then mine, and at the end of it you're restrained enough to only punch me in the arm?"

She frowned, her eyes sliding to his arm, uncertainty on her features, "Can I get in trouble for that?"

"Oh no, I'm into it."

She raised a brow, and Nikolai couldn't help the smirk that passed across his lips. Then he said, out of nowhere, "Will you come to dine with me?"

"As you said, your brother thinks I'm his prized mare."

That was only half a no, so he thought he might still have some wiggle-room left there, "Well I think you're far prettier than that. At least a good racehorse."

"Saints I want to smack you again."

Nikolai leaned in, his voice conspirational, "Well, yeah, that was kind of the point."

That chuckle again. He noticed that the feathery hair at the back of her neck curled delightfully when she turned to look at the fair and wondered briefly what she might look like when she let her hair down from her ponytail. His thoughts were interrupted when she said, "I can't. My father wants me to keep him amused, so Vasily might buy from him instead of the breeder from the next town over."

Nikolai frowned, "So he sent you out to entertain the creepier of the two princes like a well-trained monkey?"

"You just physically can't say a sentence without petting your own ego, can you?"

"Oh, you're noticing that just now?"

She leaned her forearms on the fence, staring out at the distance, "Are you really surprised? My sister probably knows even more than I do about the horses, but it was never about the knowledge."

Nikolai wished he could tell her he was, but he'd been made all too familiar with how these things worked in court, why his mother had paraded him around so much, with his pretty golden curls and charming smiles.

"Tomorrow then.", he leaned down beside her, "I'll buy all your father's horses if that's what it takes."

Watching her from the side he could just see the tiniest of smirks grace the corner of her lips, "That's an expensive sport you're wanting to try out."

"Well, have I ever told you that I have a lot of money?"

"Silly me, and here I was thinking you were a mere peasant."

"Was it the humility? The rogue charm?"

He'd just turned his head to look at her, a smirk playing on his lips, ready to come up with another joke to try and get another laugh from her when his brother's voice carried over from somewhere behind her, "Brother. I see you've met my advisor.", there was an edge to his voice, even if he was all drunken smiles, "She's pretty isn't she?"

"The prettiest.", Nikolai replied, pleasantly, even if he knew that wasn't quite the most interesting thing about her, "Come to save her from me?"

"Always.", Vasily's eyes went to the girl, and Nikolai realised he'd never asked for her name, "Did he bore you?"

"Not at all.", the mask slipped back onto her face, as empty as it was pretty, not that Vasily would ever notice, "I see he's inherited your charm."

"Yes, but not quite all of it."

Nikolai cast a glance her way and offered a slight smirk, something unspoken about it, an intimate joke, "I shall leave you two alone, I'm sure you've found another horse to bore her with, brother."

Vasily cleared his throat, "See you at dinner, little brother."

As he walked away, he could hear Vasily ask her for the details of their conversation, the jealousy seeping into his voice like poison. Then something about the workhorse they'd been looking at, wondering why she'd ever want that broken halfbreed. Nikolai knew why his brother had raised his voice when saying that, knew those words were meant for him more than her, but he was too tired to care. Tomorrow then. Hell, he might actually get himself some horses of his own tomorrow.

#nikolai lantsov #nikolai lantsov x reader #nikolai lantsov imagine #grishaverse #shadow and bone #of horsefairs and maidens #reposting this to the new standalone blog!#for practicality's sake #really sorry for the confusion tough <3 #i'll be posting part 2 and other excerpts on this blog from now on :)

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a-shakespearean-in-paris · 3 years

Text

Why Cullen?

Today I bring you a post I’ve been in the process of mentally drafting for a while, a post that essentially analyzes the age old question in the Dragon Age fandom: Why is there always something with Cullen?

To do this, I am going to go through different “phases” of Cullen discourse. My thesis and answering the titular question: It’s complicated, and I don’t think I can answer “Why Cullen,” but “there’s sometimes recycled discourses made about his character through the years, maybe there’s a pattern.” When it comes to Cullen’s detractors, I understand the fact that it might be frustrating to see much content for someone so “boring” when there’s more “interesting” and “well done” characters (though interest is of course relevant) so it leads to a lot of vitriol from both new and old fans who think the man had too much screen time already. Furthermore, he is highly complicated man dressed as a Disney prince, and the “Disney-esque” feel of his romance creates a dissonance between coming to terms with his problematic past and reveling in the romanticism. We can have a happy medium everyone, but because of what I can only describe as “tik tok thought” it’s become looked down upon to have problematic favorites, which leads to guilt in liking something problematic, or outright revisionism.

But liking things with problematic elements doesn’t make you a bad person.

Alright, let’s begin:

The first phase truly began of course with DAO with Cullen’s crush on the female Circle Mage Warden. Some were endeared, others not so much. I cannot speak to this phase too much as I was around 15-16 and pretty preoccupied with my high school drama instead of fandom, though I played both DAO and DA2 upon it’s release and followed updates for DA2 before it came out. Despite not being an active fandom member I was what they would call, a lurker. I knew some people liked Cullen and thought he was cute, wishing for more screen time after the game and hoping he’d be in DAI through IMDB message boards (remember those?) and YoutTube comments. When news broke he’d be an advisor in DAI and a romance option, I remember seeing a lot of people in those same spaces rejoice. I’m sure there were also people who weren’t so pleased, but from what I saw, people were happy. When Inquisition did release, I actually did quite a bit more lurking on tumblr despite the fact I didn’t have a blog, because I played the romance route, really gravitated toward it, and wanted to see fanart and such. People liked the romance, liked his arc and how Bioware handled his struggles with lyrium; and found it realistic. Even in my lurking days I did see some blowback on Cullen from detractors, those who didn’t think he should have been the military advisor (which canonically it makes total sense to me why he’s where he’s at, but I won’t get into it here however.) But likely because I wasn’t fully “in fandom,” my surface level understanding of how tumblr felt about Cullen was relatively positive and there was only standard fare discourse.

Phase 2: I can speak about this phase better because I established this blog in 2017. Two years after DAI was released, you still had a lot of fans who loved his romance and character, but you also saw a lot of those fans really dive into his flaws, insisting even that just focusing on the Disney Prince aspects of him reduced his character. There were also more internal debates. Would realistically Cullen be a good father was one. One thing however was for sure, there was a strange them and us line between detractors and fans, and to many fans, myself included, oftentimes the Cullen blowback would extend beyond the valid, “hey I don’t think his characterization was handled well” or “his redemption arc isn’t that great” to outright vitriolic hate that blatantly ignored his PTSD and lyrium addiction, and even sometimes “you just like Cullen because he’s white.” As a POC fan it was a fantastic thing to be accused of. I used to be more involved with discord during this period and I remember a few discussions about this as well. Even those indifferent to Cullen didn’t get it.

Overall, I have to say the air was one where people in Cullen fandom enjoyed all aspects of him, from delving into this troubled past to indulging in the Disney prince aspects of him. It was a happy medium I think, even if occasionally I would see a Cullen fan feel bad for liking him, and feel like they needed to justify it. Heck I even did and still do feel that way sometimes, like I need to justify what I like. But we all come into fandom for different reasons. I come into fandom some days for different things. Sometimes I want smut with my favorite character, other times I want more intense thought pieces and challenging fics. Great thing about fandom is that it’s a bakery that has cherry tarts, cinnamon rolls, or all kinds of pie depending on your mood. Craving a different sweet treat, you can make your own. Or you can commission an artist or writer for something you fancy.

*(sexual assault mentions here late in the paragraph****)And now I’ve been warped back into Cullen/DA fandom through what I am calling phase three, where the general air on Cullen reads as….very different. After having one foot outside DA fandom for a while coming back and reading the air has been different. There was the bizarre nuggetgate and other things with Cullen. Now, instead of accepting his flaws and exploring him there seems to be a lot of revisionism going on, as if his past never happened or we’re supposed to ignore he was a templar. A sexually active Cullen is looked down upon but in a different way from before. Instead of smut works with him “reducing his complicated character.” it’s distasteful to write smut with him where he’s sexually dominant or even just a lot of smut because he was sexually assaulted. (***Now, it is implied that he was, if you are a female Circle mage in DAO, with “sifting through my thoughts, tempting me with the one thing I always wanted but could never have” but this is an implication. I will be honest, it is what I have implied. However, it’s not there if you’re not a female Mage. He was however canonically sexually harassed in the Winter Palace, something I will always argue, even if canon treats it like a joke, even if Leliana tells him to “just look pretty.” Just because he is a man doesn’t make it funny that someone grabbed his bottom, and if you take Cole he flat out says “Cullen is afraid.”***)

So here I am, wondering what changed and what’s going on. Here’s what I believe: Cullen is a complicated character and his flaws and his past make him interesting to me, and they are interesting to explore. However there is nothing wrong with wanting to just explore a romantic, sexual Cullen. He’s a character with many facets. He’s romantic, determined, nostalgic, stubborn, unrelenting, loyal, driven, all things that made him seem so real. Here we get to my theory: in today’s media “criticisms” I see people—particularly younger people—beat themselves up for liking something problematic. It’s like every time you engage with media that’s potentially problematic you have to write essays to yourself why it is so and hold yourself accountable. I see this on tik-tok a lot and why I refer to it as “tik tok thought.” Look at the way some young Hamilton fans talk about the musical, or heck even here, and you may see what I mean. It’s like if you don’t acknowledge the problematic aspects of the historical figures behind their fictional portrayals in the show you’re a bad person. Same thing with nostalgic Disney fans my age in younger, if you don’t clown on Ariel for “choosing a man over anything” (SHE LIKED THE SURFACE WORLD BEFORE SHE MET ERIC) you don’t get your brownie points.

I want to make it clear: being critical of media is good. I am glad I see young people and people my age think about the messages we are given in media, but somehow this is turned into ANALYZE EVERYTHING ALL THE TIME. Ya’ll I’m a grad student. I’m critical most of the time, when I come to my tumblr blog’s lawn I’m here mostly to have some fun, and hey sometimes my fun is being critical. But sometimes it isn’t. You do not have to always be critical. You do not have to beat yourself up for liking something that’s problematic or write an essay about why it is as if that’s your due diligence in stanning a fictional character. I’m going to be honest I used to kind of think I had to justify my likes once, especially because of the Cullen vitriol on tumblr. I worked overtime in my early fanfic efforts to try to prove to the world I knew Cullen was problematic for fear I’d be perceived as just an idiot horny fangirl. Well, let me tell you: I largely don’t think that way anymore. If I want to just enjoy writing some smut or reading some smut with him, I am. But I think there is a second part of this in Cullen fandom currently, a revisionism of his problematic elements. Now, if you have to do mental gymnastics with a character in an effort to ignore problematic elements, perhaps you don’t like the character that much. That’s totally okay. DA has many awesome characters to write about and stan.

So, why Cullen? For so many reasons a bit of a shit show has always followed this character. There’s a divide between fans and his detractors and sometimes there’s a divide within the Cullen fandom. What I can extrapolate for now is the need to keep him squeaky clean and safe and away from anything “problematic” because his of past, his templar roots, or the fact that he’s white when there are POC characters with less content. It reads as a guilt associated with liking him. But please, do not be guilty. He’s not real. Templars aren’t real, mages aren’t real, Cullen isn’t real. Here’s my advice, something I learned while in my directing class in college. What my teacher always said was direct what turns you on, direct a story that gets you thinking, gets you excited. What gets you thinking and excited in a fictional world may be tons of conflict and dramatics, or it may be peace and love. Sometimes it can be both or more. Don’t shame others for coming to a bakery and wanting blueberry when you want cherry, and the baker has both, especially if the baker labels each pie, especially if the recipe for the pie has some salt in it and people like the salt. We can have it all and enjoy it all. What we want in our fiction doesn’t always align with something we may want real life. Lots of people write Modern girl in Thedas stories. Ya’ll if that actually happened to one of us it would probably suck. I’d probably get killed and not even get to meet Cullen and pose around the desk to get things going, so I’d rather it not happen. However, it is fun to read about.

Again, don’t be guilty for liking Cullen, please. But if you have to do a lot of mental gymnastics to like Cullen, maybe you don’t like him at all. To that I say, there are many other amazing characters, or perhaps you could write your own.

#fandom critical #I spent too long on this #deleted a lot #but now it's written and I can move on #Cullen rutherford

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calif0rnia-lovers · 4 years

Text

i want you around.

song link incase you didn’t catch the vibe from the title.

Pairing: Frank Castle x Reader

Warnings: None. Just the return of soft Frank doing coupley shit when he’s not even in a “relationship”

Request: You convince to Frank to take a bath with you to help him relax.

Words: 2.3K

“I don’t see what the fuss is all about.”

Frank may not be as wound tight as he is on an average day, but he knows coming over here hopped up on sleep deprivation and mediocre diner food was not the smartest course of action. Even on a rare eight hours of sleep keeping up with you, when you’re in one of your moods, is a challenge.

In the time he’s known you, Frank has learned you have more than just one. Mood that is. For someone who’s favorite mantra is “I don’t wanna get your hopes up when I’m not the man you’re looking for” Frank is good at remembering the type of things a boyfriend should.

Strangely enough, he hasn’t quite figured out how to approach this situation. Each attempt he’s taken in the past has failed, miserably.

His least favorite of your moods is the one you’re in now. This is the one that leaves Frank Castle powerless. It can knock him on his ass quicker than any bullet slung his way.

Frank can take the ‘angry as fucking shit’ mood any day. He can take you laying into him for doing something stupid like showing up to the dinner to meet your friends, for the first time ever, with a fresh black eye and busted lip. He can take the “leave me alone but don’t leave me alone” mood. Comfortable silence is a favorite of Frank’s. On the flip, he can even handle your “my co-worker annoyed the living shit out of me today, so I need you to listen to my rant even if you’re watching the game” mood. He know its best to keep your wine rack stocked with your favorite de-stressor.

As he thinks about it, trying his best to read the room in your cramped apartment bathroom, Frank realizes his favorite is when you've missed him enough to allow him to latch onto you without protest.

If he’s being honest, that was the one he was hoping to find you in after a few days apart.

But...he didn’t, and Frank can’t stand the mood you’re in now.

His fingers comb through his hair, mind racing on a quick solution of getting you out of the “I worry he's giving in again" mood. When he stopped by your apartment this evening, way earlier than his usual 3 a.m. shuffling, Frank wasn’t expecting...this.

The problem with this mood is that you don’t actually say that you’re worried about him.

Frank can count on his hand the number of times you’ve physically used the word "worried" when speaking about him, at least to his face.

The "I worry he's giving in again" mood may be his least favorite, but Frank knows he deserves it. He knew you had every right to worry. You were there the last time he let Frank Castle take the back burner while the Punisher went on a rampage. It wasn't pretty.

It also took a lot longer for Frank Castle to return.

When you’re in this mood, you won't tell Frank what you're thinking. It's not that he won't listen. He will. Frank always listens to you. It's just that his seemingly dormant partner will only let him hear half of what you're saying.

Instead of long drawn out lectures, your eyes and movements do all the talking.

But honestly, Frank knew it was bound to happen soon.

The last time you’d seen him his knuckles were split open, the skin bloody and bruised. A walk in the park compared to the injuries you’ve seen on him before, but you knew the less damage to Frank the worse the result of his actions.

Frank’s eyes pass over the label on the purple bottle he’s retrieved from the sink, his hand rubbing against the back of his neck.

“...would it kill you to take a night off and relax like a normal person...” Your voice comes back into focus as he glances your way. “....this city is going to kill you, if you let it, Frank.”

“Lucky for you I’m not going down without a fight, sweetheart.”

The teasing smile on his lips earns Frank a pair of rolling eyes.

“Yeah, well...you should let me do this for you.” You huff as you readjust the knob. “Make up for all the hell you put me through.”

Frank studies the bottle in his hands before glancing back to you where you sit on the edge of the slowly filling tub.

He softly shakes his head, his chest rising and falling with a huff.

“Fine,” he murmurs, his brow furrowing as he attempts to make out the label before him. “The things I do for you.”

You shoot him a wink before dipping your hand in to test the water.

“Lavande de Haute-” His eyes roll as he lifts the bottle. “This crap probably wasn’t even made in France.”

“Whatever. It has lavender which is proven to have aromatherapy benefits such as relaxation.”

“Uh-huh,” Frank mumbles as he turns the bottle around and begins scanning the back. “Just let me have a beer I’ll relax just fine.”

You stick your hand out, your fingers wagging for his attention.

“Frank, give me the bottle.”

Shrugging off the sink, Frank passes the bottle over, his arms crossing over his chest.

Turning the bottle upside down, you give it a squeeze smiling as a generous amount of the contents slip into the water. The aroma hits Frank instantly, his now scrunching in distaste at the overpowering scent.

“Nah, I don’t need all that,” he says, the corner of his lips turning up as you glare at him before squeezing in more for good measure adding to the quickly forming bubbles.

“It’ll be fine,” you wave as you stand. Frank catches your hips the moment you’re upright. He guides your body forward until your hips press against his. The kiss he brushes against your lips drags your fingers through the locks at the nape of his neck. His nose brushes against yours, his brow arching as you lean back to meet his gaze. “I promise your superhuman powers will not dwindle. I might even be able to guarantee your survival because it is one bubble bath. You can make it, I have faith in you, Frank Castle.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he chuckles as you stand on your toes to place a quick kiss against his cheek. “Let’s get this over with.”

The triumphant smile on your lips pulls a grin to his.

“I love it when you give me what I want.”

Moving to tug his shirt over his head, Frank begins to undress as you sit the bottle back under the sink. He drops it into your outstretched hand.

“What’s next?” He chuckles as he watches you quickly fold the shirt. “Candles?”

“Of course, what am I? An amateur? Come on.”

“I was kidding,” Frank groans as your fingers interlaced with his.

Frank drags his feet as you lead him into the hallway, his hands finding your waist. Wrapping his arms around your waist, he makes it nearly impossible for you to walk. He presses a soft kiss against your neck, his chin resting against your shoulder as you pause outside of the hallway closet.

Opening the door, you take a moment to study the options listing them off as Frank concentrates on leaving kiss against your skin.

“Pink sands…Mahogany Teakwood...Sandalwood...Amber and Vanilla...Eucalyptus and Siberian Pine....”

When he doesn’t respond, you glance over your shoulder at him expectantly.

His deadpan expression cracks just a little before he huffs.

“Let’s try the Pine one.”

“Eucalyptus and Siberian Pine it is.”

Retrieving the candle, you push it into his hands before shutting the closet and turning down the hall.

Frank’s eyes widen as you disappear around the corner.

“There’s more?”

When you don’t respond, he follows you into the kitchen. His shoulder rests against the wall as you stand on your toes.

“The night is not perfect without.” Rifling through the cabinet, you turn to reveal two wine glasses. “A glass of wine.”

“I’d prefer something a little stronger than that, sweetheart,” he admits as you study the wine rack on your left. “What about that single malt from last time-”

“I thought you were doing this for me.”

You lift the bottle of Pinot Noir. Frank’s eyes roll, but the smile on his lips says it all.

“Trust the process, Frank.”

Frank begins to “trust the process” by focusing on lighting the candle while you cut off the water.

Sitting the candle aside, Frank lets his eyes pass over the ridiculous amount of bubbles on the surface of the steaming water.

“All we need are the rose petals,” you smile as you take in your masterpiece.

Frank chuckles, but the smile on your face makes him wonder if you’re serious.

“Okay, that’s taking it-”

“Kidding,” you smile as your hand finds his waistband. “Now. Get outta these pants, and get your butt in the tub.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Frank concentrates on undressing as you riffle through the contents under your sink. Leaving his clothes in a pile, he steps into the tub before lowering himself into the steaming water.

A sigh of approval escapes his lips as the heat engulfs him.

Even if he doesn’t admit it. The mixture of the heat and the scents swirling in the air force his muscles to relax.

You concentrate on uncorking the wine as he sinks deeper into the water. He rests against the back of the tub, his arms coming up to rest on the sides.

“Your wine,” you smile as you pause by the tub.

Frank accepts the glass, indulging you with a sip. His brow arches as he lets the flavor sink in. Taking another sip, he gives you a nod of approval before nodding towards the sink.

“Find what you were looking for?” He asks as you fill your own glass.

“I did, actually.” The mischievous grin that spread across your face causes Frank to shake his head with a chuckle.

“At this point, I’m fully trusting the process.”

“Good,” you smile as you retrieve a jar from the sink.

Taking a seat on the edge of the tub, you hold up the jar for Frank to read.

“Wild Berry & Honey Yogurt Recovery Mask.”

“Yeah, well maybe you should stop using your face as a punching bag.”

“Trust me, I try and avoid it,” Frank chuckles as you concentrating on applying the mask to his face.

“I’ll put one on too if it’ll make you feel better,” you tease as your fingers brush along the bridge of his nose.

“You could get in here with me,” he speaks quietly, his eyes remaining closed as you apply the remainder of the face mask. “That’ll make me feel better than any of this stuff.”

“Not yet,” you smile as he releases a huff. “Give me 10 minutes, and I’ll take this off for you.”

Frank settles in.

You’re pretty sure he nearly nods off with each passing minute. If you’d told earlier, Frank wouldn’t have believed that this would work, but the blue loofah you drag along his chest and shoulders lock him in a bubble of comfort. By the time you've removed the excess mask from his skin, Frank's glass is empty and he has a satisfied smile on his face.

“You gonna join me, sweetheart?”

"Depends...if you remember this is your time to relax."

Frank's brow furrow as you remain seated.

"The second you start trying to feel me up I'm getting out." You warn.

"That's the best way to relax," he chuckles as you begin to undress.

"I'm serious, Frank-"

"Yeah, yeah," Frank mumbles, his teasing coming out muffled as he leans over press a kiss against your thigh. A pout sets in as he watches you climb in the tub before moving to rest against the opposite end. Before you can get settled, the water threateningly sloshes as Frank sits up his hands grabbing yours.

"Come here," he adds a "please" when you resist.

You groan as he tightens his grip around your hands, gently pulling you forward. Giggles mask the sound of the sloshing water as Frank’s grip easily lifts you onto his lap. His hand finds the small of your back, his eyes watching as you take a sip of your wine. He leans forward bringing his mouth to your shoulder.

"There," he sighs as your arm wraps around his shoulders. Burrowing his face against the warmth of your skin, he smiles as your fingers toy with his hair. "Much better."

"Glad I could be of service."

Your giggles fill the air as your weight shifts forward. Frank drags your body with him as he rests back against the tub.

"You know,” he starts. He pauses as you take another sip of wine, your brow arching in anticipation. “This...Lavande de Haute stuff ain’t that bad.”

"I hate to say I told you so," you giggle as you set your glass aside. "But-"

"We both know you're the brains of this operation," he mumbles, placing a kiss against your lips.

You lean forward chasing his lips as he pulls away. Stealing a final kiss you allow your lips to press against the bridge of his nose. His eyes drift shut, his body relaxing beneath yours. Your lips travel along the bridge of his nose, passing beneath his eyes. He hums a groan of approval as your kisses move to his cheeks. You repeat the process before allowing your lips to press against the corner of his mouth.

"See what happens when you trust the process?"

A chuckle rumbles deep in his chest as his hand reaches up to catch the back of your neck. Nodding, he smiles softly as he guides your lips to his.

Your body relaxes against his as you grant him access to the one thing he's been wanting since his arrival. His grip remains firm. One hand pressed against the nape of your neck, his other massaging the curve of your hip. He kisses you softly, his tongue teasing yours until your fingers are knotted in his hair.

"Anything else left in this process?" Frank mumbles against your lips. "Because I'm ready to get you to bed."

#my favorite person to write for #let me know what you think?#frank castle #frank castle x reader #frank castle imagine #the punisher fic #jon bernthal imagine #the punisher imagine #frank castle imagines #frank castle fic

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melzula · 4 years

Text

Date Night

pairing: Zuko x Princess!reader

notes: you have no idea how excited I was when I saw this request in my inbox

request: Could you write a Fire Lilies blurb about Princess! Reader and Zuko watching the Ember Island's play about their adventure with Aang and the others?

~ part of the fire lilies series ~

When Sokka and Suki had revealed that the Ember Island Players were performing a play about your little group, you had actually been really excited to go. Constant training and preparation for Sozin’s comet was physically and emotionally draining, so a night at the theater with your friends was exactly what you all needed- even if your boyfriend wasn’t too thrilled about the prospect.

“C’mon, it’ll be fun! Think of it as a date night,” you try to convince him as the two of you take your seats

“Kind of hard to do that when it’s not just the two of us,” Zuko grumbles only for you to shush him, hugging onto his arm and snuggling up close to his side the moment the curtains draw. He lets out a small sigh and rolls his eyes as the train wreck of a play begins, but there’s a faint blush on his cheeks from how close you are. Despite how terrible he knows this is going to be, he does appreciate being your boyfriend again.

The play is really... something. Though it isn’t exactly what you expected, it’s still entertaining nonetheless. You were nearly brought to tears at the portrayal of Aang, laughing the hardest you ever have in your whole life. Things took a turn though once you and Zuko were introduced. You aren’t a fan of their distasteful take on Uncle Iroh, and Zuko isn’t too thrilled about their portrayal of himself either.

“They make me look totally stiff and humorless,” he complains.

“Actually, I think that actor’s pretty spot-on,” Katara teases smugly.

“How could you say that?!”

“Let’s forget about the Avatar and get massages,” actor Iroh then suggested.

“How could you say that?!” “Zuko” yelled in response, prompting your boyfriend to sink down in his seat with a frown. At that moment an actress emerged from the interior of the ship. She wore a tacky but very large dress with a poorly put together crown made of icicles, swooning at Zuko’s feet and kissing the ground he walked on; the actress was you.

“Oh, how I long to settle down in Ba Sing Se like the selfish, spoiled Princess I am!” She sighed dramatically. “I’m a dirty water rat that betrayed my people so I can follow my true love!”

You wanted to gag at how corny her acting was, but you also wanted to melt into the floor and hide forever at how embarrassing the portrayal was. You try to ignore the quizzical glances your friends send your way, choosing to shield your profile with your hand instead to save yourself from further embarrassment.

“Zuko, pay attention to me!” The Princess on stage whined only for Zuko to keep her at arm’s length.

“Nothing is more important to me than the Avatar!” Actor Zuko rebutted.

“You know, you’re a pretty bad boyfriend,” Sokka points out, and Zuko scowls.

“I wasn’t that bad... was I?” He asks guiltily.

“Umm... you had your moments,” you defend weakly, and Zuko deflates at your response.

“Even though you ignore me I will stay by your side because I’m desperate!” the Princess proclaimed, wrapping herself around Zuko. “And I won’t even use my water bending to help you restore your honor because I’m useless!”

“Oh, boy,” Toph laughs, “it’s like I’m actually there!”

“Still excited about the play?” Zuko whispers to you, and you merely grumble irately in response as you wrap yourself up in the lower half of his cloak.

It’s safe to say the majority of your group finds the play unbearable. From turning Aang into a whimsical immature child to making Katara overly dramatic and emotional, the performance butchers your characters in every way possible. You especially weren’t fond with the siege of the North segment where your selfishness and desperation for Zuko’s love were emphasized the most. They especially loved to highlight the fact that you paled in comparison to Yue as Princess, leaving a bitter taste in your mouth that lasted all the way to intermission.

“So far this intermission is the best part of the play,” Zuko grumbles from where he’s leaned against the railing. You sit by his feet on the stairs, angrily chewing on Sokka’s fire jerky.

“I’m not desperate,” you mutter through a stuffed mouth, “and I’m not selfish either. I’m a great Princess!”

“At least your actress kind of looks like you,” Aang argued. “I’m a woman!”

“Listen friends, it’s obvious that the playwright did his research,” Toph buts in. “I know it must hurt, but what you’re seeing up there on that stage is the truth.”

“Easy for you to say, you haven’t seen how they’re going to butcher your character yet,” you mumble.

Of course Toph ended up being the only member of your group to give her approval to the actor portraying her. You have to admit though, being played by a buff guy is pretty cool, but you could’ve done without the sonic scream. At this point, Zuko’s cloak is now yours as you worm your way underneath it to block out the sound.

“Oh, Zuko!” Actress you cries suddenly. “My mind is telling me that being with you is wrong, but my heart tells me that there’s still good in you! I want to settle down in Ba Sing Se with you and have weird, mutant bender babies!”

You nearly choke on your own spit at the thought of “mutant bender babies,” groaning as your friends begin to laugh. Zuko’s mind is still trying to process the word “babies.”

“My honor has prevented me from keeping you happy, so now I will succumb to your bewitching good looks and live in a dirty earth kingdom city to please you,” the Zuko on stage replies dramatically.

“Bewitching good looks?” Suki teases your blushing boyfriend with a raised brow.

Things start to get uncomfortable with the start of crystal cave scene.

“I’ve had eyes for you since the day you first captured me,” actress Katara swooned, causing both you and Aang to stiffen in your seats.

“I’m sorry, did you flirt with my boyfriend in the crystal caves?” You glare over at Katara before turning your angry gaze to Zuko. He smiles at you sheepishly, frowning when you remove yourself from his cloak and scoot a few inches away from him.

“Well brother, what’s it going to be? Your nation or a life of treachery?” Azula asked.

“Zuko, don’t do it!” The Princess cried. “I love you!”

“You’re a water rat and you’re annoying and also I don’t love you anymore!” The actor yelled in response. The actress playing you bursted into tears before turning them into a “powerful wave” that knocked Zuko off his feet.

“Is that really what happened?” Katara asked the two of you gently, both of you refusing to meet her gaze. He tries to reach for your hand to comfort you only for you to pull it away. It isn’t a pleasant memory to revisit, and seeing it played out for you again makes things tense.

The second intermission is even worse, though a little boy dressed as Aang does tell you that you’re so much prettier than the real Princess y/n, so that’s a plus. But the ending of the terrible, horrible, awful play leaves your group shaken. You can’t seem to stay mad at Zuko anymore, not after watching his “death” on stage.

“Oh, Zuko,” you murmur softly at the sight of him being consumed by the flames, and your boyfriend wraps a comforting arm around your figure in response. He’s equally just as shaken.

Your group is mostly silent as you leave the theater, Zuko and yourself trailing behind just slightly as you walk along the sand.

“Are you alright?” He asks gently.

“The other stuff I was mad about was stupid, and I know things are different now. But... watching you die?”

“I know,” he murmurs thoughtfully.

“Remind me never to go to another Ember Island play ever again,” you groan, smiling weakly as he drapes his cloak over your shoulders and presses a kiss to your cheek.

“Gladly.”

| tags: @oddment-niwit-blubber-tweak @thebluelcdy @royahllty @the-firebender-girl @coldlilheart @ilovespideyyy @titaniafire @dekahg @emberislandplayers s @kikaninchen-2 @sokkas--boomerang @eridanuswave @royahllty @lozzybowe @izzieserra @melacholy @music-geek19 @thia-aep @thyunnamed @kittenthekat1234567890 @haylaansmi @nataliahaslosthershit @coldlilheart @idkdude776 @aangsupremacy @thirstyforsometea @ihaveaproblem98 |

#zuko #zuko x reader #zuko imagine #prince zuko #prince zuko x reader #prince zuko imagine #zuko and the princess #avatar the last airbender #atla #atla x reader #fire lilies #princess reader #request

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