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missgeniality · 3 years

Text

Opaline Moon (m)

“The Moon can never breathe, but it can take our breath away with the beauty of its cold, arid orb.” - Munia Khan

➺ Banner: @hobiandsprite 💕

➺ Pairing: Seokjin x Female Reader

➺ Trope: Friends to Lovers, Idol!AU

➺ Genre: Angst, Smut, Fluff

➺ Rating: 18+

➺ Word Count: 11.2k

➺ Summary: You are ingrained to love Jin, right upto the blood that courses through your veins. Confessing, however, is a whole other game. So it’s a good thing you’re bad at keeping your hands to yourself, because happenstance can handle the rest.

➺ Warnings: talks about dance floor fucking, making out in the bar bathroom, fingering, pussy slapping, passing out drunk, daydreams about thigh riding, reader masturbates, they make out A LOT, neck kissing, a hickey, nipple play, some biting, cum eating (kind of, you’ll see), blowjob, protected sex!, reader and jin are corny, the hurt is real but the sex is real-er

➺ Author’s Note: My lovely, lovely moots - @taegularities, @kithtaehyung and @baepsaetan, thank you so much for betaing this and hyping it up, your comments made this fic a hundred times better! As I mentioned on the teaser, this fic took a lot out of me, but I thoroughly enjoyed writing the angst and will write more whenever the story aligns! I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I did writing, and I hope this lovable Jin reaches your heart! (ngl, in usual fashion, I will come back and edit it again, so if you see a spelling mistake, your eyes are lying to you) Do let me know what you think, your asks and comments make my day!

This is the second part of my Dress Down series, find more at it’s masterlist!

ɴᴀᴠɪɢᴀᴛɪᴏɴ | ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

Sweltering heat. Blaring traffic. Little to no sleep. Through all things wrong, one man’s thoughts wrapped around you like a cooling breeze, a shield to protect you from the vicissitudes of reality, to draw you back into all of him. Unfortunately, your reality may never see that day come to light.

Kim Seokjin.

Kim Seokjin, the man who cooked you up a greasy break-up meal at three in the morning with not a sight of discomfort, putting your needs above all.

Kim Seokjin, whose puns make you roll your eyes heavenward, half awed at how he manages to pull one out of his collection at a moment's notice, and half irked by the untimely laugh it brings out of you.

Kim Seokjin, the man who will never be yours, and you have no one to blame but yourself.

One could argue that the miscommunication that had caused this present condition was two-way. If you had stopped him, corrected him, let him know the truth… you wouldn’t have to resort to the extreme measures you’re currently entangled in. One would also say, you are trying to redeem your mistake by trying too hard. Surely, everyone and their mothers could see through your ruse.

This is the fourth time you’re visiting Jin for his BE shoot - a shoot taking place two hours away from the city, disguised under various layers of secrecy to prevent any leakage of the album concept, or Jin in general. Of course, you had been made privy to such exclusive information, because you and Jin were ‘best friends’.

Best. Friends.

Nothing more, nothing less.

Best friends. The term you coined for (and forced upon) the bond you had. The bond that was too close to sprouting into something new, something fresh, something that was filled with glimmering allure and dragged you in like quicksand. But also, it reeked of commitment, of shadows, of newness that you hadn’t felt in the longest time, and fear of already being far too deep in without even taking the first step.

The loud thrum of some internet kid’s new hit pulses through the air of the club as bundles of couples occupy the dance floor, laughing and gyrating to a song that, in your opinion, most definitely does not suit gyrating. But with enough of the weekend happy hours intake combined with hormone-riddled minds, one could very well throw it back to a church choir.

You weave through the drunken bodies, trying not to spill the precariously held three drinks in your hands, making your way to your inner circle, the only people to blame for dragging you to this slosh-fest.

“Y/N!”

Somehow Hoseok’s voice can echo across the club, but you didn’t even need his addressal because Jin’s laughter is loud enough to navigate anyone to your table. Seeing you struggle with the glasses (and mostly the crowd, with some of them living their exhibitionist dreams), Hoseok gets up to assist you.

“I swear, if I see one more couple pretending to be dancing as they rub one off of each other’s thighs, the black market will have my eyes.”

“Oh yeah?” Jin’s breathy voice interjects your black-market dreams, still bursting in short laughs from whatever sent him rolling before your arrival. “Why don’t you go join them?”

“And whose thigh is she taking, yours?” Yeji snorts out, one hand holding her nebula blue drink, the other wrapped around Hoseok, urging him to come closer. Jin’s features scrunch into a cringe, and you’re thankful for the dim lighting because the disappointment in your features does not reach them.

“The only action these leather pants are getting is in the damned laundromat,” he points to his shiny trousers, “some jerk dropped his drink on it.”

“You could be the first person to give some chick an orgasm and a yeast infection.” Hoseok giddily adds, his fifth shot clearly making a mess of his brain cells.

Jin claps and gets up to move away from the group. “Better than a pregnancy!” he yells, before zigzagging through the crowd, possibly to the restroom. He is on his third cocktail, and you’d think cocktails are lighter drinks. But in this bar, their taps just seem to flow with tequila, and it is very evident in the way Jin is currently walking.

His absence hits you harder than you think, but it might be the alcohol talking. Jin has always been the mood-maker of the group, the one who brings everyone together. Of late though, his magnetic persona has been an irritant in your life. Any outing you two take, any chance you have to come clean about the burgeoning crush you have on him, is effectively disrupted by one of his posse. And today, Hoseok and Yeji took that trophy.

“Earth to Y/N. Has the cocktail finally broken you?”

You flutter your eyes in a manic fashion, to disperse the daydream you were indulging yourself in, and bring your attention back to the couple calling for you. Surprisingly, they have stood up, Yeji emptying the last of her neon drink.

“What happened?”

“We are going to the club nearby, they have better stuff. And that’s code for ‘they actually add water to the drink and the surround sound doesn’t shatter your ear drum’.’”

She isn’t wrong. The cocktails and music here are a 19-year-old frat party dream, not something the working class can digest. But you’re tired at this point, and don’t want to be smothered by someone else’s love life when your own is down the dumps.

“You guys carry on! I’ll tell Jin where you are and he’ll meet you there!”

You watch as Hoseok and Yeji lead each other to the exit, hands circling their partner’s waist. They giggle on and on, about nothing and everything, and it only hardens the emptiness you feel inside you.

Why can’t you gather the balls to spit your feelings out? What could possibly go wrong? Yes, you may lose one of your closest friends, but is this friendship really worth the agony? The bitterness you feel when you see any couple enjoying themselves? The anger you harbor whenever Jin tells you about his dates? The heartache, when he hugs you and tells you that you’re the best thing that’s happened to him… as a friend? Is it? Your plastered brain tells you to not make any rash decisions, so you don’t, instead choosing to get up and search for your best friend.

The corridor leading to the washrooms is dimly lit, throwing a merlot filter over your eyesight, making you squint in search of your friend. You being shitfaced does not help, and while relishing in your floating wooziness, you see Jin come out, and feelings you’ve held at bay for so long slither through your currently porous defenses.

He has always been good-looking. He himself has said so a dozen times.

But wow.

His hair lays messily atop his beautiful face, unkempt, like a breeze of beauty swept across his mighty looks and displaced every strand, causing disarray, but even the disarray only frames his superior looks and adds to its potent charm. The black, patchy sweater hanging loose off his broad shoulders makes you feel things you shouldn’t feel as a friend. That stupid gut of yours is currently screaming, yelling for all hands on deck, trying to block all the feelings from gushing in and sending you into overdrive.

By the time you can gather yourself to stop from giving in to those dangerous thoughts, Jin has crossed the distance between you, coming close, too close. Chocolate-brown eyes peer into your soul, searching for whichever fantasy you chose to lose yourself in. His eyes flit down to notice your rumpled dress that has found its way a couple of inches above its designated spot. His gaze returns to yours, but not without a newfound hardness, an almost steely glaze over the kindness that you usually find in the chocolate pools, accentuated under the garnet lighting.

“Hey, umm…” You beg for a reprieve, from your thoughts, from your filthy mind, from the way he is eyeing your cleavage, or just for the burning between your legs. You’re about to make some serious mistakes, you can feel it down to your bone.

You’re far too overdressed.

You knew it when you were in the process of getting dressed, but right now, you feel it much more - you look like a shiny disco ball orbiting amidst the plethora of loose tees, leggings and flannels. Everything screams comfort, because the amount of work they’re putting into this begs for it.

The strappy lace sundress you wear is extremely out of place, the halter-neck tie behind your neck fastened a little looser than necessary, giving your breasts the exposure they deserve, a nice valley view. Your dress skirt, adorned with pretty frills and dainty flowers, cut across your thigh to frame your petite hips. You are one floppy sun hat away from an extravagant Greek cruise - and in the moment you wish you had one to hide your face in shame.

You’re just out here, trying to escape the zone.

“Oh, would you look at the time, it’s tits out Tuesday already?”

Your eyes roll before Sanghoon even finishes his sentence, because you wouldn’t expect anything else from him. On the team of the set design, he is carrying a whole drapery worth of plush, mauve curtains, struggling with the slipping fabric. But apparently not struggling enough to stop him from getting his nose into your business, it seems.

“Literally not even a time you just mentioned. Can’t get one thing right.” You can’t stop yourself from stretching a hand out to feel the curtain fabric, the satiny sheets begging to be touched. Before you can though, Sanghoon moves away, not allowing you to shift the focus of the conversation.

“Don’t steer away from the facts. Your tits.”

“That’s the fact?”

“They’re out.” He bucks up, trying to point with the hand stuffed underneath all the cloth. “That’s the fact.”

“Ugh, can’t a girl dress up once in a while?” The pointed attention makes you uncomfortable, because everything he’s insinuating is true. With every passing staff member, you count a new shade of grey, interspersed with occasional blacks and greens, a stark contrast to your floral overtones. Amidst the thousand footsteps taken in your vicinity, only yours are pointed heels, echoing across the studio with every clack. But you’re a stubborn one, refusing to give in to his totally valid argument. “I just woke up early.”

“Girl.” Like light through frosted glass, he sees through your bullshit, but only partially. “You put an alarm to dress up? I have nightmares of the boss brandishing her whip and telling me to get into position, and even that doesn’t wake me up.”

“Have you ever considered… not announcing your kinks to everyone and their sisters?”

“Ehh,” he simply shrugs, “nothing is new when you’ve serenaded your boss drunk in a karaoke bar and still managed to keep your job. Wait. Is that highlighter?”

“Stop staring into my tits!” You can’t believe you got caught, but also, who can you blame? After testing this outfit out from the crack of dawn, you decided your cleavage needed some extra help. Three YouTube tutorials and one TikTok lady - who make it look far easier than it is - down, the contouring brought out the swell of your breasts, and against the light fabric of your dress, it does look too good to be true.

Memories of that night in the bar come in billows and waves, of how enamored Jin was with the way your boobs looked at that time. Even under the dingy lighting, in the cramped space, under heavily inebriated scrutiny, you couldn’t miss the flicker of heat in his gaze every time it passed your chest.

One thing led to another, and it was a cascade none of you could stop. The heat of attraction between you two does not help your wandering mind, and the fever drowns the knowledge that what you’re feeling is, beyond a shadow of a doubt, crossing some lines that can never be mended back again. With the proximity, his musky scent invades whatever defenses you were trying to patch, piercing through all your inhibitions and you pull him into you, claiming his lips to be yours.

With his wobbly knees and your wobbly heels, you somehow find your way to the washroom - mostly he does, you give in halfway to wrap your legs around his lean waist, his sturdy legs balancing your weight on them as your back hits the wall, and his lips tear down your walls.

“You look so fucking sexy today,” between bated breaths and indulgent sighs you confess, “just driving me nuts.” Letting your hands drag along his abdomen, feeling the ups and downs of his abs, you attempt to rid him of the sweater that’s been on your hit list all night. But to your dismay, your endeavor is blocked, when Jin gathers your wrists in his palm, turning you around to bend you over on the countertop, the smooth marble chill hitting your braless chest, perking your nipples under the cold.

“And you?” Jin bends to give your earlobe a languid lick, progressing very slow, a complete contrast to the movement of his hips as he ruts against your ass, your already short dress bunching up with every move. “You think it’s smart to have your tits torment me like this?” Grabbing a handful from behind, he tests the weight of each fleshy mound, and by now you are certain your perked nubs can pierce his palm.

His free hand, not yet torturing you, decides to get in on the action and disappears under the counter, swiftly crossing the bunched fabric of your dress, gaining easy access to your pussy. The cold touch of his pads sears against the heat of your core, finding your pleasure button and languidly fiddling with it, with no intention to cross you over the brink in sight. The only pleasure you can indulge in is the reflection of him abusing your nipples, pinching and tugging them down, whispering filthy words into your ear as he takes in your fucked out countenance.

You feel lacking, weak hands balancing your dizzy self, finding purchase to keep you upright - but you’re both drunk on alcohol and hypnotized by his beauty to do much more than stare at his mirrored counterpart. “For fuck’s sake, kiss me.”

How he understood your slurred words, you don’t know, but you are glad he did. In a moment you’ve been displaced, the hurried motion sending your neurons into a flurry. Once your back meets the hard marble, and your eyes have the privilege to see his, you pull him in closer, the force enough to hold you against the wall while your legs wrap around his lean waist.

Originally not a fan of drunken misadventures, that side of yours is strangely mute to the going current onslaught. Well, you don’t have much breath left to say anything, because Jin is efficiently stealing it all, his teeth clashing with yours as you engage in the messiest kiss ever known to mankind (or at least, to you). He changes pace often, dragging his tongue leisurely against your lower lip, conveying tacit words, just to switch it up with a sharp bite and reel you in.

One corner of your senses can feel his fingers messing around your cunt, and playing with the wetness your thong can barely contain. It makes you shudder, the damage that his fingers can cause solely circling around your hole.

“Fuck me.”

In your drunken stupor, you don’t know if the words leave you right, but you get confirmation when his long fingers finally penetrate your cunt, giving your walls something to clench on - although nothing could possibly compare to what you imagine you can get from his dick.

“God, you feel that grip,” he grunts, with two of his fingers in you, and Jin’s smile is the most sinister you’ve ever seen. “I think we should take this home,” is what his lips utter, but his fingers delve deeper, searching for the spot that crumbles you. The base of his palm grinds against your throbbing clit, and you are forced to bite down on this sweater, lest an embarrassingly loud moan escapes you and cues outsiders into your filthy doings.

“Now,” you half-hiss, half-growl as you grab the cusp of his legs to feel his half-hard erection grow under the pressure of your hand. Your palm sliters up just to go down again, this time without the blockade of his pants, but you are stopped short of success when Jin’s fingers slip out of you to give you a sharp swat.

“Stubborn, aren’t we? Can’t fucking wait,” he whispers into your ear, and as he envelops your lobe with his cushiony lips, he continues, “I don’t want to hurt you.”

No, no, no.

Your brain rejects logic, chews and spits it out before any of the rationale seeps into you. You have wanted this for far too long. The need inside you for a meaningful relationship materializes in the form of recklessness, desperately looking for surface-level relief for the moment. A night of sewing sutures to your battle-worn heart, stitches that may come off at the slightest strain - but right now, that will do.

“Please, Jin,” your tantalizing tone riles up his cock again, eagerly waiting for your next words, “can’t you feel me dripping? Come on, I can take you.”

“Fuck, hear that wetness.” He lets his palm slap against your sopping entrance, not stopping with one. With every slap, droplets of your arousal splash out, the insides of your thighs coated in the sticky sweetness, but your body is an endless reservoir producing plentiful more for Jin to play with. “Have you been sitting with this all this time?”

Two long fingers invade your channel again, leaving you with no response other than a gasp. They scissor incessantly, preparing you for what could be the railing of your lifetime. One curl inside and his fingertips hit the spot he was looking for, making you warp your body to take the pleasure coursing through your veins. His tongue seems to mimic the actions, looping around your earlobe as he sucks it inside, both ends of your body engulfed in all the attention he could provide.

Your cunt is weeping against the assault of this man’s hands, tears of your cum flowing down your legs with every pump of his arm. You are getting there, the sweet swell of release inching closer and closer.

But something doesn’t feel right.

The tightness in your belly, that is to a point caused by Jin, is harboring other sensations that are not entirely pleasant. Maybe you’re anxious about the happenings. Maybe you haven’t had a good orgasm in a while and have just forgotten how this thing works.

Or maybe, the bar should have the water tap actually give out water.

Either your eyes close, or your brain does, but suddenly all you can see is darkness.

Again, you are just trying to escape the zone.

“Step under those studio lights,” pointing at the too-bright stage lights being set up at the moment, Sanghoon continues, breaking your daydream, “I bet you could signal to aliens with the booby-reflection. Call them to Netflix and chill.”

“In about five seconds, my heel will be puncturing your eye. Don’t say I didn’t warn you!”

Sanghoon’s drivel was cut short, and so were your murder plans, with his entry. “Oh look, he’s on set. Gotta go!”

It’s like the lights, earlier threatening to burn away your skin, dim down in reverence of the glow of his face. The twinkle of his eyes when they meet yours. The shine of his smile when he throws you one. The vibrance of his tone when he calls out your name. Everything he does now threatens to burn you whole and it’s a wonder you’re not scalding, but the singe hurts you deep inside.

“Y/N! How do I look?” It’s a bathrobe. Like satin, or silk. Fucking hell, your brain could explode with the adjectives coming up, a whole chunk of them very much inappropriate to utter out in the current scene. Your arms want to rise, engulf him into you, and you have to physically halt the muscles from doing anything stupid. Brain, quick! Say something snarky and spicy, as best friends do!

“What’s the theme, unicorn puke?” The safest way to deflect is to attack. So you do just that. “You look like you dressed out of Hannah Montana’s closet. Which if it's true, I really need to see it. There’s a top that I’ve been eyeing for decades!”

“Don’t say decades.” Jin’s eyes crinkle in humor. “Makes me feel so old. Your dress is pretty cool too!”

Cool.

You find out how difficult life can be when you count every single minute of yours. So far, you have counted 4,310 minutes. That is two days, twenty-three hours, and fifty minutes. Ten more minutes and it will be three whole days since you and Jin spoke.

Yet again, you can’t blame him. When you came to the next day, you were in your bed, clad in the same shimmering silver bodycon that you had donned last night. The same one that had been privy to the colorful deeds you had committed in what was a dreary, colorless setting.

One ibuProfen and ginger ale, downed with some severe recollections of the previous night, and you had been ready to throw it all up again.

I don’t want to hurt you.

Words couldn’t describe what you were going through, and numbers weren’t invented to count the endless thoughts racing in your brain. You don’t know what is more upsetting. The fact that you actually had a chance to open your heart and you totally let your pussy think instead? Or that he was the one coherent enough to stop you from getting too far, and you let your desperation get the best of you? Everything about that night was wrong. And all the wrongs lie on your side.

I don’t want to hurt you.

In the moment, it was physical, he had to have meant that. But there was a tremor in his voice, you can remember clear as day, a slightly shaken side of him had emerged through the intoxication, and the words he had breathed were not shallow. There was a gravity to them, that you’d stupidly ignored in the heat of the moment.

And now, here you are. Counting up till the last minute, after which you can effectively call the friendship ruined. Stirring your tea mindlessly, you try to focus on the show on TV, the variety show comedy not striking the usual funny bones that they could 4,311 minutes ago.

The programmed ding of your phone bursts your thought bubble, a sound you have missed the past 72 hours. The ring you dedicated to Jin, that always had you running to receive because anything he sends brightens your day. But unlike those happier times, this ring has your gut fall into a pit of despair, struggling to choose between dispersing the suspense or remaining blissfully unaware of the damage you caused.

Jin: Free tmrw? We could grab coffee Jin: And talk

Talk. How? You barely remember what went down, save for fleeting moments that you recollected with great difficulty. Your fingers type back, trying to mimic the nonchalance in his text, that is very much absent in your actual demeanor.

Y/N: Sure. Paik’s at 1? Jin: Yup. See ya

Three texts, zero laughs. Of course, you’re not expecting him to land his jokes in this situation, even someone as talented as he can’t flip this tension. You’re just going to have to wait for tomorrow, when he decides whether you have a place in his life or not.

The painstakingly worn outfit, accessorizing the whole look, the straps of your heels digging into your toes, the specks of makeup dust lying stale on your collar bones, the shine faints at that word. Cool. A perfectly normal phrase for a normal friendship. You are left maimed, while he absent-mindedly tends to the rope of his robe, blissfully unaware of the cyclonic emotions churning inside you. All you can possibly do is gulp it down.

He runs his hands through his hair, beautiful locks coming out of place, and from one corner of the set, a groan of anguish emerges.

“Oppa! Don’t play with your hair and face.” A masked lady runs forward waving combs that look like artillery, “We just got done setting it!”

Some finger guns, a happy apology, and some silly jokes later, all the stylists merrily round up to undo his doing, and Jin signals to you to catch up later. And as he walks away, the strings tugging at your heart reappear, as they do every time you come to meet him.

You have a masochistic streak in you, putting yourself through this every day, when he had made it clear, that you two never stood a chance.

As if things aren’t already difficult, he looks like a dream.

Soft, snowy skin gleaming like it has personal lighting wherever it goes, you get flashes of the rarely witnessed sweat on his skin, from the ferocity of last night. He’s blowing away the foam of his cappuccino, and tiny bubbles float into the air before falling flat on the table, like an animated shine that follows him along. God has His favorites, and God makes sure all the lighting in the world is perfect for these favorites.

In no hurry, you wait at the counter to get your latte. After receiving it though, you can’t linger any longer and drag yourself to the table of doom.

“Hey.”

If the rasp in your voice is evident, he doesn’t show any recognition on his face. But you’ve learned to never trust an acting major.

“Hi. How are you doing?”

Inadvertently, a snicker escapes your lips. “Are you interviewing me for a job?” you joke, trying to disperse the heavy air, filled with unspoken words. “If so, at least know that I’m very expensive.”

The familiar windshield wiper laugh does not greet you. Dead silence does. The half-smirk he painfully gives you is heavy, and the furrowed brows haven’t an inkling of joy. It shoots daggers in your heart, to know that you are the reason for this jolly man’s despondency.

“Listen, I don’t think we should skirt around the issue too much. It happened, these things happen. You think Hoseok and Yeji didn’t have sex before making it official?”

His matter-of-fact nature isn’t new to you. Jin has always been a very practical man. Regardless of his inane sense of humor, his logical point of view has always been flawless.

But right now, at this very moment, logic isn’t what you are looking for. You are looking for answers, but as far withdrawn from logic as possible, to take the edge off of the tension-laden air that surrounds your table.

“Yeah, but even… unofficially… we aren’t a thing, right?”

Your abrupt question takes Jin unaware, almond eyes widening, like a toddler caught in an act.

“No, no! Of course not! I would never!”

His confession slips out with an ease that hurts you, digs deep to carve out the part of you that dreamt of anything more. Your eyes fall to your knees to avoid his perceptive gaze, the sting clear as the sky on a summer day.

You force a smile and continue. “Then there’s no issue. Anyway,” you gulp your coffee down, burning your throat, but it's a distraction from the burning inside, “I need to get to work. Anything else?”

He’s still searching you, for what, you can’t possibly fathom. From the looks of it, he should be happy with this homeostasis; he doesn’t even know what this means for you. To still stay suspended in limbo, not being able to move up or down, to continue having thorns digging into your beating soul as you watch him like nothing bothers your already frail feelings. Scene by scene, you can visualize the future, him distancing himself from you as he finds the one he calls his, with you left in the shadows. Your knees tremble in fear of the impending future.

Seeing you in a tizzy, he calls out, the voice too loud for the cafe and your mind’s prison cage.

“We’re still best friends, right?” If you knew better, you’d say his expression is that of sadness, of regret. But your judgment is clouded with your own bothers, and you interpret it as a look of pity. Like a lovesick puppy, kicked to the streets, with nowhere to call home.

“Yeah! Always.” You give it as much enthusiasm as you can muster.

Best friends.

Ropes wind around your heart, tugging and causing the deep ache that sets in as you walk back into your dreary building. Each string pulls you into a different dimension where you could move on, where you could be okay with the setting you had just agreed to. Where you would keep up your end of the promise and truly remain friends with him.

But no matter how strong the tug, your heart never yields, never lets go of the castle of dreams you built, staying steadfast in its own misery, choosing to hope, choosing to live the life of unrequited love.

“And that’s a wrap! Good job everyone!”

Applause and hurrays echo across the set to bring you back to the present. The shoot has officially concluded, which means it's time for your most favorite and least favorite part of the day - Jin and you doing best friend things, like grabbing lunch, gossiping about obnoxious coworkers, threatening to disembowel each other (in Mortal Kombat, of course) and other friendly activities.

Ever so respectful, Jin takes his time thanking every member of the set, regardless of whether they moved a cushion or held the reflector screen for hours. All the women gush over his beauty, reminding him of how, even amidst the glowing ornaments, his face was the brightest. His responses vary, from quiet little giggles, to complimenting the crew for making it happen, to straight up owning his charisma like a boss. That’s your man.

Well, not quite. Not one bit.

After exhausting the handshakes and hugs to be received, Jin walks to you, hands pushing his robe back to give it a cape like effect. You’re just glad that the man’s child persona still stays with him, no matter the situation. He guides you to his green room, cracking his bones on the way, (very sexily, might you add).

“Holding a pose for that long gives me cramps! You’d think dancing breaks my back, and you’d be wrong.”

You’re desperately avoiding looking at his fingers, and keep your eyes below them - shoot! His ceaseless stretching gives you a glimpse under his shirt - it is dragging your memories back to the last time you saw them, and you’d rather not. It is hurting you in more ways than one.

Eye contact is your safest bet. Looking up, you give him a lopsided grin. “Your grandfatherly days are approaching, Jinnie.”

“Hey!”

The rest of the conversation was less speaking, more yelling and chasing after each other to the green room, Jin taking mock-offence at your jab at his age, and his fingers reaching out to flick your forehead in retort. In your noisy, messy fashion, you both finally enter the room, dim gold light bulbs and shiny mirrors meeting your huffing self.

One hand on your knee, you hold on to Jin’s arm with your other, gasping for breath.

“Your grandmotherly days are already here, Y/N,” he snorts, and earns a kick on the shin, but that doesn’t stop him from bursting into snickers.

“Wow, why does one man need 4 mirrors?” You gape at his current green room, mouth wide open. It looks better than your entire apartment, with the counter carrying top-of-the-line makeup products. Only the best for this man. “So you can admire yourself from 4 different angles?”

Jin has disappeared into one of the inner rooms, but you can hear him snort at your comment. “Come on, I’m not that conceited. When the whole crew shoots together, the extra mirrors help.” The last part of that sentence is muffled, and that cues you into an important fact.

Jin is currently changing into something more comfortable.

A process that includes him getting naked.

Well maybe he doesn’t get fully naked, top on, top off, bottom on, bottom of-

Still. You’re sweating like a whore in church.

And things only get tougher when he finally comes out.

The ocean blue sweater he dons is tucked in. Who tucks in sweaters? Kim Seokjin. Why does he tuck sweaters? Oh, because he’s got an amazing waistline that he should most definitely show off, and the heat between your thighs becoming increasingly potent is a testament to that. You pretend to adjust your heels, giving the right expressions to show you’re in pain, but in actuality you are bringing your legs closer to get you some relief, just any relief.

Ripped jeans too. You get a peek of the thighs you were denied access to the night of the fuckening. Ridged and beautiful, not a speck in sight to mar his perfection. You are glad the facial expressions for pain and pleasure are not far apart, because your thighs, albeit very lacking, are helping the imagery in your head. Just Jin, seated on one of these leather chairs, and you straddling his thigh, clit aching against the strands of the rips in his denim, the fabric soaking up the wetness, with every push forwa-

“Now that you mention it, I do look dashing.”

And there goes that dream.

You pinch his cheeks in adoration, the vulgarity of your thoughts getting whitewashed by his silliness and blooming heart-shaped flowers in their stance. You feel your own pinch in you, wondering if this scene would be the same had you blurted your feelings out that day at the cafe.

It's times like these when you remind yourself why you choose to quieten that side. This dynamic cannot reincarnate in any other form. Any imbalance to this equilibrium could cause a serious case of best-friends-turn-awkward-acquaintances, and you don’t know if that’ll hurt you more than you currently do. You don’t plan on finding out.

But on God, he tests that resolution every single day.

Jin doesn’t even hint that he knows of the turmoil blasting behind your eyes. He nonchalantly fixes his hair, gives you a one-over as you are mentally undressing him, nonchalantly as well. Then he moves to grab his cologne, and two spurts disintegrates all the whitewashing and takes you back into the obscenities you were unfolding.

“So I’ll just go over the shoot photos, and then we can leave! You’re cool waiting here?”

“Hmmn, yeah!” You don’t let your mouth run any longer, fearing what might slip out.

He gives you a wide, innocent smile. “Great! See you in a bit.” Poor guy. If only he knew how debase plans you were conjuring just from the aroma of his cologne.

It is musky, like cedar or pine, perfectly suiting him. It is the same scent you remember inhaling, face stuffed in his sweater when he was fingering you to the tenth circle of hell. As he walks away, the fragrance diminishes, save for the slightest hint of lingering. You search for the source, and find the culprit strewn across the sofa.

The outfit Jin wore for the shoot held remnants of the perfume, and when you bring the shirt close and take a long, deep whiff, you transport yourself to the land of your dreams. You relish the fever smell of his cologne, mixed with his own natural scent, deciding that this is what you wish to smell like every waking morning.

Your longing for him has crossed way beyond physical boundaries. You longed for his love, longed for his attention. Longed to be the one that brings the light to his face. From morning rays to the darkness of the night, you wanted to experience it all by his side. To be his lone star, shining bright beside the moon.

Your hands are moving without your control, disrobing you of your thirst trap of a dress and putting on Jin’s shirt instead. One look at the mirror and you let out a silent groan - it fits you just right. Just enough to cover your ass cheeks, loose enough to let the air conditioning hit your heated pussy. While well-fitting shirts have never been the cornerstone of a successful relationship, your delusional mind takes whatever wins it gets.

Adding layers to your pipe dream, you don the robe that gave you a tough time throughout the shoot. When you press the tails of the robe to your cheek, the softness of the material is soothing. Soft, like Jin’s eyes, like his hugs, like his smile. Like him.

Leaning against the counter, you steady yourself, mind split in titillation. Your fingers find their own path, drawing circles on your breasts over his shirt, imagining Jin’s long fingers in place. While teasing your nipple to pointed peaks, you slip your other hand under your panties, trying very hard to mimic his digits, twiddling your clit between your fingers. Alas, the effect isn’t achievable, because Jin seems to know how to play you better than yourself.

The scent is getting stronger, without any provoking, and it is doing wonders for your immersion. You let out a loud moan when your fingers press inside, and you’re just glad no one can witness this.

“Y-Y/N?”

Fuck.

You are pulled away from your dreamland that was so impenetrable that you didn’t hear Jin step into the room. All the blood gushing to your nether regions has made a U-turn to flood your brain to think of a plausible explanation for this position. Instead it makes you giddy, and when you try to stand you wobble in your heels, to be rescued by what you think is a very scandalized Jin.

Time stands still when your eyes meet, and what you see are blown out pupils trembling, many questions fluttering between you two. Jin crosses a tenth of the distance between you, lips flutter as they try to make a decision - do they want to part and give way to the voice of question? The voice of reason? The voice that will break this hush, burst this bubble where he has the one chance to give in to his longing?

You bring your lips closer, and cause immense disquiet in his dome, the way of his heart gathering speed against rationale. Your eyes dance between matching his gaze and finding his lips, every fraction of an inch you cross sending tremors through you. You can feel the shockwaves traverse through your body, making a pitstop at your lips, tingling them awake. They move downwards, passing your heart, beating it wildly against its cage, and then to the pit of your stomach to tighten in anticipation; finally reaching the tip of your toes, where you stand right now, a nanoscopic distance between you. Each one of you is afraid to cross the bridge, unaware of the other’s desires.

Finally, Jin acqueises and meets you on your side.

Atomic explosions ring through your head, clearing out every single thought that is not about Jin’s lips on yours. The ropes that held your heart from beating to the tune of your want, they’ve loosened their knots to give you the leeway to love freely. As your lips exchange positions, his teeth lightly drag across your plush petal, and it brings back the most important part of that night that you couldn’t recollect - the one where his lips sang wordless songs of adoration against yours. Blind as a bat, you were.

You dig your fingers into his hair, not minding your residual arousal coating his locks, and you feel his hands doing the same to you. With your eyes closed, you feel a rough edge to his cushiony soft lips, but Jin fixes that mistake - one stray strand of hair trapped in the middle of your indulgence - he pulls it away to give you all of the kiss. The hand tucked in your tresses pushes in, silently demanding more access, and you’re nothing but ready to give it.

His tongue sneaks in to play a game with yours - when you seek it, it goes into hiding, finding perfect pleasure in soft, sweet kisses, but when you stay, it comes back in, awakening your tongue to deepen again. Everything he is doing is too much and not enough in one go, and you whine into his mouth in desperation, seeking some well-earned relief after months of holding back.

Amidst the flurry of your lips, your back hits the vanity countertop, and Jin pushes away everything on top to make space for you, not caring what expensive item flies down the counter to accommodate your ass.

As if you’ve made up for the months of holding back, the softness of the kisses erodes, teeth coming into play more and more, reminiscent of the night that went by in a blur. He swallows every mewl you give in return, blissed out beyond repair, your neediness making his cock strain against the denim.

His hand snakes down, spreading his fingers to get a hold of your back to push you towards him, covering any gap that dared to intervene. Now unworried about the shoot, your hands have effectively ruined his perfectly placed locks and messed them up to resemble the craze he let you spin in.

Before he can glide his tongue back in, you break the kiss, lest you lose yourself in it to the point where you forget to breathe. With attached foreheads, you take deep drags of air, letting the oxygen flow to your brain before you make some ill-advised, unclarified decisions.

“I- I was jus-”

“Shhh. Wait,” he breathes out, wanting to take a second and fully savor the moment. You nod in return, making his head move along with yours.

After sufficient air fills his lungs, Jin starts. “Y/N, we should stop.”

Last time this had happened, you had tried to force your way through his barrier, without giving his feelings a second of consideration. So this time, you don’t repeat your mistakes. “Tell me why.”

“Because, I don’t know what you’re looking for, but I’m way deeper in this than you think.”

“Jin, I-”

“Let me finish.” He stops you before you can explain how much you reflect his emotions, possibly more. He doesn’t seem to want to listen now. “Let me finish, or else I’ll chicken out, for the millionth time.”

You’re dumbfounded. Millionth time? When was the first? Acting majors, by God.

“I love you, Y/N.”

No, now you are dumbfounded. Your hands, holding his precious locks, drop down in shock, at sheer disbelief that all this time, he has been ready and waiting to return you the favor. Jin though, misinterprets it as a look of disdain.

“I-I know I do, and I’m sorry that I do. I know you don’t feel the same way. You can hate me all you want, but this is the truth.”

“And yes,” he continues, refusing to halt for even half a second, afraid that the courage he mustered to confess would dissipate the moment he does, “I’m attracted to you, and I don’t know what went down here --” flicking his wrist to mention your (his) outfit, “--but I’m looking, okay? And I’m hard as fuck. But that’s not all there is to it.”

“I need all of you.” He takes an audible gulp, trying to stymy his emotions from overpowering him. “I want to take you out, I want to hold you hand, I want to bring you to all the places I love. I want to introduce you to people, not as my best friend, but so much more than that. It hurts me,” bringing his hand to his chest, he emphasizes the point of pain by clutching over his heart, “hurts to call you that because I’m lying through my fucking teeth.”

You break eye contact, because there are tears smarting your eyes at his heartfelt revelation. You can’t believe the idiot that you have been all this while. The man of your dreams stands in front of you, baring his soul, and you can’t even do him the decency of telling him what you felt yourself before jumping his bones.

And you love him, too. Maybe you haven’t said so, even to yourself, but you’ve known all this while.

You love him.

“If you are just looking for a fuck, or want any sort of a ‘benefits’ situation, we should stop. I can’t lie to myself anymore.”

“Jin, my God,” you half-sigh, half-laugh, feeling a burden lift off of you after months of pining.

“You don’t have to pacify me, it’s okay, I’ll be fine.” Even in this moment, he is looking out for you. His lips are curved upward to show you that he’s okay, but his pupils are shaky and restless, not in sync with his smile. You hope your next words can fix that for him.

“Pacify you? Hate you?” You shoot him an incredulous look, one you will explain to him very soon. “You are a much better person than I am, Jinnie. For months now, I’ve loved you, but even at this point, I didn’t stop to tell you.” The guilt of letting your hormones cloud your judgement for the second time lays heavily on your conscience. “I’m sorry for not making this clear earlier, but let me now. I love you, Kim Seokjin. I have for way too long. I want you, I need you. You have me, in every possible way.”

It feels unparalleled to get that off your chest. The leaden weight of your emotions immediately disappears - or the fact that it's shared, makes it much, much lighter. But then you look at Jin, and he still seems to have not put two and two together. You patiently wait for him to process all the information.

When he finally recoups, he yells, “What?!”

You let out a loud guffaw, the first one with no inhibitions in the longest time. “What?”

“Why didn’t you say anything that day at the cafe?!”

“You said you’d never date me, asshole!” You punch his chest softly, before slipping your hands behind him and pulling him closer. “I might not look like it, but I have some dignity.”

“I said that?” Jin brings one hand to pinch his nose in annoyance. “What an idiot. I think I was just inverting everything to make sure I don’t accidentally slip up.”

You lift your head to meet his eyes again, letting him see the tears you were hiding. You find a couple in his eyes, too. But the smile on your face is genuine, and that is all that matters. “I was blind too, so don’t beat yourself up about it.”

Flitting your eyes down to find the contour of his cock against his jeans, you ask him innocently, “How about we make up for lost time?”

“Fuck, yes, please.” And with that, your lips are engulfed again.

When you have all your guards down, the kiss tastes sweeter than before. Mere moments ago, while thoroughly enjoying the kiss, a sense of reticence had clouded your pleasure, holding you back from luxuriating in the headiness. A series of what-ifs had plagued your subconscious without your realization, but with all that cleared, you wholly submit to the kiss, emptying your mind until nothing but his name remains.

“Fuck, Y/N,” Jin gasps out, when you bite into his pillowy lower lip, “I thought you looked the prettiest in the dress earlier but,” after pulling away, he drinks your current attire in, “you look the most beautiful in this.”

You snicker. “Even more than World Wide Handsome?”

His eyes bore into yours, no hint of the joking lilt he always carries in them.

“So much more.”

Your hands find their place amidst his shaggy hair again, and you lodge his face into your neck - a command Jin acquiesces to with great pleasure. After a long, wet lick to your collarbone, he lays feather-soft kisses on the trail he left, starting from your shoulder and working inward, until he brushes against the back of your ear. You grasp at his sweater, because his lips feel so good. Your breaths are short, sucking in every time he allows your skin the luxury of a soft peck. Once he lays a kiss on your forehead, he brings his gaze down to one of the main reasons that causes his cock to stir.

“Fuck, look at your nipples under my shirt.”

Gazing down, you can see the two pointed peaks that caught Jin’s eyes.

“That tends to happen when I’m thinking of you.”

He twists a nipple over the shirt, hardening it further, and you throw your head back in the satisfying pain. “Yeah, I remember.”

You are unraveling every second, the ache swishing amongst the bliss his fingers are bringing in you. He’s switched over to drawing circles around your nipple, until he snaps and tugs your shirt up, finally revealing the palmfulls of flesh awaiting his hands.

“Ah that night, I didn’t get to do this. Take this off.” But then, he makes you put on his robe again. You throw him a questioning look, to which he responds with a sheepish smile, “Just so, you know… you don’t feel cold… or something.”

“Just say you like me in your clothes and move on.”

“I love you in my clothes,” he admits in a heartbeat, his expression that of anguish, “can we move on?”

“God, gladly.”

Unexpectedly, he bites the side of your boob - not hard at all, but feeling his teeth against your skin sends your head reeling backward. Your involuntary response is to wrap your legs around his waist, grinding your core against him. His teeth continue to nip you lightly across the expanse of your breasts, the trail of saliva he leaves cooling parts of your flushed body. Finally, finally, he latches onto your left nipple and gives it a long, pleasurable suck.

“Ahh, Jin - you’re too - God damn it - you’re too good at this.”

Without stopping the onslaught he is unleashing on your breasts, his fingers begin to move - but soon, they stop, hesitation rippling off of their tips. His pace falters, and his mind is fighting on the next course of action.

“Can I-”

“Finish what you started that night?” you complete for him, already prepared with your answer. “Yes, please.”

All forms of uncertainty shoot out of his touch, and he confidently trudges forward. Playing with the band of your panties, he gives you a well-intended chuckle, murmuring, “As far as I remember, I was so good you passed out.”

“Boy,” You groan, intended in jest, but his teeth slide against your jaw and it mostly comes out more wanton than jovial, “let me see you have tequila for dinner and remember much the next day.”

“Fair fair,” he gives in, shifting to buss the valley of your cleavage, feeling your heart thud against your ribs holding it in place. “Well today,” he starts without moving his face, his nimble fingers moving past the barrier of your underwear, pressing two fingertips directly on your clit, and hissing like it's him at the receiving end, “I’ll give you enough to remember.”

You pull his sweater off and chuck it away, not wanting to be reminded of any blockades that kept you apart, and your hands roam the expanse of his back remembering the touch of his skin from the night at the bar. His body isn’t new to you, but the circumstances make it feel different.

Finally, his fingers find their way inside you.

Yes, this. This was what was missing from your drunken tryst. With your heads in place, your ardor intensifies, and you move his lips back to yours needing to release your animalistic desire into his mouth. Pleasure surges through both of you as you threaten to swallow him whole.

You can feel him being more present, and considering the merciless finger-fucking you had earned that night, this is taking it to a whole other degree.

The night at the bar, his fingers did their best to ravish you, but now, Jin is paying attention, close attention to the way you respond. Every muscle movement is recorded in him as you struggle to accommodate three of his lengthy digits. Leaning close, he gives your peaked nipple the lightest feather lick - the suddenness sends shockwaves through you as he continues to tweeze the other, talented pianist hands performing his musical piece on both ends of you.

His fingers pump into you with determination, finding new depths to explore that he missed out on, and with a curl of his pointer, you blank out, screaming in the orgasm that is washing over you. Every skincell of your body feels the quiver of lust spreading, your cunt squeezing for an eternity, milking the orgasm out to the extent that you can.

When you look down, your metaphorical orgasmic flood manifestes as a deluge of your arousal leaking on the table. And when you look back up, you can see the salacious ideas making their rounds in Jin’s head as he looks at the inundation you released.

Hurried hands still convulsing from the intensity of your orgasm, you undo his belt, followed by his jeans and finally - getting the pleasure you were heartlessly denied of - his cock is out, in all its glory, twitching as the cool air hits its naked skin. Jin’s plans don’t go hand in hand with yours though.

“Are we just - holy fucking shit - just, umm, leave that to waste?” he lustfully looks down to your leaking core, and someway, through your hold on his dick, he tries to steer you into his plans.

“I don’t know about that,” you cheekily reply. You have the right idea to satisfy both of you, and get down to the task.

With the flat of your palm, you swipe across the droplets of cum you released, gathering them to transfer them onto his thick length. Jin thrusts into your hand, the wetness jolting him into attention, and he places an arm on your shoulder to steady himself.

“You’re going to taste yourself?” he asks as you continue your vacillating motion, twisting at the base of his head with the wetness you graciously provided yourself. You give him a nonchalant look, something he is trying to do to you as well.

“Who said I’m gonna suck you off?”

His look changes, and the one you get in return is cocky, arrogant, downright rude if you were honest. You expected him to play on with your banter, but one raised eyebrow and the lazy smirk he gives, to what he probably thinks is a joke - Zeus could land on earth and not be able to stop you from gobbling his meat.

Your mouth is filled with his dick even before your knees hit the ground. Jin staggers back, but your suction on his dick is funnily strong enough to pull him back before falling. You switch positions, having him balance himself against the counter, all while you refuse to leave his cock out. His giggle of endearment has you pouting, but it swells your heart and makes you want to give more, more of anything and everything. With your renewed vigor, you push yourself in until his pubes tickle your nose, and his tip tickles your throat.

“Your-”, “I-”, “uhh-”

Every new sentence Jin starts crumbles to your actions. You furrow your brows both in concentration on your blowing skills and trying to decode what he is trying to say.

Jin takes a large gulp, adamant on making this one a coherent sentence. “You know, I used to imagine this, and in my dreams I used to be very sexy and suave, talking my way throug-oof-” You run your tongue over the tip of his leaking dick, emphasizing the point he is coming to, “Now I can’t even complete sentences here.”

“You being you is super sexy in itself.” And you curve your tongue to match the arch of his cock, letting the incoming saliva pool on it before letting it run down his shaft, dripping down from his balls. Strings of his precum connect to your lips, and you swipe your tongue through them, relishing the salty goodness before going back in for more.

“Y/N, shit, did you just moan?”

How couldn’t you? The fact that he is horny for you, so much so that rivulets of precum don’t stop drizzling down your throat, has you preening. You hum your assent in response, not willing to let go even for a moment, but Jin pulls you off before you can get a chokehold on the base of his cock again.

“Never had a woman moan while sucking me off. It’s sexy as fuck,” Jin breathes into your lips as he dives in for a kiss.

Your chest is heaving, catching the breaths you lost when you were down. “Then why’d you stop me?”

“Are you kidding me? I was about to lose it right there.”

“Jinnie, come on,” you break the fragmentary kiss you were sharing, looking into his glassy eyes, “let me feel you come on my tongue.” To emphasize your conviction, you lick his lips, persuading him of the sinful deeds your tongue is capable of doing if he’d just let you.

“Oh man, stop. What’s worse than busting a nut in your mouth? Busting it while you’re kissing me. Making me feel like a teenager.” You erupt into a loud laugh, soon followed by Jin as well. It is so him to joke about this.

“And babe,” all hints of embarrassment vanishing from his tone, “I’m only going to come inside you.”

“Fuck, fuck, yes. You got a condom on you?”

“Yeah, let me grab my wallet.” The instant he moves away, you feel naked, shivering from the comfort stolen away from you. But then you hear Jin grumble, “I hope I don’t have the bacon-flavored one.” And the absurdity of it all puts you at ease again.

“Ew, stop, even you can’t make that sexy. My lady boner is dying.”

He envelops you again, and you can feel the laughter echoing in his lungs before making it out to your ears. He brings your attention to the familiar rustle of foil wrapper. “Thankfully, we got chocolate.”

“Mmmh, gotta love chocolate.”

You take the condom out of his hands, and roll it onto his stiff length, flattered that he’s holding his erection for so long.

“Okay, stick it in me!” And you smack your ass in readiness, and a very flabbergasted Jin breaks out chortling.

“Y/N, stop being my best friend for like, five minutes!” His brows are furrowed in pretense exasperation, but you can see his lips holding back a genuine smile through the grimace, just happy that your dynamics haven’t changed the slightest, even though everything else has shifted.

“Okay okay,” you try and suppress your own laughter, before continuing, “how do you want me, baby?”

“Bend over on the vanity. And keep your eyes on the mirror.” And as you move into position, his palms grab your ass and squeeze it hard, feeling your glutes push back against his grip, and he pushes you forward till you're on the tips of your toes. You watch him through the mirror, watch him admire the way your ass curves over the table edge, how your toes struggle to keep you up, and how the dimples of your back are deepened by the arch, peeking under the bunched up robe tails, just waiting for him.

“Jin.” Your hushed whisper puts him in action.

Pushing the head in is anguish and relief at the same time. His bulbous head stretches your entrance; even with your preparation, you feel it sting. The searing gets better and better with every inch slipping in, and when he finally lodges inside, you let out a heavy breath, still panting and keeping yourself from screaming bloody murder in pleasure. Jin bends forward to paint the back of your neck, sucking the flesh till the circular bruise comes to surface.

“Can you- can you-fuck, no, wait-” Your brain is at war with itself, battling between adjusting to his girth and having him pump you into adjustment.

You can feel Jin’s snicker from behind you, and he finally makes the decision for you. “I’ll wait, I have things to do here,” he says before playing around the patch of skin, spreading from the base of your hair to the expanse of your back, his teasing licks relaxing your walls and accommodating his girth. The pain is almost gone, expect for the lingering ache that only helps you.

“You can move now, babe.”

“Okay, okay.” Your words snap him out of the painter’s dream he was in, and he twitches inside you. Something about the ease at which you both have adopted nicknames for each other softens his heart and hardens his cock.

Pulling out till only the head rests inside, Jin himself struggles against the third degree grip your pussy has on him. As he is thrusting inside again, your walls tense up, making it harder and harder for him to hold back.

“Y/N, sweetie, relax. I got you.”

“Jin, I’m-” You have tears running down your eyes, the pleasure and unsurmountable happiness rolling out in fat hot drops. “Fuck me harder. I won’t last.”

“Shit. Okay, hold on then.”

To what? Is what you’re going to ask before Jin unleashes his carnality onto you. Your breasts, dripping in sweat and saliva, are plastered to the countertop, which in itself is jiggling to the beat of Jin’s thrusts. His dick is curving inside to hit you repeatedly, and you have to gather the satin fabric to wipe your eyes to keep your gaze fixed on him.

He looks majestic. Forehead embellished with beads of sweat, his hair coiffed up, lips sanguine red after your vicious kisses - you swipe your tongue along your own lips to find them battered in response. His honey chest is heaving with every push, and a particular one hits you just right.

You let out a guttural groan, and Jin takes note of it immediately.

“Up,” he commands, and loops an arm under your belly to you pull you up and closer and now every thrust hits deeper into that spot he has found in you, your back connected to his chest as the two of you move in tandem; this is the most together you’ve ever felt with anyone. This moment is to be etched in your memories forever.

You scream into your fist to muffle the sounds, the edge of the table digging into your hip bone as you feel yourself getting closer to the brink. One swipe to the clit is all you have left to bring you to your release.

And from some telepathic force, or from the clutch your pussy has on him, Jin beats you to it. His fingers come down and carefully find your swollen nub, pinching it between his fingers. If he thought you’d shown him your hardest clench, he was wrong, because right now your dam has broken, and the iron-clad grip you give his cock sends him reeling, too.

You are gushing on his dick, the rubber dripping with your wetness. Jin too releases into the condom in stuttered gasps, his thrusts becoming shorter and shallower as he comes down from his high.

Petal-like kisses fall on your back as the two of you regain your breaths. The mirror that served you two well is covered in a fog of hot breath and perspiration, blearing your vision of yourself, but somehow, it sparkles with Jin’s reflection. His nobility-esque visuals use the haze as a valance for his appearance, framing them to make him look like you’re among the clouds. And in some way, you actually are.

“Ah, let me go.” You jiggle your shoulders back to make the man above you move. “Fuck, can you check if my spine is in place? I think you dislodged it.”

“Shut up and come hug me, I’ll squeeze it back in place.”

Now this is something you could get used to.

As he ties and throws away the used condom, you flip over to face him and fall back into his embrace, broad shoulders promising to protect you, making you feel safe in his care. Jin on the other hand is simply ecstatic to feel you on him, feeling your thumping heart beat for him, after months of pining and pondering whether anything would become of the seed of your tumultuous friendship. Now, it has blossomed to a garden of prospect and promise, every petal of every flower here reading a new opportunity to tell you how much he adores you, cherishes you, treasures you. How much he loves you. An opportunity he doesn’t wait to use.

“I love you.”

The pink tinge of your cheeks either comes from the sex, or from his comment, but either way, he is glad its from him.

“I love you too, Jin. So, so very much.”

If your heart could leap out of your chest, it would do so, to find its way to his and fuse into one. But for now, your entwined bodies give you all you want.

You hear Jin stifle a laugh, and pull back in question. He points to something odd on the countertop.

“What is that?”

The cream white surface of the table, that was maligned by your ignoble deeds, now sports two glistening, wheatish semi circles that look very similar to the sizes of one person who was splayed on top of it just moments ago.

“Is that…” Jin is trying to contort his lips and halt the looming snicker, and he brings his eyes down to your chest (trying not to get hard again), “Did you have makeup on your chest?”

“Shut up.” All you can do is fall closer into his arms, hopefully masking the tint of embarrassment highlighting the apples of your cheeks. “I wanted to make them look extra good for you.”

He’s given up on holding back, the full-bellied laugh that resonated from him echoing across the room. But it dwindles down fast, coming to small chuckles of tenderness, and he slips his digits beneath your chin to have you meet his gaze.

“They always look good,” he whispers, his admittance setting your chest aflame, “trust me, I’d know.”

Taglist 💛: @little7bitchh, @afangirllikeme-blog, @h34rt1lly, @marpotterhead

Thank you so much for making it to the end! I hope you enjoyed the fic, my ask box is always open for your lovely opinions. To read more of my work, find my main masterlist here. :)

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tiramisiyu · 3 years

Text

Thoughts on Xia Yan’s Anniversary/Kiss Date

Not a translation, but rather an unleashing of the many thoughts I had for his date because it made me feel so many emotions and think so many things;;

Wordcount: 2.8k

Date Translation

Preamble

Tears of Themis’ 1st anniversary features one of the most significant in-story events you can view within an otome game - the confession event between MC and respective male leads. The gravity of this confession event, however, is intensified with respect to the ML Xia Yan, as their emotions towards each other is not the only focus of said confession - he must also reveal the heartbreaking truth that his life is likely to end in three years.

In the below sections, I will discuss the significance of various components that comprise Xia Yan’s anniversary date. My primary focuses will be on Xia Yan’s internal struggles, his care for MC, and the nature of the confession, and I aim to ultimately express why this date had such a major effect on me and whoa if you’re still reading this rambling part, I applaud you. I’m really just doing a fancy thoughtdump here.

The Nature of the Confession Event

From the beginning, XY never intended for the confession to be full of pomp and circumstance - and this was out of concern for MC, fearing that she would be too swept up in emotion to make it. Based on how the other guys’ cards look (them being outside and MC’s all dressed up), I assume that there was some ceremony-like aspect to their respective confessions, and I think that this draws a stark contrast to XY’s (who staunchly refused Yang Xiao’s offer to help make his confession just as ceremonial). In XY’s, MC’s not dressed up the way she is for the others, and both have been drenched in rain and are dissolving into tears of sadness as they speak. In addition, their desires are conflicting (rather than a situation where both parties confess and get together, and thus have coinciding interests) - despite what XY has said before, he does not want MC to be with him, while MC wants the exact opposite. It’s not a beautiful or gorgeous scene by design - instead, it’s very raw, very 狼狈 as the two lay bare their own painful emotions, discuss/cry about heavy topics, and show very vulnerable sides to each other, trying to get through to the other person.

Speaking of showing vulnerability, the fact that Xia Yan is so anguished by what he has to say that he has to sit down and cry hits particularly hard because he has always, always tried to put on a strong face in front of MC. Whenever his illness strikes and MC sees it, such as in aquarium date or Neruda poem date, he’ll smile and/or joke about it after. When the two were talking about his posthumous letters during the RRG date, he still had a calm smile on his face. Even when he talked about being shoved into a car trunk to be “disposed of”, he was still calmly smiling. As MC noted, his job has taught him to have extreme control over his emotions, so it’s almost overwhelming, trying to imagine how much sadness pushed him to that point.

Pathetic fallacy also plays a part in increasing the impact that the confession event had. In the days leading up to the last part of the date, storms keep striking suddenly, such that it’s even described as “strange”. Storms are, of course, generally associated with less-pleasant things, such as conflict, anger, depression, difficulty, and so on. The meaning behind why they appeared suddenly or frequently is a little harder to understand, but my assumption for the frequency of the storms (rather than an ongoing storm or gloom) reflects how things could not completely “clear up” (despite uplifts in emotion from time to time) until they confronted each other with their feelings. During the confrontation, not only is the storm still going on, but they’re also harshly drenched in the cold rainwater. It is only after the kiss, after their interests finally coincide, that the storm lifts and the beautiful starry sky casts its light on Xia Yan, who was holding the majority of the conflict/sadness/depression between the two of them. (This is also highlighted in how MC notes that Xia Yan feels slightly cold (during the kiss), and she tries to transfer her warmth over to him, trying to alleviate that heavy emotion that’s wrapped itself around him.)

The Location

The attic of their old home remains an important location for these two, and I pretty much can’t think of a better choice to set the confession. It contains their childhood memories, and it also came into play during Xia Yan’s first birthday after his return (i.e. the idea of continuing to make memories there). It’s also interesting to note that Xia Yan, from his rational mindset, did not intend to see MC… yet he still came to this place - a place that was equally meaningful to both of them, and a place where he’s likely to get lost in emotion. He may be restraining his emotions for MC’s good, yet they still show in small places. (At least, there doesn’t seem to be any logical reason for him to be there, since he wasn’t setting anything up there…)

The Humanizing and Internal Conflict of Xia Yan

I call it “humanizing” because I’ve done some commenting before on how Xia Yan has felt a little superhuman - so many skills everywhere, and rarely a moment of weakness. Now, this date really drives home that he is just human too, with the harsh reality of imminent death hanging over him (especially since we also learn a few more concrete details on exactly what his illness is). This point is brought into attention when he talks about how he’s neither able to be as brave as Schumann (who acted based on emotion) nor as silently strong as Brahms (who acted based on reason). He’s pulled in so many directions for all the things he wants - a desire to stay by MC’s side and do so much with her, whether as family or as something more, versus his rational mindset that tells him to not see her at all, to disappear from her life after, or to push her away even after her confession. There was also his “rationally” created plan in which he would give her the letter and let her decide, yet he still tries to convince her to not be with him.

The Schumann/Brahms comparison shows how he keeps getting pulled back and forth between reason and emotion. He reveals his feelings to MC (Schumann), but wants her to make the optimal decision, which he believes is to not be with him (Brahms). He then kisses her after hearing her conviction (Schumann) and then gives her the gift that’s linked to Brahms. In realizing that he’s not able to stick to either path, he calls himself a coward - but he doesn’t need to be like either person. As MC says, his restraint is a part of his own background, and his emotional wavering is because of his care for MC - all in all, his motivations are because he is Xia Yan, not Schumann or Brahms.

Personal Story Chapter 2 Parallels

In Xia Yan’s personal chapter 2, Yang Xiao sets up the story of 零/Zero and 玛丽薇莎/Marivisa to mirror MC and Xia Yan (respectively). The mention of what will bring Zero and MC happiness is starkly similar in these two situations:

⊳ Personal Ch.2-9

Xia Yan: 因为...这样，零会更幸福... 她不是在牺牲，她只是用自己的方式让零能幸福。Because this way, Zero would be happier… She wasn’t sacrificing herself. She was only using her own methods to make Zero happy.

MC: 但零的幸福就是她啊。But Zero’s happiness is her.

Xia Yan: 她已经无法给零幸福了。 It’s already impossible for her to give Zero happiness.

⊳ Date

Xia Yan: 如果你选择别的男人。。。只要他能给你幸福。我只会带给你不幸，我没有时间了。。。If you choose another man… As long as he can make you happy. All I can bring you is unhappiness. I don’t have much time left…

MC: 你怎么可能带给我不幸，你怎么可能做不到给我幸福。你在我身边，你的存在本身，就是我的幸福。How is it possible that you can only bring me unhappiness? How is it impossible for you to bring me happiness? You being by my side – your very existence – is my happiness.

Yes, the Zero/Marivisa story was intentionally made to parallel these two, so it might feel moot to compare them like this. However, I still really appreciated that they brought this discussion of what brings MC/Zero happiness back, especially since XY’s chapter 2 was very major in developing his character. Back then, MC is vehement in that Zero would have been happier spending all the time he could with Marivisa, as well as even having the choice to spend that time with her. I think that this part was instrumental in Xia Yan eventually deciding to tell her the truth and letting her make her own decision (as he explicitly stated to Yang Xiao in part 1 of the date). However, he still wasn’t fully convinced by what MC said back in chapter 2, so we satisfyingly see this discussion of happiness come full circle by the end of this date, when Xia Yan finally trusts MC to make the best decision for herself.

Xia Yan’s Considerateness

Xia Yan’s enduring consideration for MC displays itself in nearly every single action within this date.

The flashback, when he thinks about MC potentially having to go through what the widow is now experiencing, and how his own happiness for three years isn’t worth that

His conviction to give her the right to decide in this matter that involves both of them, because he can’t be the one to decide everything

He insisted on not making it a romantic event, because he wants MC to make the best decision without having a mind clouded by emotion. He’s also made peace with the idea of not being with MC, for the sake of her long-term happiness. All he wants is for her to know the truth of his feelings and illness.

His decision to still make MC a gift to retain some aspect of the romance in the confession (but he only gives the gift after MC has made her decision, again to ensure that her mind isn’t clouded). I think the concept of the gift is particularly beautiful - the little, happy holograms of them inside the glass, as if ensuring that he will always be by her side in some way; the music that brings back their childhood memories and alludes to an enduring, quiet, and protecting love that puts the recipient first (i.e. Brahms to Clara); and the rainbow, which has its childhood memories and treasure implications that are already mentioned in the date, but it also reminded me of the miraculous double rainbow in his Lost Gold date. That double rainbow was the trigger for Xia Yan to proactively seek out a future with MC, when he took the initiative to ask MC if she could be with him to seek out more miracles. Overall, there are a lot of beautiful memories and implications wrapped up in that music box/snowglobe.

The little comical segment where he worries about the optimal time to deliver the letter, worrying about MC’s sleep or if she’ll be able to eat well.

His stress over what he should’ve done after the letter was delivered, and how he immediately answered MC’s call out of pure worry, despite being so resolute about not answering her calls that he’d turned on airplane mode before.

Their ensuing discussion in part 3 is just full of Xia Yan’s consideration for MC at its peak -

Rather than being ecstatic about MC’s confession, his first instinct is to tell her to take a few days to think about it logically. (But really, emotions aren’t logical to begin with, so it’s not like MC would’ve stopped liking you after mulling it over for a few days, haha)

His immediate apology after yelling that he has to mention his death

His worry about how MC will cope after he’s gone, going so far as to saying that she would be better off with another man

I think that this particular (above) line got a particularly visceral reaction from Xia Yan fans, including myself. Because like MC, our initial thoughts fell along the lines of “How could I ever choose someone else when the only person I like is you? There’s just no way someone else could make me happier…”. Another reaction that I’ve seen among Xia Yan fans (yep, including myself) is how we originally viewed the story in third-person, seeing “MC” in the story, but this date (and this particular scene, where MC says nearly everything that I myself would want to say) dragged us into a first-person position.

The heartbreaking scene where Xia Yan cries from being unable to give MC the happiness that he wants to give her (or so he thinks).

He’s just so painfully selfless. I also really like the line during the kiss where MC tries to transmit her warmth to him, trying to balance things out between them and have him feel better, when he had already written himself off by thinking that his happiness is better off sacrificed for hers.

Jin Xian’s Voice Acting

Jin Xian’s voice acting deserves a whole section to itself, because I think that he did an amazing job of portraying the intense emotions Xia Yan feels during the date. Just going to list some lines that really hit hard - both because of the content, and because of the voice acting that really considered how Xia Yan would be feeling then.

我可以去追她，我甚至可以和她结婚。我可以把最后的三年过得很好，过的毫无遗憾，但是然后呢？她一个人要怎么办。。。谁陪她走出来，谁来照顾她。。。(“I could pursue her. I could even marry her. I could live my last three years happily, without the slightest of regrets. But what about after? How will she cope on her own… Who will be with her as she handles this? Who will take care of her…”) The ups and downs of this section’s voicing really hit hard.

The gentleness with which he speaks about what he plans to tell MC, especially the line 她从来都是这样 (“She’s always been like that.”)

He’s so cute in Part 2!! The tone’s a lot happier and relaxed and it’s really nice to see and hear.

In part 3, the vehemence with which he talks about how the risks of MC’s work aren’t comparable to his established time limit, which then softens into something sadder when he talks about how Yang Xiao’s efforts haven’t extended his time by much.

The intensity when he says 我必须说 ! (“I have to say it!”) (when MC reacts to him using the word “death”), and how he immediately softens his tone after. But then his voice starts to rise again as he worries for how MC will bear his death… and then he takes a break to calm down, and then makes the suggestion of MC finding another man with a near-inflectionless tone that gradually slips into a whisper

His whispering voice makes the impact of 我在乎。。。！(I care…!) hit even harder because it’s suddenly loud, and you can clearly hear the tears in his voice. Once again, he takes a breath to calm himself down and quiet his voice. But even as he keeps talking in a voice that descends into a whisper again, you can tell that he’s still on the verge of crying…

Also the 我也。。。好喜欢，最喜欢你. (I also… like you. I like you the most) line left me screaming with how it was whispered but really strong and adamant-sounding aaaaa

Anyways I could list more but at that point I might as well list Jin Xian’s entire script lmao. He did such a good job!!!!!!

Sound Effects

I’m laughing at myself for including this section - if you turn off the music that accompanies Xia Yan’s card, you’ll… hear some very interesting sound effects [狗头]

They’ve got to make the most of their limited time together, after all, and this is the only date out of the set of four that’s indoors… it makes sense…

Other Thoughts

Two kisses!!

What sort of treatment would leave Xia Yan infected with drugs with prohibited components? What were they even trying to do?

The date was short relative to the other, super-long Themis dates, but I’m personally alright with that because it places focus on the confession itself. It hit all the points that I personally was expecting for Xia Yan’s confession, including his past struggles with the idea of staying with MC, his confession about both his feelings and his illness, and how resolute MC is about staying with him vs. how hard he tries to get her to understand the implications of being him, considering that he doesn’t have much time left.

I think now’s a good time for the two of them to get married if they’re well aware that Xia Yan’s time is limited, so Xia Yan, where’s the ruby ring?

I wonder what implications this will have on the main story - e.g. will the rest of NXX find out about Xia Yan’s illness in Chapter 7.2? Or will they never know? Actually, I wonder if they’ll have MC be aware of his illness in the main story because… that implies his confession happened, which might anger fans of the other boys.

Conclusion

I love Xia Yan and I love this date.

#tears of themis #xia yan #luke pearce #rambles #this whole thing is kinda messy so kudos if you made it through

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cosmicjoke · 3 years

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Well, there’s a book and a half to say about chapter 55 and 56 of Attack on Titan! I’ll focus on 56, because the whole interaction between Levi and Historia, and that entire scene, is just packed full of so many important details.

The first thing I picked up on, again, is how Levi takes the time to thank Nifa for riding all night to deliver them Erwin’s instructions. It seems like a small moment, but Levi ALWAYS does this, and I feel like it’s really important to point out. He’s the one character who consistently makes the effort to show his appreciation and gratitude towards others for doing a good job, or giving their best effort. Just telling someone thank you like that can make a world of difference to them, especially when you’re dealing with a world of such desperation and extremity as the world of AoT. So I just thought that was an important moment to note.

Another big deal in this chapter, I think, was Levi’s further interaction with Dimo Reeves, and the continued respect he shows the man. Dimo says that him and his men will leave the room so that Levi can discuss the plan with his squad, but Levi insists that Dimo and his men stay, restating that that’s how their agreement works, that they don’t keep secrets from each other, and telling Dimo that he trusts him. He reiterates this again when Dimo tries a second time to leave. It speaks volumes about what kind of person Levi is, about his honesty and integrity as a person, that he’s treating Dimo and his men as equals, and including them in on the plan, and not just that, but the entirety of the situation, willing to reveal to them everything the SC knows. He isn’t treating them as tools in Erwin’s plan, he’s treating them as partners, as people, and showing them respect by making them privy to everything that they’re getting into. He’s showing Dimo complete trust here, when just a few days earlier they’d been on opposite sides. Levi even takes the time to welcome Flegel, and once again reaffirm his trust in the Reeves Company. I find this remarkable, this kind of respect and regard, and, really, this kind of deep humanity we see from Levi. He treats Dimo and his son and his men with dignity, which is something nobody else has done for any of them in a long time, it seems.

Of course, this leads into the big scene between Levi and Historia. I read a brilliant meta on this recently, where the writer pointed out that it’s significant that this scene takes place directly on the heels of Hange and Levi torturing Sannes for information on the Reiss family, because that experience directly influences Levi’s violent reaction and anger towards Historia here, and also explains why it is Levi forgot to tell his squad about who Historia really is, and the almost embarrassed look on his face when he realizes this. Levi is still obviously bothered by what both he and Hange did to Sannes, enough so that he becomes distracted and forgot to reveal an obviously vital piece of information.

What’s really interesting about this scene though is Levi’s reaction when Historia, initially, refuses to become Queen, insisting that there’s no way she can, insisting that she isn’t “fit”. Levi gets about as pissed as we’ve seen him up to this point at this, and actually, physically attacks Historia by lifting her off the ground. What’s interesting is Levi’s reasoning behind his anger. Historia is being horribly timid and indecisive here, claiming she can’t be queen because she isn’t fit, essentially saying because she isn’t good enough. This kind of timid shirking of responsibility, in the face of what Levi’s just had to do to get the information needed to perform a successful coup, would be pretty maddening. He’s just had to dirty his hands by torturing a man, and here Historia is, flatly refusing to step up and make that experience mean anything. We know how Levi can’t bear to let people sacrifice their lives for no reason. I think the same applies here. Levi can’t bear to have engaged in something as ugly and awful as torturing a man for information, with nothing to show for it in the end, with nothing gained for the effort. Historia’s behavior here must seem to Levi very self-indulgent. He goes into a long speech after he drops her, asking his squad members, after they yell at him for going too far, what all of them will be doing tomorrow. Asking them if they think they’ll have food on their table, or if they’ll get a good nights sleep, or if the people around them will still be there. He then tells them he never thinks so.

Levi is essentially telling his squad that because of the world they live in, nothing is guaranteed, and nothing can be taken for granted, and the kind of fear they all live with of never knowing is something he wants desperately to rid the world of. This life of being trapped and stuck and always living in fear and uncertainty. There’s nothing worse than that. He talks about being willing to be the one to do the dirty work, to get his hands dirty, in order to prevent anyone else from having to do the same, to have to carry the burden of that, and in order for the nightmare of their desperate existence to finally come to an end, to save everyone from having to sit there and worry if they’ll be able to eat the next day, or if their friends will still be alive. Levi calls himself abnormal here, and says it’s probably because he’s seen so many abnormal things, but he’s willing to be that, willing to be the freak or the “bad guy” if it means no one else has to deal with it, has to go through such horrible experiences of loss and pain and guilt. This, again, is an awesome example of Levi’s selflessness. He knows everyone in that room is looking at him with revulsion and anger, that they think he’s being a terrible person and cruel. But he doesn’t care. He doesn’t care what they think of him in that moment, because the lives of so many other people are at stake, and he knows if Historia refuses to take on her role as Queen, so many more are going to die. This coup is happening, regardless, because the standing Monarchy has proven itself unwilling to put the lives of the people ahead of its own interests, and without a peaceful transition of power to overthrow a corrupt government, more lives will be lost. In the face of that, Historia’s meekness and uncertainty is glaringly petty and unimportant.

I also think Levi is, again, pulling from his own experiences growing up, the poverty of living in the Underground and having nothing. Being on the fringes of society and abandoned and uncared for by a ruling government, left to starve and rot beneath a thriving, wealthy capital. Dimo later defends Levi when his son starts talking smack about him, and remarks that a man like Levi, who is awkward but kind, must have come from absolutely nothing. He defends Levi to Historia too, telling her he might be scary, but he’s not a bad guy. He calls Levi kind, even after what happened with Historia. Because he understood Levi’s violence here, when no one else really seemed to. He understood that it was coming from a man who had to fight all his life just to survive from one day to the next, never having any certainty in what tomorrow would bring. He understood that Levi’s compassion towards the downtrodden, like the people of Trost now are, is coming from a place of personal experience, and so he knew Levi would keep his word to help them, even though he didn’t have to and it gained him nothing. Because Dimo perceives that Levi knows what it is to have “absolutely nothing”, he then sees the genuineness of Levi’s compassion and the inherent kindness in him, and his sincere generosity and thoughtfulness, underneath his brusque and rude manner. When Levi asks his squad if they think they’ll have food to eat the next day, or if they’ll sleep well, I think he must be remembering his life in the Underground, when even simple, basic staples of living like that were never a sure thing.

Levi’s frustration and anger with Historia here is because he knows there isn’t any time for that kind of self-involved mindset. Levi’s made sacrifices to get them to this point, as has Hange, as has the entirety of the SC, and Historia is threatening to render all of those sacrifices moot and meaningless because she’s... insecure. Again, Levi can’t bear meaningless sacrifice. So he gets incredibly pissed, and because, as always, Levi has so much trouble expressing himself through words, this is how he goes about trying to make Historia understand the importance of her part in this, how vital it is to so many other people’s lives that she step up and become Queen.

It’s interesting too that this outburst on Levi’s part comes right after he expresses and shows so much trust and respect towards Dimo and his men, because it gives us such a clear picture into how Levi treats people with so much thoughtfulness and understanding for their position, but how he often struggles to express those things in words. That, too, speaks the the kind of life Levi had growing up. A world where social niceties and politeness were nonexistent. Levi has such a pure, good heart, but he has no refinement or charm, and he’s no good at talking to people. That inability to make himself clear or understood also leads to frustrated and angry outbursts like this, I think. He wants Historia to understand, to realize how she herself is being foolishly selfish by letting her insecurity keep her from doing the right thing, but he doesn’t know how to make her see it, so he picks her up and yells at her.

Anyway, that’s what I’ve got for these two chapters!

Oh, and also on a side note, Armin was creepy as hell in chapter 55, lol. Armin is an interesting character, because he seems so timid and nice, but he’s actually one of the most manipulative characters in the series. Of course he’s one of the few that understood early on that in order to gain something, you have to be willing to make sacrifices too. But his manipulativeness is a trait of his that sticks out pretty prominently at times, and so I always find it strange when people talk about what a sweet or caring person he is. I do think Armin cares about his friends and comrades a lot, for sure, but he’s also a little scary in his deviousness, in how good he is at knowing how to get people to do what he wants.

#attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #Levi Ackerman

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spookysmujer · 3 years

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No Más pt.2, O.Diaz

Summary: Things seem out of place after Oscar asks you to skip town for the weekend. You never listen and you were right not to this time.

warnings: angst, DamselinDistress!Oscar 🤪, cute s h e t, violence

word count: 3.1K

a/n: Merry Christmas! Happy Holidays! THANK YOU FOR 1.3K OF Y’ALL! Here is the long awaited part 2 of No Más which was fun asf to write, hehe. Please don’t forget, follow me if you aren’t, join the fam 💗 heart/comment/ reblog my content as well. And turn on those notifications for when I post new content, love y’all!

(Gif belongs to @merakiaes ✨)

“Oscar? Hey, I’m back, Oscar!” You move through the house, looking frantically throughout the rooms. When he doesn’t show up anywhere you’ve looked, you sigh in defeat and you lean against the bathroom door.

“Dammit!”

Your ears perk at the sound of his voice coming from the back yard. The shuffling of metal can be heard as you start to make your way towards the shed, you find him with dirty hands and a car part in his hand. You sigh in relief as you’ve been worried about him the whole way home.

He gives you a brief look before putting his attention back to the part in his hand, you step towards him and rub his back despite the thin layer of sweat, “I thought something had happened to you, I was worried and you couldn’t answer your phone.” You are peering up at him as he continues to keep his attention on what’s in front of him.

“Been here all day, mami. You worry too much.” He steps forwards to get under the hood on a project car he’s been working on. You roll your eyes as he’s been working on this car for as long as you can remember.

“I worry too much? What was I supposed to think with how things had gone down? Excuse me for thinking something happened.” You throw your hands in defeat, Oscar loved to see you get frustrated like this. When you voice your concern for him, it made his heart do a little dancey dance. He glances at you as he sees you rubbing your temples, “Aye.” You open your eyes.

Oscar wipes his hands on a rag and cradles your face, the motor oil smells strong but whenever he gets you to look into his eyes, all else falls away. “I’m good, you’re good, we both good. Mmkay? No one is gonna get me. Everything is handled.”

You nod and settle your hands against his chest as he pulls you in for a kiss, “The Prophet$ are done for. Now we just worry about our hustle and getting the fuck out of the Ridge.” He steps back to his project and you settle any worries right then and there, sitting on the old, yanked out car seat to keep him company.

But that 4 months ago.

That’s when Oscar and Cesar had gotten themselves in a little beef with the Prophet$. You were always so worried when he would he leave the house when he wouldn’t tell you where he was off to, or worst when he had some of the Santos keep you on the opposite side of town that one day, when you got home and you couldn’t find him til his cursing for jamming his finger from the shed gave him away. The day the Prophets$ no longer stood a problem for the streets.

Right now you are standing in the middle of his living room, chest tight and burning from running from the bus station. You’re lungs and calves on fire as you stand there waiting for him to emerge from the back side of the house. But to no avail, despite his car being parked in its usual spot. With a trembling lip, “Oscar..?”

But again, nothing. You have his cross chain tight in your balled up fist. As you head tips forward, you hold in the sounds that threaten to escape you as the tears begin to trickle down your cheeks and onto the floor below you. All those feelings, those nagging feelings that kept bugging you that something wasn’t right. But Oscar kept on reassuring you that everything would be fine.

And the level-headed you tries to make sense of the situation at hand, to make it rational and that this is no different from any other type of business Oscar had to handle. You make your way to the kitchen to sit at the table to calm your nerves before jumping into action. But the hope lasts just for a moment, you see a note hanging from the refrigerator.

“Mano, you will always be one of two reasons I fight everyday to find a way out. Garcias por todo. Take care of Y/N for me.”

In that very moment, you understood those sappy love movies. Those long novels made sense. And if you could explain what it feels like? Ripping fabric down the middle, stitches tearing apart and barely hanging on. It feels very much like that.

The sound of a people talking catches your attention as you peer out of the kitchen window. You see a few santos, one including Sad Eyes. Before marching out to question them, you snatch the note. They turn at the sound of the door swinging open. The ones who were just about to plop down on the run down couch immediately stand and straighten their stances as if you were the Queen of England or something.

“Y/N, what are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be on a bus out of town?” Sad Eyes towers in front of you, a look in his eye that has him just as bewildered as you are.

You wipe your face, “Where is he? Where did he go? He sent me away, why? Tell me!” You begin to push at him to which he begins to stumble back, he tries to get his footing right but your constant shoving makes it nearly impossible. “Yo, cut the shit! Nothing you need to be concerned about. He said he can handle it which means we don’t ask questions.”

A laugh escapes you. So much so that you double over with your hands resting on your knees. When you straighten yourself upright again, the Santos can see you are laughing as tears are streaming down your face. They look at you like you just escaped the insane asylum.

“What’s this? Tell me everything's okay then.” You hold out the note, the tremble in your hand visible. Sad Eyes keeps his eyes on you as he grabs the note. When he does look at it, you see the very moment he realizes Oscar does not have whatever he says he has handled. A goodbye letter? That’s not something he would do though. It’s better to break amends if you know you aren’t making it out. Why would he do something like this? Sad Eyes stares at the note even though he read it over times.

He doesn’t know what to say. All he can do is sigh deeply and look back to you. And he sees how far you are beginning to slip. Funny, he used to be the one to tell Oscar that your tendency to worry would be the death of you and here you are now, descending in the hole that used to be filled by Oscar.

You aren’t sure what happened in the next few moments but you are suddenly staring at the ceiling of Oscar’s room. The room is dark and quiet, the light from the street lights barely shining through the curtains.

“You fainted.”

Cesar’s voice sounds from across the room, causing you to jump. He gives you a half smile as he stands to make his way over to you. Once he sits besides you, he reaches over to grasp your hand, “Sad Eyes called. I saw the note when I got home from my shift. He told me he had some things to handle with Cuchillos. I told him I could go with him but he said he doesn’t need back-up… it’s my fault. I should’ve gone with him. No one knows where he is. No one has seen him.”

The panic spreads through the younger Diaz like wildfire and you immediately sit upright to pull him into your hold. He unravels quickly in your arms, fearing that he made a grave mistake to not be more adamant on going with Oscar. “Cesar, stop. None of this is your fault. You did nothing wrong, okay? Hey, look at me,” You pull his face to look at yours, “You did not do anything to harm your brother. And we are going to find him. You hear me? Me and you, we’re gonna look for him.”

“We all are.” Monse stands near the door with Ruby and Jamal behind her. They give you small smiles and you return it back to them, nodding in agreement. You look to Cesar and squeeze his face and take a deep inhale. Where do you even start?

And for the rest of that day, you all were stumped. How do you find someone who left no clues? Who left no trace to where he went? It was useless to try to go to the police, you knew from Cesar that some cops work for Cuchillos. Oscar left his phone and wallet at his place so trying to trace his phone would be moot. The silence started to eat away with you, you tell them you were gonna get some air.

You walk onto the porch and lean against the railing looking out at Oscar’s shiny red baby. You smile to yourself thinking off all the memories you’ve had with him in his car. The many late night drives when you couldn’t sleep. The drive-inn movie dates. The first time you got to drive his car as well when you nearly took off the bumper parking at Santa Monica pier. All those memories infiltrate your mind, the good ones as well as the bad ones. When he would bring you home early from a party if you two were arguing. Or when you’d sit in the passenger sit, arms crossed, lips sealed as he would be going off on you.

With all those memories replaying in your head, you walk over and run your hand over the hood. If it’s three things Oscar loves is: Family, Food and his impala. That makes you chuckle out loud. How you wish he were here right now, “Where are you, papas?” You whisper to yourself.

Before you walk back to join the others, you spot the scratch mark near the rear tire on the driver side. You try to wipe at it but the scratch is deeper than the paint. You remember instantly Oscar telling you some little traviesos had swiped his car with their bikes when he went to meet Cuchillos that night.

And when you push the first domino, the rest fall with it.

You remember he didn’t tell you much about that night he was supposed to grill but had to last minute meet with the boss lady. He did mention the scratch though. He said that’s what he gets for stopping by Saul’s Place, a little taco restaurant, right after his inconspicuous meeting. You remember he took you once. And you also remember that very time he took you, he needed to handle something briefly in the area and told you he’d meet you at Saul’s place.

Cuchillos has lots of territory and with that territory comes lots of hiding spots for little meetings such as the one she had with Oscar that night and the others. Which has to mean that Saul’s Place has to be near wherever they met and could possibly be now. And if I were Cuchillos, I would make it so that I meet specific people in specific places. You pull out your lanyard from your back pocket, unlocking his car with the spare key he gave to you.

The teens in the house are alerted when they hear the impala roar to life. They exit the house in time to see you take off away from the house. Cesar tries to call out for you but it’s no use, you’re gone in the blink of an eye. He stands in the middle of the street, feeling defeated.

The shaky breath you’ve been holding is finally exhaled as you make the drive to Saul’s. And when you do reach, you open the maps app on your phone. Searching the screen for nearby areas. You zoom in, zoom out, slide it left and right and there are no obvious answers. You lock your phone and slam your head back, you gaze out of the window and from the distance see an abandoned warehouse.

“Plain sight. Ordinary. A perfect spot.” You say to yourself out loud. And then you see the spec of black shine. An SUV. That’s gotta be it. You reach over to the glove compartment and nearly cry out with rejoice when you see the 9mm still rests on the registration papers. Quickly checking the chamber to see if it is loaded, which it is, you exit the car and make your way across the street.

What am I gonna do? Walk there and threaten someone like Cuchillos and her guys? The anxiety in you begins to speak, halting your trek. You shake it though, despite how loud it becomes. The sound of gravel crunching causes you to move quickly behind a nearby bush.

Two men are walking the grounds, quickly appearing in front of the entrance visible to you and then disappearing around the side of the warehouse soon after. You take the opportunity to get in before they double back. When you get in, rays of the sun are poking through the rusted metal. The quiet is eerie but it’s quickly overcome with distant noises.

“You don’t come through when I need you to and that is the reason you are here. Do you understand that?” A female voice sounds and it could only belong to the elusive Cuchillos. “Go, I want to do this alone. He can barely move. I won’t be long.”

Shuffling of feet can be heard approaching you which causes you to quickly stumble back into the shadows, you hold your breath as people pass you by and you going unnoticed. You take a look and see that a few men exit the same way you entered. Cuchillos is talking again so you follow her voice until it gets loud enough to be directly next to you.

You finally see them. Oscar is chained with his arms above him, body beat and bruised. An eyebrow split open and running blood down his face, an eye swollen shut. He looks awful and the sight clenches your heart. At the moment, you see Cuchillos with a gun to his head. It takes all your restraint you have to not lunge out in the moment but it would just end badly for the both of you.

The 9mm resting in the band of your pants behind you. You reach for it and pull out the silencer barrel, twisting it on as you slowly move towards them. Your heart is racing, your breathing harsh as you step quietly closer.

“Truly sad. So much good potential. At least this way, your hermano can rise up in the ranks. Hopefully he’ll do much better than his big brother and waste of a father, 3rd time a charm, right? I’d ask you if you have any last words but I don’t care.” She clocks the gun as he looks at her dead in the eyes, ready to accept his fate.

But she sees it. She sees Oscars eyes move slightly when he spots you. Cuchillos swivels on her heels and faces you. Her hands move to point the gun at you but if it’s one thing Oscar had taught you is that when there is an enemy approaching behind you, to move your weapon toward them first before turning your attention and/or body. There will always be a second delay if you turn your body first. And in this moment, you see what he means. Because you were quicker.

You fire a shot at her thigh causing her to shriek and fall. She turns over to grab her handgun but you kick it away and shoot her hand, another screech escapes her. She clutches her hand to her chest, rolling on her back. Her face shows disgust. You squat and cock your head, a sinister smile appearing on your face, “3rd times a charm, right?” An empty shell falls after shooting another round, this time between her eyes.

A giant weight is released off of your chest as her lifeless body lays there. You grab her gun and shove it in your waistband as you look at Oscar, who has a look of relief plastered over his bloody face. You hold the gun to the chains and shoot, they break and he falls. Quickly rushing over to him, you cradle his face, “Oscar? Hey, look at me. You’re alright, just get up. We gotta move out of here, her guys are gonna be piling in any minute.”

He only groans as you try to help him stand, he weighs a ton. But he manages to stand and lean on you, you hold the gun on your free hand and walk towards the exit, the sound of someone approaching causes you to panic. But Oscar jumps into action mode, pulling the gun from your waist band and into a stance for the advancing party. The both of you in position.

“Hey!”

“Yo!”

Oscar curses under his breath as Cesar appears with Sad Eyes close behind. You nearly throw up from the amount of panic that had just built up. Oscar relaxes his body as you plant yourself into his side.

“Jesus H, when did you two become Mr. and Mrs. Smith?” Cesar’s comment even manages to get a laugh out of Oscar. The older Diaz steps forward and pulls his mano into a bear hug. Cesar immediately hugs him back. Definitely a sight for sore eyes. The four you look back to see the darkness finally defeated.

The drive home was quiet. But even then you would take the quiet over anything else. Oscar rests his hand on your thigh as you pull into the driveway of the Diaz household. You help him in the house and to the bathroom to get all cleaned and bandaged up.

“Hey, te quiero mucho.” Oscar whispers to you as you finish wiping off any dried blood from his forehead. “It’s done. No more. All of it. And within the next couple of weeks, we’ll be out of here. Living in some suburban ass neighborhood where curfew is 9PM.”

You laugh while he smiles, pulling you into his arms. You rest your head against his chest as he kisses the top of your head. But truly it didn’t matter. Whether you were fated to spend the rest of your days here in unpredictable Freeridge or in a gated community with a weekly neighborhood watch meeting on Thursdays. Home is him. Whenever he may choose to go, you follow. From this moment til beyond.

taglist: @clemmingstylins0n @fairygardenss@princesstiffxoxo@firebenderwolf @spookysnena @mbaku-babygirl @chellybear98@multiyfandomgirl40 @i-just-wanna-live-gc@roury66 @kkim120 @lillict @tinylumpiaa @prettymya3@starrynite7114 @onmyspookysblock @aneitii @b3mybunnybaby @angelxfics @spookysbabymama @ladylj @vayagrxce @irenne-stans (please let me know if you want to be added or removed!)

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katsidhe · 3 years

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15.20 Final Thoughts

Supernatural is over, and somehow, despite itself, it did the very best it could to please me. That was always going to be an impossible task. But truly, sincerely, that finale was as close to my desires as the show could ever bring itself to come, and so, so much closer than I ever dreamed it would dare.

I am so, so glad that no other regular characters were involved (Bobby aside, but he was brief). How better to encapsulate their own emptiness? How fundamentally fitting, than in the epilogue to their final battle, wherein the entire world beyond them was erased, the wider universe is merely set dressing for them to move through. And it was so quiet this way. This finale wasn’t overcrowded or rushed. It kept its own peace. And it preserved the tangible claustrophobia that 15.19 invoked: that tangled, lovely, solipsistic, toxic conviction that these are the only two people on earth that matter.

It’s unclear exactly how much time passed between 15.19 and 15.20. I like to think it’s been at least a year, given that they’ve settled into routine and that their grief seems less fresh. (Although yes, the concept of Dean dying on his very first hunt without a resurrection available is hilarious, I must confess.) Their calm domesticity, their peace, was lovely to watch (Sam kicking the laundry machine! Sam with wet hair! Sam running! Sam cooking, Sam looking a little less bulky than usual, and happy!) But man, it really is Dean’s world, isn’t it? Even the DOG, which really, really, really could reasonably have been primarily Sam’s, was Dean’s dog first and foremost. Then on Dean’s say-so, they get in Dean’s car to drive to a pie festival for Dean. Sam is perfectly content to go along with all of it.

As if we hadn’t gotten enough delightful fanservice, we also got one last scene of Sam threatening to torture someone to death. :) what a king.

I love that Dean died to an OSHA violation while fighting a random loose end from season 1 (which, by the way, I CALLED IT, I am so proud of myself). It’s perfectly mundane. I truly and deeply do not understand anyone complaining that Dean should have gone out in a way that’s more epic. He’s been there, done that, guys, and remember how miserable it was? Now there’s no cosmic safety net. Dean died in a broken down old barn, saving some kids. Moments like these are when Dean is at his best, at his most fundamentally sympathetic: when he’s not trying to control the shape of the universe or dictate righteousness or let his anger drive himself down into a destructive spiral. He’s just putting his money where his mouth is. He’s not making a broad moral statement. He’s simply putting his life on the line to defend someone who needs defending. It is not an unworthy end. It’s so much better than going out to, god forbid, God.

Did Dean earn a lifetime of peace? The concept of just desserts is fraught. But I also don’t think it’s something Dean wanted. He wanted to keep killing things in tetanus-infested barns until he died. He got what he wanted. And while the arc of his wants has adapted over the years, MOTW hunting is fulfilling for him.

Dean’s deathbed speech was, oh man. It got me good. Like many of the things I loved in this episode, it was quiet. No desperation, no revising history (or not too much, anyway). Just, “stay with me, please. I love you. Tell me it’s okay.”

The quiet of Sam’s grief, alone in the bunker. How still his face is, until for a little bit it crumples again, and then it comes back and goes still. He’s not trying to control his reactions or press back against his sorrow. There is no work to do, nothing to avenge, no one to find, nothing to defeat. He is alone, and the washes of visible grief simply come and go in waves that he doesn’t try to fight or force.

I need the gif of him flinching at the toaster. His startle reactions are my favorite thing. He’s alone underground, there is not a living soul for miles and miles, he’s just buried his brother, not for the first time, but this time, he knows, for the last. And the goddamn toaster goes off and he cannot control the way his heart leaps up into his throat and the way every one of his muscles tightens.

Sam grows old. Sam. Grows old. Sam grows old! SAM GROWS OLD.

Ohhh my God, Sam grows old. Without Dean! Without hunting! Without Cas! With people outside that claustrophobic world, beyond the four tight walls of SPN, beyond the people approved by Dean and by Fandom, who give him peace and love and fulfillment! SAM GOT OUT. Even with the truly terrible wig the image brings me to actual tears. I cannot believe SPN would allow him to have this. I cannot believe that the show let him be happy without Dean. I want to read the set of novelizations about Sam’s recovery.

Of course this was the only way for Sam to get unwound, and of course it had to happen offscreen in flashes. Thank god for the ambiguity. There’s so much potential there, years and years, we were simply told: and at some point Sam’s life gets better, at some point his mental health improves and he feels safe enough to start a family, with someone, and at some point he has a child, and he dies peacefully, he dies loved and with people who love him, and dammit I’m getting weepy again.

Sam quit hunting. Not in a sudden jolt. We see him leaving the bunker on another job. But when he leaves the bunker, he leaves for good. He has so much knowledge, but he does not preserve the Men of Letters. He does not honor their legacy of extermination and experimentation. Maybe he gives someone else the keys, for the books. Or maybe he’s digitized it all, and maybe it’s done.

Maybe his wife is Eileen, or maybe it’s Amelia, or maybe it’s Piper or Cara or maybe it’s someone new. Maybe it’s not even a woman. And maybe she’s a hunter, but I hope she isn’t, and when Sam tells her, haltingly, in fits and starts, the bare outline of the truth, she looks at him and she believes him. And she understands the shape of the trauma he carries, even if Sam can’t quite speak the details, and maybe Sam goes to therapy. Maybe he doesn’t. Maybe he wakes in pain and fear for many years, but over time, it dulls.

Sam’s son is still a young man when Sam is on his deathbed, probably in at least his eighties. Think about the mountain Sam had to climb to reach that point. How many years and years of work did it take before Sam felt safe enough to want a child? How long for him to gently conquer his terror at the legacy his blood might carry: Lucifer and Azazel are dead, he knows this, but how long before he lets himself believe it enough to permit the risk? And then he raises his child, not in fear and loneliness, but with love and support and care. And he makes sure his son is protected, that he knows to salt his thresholds and ward against demons, but his son will not suffer the way he suffered.

Maybe he untangles his thoughts about Dean, maybe he learns that to feel angry with his brother is not to betray him or to dishonor his memory, maybe he comes to a more complex understanding of their relationship. Maybe he doesn’t. Maybe he simply enshrines Dean, and Dean’s memory becomes ever more golden and untarnished, and the Impala becomes truly an altar. The details of how Sam carries Dean with him—the watch, the car, the absurdly large photos, his son’s name—perhaps these are played straight, and perhaps Sam never finds a more nuanced love. In the meta sense I think we are certainly meant to think this. We are meant to see Dean deified here, canonized into a saint. We are meant to view Sam’s fifty more years of life as worship, as a dedication and an offering.

This is the long shadow of the finale. These are the things untouched by necessity and by design: this is Dean’s apology in 15.18, this is Sam not wanting an apology, and not wanting to hear Dean offer one. This difficult work was always and inevitably going to be elided. But there is so much time, decades and decades, offscreen, for Sam to come to a quieter peace.

I think he can do it.

I think Sam can do anything.

I’m crying again.

I really didn’t think I would cry much about the finale. I thought I would cry at the concept of the show ending, but not at what the ending was. I didn’t think any details would actually affect me. But then Sam got old. I am truly and genuinely hung up on the canonical image of Sam finding peace. Good god. He had GLASSES. Help.

My chief complaint (aside from that absolutely awful Carry On cover, why oh why, they should have just played the original again), if I felt at all like complaining at the moment, would be how happy this ending is. But I can’t begrudge Sam that. I can’t even get too mad at the scene that I was SO SURE I would despise: that of Sam and Dean content in a Heaven that is now apparently Great, Actually (even though a prison dimension with an open floor plan is still a prison dimension, but hey, I guess we humans can’t leave earth either). Supernatural clearly wanted Sam and Dean to not be facing down an abyssally bleak afterlife, and I think I’d be complaining about the lack of bleakness a whole lot more if it didn’t have the (perhaps unintended??) side effect of giving Sam even more freedom from Dean than SPN already deigned to give him. Sam isn’t in a shared cell with Dean. He can be with his friends and his wife and his son.

One of the fundamental questions of SPN is, would Dean ever let Sam go? And it’s a question that the bulk of s13-15 has rendered moot with Sam’s growing passivity, and one that 15.20 neatly dodged. And I’m glad it did, because I wouldn’t have liked whatever 15.20 had to say on the matter. This deflection feels true to the spirit of what the show has become.

It was impossible for Sam to find peace while Dean was still alive. And on its own that kind of says everything, doesn’t it? And Sam is still forever denied the peace he truly longed for. Sam didn’t want death to force Dean’s hand. Sam wanted Dean to want to let him go. But the only way Sam and Dean could heal is apart. The potential of their relationship on earth becoming untangled is forever precluded, explictly. And yet Sam’s freedom is validated, Sam is allowed what he sought in season 1 and season 8, Sam is something beyond a hunter and Dean’s brother, and the show let him be, the show let him grow.

Supernatural said Sam Rights, and the world shook.

#spn spoilers #sam and dean #15.20 #final thoughts #sam and romance #sam and peace #just leave me here to die #I did not realize how relieved I'd be #I do not believe how much tension has left me #at the realization that I liked this ending #and of COURSE there are so many people complaining about sam's peace #but guess what!!!#this isn't season 8!#this time the show agrees with ME!#SAM HAS riGHTs!

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oldsmobile-hotdogs · 3 years

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Willex + ⛵️💍💫

ohoho bestie i had fun with this (also it’s almost 2k oops lol)

it’s also available on ao3!

may i present to you:

Two Ghosts... Having a Date on a Stolen Boat... They Might Kiss...

Alex had to admit: even for Willie, this act of delinquency was a lot.

When he’d first floated the idea of joyriding a sailboat under cover of night to Alex, albeit somewhat casually and hypothetically as they strolled along the pier during a mild June afternoon, Alex had gone along jokingly in that way you do when a friend asks who’d be eaten first if the whole group were trapped on a desert island.

But then Willie had brought it up again on their next- Date? Outing? Meeting?

(Alex was vehemently avoiding putting labels on their spending time together, just in case Willie were to put a different one on it to the one he ascribed it.)

And then on their next, next… hanging-out session… Willie had mooted a date for the grand theft boat and didn’t phrase it much like a question. And then he’d gently pointed out when the sailing class stopped for the night on said date: a Sunday, no less, so it closed before the sun even got close to setting, meaning anyone inside the little shed where they stored the paperwork and lifejackets would certainly be gone by the evening.

This wasn’t accounting for how objectively shocked Alex had been to learn that Willie knew how to sail, of all things. He knew Willie knew how to skate, though that was hard to miss, and he knew Willie had mentioned he used to surf a little when he was alive, but as far as Alex was aware, and he was sorting through all of their conversations just to be sure that he was sure, Willie had never mentioned he could sail.

In retrospect, that could have largely been because he couldn’t, strictly speaking. Alex had watched on in a strange mix of awe and terror as Willie had untied a small sailboat that lent itself easily to being pitied, if he was honest- all chipping paint and scuffs on the body and sunbleached sails- from its docking, and then suddenly he'd been yanked onto the vessel by his arm and made to crouch just behind Willie, close enough for the wind kicking up to whip his hair occasionally in Alex's face, and then Willie had knelt behind the sails and done something, Alex couldn't be sure what, that meant they were off. It was pleasant at first, which had surprised him immensely. Initially they were travelling relatively slowly, but still smoothly, not too far out from the shore, and the longer the joyride had lasted at this pace, the closer Alex had been to letting himself relax.

But then it had very quickly become apparent that Willie was somewhat out of his element: not majorly- he'd probably taken a few classes in a summer, maybe- but enough that he had psyched himself out. And whenever Willie felt psyched out, he turned reckless. Well, more reckless.

Despite the fact that he was a ghost, which meant that even if they had capsized they would have both been able to breathe, and that even if they had crashed no one would have been hurt and it would be physically impossible for the crime to come back to them, Alex had found himself with a white-knuckled grip on either side of the boat as it had picked up speed almost exponentially and began coasting erratically from side to side, the sail changing direction so obviously and violently that even an absolute novice, which Alex was, could have seen that something was wrong.

'You alright up there?' Alex had asked, even though "up there" was about four inches from his face.

'Yeah, I'm just- hold on-' And then Willie had let go of the tiller, which had filled Alex with the fear of God for a good six seconds, before rolling his shoulders back, shaking out his hands, exhaling a quick breath through his mouth and grasping it again. Willie must have gotten himself out of his Beserker state in that time because the boat had then begun moving in a relatively straight line again and, after a little while, had eased itself back down to a manageable speed. Alex would have to ask about that coping mechanism when he got the chance.

After what felt like maybe ten more minutes of sailing lightly around, but may have been quite a bit more, spent mostly in comfortable silence, Willie had pulled clumsily back into where the boat had previously been docked and Alex had clambered out from the little space he had been guided to originally and had remained in the entire joyride, tying the rope back around the little wooden pole that tethered it to the beach. Sailors' knots Alex could do. He'd been so afraid of getting lost in the woods one spring when he was a child, although an opportunity had never presented itself for him to go into the woods, that he'd read a Boy Scouts handbook cover to cover to the point where, even now, if he closed his eyes, he could see the passage on how to sterilise river water laid out in front of him.

'When you're done come back onto the boat. I wanna sit here for a little bit.'

Alex had looked up from his handiwork to meet Willie's gaze. His eyes had been bright, filled with the leftover mischief from their escapade, and a soft smile which had made Alex wonder if Willie had something else up his sleeve had played on his lips.

'Okay, yeah, I'll be back in a second,' he had replied, leaning down one last time to tighten the knot in the right places.

Willie had genuinely expected Alex to tell him to stop at some point, but the more Alex had gone along with what was originally at least partially a joke, the more Willie had wanted to see if he could actualise what had previously only ever been a poorly planned pipe dream. When everything started more or less crashing down around them, however, and their outing previously slated as some dangerous, blockbuster-level adventure had fizzled out into the anticlimax of the season, Willie couldn't help but worry that he had done something to threaten what the two had going for them, which would be poor timing, considering.

Now sitting sideways on the boat together, ghost legs phasing into the shallow water below, hands in touching distance if one of them just worked up the courage to splay their pinky finger a little more, Willie was getting nervous. A little giddy, too, at the possibility of this going right, but mostly nervous.

'Alex?' he began, a little embarrassed, though he knew that was needlessly so, at how his voice hiked in pitch from the nerves.

'Yeah?' Alex responded, his eyes suddenly fixed on him. Willie felt his face grow warm at this, and hoped the relative darkness afforded him some ability to hide the blush he knew was developing.

An added problem was that now Willie had no idea what to say next. He was great at listening to people divulge their emotions, sure, but he always struggled a little with expressing his own, preferring to offer solutions to the other people in his life's struggles and pretend like his own feelings weren't always too close to overflowing for comfort. Willie was suddenly hit with the overwhelming urge to backtrack as quickly as was humanly possible.

'No, never mind, actually. It's not important.' Willie attempted to sound casual, but was unsure of how successfully it actually came off.

'Well, see, now I definitely wanna hear what you had to say,' Alex retorted jokingly.

‘No, it’s stupid. Really.’

‘No, it’s not,’ Alex was now looking Willie pointedly in the eyes. ‘I don’t think you’ve said a stupid thing ever-’ Willie opened his mouth, ready to counter him- ‘Not when it counts.’

And it’s not like that admission of blind faith in Willie made the next words out of his mouth any easier, but they were now propelled from hiding by an added energy that wasn’t there before.

‘Okay, so I went to Tokyo a few weeks back-’

‘You- ...okay.’ It was obvious that this anecdote would have Alex wanting to throw himself into one of his crises about the afterlife and ghost powers and the limitations of poofing, but he was, so far, very valiantly, in Willie’s opinion, holding back. ‘You’ll have to tell me about that later.’

Willie couldn’t help but giggle at how resigned Alex sounded. ‘Oh, I will, hotdog, don’t worry.’

'Anyway,' Willie began again, more confident now that the conversation had taken on some humour. 'So I went to Tokyo, and I was walking down a street with a bunch of vendor stalls, and I saw this one stall and I, uh.' He paused a little, taking a few gentle breaths to build up the courage necessary to continue. 'I remembered my Mom telling me about these, uh, these rings.' Willie could almost feel Alex's eyes widen as he drew out the small, purple pouch that kept them safe from his hoodie pocket. He rushed to clarify. 'They're not- it's not a big thing in Japan. They're not like promise rings.' Alex audibly exhaled. 'Yeah, don't- I wouldn't... spring that on you.'

'No, yeah, I didn't... think you would.'

A silence came over them, uncharacteristicallly awkward, and Willie felt a little hopeless to save the moment.

Eventually, it was Alex who broke it. 'So, these rings?'

'Yeah,' Willie quickly responded. 'I stole them.' Alex chuckled under his breath. 'They're called couple rings, and people- well, couples- they buy them to mark the fact that they're- well, that they're couples.'

'Seems simple enough,' Alex joked, evidently warming to the idea.

'Oh yeah, very simple.' Willie could feel a smile spreading across his face. 'And there's no implication that you're gonna, like, do anything else later on either, which I like because, I mean, we're ghosts.' He gestured at how their legs became translucent where they dangled into the water. 'And that's probably already enough thinking about "forever" on its own, without the added pressure of any big promises.'

'Yeah, I agree.' Alex let out a sigh.

There was a beat of quiet before Willie continued.

'But obviously actually seeing them and putting them on is the main event, so I'm going to get them out of the pouch now, finally,' he joked, pulling open the hole in the top and lightly shaking two thin, silver bands out onto his hand. He then placed them gently onto the edge of the boat, and turned them so that Alex could see clearly what they looked like, or as clearly as was possible at this time of night.

'They've both got this line engraved in them almost the whole way 'round, and then one has a star stamped into it, and the other has a moon,' Willie explained, the nerves returning now that his gift was out in the open.

'I can see that,' Alex responded breathily, leaning a little closer to the rings. 'Willie, these are- they're beautiful. Thank you.'

'I thought you could be the star,' Willie suggested, the arm of his that was further away from Alex reaching up to rub at his neck, lightly avoiding how to respond to Alex's gratitude.

'Okay.'

Gingerly, Willie closed the gap between their hands and slipped the band onto Alex's ring finger, and then donned his own. Neither of them spoke for a little while, both stunned into silence and afraid to break this air of closeness they'd achieved. Once again, Alex was the first to move.

'So, this definitely means we're dating, right?'

Willie flung himself backwards into the hull of the ship, his hair somewhat cushioning his head as he landed, his legs sticking up over the top, now opaque. 'Ugh. Yes, hotdog, we're dating,' he called back up in fake annoyance.

'Cool, just checking,' Alex called back.

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jjba-hell · 3 years

Text

Fate and Fortune

So this was sitting in my WIP folder forever and I was bouncing between self-insert and OC but I figured it was just too specific for self-insert... ✌︎('ω')✌︎

Part 1 of (?) and tagging some moots- @risottoneroo (I know you’ve been going through it recently, I hope this upcoming series can help distract you just a little bit- I know your writing always helps pick me up) @giogio-gucci-gangstar @rat-makes-stuff and @uttertrash (sorry =w= I get nervous tagging any moots)

Setting for this one is pre-Stardust Crusaders and the best dscription for this timeline is MY CANON NOW. This is a very short entry piece of how Vera (my OC) first met Muhammed Abdul. As the story progresses I’ll give more explanation and context to my OC but for now, all ya gots ta know is that it starts off in Egypt.

Content warning is pretty mild- maybe some mysticism if you’re not comfortable with that but nothing beyond that. (Ya’ll know you just gotta et me know if I miss something)

Also- my interpretation of the tarot crads is about like 20% more accurate than Araki’s- meaning its probably not completly right but it makes a bit more sense than canon.

1.4 K words

Life as an expat in a foreign country wasn’t easy to begin with. Vera grew up a bit isolated from the real world, safely hidden behind the tall walls that held her with the other expat children from expat homes. That was, until she decided to go to a neaarby local market- in search of some cooler casual fabrics, an alternative to the continuously wrong winter fabrics the expat camp gave them for ventures outside of the walls of the camp- even though it was much too luxurious to be called a camp.

The decision to desert the safety o fthe camp had been made on a whim, without much warning to her parents, as casual as if she were heading toward the expat gym.

In hindsight, so much could have gone wrong for a 16-year old foreign girl but the threat of danger was never something she had felt too greatly. She had always felt safe- in a way. It had felt like there was always this...presence around her when she felt any unease. Dangerous or nerve racking situations unfolded themselves as life usually does, but things had a tendency to go her way, danger seeming to veer out of her path. She chcuckled at the thought- how cocky she used to be. Her first few trips unaccompanied had only cemented her idea that she was untouchable.

One faithful day- a few months after continous visits to the market- among the many stalls, stood a tall dark skinned Egyptian man- looming over the wares of a vendor whom Vera had made good acquaintances with. “Ah Muhammed. This is that teenager I was telling you about, the foreigner.”

“Hello Hassan.” She smiled- trying to hint at greeting her first.

She turned to the man beside her, almost two heads taller than herself. Two markings moved down his handsome face, a playful smile on his face- slightly marred by his eyes that seemed to hide an impossible sadness behind the warm brown. “You must be Vera. Pleasant to make your acquaintance. I’m Muhammed Abdul.” He gave a courteous nod, hands folding into his somewhat overlflowing robe sleeves.

Hassan leaned in to chip into the conversation before you could answer. “Vera is a foreigner, doesn’t divulge what her parents do but they’re the first in a long time to walk out the camp unaccompanied.”

“Now Hassan, I’m not one of your wares, no need to advertise me like that.” She smiled at the wares dealer with just a glimmer of warning in her eyes.

Muhammed chuckled. “More importantly why would you want to?” He asked with feign suspision.

Hassan looked shocked, dramatically holding his hand over his chest. “Muhammed, was it not you telling me just a few moments ago that you needed a new assistant for your shop.”

Hassan then rounded on Vera. “And didn’t you say you’d like a part-time job for some extra coin.”

Muhammed threw his head back and gave a hearty laugh straight out of his chest. “Hassan, if I didn’t know any better I’d swear this was an elaborate scheme to get Vera to buy more of your wares.”

Hassan showed his open palms up beside his head in a sign of surrender. “Caught red-handed. Easier to persuade her to buy something when her wallet is full. But why don’t you just believe that it’s a kind gesture?”

Muhammed turned towards you, that same warm smile on his face. “If you’re willing, Vera, we can discuss these things in my shop if you like.”

In the back of her mind she was a bit apprehensive, she’d been taught to keep her guard up when out alone. But then again, she had some mace on her persons, just in case of an emergency. And that presence looming over her shoulder seemed to make itself a bit more known, bringing a comforting warmth to her shoulders. So ,impulsively, she had agreed. “I’d love to see what you have to offer.”

Vera and Muhammed bid Hassan a temporary goodbye, Hassan assuring her that he’d skin Muhammed alive if he laid a finger her. Somehow the image of Hassan attempting to skin this monstrosity of a man walking ahead of her -almost gliding through the streets to his shop- a bit comical but at least she could appreciated the gesture. Ducking under a stone arch and then curling up some stone steps the two of them stopped in front of an old wooden door- looking as if it came straight from the 14th century.

Muhammed unlocked the heavy black iron lock and pushed the door open to reveal a ceiling of stars, dangling charms and sigils. “Would I be stereotyping you if I assumed you were a mystic of some sort?”

Muhammed gave a warm chuckle.“Indeed I am. I am what you’d consider a fortune teller, and Hassan heard assistant, when in actuality I was looking for an apprentice.”

“Would you say there’s a difference?” She had chcukled as she entered deeper into the shop.

Muhammed kept the door open, stepping through behind her as her eyes travelled through all the trinkets, stones, and more.

“Unfortunately there is. If I overstep a boundary, you are more than welcome to leave but...may I ask. Have you ever felt...guarded? Or watched? As if nothing could go wrong and if it did, it would turn out your favor.”

For a moment she couldn’t help but smile to herself. “Sounds like some crazy luck.”

Muhammed laughed again. She spun around on her heel and saw a deck of cards in his hands, tapping the edges on the red clothed table. “It’s actually a phenomenon I study. It’s considered mysticism but...if you really want this job, I’d suggest you at least have some inkling of what that feeling is.”

Abdul’s eyes flashed dark as his gaze moved from Vera to just beside her head. She frowned in confusion, looking over her shoulder to see nothing but before she could ask, Muhammed immediately looked her head-on with a calm yet stern expression. The focus in his eyes back.

“I’ll be honest with you, Mr Abdul. I do possess that feeling. Although it wavers from time to time- probably makes me a little cocky but I’ve never faced a problem that didn’t solve itself.”

Muhammed smiled, straightened a bit and then seamlessly slid into the chair at the table.

“A tarot reading? Before we discuss money then?”

She had laughed but slid into the chair in front of him and watched Abdul’s skilled fingers shuffle the deck and spread it out before her. “Pick three.”

One. Two. Three.

He slid them back together and arranged the three chosen cards a specific way.

“The past. Judgement, reversed.”

“Care to explain?” Her gaze locked with his for a moment.

“Your past is a source of turmoil to you- a never ending fountain of self-doubt and self-flagellation.”

Vera shrugged, not reacting much to this. She wasn’t about to explain her whole life to him any time soon.

“The present. Death, upright. Big change is coming very soon. Be weary of the storm that lies before you.”

You nodded, a slow fear creeping up your spine. Even Abdul seemed to swallow a bit harder at the prospect, as if avoiding her gaze.

“And future. Wheel of fortune, upright. You are the guardian of your own fate- even through the ever-changing storm of fates.”

She nodded, feeling more at ease with the last prediction. “Is it normal to feel such a variety of emotions after a read?”

Muhammed only smiled as he folded his arms before him. “It is. However no one likes pulling the death card. But that beside the point. How does 300 a week sound to you?”

“Generous.”

“Oh it‘ll only seem that way at the start. Later you’ll cuss me out for paying you so little. For now, I think it best I show you the ropes first.”

There a was a beat of silence, before Muhammed gracefully brought his hand out to shake. “Do we have a deal?”

Vera hesitated a moment before trusting in her own character judgement and shaking his hand to seal the deal. Abdul’s warmth as well as what she had seen from his character thusfar had her feeling as though she could trust him. But she’d be lying if that was the only reason- that unshakable good luck she’d been carrying on her shoulders her whole life seemed to assure her that if a problem ever did arise- she’d still be in control of her own fate.

It was, however, not Abdul whomst she had to worry about...

For not a month into her apprenticeship- Death has already sunken its claws into her life, and a violent change would alter the course of her life forever.

#jojo kimyou na bouken #jojos bizarre adventure #jojo part 3 #muhammed abdul #oc content #my writing #stardust crusaders #Fate and Fortune

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rabid-heart · 3 years

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Intertwined

For @sefikuraweek 2021 Day 5: Prompt - Gloves

The fairytale of the Princess Cloud, and her SOLDIER, the General Sephiroth.

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Notes/Warnings: Genderbend/Royalty AU! Mentions of war. And, I guess, the fact that I watched too may royalty/period dramas and this is the brain-rot that resulted?

Read on Ao3 | Previous Day’s Post

---

It is a bittersweet affair, as farewells usually are.

The hall is decorated with luminous candlelight, flames flickering beautifully against the crystal chandeliers dangling from the ceiling. It looks almost like starlight, like the cosmos, twinkling above, contrasting with the night sky and the dark curtains shadowing the windows. Equally as dazzling are the people of the Midgar Court, the men and women all in their finest garments and jewels, rounding out the perfectly glossy picture of prestige, wealth and power. The sight might have been pleasant, had it not signified something much darker. As it is, General Sephiroth has trouble hiding his frustration and his anger at this unfettered decadence.

The ball is meant to be a celebration of the General and his fellow SOLDIERs, an elaborate sending off before what would hopefully be the final few months of the Wutai War. The last round of negotiations following the temporary ceasefire between the Shinra Empire and the Wutai Kingdom had fallen through, largely in part to King Shinra’s greed and pettiness. Thus, in spite of the costly war effort, in spite of the numerous lives lost, in spite of the suffering of his men, they are to be forced to take up arms once more. When Sephiroth had delivered the news to trusted officers, the disappointment on their faces had be more than evident. But there was nothing more they could do: in the end, the world had been crafted for kings and emperors, and soldiers, no matter how powerful, merely played pawns in the grand scheme.

It leaves little choice now but to try and enjoy the evening, though that proves to be a far more difficult gauntlet than Sephiroth is currently willing to endure. It is a special type of torture, watching his men, his friends, his companions, try to hide their fear over the coming months behind pleasant smiles and fake laughter, all for the benefit of the nobility. For a moment, he thinks about destroying the whole thing, tearing down the castle stone by stone, setting fire to the greed and the cowardice to purify it from the face of Gaia. But he does not and knows he cannot – for many reasons, including one that he holds so secret in his heart.

As if on cue, the court pages begin to sound their trumpets, and all heads in the room turn toward the towering doors separating the grand hall from the rest of the castle. The orchestra simmers into silence and, in the ensuing quiet, a servant calls out, “The Royal Family of Shinra, the King, the Crown Prince, and the Princess!”

The grand doors open. There is the King, dressed in robes of purple and gold, the emblem of his dominion emblazoned across his chest. He stalks his way through the doors and down the steps into the ballroom, trailed by his two children. They say the King had once been a handsome man, and there are some shadows of his lost youth in the shape of his jaw and in his height and proud stature. In fact, the clearest sign of his former vitality is embodied by his son, the heir apparent Prince Rufus, debonair and devastating in his white suit and slicked back hair.

But the true beauty of the family belongs to the fair-haired Princess Cloud. She walks behind the men, dressed in a gown of blue, with cap sleeves that just dip from underneath her shoulders to showcase an enticing decolletage. Her arms and hands are encased in gloves of the most expensive white silk, and around her neck sits the sapphire jewels of the royal family, a brilliant blue that is remarkably overshadowed by the absolute beauty of her glowing eyes.

On this night, and every other night since he had first laid eyes on the Princess, Sephiroth finds he cannot tear his gaze away.

The family walks to the center of the room, and the king lifts up his hands to further corral attention. “My citizens, my Midgar, tonight we celebrate a truly momentous occasion. Because this night marks the beginning of the end of our Wutaian enemies.” The man turns to take a chalice from a servant standing nearby and lifts the golden cup into the air with a haughty flare. “To our brave men, our unparalleled SOLDIERs, who will bring the Shinra Empire the greatest glory and the highest of victories, this night is for you.”

A roar of applause sounds through the crowd in response. But Sephiroth does not care. His eyes are fixed on the Princess, standing beside her father in the middle of the hall, her head slightly bent. To all others, the gesture would have appeared to have been out of respect – and there is some truth to that statement. But Sephiroth knows better – because for the briefest of moments, her blue eyes turn to him, and there is nothing there but sorrow and regret.

The King, however, fails to notice the exchange. Instead, he offers another toast. “For the glory of Shinra, for the power of the Empire, for the strength of our nation!”

“Huzzah!”

The festivities begin anew, and music once again flows through the air. Sephiroth watches Cloud, the way she gracefully bows to her father and brother as the two leave the floor to talk to the other nobles, the way the candlelight of the room highlights the radiance of her eyes. He had spent hours upon hours getting lost in that blue, like flying through a mountain sky, airy and free. The imagery only exacerbates the irony of just how trapped they truly are – a Princess meant to sell her happiness out of duty to her family, and a SOLDIER crafted as the perfect weapon, whose only purpose was to destroy in the name of the kingdom. The very facts that they commiserated over, that drew them together, would likely be the very reasons they would be torn apart.

And yet, in her arms and looking into those eyes, Sephiroth lets himself imagine a different life, one full of beauty and liberty and light and promise and hope. How he longs for it, longs for her, how he cherishes the secret kisses and furtive couplings. It had been a love at first sight, an attraction he hardly knew what to do with, one that haunted his evenings and consumed his waking thoughts. It took every ounce of his trained discipline to stay away. And yet, to his surprise, the affection had not been one-sided. When Cloud sought him out, forced a confrontation, kissed him with a fierceness and a fire that seemed to pull his very soul out of his breath, Sephiroth realized then that he was not dealing with a delicate sapphire jewel, but a sword of the strongest steel.

It only made him fall for her harder.

Her companionship had brought him a relief and a joy like no other, but they always had known it was forbidden, that Cloud would eventually be promised to another nobleman, that he would eventually be shipped off to some far corner of the planet, a tool bent her father’s will. But those facts did not stop them from indulging in the beautiful fantasy, even though they both knew exactly how it would end.

It is this very conflict that stirs in Sephiroth’s mind now. He knows he should look away, knows that the Midgar Court already whispers about them with scandalized delight, knows that if her father ever found out about their relationship, he could very well be executed on the spot – grand General or not. But tonight, he finds himself caring little for the gossip, the royal protocol. Because tonight, in Cloud’s wonderful and ethereal beauty, the loss of her is almost too much for Sephiroth to bear.

(And if he is destined to die for the Shinra royal family, he is at least determined to do it on his own terms.)

That strange mixture of grief and defiance is what carries him forward, striding across the ballroom with a purpose so evident, it parts the crowds around him. He only stops when he stands in front of the Princess, her expression startled at his approach, and yet yearning all the same. Around them, the people murmur, though Sephiroth pays no heed to what they have to say. The tones of the current song have begun to fade away. That is when Sephiroth makes his move.

“Your Royal Highness,” he says smoothly. “May I have this dance?”

The Princess’ eyes flicker between surprise and joy and fear. Not once out of the several balls and banquets hosted at court have they done this, knowing full well that adding any more fodder to the rumor mill could push the King into forcing a separation. But that concern is now a moot point. Tonight, all he desires – and all he knows she desires – is for one last dance.

Cloud bows to him now, but even in that deference, she still displays her formidable nature, in the sharpness of her blue eyes and in her cool disregard of the stares and whispers that the court sends their direction.

“My dear General,”’ she responds, taking his hand firmly and confidently.

The music resumes and the two begin to move, swept up in the melodies and the steps and the notes. As they progress, Sephiroth begins to feel like he always does around Cloud. It is as if the entirety of the universe melts away, collapses to its center – and for him, that center had become none other than her. With his arm around her waist and their eyes locked on each other, he cannot resist the spell that she casts to hold his attention, keep him in her thrall. And from the way her smile lights up to her eyes, to the gentle touches of her hand caressing the back of his own, he can feel her affection for him, just as strong as his own.

But like all good things between them, the song ends all too quickly, the moment fading. The time to say goodbye creeps closer. Sephiroth steps back and offers a serene bow. “Thank you, Your Highness,” he whispers, hoping all the things he wants to say aloud but can’t are conveyed in those words.

Cloud lets out a breath, her eyes glistening with unfallen tears. This is the cycle between them, the beautiful rush of the fantasy falling away, crushed under the relentless malice of their reality. For what else could they be than this – stolen kisses, brief dances, whispered words? Tomorrow, Sephiroth will begin his journey to Wutai, and they will be apart again in all ways, once more. He wishes desperately that it would not be so, but that is a choice that he cannot make.

But then, suddenly and in the quick and determined and bold manner that made Cloud so powerful and so alluring, the Princess chooses for him. She takes his hand and begins to run, pulling him along, out of the ballroom, out of the castle, into the gardens. In the rush, she ignores the startled gasps and hushed commentary of the courtiers, the guards, the servants, and even the King, with whom Sephiroth locks eyes with for a brief and revelatory moment before being swept up and away by Cloud.

He knows, he realizes. He knows.

If this is to be their last night on Gaia together, that fact hardly matters. And regardless, Sephiroth cannot pull away from Cloud, cannot help but run after her, because in his heart, he knows he would follow her to the very edges of creation itself.

Cloud finally stops in a quiet corner of the grounds, pushing him up against the wall of shrubbery and kissing him, gasping and desperate. Her sentiments spill into him, and Sephiroth finds his hands clinging to her waist, roaming over her shoulders, cradling her neck. Any modicum of distance between them feels like an aching sore, and tonight, of all nights, he would do anything to take away her pain.

His lips move, from hers, to her jaw, to her ear, her neck. She sighs, in that lovely way she does, in the way that drives Sephiroth to the very edge of his restraint. His fingers find purchase around the buttons on the back of her dress, and almost as if on instinct, they begin the process of undoing them, one by one.

Cloud’s breath hitches, and she pushes back and away slightly. “I don’t want you to go,” she whispers. “I don’t want you to die.”

“I won’t,” Sephiroth promises, reaching forward to kiss her again.

She dodges the kiss but wraps her arms around his shoulders anyway. “You are fighting a war that you do not believe in. That does not lend itself well to success.”

“Do you suggest I run, then?”

Cloud places her hand on the back of his neck, runs her fingers through his long silver hair. “Maybe we should. We could run. Find a corner of the world that is just the two of us. Where no one could ever reach us.”

For a moment, Sephiroth is tempted by the beauty of the wish – the idea of Cloud, forever his, on a house by a lake somewhere where wildflowers grow. Somewhere he could kiss her without fear of scorn, derision, discipline, or death. Somewhere he could love her, freely and truly. But it sounds too good to be true, because it is, and they both know it.

“I cannot abandon them, my friends and my men,” Sephiroth whispers back, squeezing her tightly in apology.

Cloud lets out a quiet whimper, but he knows she understands, knows that his loyalty is one of the reasons she loves him so deeply. “Then what do we do?” she asks, burying her head in his chest. “I can’t keep living like this. Knowing that I love you and I can’t be yours.”

Instead of responding outright, Sephiroth reaches down and takes her left hand, bringing it up to his lips. He slips the glove off her finger gently, tenderly, with all the love he has in his entire being, allowing the silk to slip to the ground. Then, he himself begins to fall, down to one knee.

“When I return, I’ll put a ring here,” he says, gently kissing her fingers. “And I’ll make even greater vows to you.”

Cloud watches him, eyes wide. “You…are serious, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

“My father will not let you.”

“I don’t care about your father,” Sephiroth says, turning her hand to press more intentional kisses to her palm and her wrist. He then pulls back and gazes up at her with expectant eyes. “I’ll fight his war, because that is my only way back to you. But once I return, I have no intention of letting you go. If you let me fight for you, then I swear to you that nothing will stop me until you are freely and truly mine.”

The tears now stream freely, slipping softly from those dazzling blue eyes. But Sephiroth knows Cloud enough to recognize that they are not from sadness, not in the slightest.

She bends over to cradle his face and tug him gently upright. Once he stands in front of her, she takes his left hand, and just as he did hers, slides off his glove with equal affection, dropping the black leather atop of her own white silk.

As she kisses his knuckles, Cloud whispers with all the passion and fire in her soul, “Then as you fight, so will I. For us. So I too can make more promises to you when you return.”

Their fingers intertwine. And in the garden, underneath the real starlight and away from the prison of the palace, they seal the first of their many vows with a loving, hopeful kiss.

#sefikuraweek #sefikura #sephiroth x cloud #sephiroth #cloud strife #final fantasy vii #final fantasy vii remake #sfw #prompt: gloves

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halothenthehorns · 3 years

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TLTNL- HAGRID’S TALE

James gazed eagerly down at the last two words Lily had spoken before beaming in delight. If there was one thing that could be done, practically the only thing going on at that castle at this point that could be offered for good news, it was this! He flipped the page with utter enthusiasm, for all anyone could have guessed Harry had just won his game and gone about his life.

Harry had at once gone for his cloak, though no matter his speed they had to wait on Hermione to come back downstairs with some of her own hand knitted material.

Lily had to press her hand to her mouth to stop herself laughing out loud at all the impatient boys looks in here as well when she honestly couldn't blame Hermione.

She defended how cold it was out there while the boys impatiently put the cloak over her, Ron having grown so tall that he had to crouch for all three of them to remain hidden.

James couldn't help jerking slightly as a memory tried to agitate his conscience, regarding the three of them and how the cloak had stopped covering them by now so they'd had to get creative. He still hated more than anything those reminders he couldn't erase from his life of someone he wished would just vanish entirely from his past.

They moved very cautiously as they hadn't brought the map, but only passed Nick, who took no notice of them as he glided along humming something that sounded horribly like Weasley is our King.

"He wouldn't," Sirius snapped at once. "Must be because that stupid thing was still on your mind."

Harry nodded in agreement even as he absently wondered why he had a tiny feeling that song wasn't always such a terrible thing, maybe Nick could be singing it one day for good show...

The walk through the snow covered ground was much quicker, Harry finally reaching up after so many months to once again knock on Hagrid's door and hear the frantic dog barking inside.

Harry beamed and started bouncing in place eagerly. He hated that it had taken so long to happen, but finally he was getting his friend back, Hogwarts was finally getting some semblance of normal back!

Harry called out who it was, and from the other side of the door they could already hear Hagrid chuckling how unsurprised he was, he'd only been back five second, before telling Fang to move.

The bolt was drawn, and Hagrid appeared.

"Oh I've missed this," Lily beamed.

Hermione screamed.

James startled in surprise along with everyone else. Then they all looked to Harry as if in fear of an attack, all logic being thrown out the window that Hagrid had sounded just fine before he opened the door but instead Harry had just stumbled into some wild animal attack going on inside Hagrid's.

Instead what they did see on Harry was a tense, drawn face, his eyes certainly wide with fear, but with no indication it was for himself.

Hagrid at once shushed them and tried to usher them inside the house before they took the cloak off. Hermione tried to say something, but Hagrid quickly said it was nothing.

"That does not sound like nothing," Lily said flatly, fighting back the impulse to take the book away because James wasn't reading fast enough for her taste.

Hagrid's hair was matted with congealed blood, his left eye was swollen shut, his whole face was purple and black from bruising as well as several deep cuts that were still dripping blood, and the ginger way he walked made it clear he had at least cracked ribs.

"What the bloody hell could do that to Hagrid!?" James demanded when he was done, turning a funny purple color as well of imagining all that to the big guy.

"Very, very few things," Remus whispered as he tried to understand what could have happened to him.

They all simultaneously remembered where they'd been expecting Hagrid to have been all this time, and their worry managed to increase. If Hagrid had been on the wrong side of a giant, than it was an actual miracle he was even still alive.

"But he's going to be okay, right?" Harry demanded, coming out of his own shock and yet still unable to force himself to relax.

"Yes, yes," Lily promised, "he'll heal of course, none of that sounded fatal, I just, oh the poor dear, how long has he been like that?" Surely Maxime hadn't left him to fend for himself in this state.

James went back uneasily in hopes Hagrid would start some explaining.

It was clear he really had been home only moments, his black traveling cloak was still hung over a chair and his large rucksack still packed against the door.

"He didn't walk all that way did he," Lily couldn't help but groan with further worry, starting to bite at her lip again. "Oh he should have been given some way to communicate with someone, to tell he needed a way back home." She of course knew as well as anyone Order members did not receive outside help until touching back on base. She supposed she did understand then, but it didn't make the worry any less.

Harry still demanded what had happened to him, but Hagrid brushed this off, asking if they wanted any tea?

Ron told him to stop being daft, he was clearly hurt.

Hagrid insisted it was worth more than his job to tell them that, than said how good it was to see the three of them, and asked how their summers had been.

"Harry almost died and Ron and Hermione ignored him all summer, it was great," Sirius drawled.

Ron only repeated his question of who'd done this to him.

"Why wouldn't he tell us?" Harry groaned, still fidgeting uneasily as he remembered watching this happen to his friend.

"You know why Harry, I'm sure you remember he was out on Order business," James said grimly, his eyes flickering to Remus and away as he remembered a fair few times his friend had come back looking just as bad.

Harry huffed, thinking that was not a good enough reason for him to not know what had happened to his friend.

Hermione insisted he should go see Madam Pomfrey.

"I'm not sure how much good she could actually do him," Lily mumbled mostly to herself, thinking of her own ways she'd have liked to try and help, but Hagrid's giant heritage made a large majority of them ineffective on him.

Hagrid insisted he was dealing with it on his own. He went over to the table and pulled a napkin off of a steak that was tinged green.

Ron looked concerned at it, asking if Hagrid intended to eat that, because it looked poisonous.

"I'm surprised Ron doesn't recognize dragon meat when he sees it," Remus said absently.

"I presume he gets most of his dragon knowledge from Charlie, and why would he have a reason to know this bit," Sirius reminded.

Hagrid said it was dragon meat so it was supposed to look like that, and it wasn't for eating. He picked it up and slapped it across half his face so now green juice trickled into his beard as well as he released a sigh of relief.

"Ew," both Harry and Lily crinkled their noses in disgust, giving James a small moment of amusement that Harry hadn't gotten all his features from him.

"That actually is a recognized method of treatment," Remus told the two with an almost amused smile that was still distracted from his worry for what had happened to Hagrid. "Its juices are put into wounds to help ease the pain, but it's a minor solution at best for an aching body, not for the sever amount of injuries I'm hearing. Also it tastes like pheasant."

"I was following you until that last part, and I want to hear how you know this considering how bleeding expensive it is," James said conversationally, before also tacking on, "and how you or Hagrid afforded such a thing."

Remus just grinned, considering for a moment keeping such a simple answer above their heads, but James refused to keep going so Remus gave in easy enough just so Harry would quit eyeing the book with worry. "Alright fine, I've never tasted it, just read that fact. I presume Hagrid got it off someone cheap, maybe Mundungus or some such."

James rolled his eyes at Remus trying to mess with him but Harry's impatient little noises convinced them to move on, he clearly wasn't taking pleasure like he usually was in their banter.

Harry waited until he said that helped the stinging feel better before asking what had happened, but Hagrid said he couldn't, it was top secret.

Lily suddenly blanched as she remembered that horrid toad hopping around school, threatening Trelawney's job. If she had it out for that woman, Hagrid was going to have even more troubles soon than just some injuries.

Hermione finally guessed that it was the giants who'd beat up Hagrid.

Hagrid dropped his steak in surprise.

"Was he really so surprised?" Sirius chuckled. "I think anyone with just a touch of knowledge could figure out where he'd gone."

"I still want to know what happened to Maxime not sending help for him or something," Lily grumbled as she stayed on topic for now. Last she'd heard her and Hagrid had gotten separated, now she found Hagrid to be injured but either no one in the Order knew about it or the message hadn't been passed along to Harry.

Hagrid demanded to know who'd told them- who'd said that?

"Such a convincing denial, I must take notes," Sirius smirked as he pretended to dig for a quill.

Hermione admitted it had just been a guess before, while Ron agreed it had been obvious.

"I mean, they're not wrong," James snorted.

"The point was what were they doing guessing about it at all, rather than spending their time doing normal things their age," Lily shrugged, honestly understanding Hagrid's surprise a bit, especially if he had no clue how much they knew about the Order.

"He's been their friend since first year," Remus defended, "I'd think it weirder if they didn't wonder what happened to him, and they're well connected enough to put this together with or without whatever knowledge the Order could give."

Lily stopped arguing the point, she found it moot no matter what.

Hagrid glared at them for a moment before picking the steak off his chest and putting it back on his face before going to the kettle which was now whistling, muttering all the way about how he'd never known such kids to be into everyone's business,

"I almost want to be offended by that," Sirius pouted.

"We had plenty of knowledge to do with the schools populace," James soothed as well as defended his group.

"Can't say we'd have been involved in half the nonsense Harry has though," Remus snorted, "we were too busy entertaining ourselves to go looking for all this."

"I don't know," Sirius wouldn't let go. "Don't tell me we wouldn't have poked around Fluffy, and figured out a way down to the Stone as well. I agree it never occurred to us to put together Myrtle was involved in that Chamber and no one's out to kill us by putting our name in some death tournament..." he trailed off before conceding the point, "and we didn't give much of a lick about Voldemort's going ons until our last year of school, so fine, Harry's caused more trouble than us, in that way." He finished with the stank eye on his pup, who batted his eyes not nearly innocently enough.

how some would call it nosy.

"Some, surely not him though," Lily chuckled, she could hear the affection Hagrid was holding in his voice even without being there.

His beard twitching the whole time.

Harry confirmed while grinning at him that it had been giants then.

Hagrid finally agreed,

"What happened to, 'more than my job's worth to tell?'" Remus snickered.

"Apparently those kids are worth more than his job," Sirius smirked.

but said no more. Hermione tried to confirm that he'd found them?

Hagrid agreed they weren't difficult to find, they were pretty big.

All five snorted in amusement, though Harry was still watching them curiously in hopes they'd give a better answer.

Remus gave an amused shrug as he said, "well most people know where to find them, the Ministry does keep tabs on their whereabouts."

"And as Hagrid said, they're not hard to spot," Sirius snorted again.

Ron asked where they were, and Hagrid gave the simple answer of mountains.

Harry opened his mouth to ask, but James beat him to the punch, "Ural mountains, last I heard, but that could have changed as they do migrate between regions."

Harry still couldn't help gaping at the idea of such a long distance for Hagrid to travel, on foot it seemed. Even if he had been given some kind of magical transportation there, he didn't seem to have gotten it back since it had taken him so long.

Ron asked if Muggles ever came across them, and Hagrid agreed that did happen, but their subsequent deaths were usually then put down to mountaineering accidents.

All five of them winced at that acknowledgement.

He went silent again as Ron made the compromise if he told them about the giants they'd tell him about Harry being attacked by dementors.

Hagrid choked into his tea and dropped his steak again, which this time fell to the floor.

"So I'm guessing Hagrid hasn't heard of that," James said mildly.

"Wish I hadn't," Lily grumbled with disgust of bringing that mess up again.

He growled what they meant, dementors!

Hermione was surprised he hadn't heard, but Hagrid said he didn't know anything about anything since he'd left, asking if they were serious?

"He has been away for awhile if he thought I was Harry," Sirius smirked while Harry snickered beside him.

Harry said it was true, and when he saved himself and Dudley the Ministry expelled him,

"Not the best idea to lead with that part," Remus sighed.

"Don't know what you're talking about, I'm enthralled by his tale, loads of questions about why he's even at school already-"

James had to keep reading loudly over Sirius' sarcasm.

Hagrid spluttered in more surprise, but Harry insisted Hagrid tell about his summer and he could hear about theirs.

"Quite the negotiation tactic, don't go giving up that Auror dream in favor of teaching just yet," James chuckled.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Remus smirked, "being a teacher requires much persuasion and tricks to convince youths to do their homework in any decent fashion."

The other two exchanged a look before conceding the point.

Hagrid glared at them with his one eye, but Harry continued looking back with innocent determination.

Hagrid gave in.

"It's no wonder Hagrid has rib damage, he's as easy to crack as an egg," Sirius grinned.

He bent down and tugged the dragon steak out of Fang's mouth.

"Ew," Lily grumbled again before asking Remus, "would that degrade the healing part?"

"Not necessarily, dragon meat's so tough I'd be surprised if Fangs slobber even got past the skin in time to degrade it," Remus said without any concern.

Hermione began to say to just throw that out, it was unhygienic, but Hagrid had already slapped the meat back in place.

Lily didn't care what Remus said, she certainly wanted to snatch that away from Hagrid already and get him something sanitary now.

Hagrid took another long drink of tea before starting they set off, Hermione interrupting to ask that Madam Maxime had gone then.

Hagrid agreed, a soft expression coming over his face as he agreed it was just the pair of them.

"Please tell me Hagrid keeps this story at a G rating, I get enough of this from Sirius," Remus grumbled at Harry, who firmly hoped so.

Hagrid had wondered, being such a finely dressed woman and knowing where they were going how she'd feel about roughing it, but she never complained once.

"Maybe not in English, but how much French does Hagrid know?" Sirius chuckled.

Harry asked in surprise they knew where they were going, it wasn't a secret?

Hagrid agreed most wizards knew the area but also never bothered them because they tended to be so far away, they did need Dumbledore's instructions on the exact location. It took them a month to get there, Ron repeating that time frame in surprise as if he'd never heard of such a long journey.

Harry felt the strangest urge to laugh, yet there was no humor in the feeling either.

Asking why they couldn't take a portkey?

Hagrid looked at him with an almost pitying expression.

Harry looked surprised as he'd been wondering the same thing, but James expected Hagrid to explain considering that look.

He told Ron they were being watched, he and everyone the Ministry expected to be close to Dumbledore, but Harry quickly said they knew that.

"I didn't realize that meant he couldn't use any magic," Harry seemed aghast at the idea.

"Oh I'm sure not entirely," Lily said fondly to all of the boys stunned looks. "Just long enough they got rid of whatever tail was on them."

Ron could still hardly wrap his mind around the idea they had to act like Muggles the whole way.

Hagrid corrected not the entire time, they just had to be careful, he and Olympe did stick out a bit.

James couldn't help but pause with that smirk in place promising a smart remark, but Lily flicked him in the ear and he kept going without it even while snickering at what he heard Remus mutter under his breath to Sirius.

Ron made a stifled noise somewhere between a snort and a sniff and hastily took a gulp of tea.

Harry couldn't help laughing doubly hard at his life being paralleled, he missed his friends.

Hagrid kept going about how they were pretending to be on vacation in France, and they were going very slow at first since Hagrid wasn't supposed to use magic and the Ministry would take any excuse to snatch him up.

"Hang on," Harry said in surprise, "I thought Hagrid wasn't using magic because he never learned, but he was cleared of his charges because of my second year, so he should be allowed to do it now."

Lily looked at Harry with pity for a moment before telling him, "I like to think he was allowed, there for the two years where the world was acting normal, but if your trial was any indication I wouldn't be surprised if they found any remotely dumb way, or simply made one up of why he wasn't allowed again."

Harry set his teeth on edge in fury but nodded his understanding.

They lost their tail around Dijon before Hermione interrupted she found that place beautiful while she'd seen it on holiday and was fixing to ask if they'd seen- but stopped at a glare from Ron's face.

"Priorities," Sirius agreed.

Hagrid kept going saying they only had a few slight problems, a mad troll through Polish, a disagreement between a vampire, mostly smooth trails.

"Oh, we don't get to hear those stories?" Remus honestly sounded disappointed.

"Maybe Harry will go back and ask for them after we get the good stuff," Sirius soothed.

Finally they reached their destination, and still they hardly used any magic for multiple reasons. Didn't want the giants distrusting them before arrival, giants hated magic, and they didn't want any Death Eaters who could also be on this same mission to know of their whereabouts.

He paused for a drink of tea.

"Pause for dramatic effect," James couldn't help but snicker as he did the same, leering at his friends for a moment who were watching him impatiently.

Hagrid described the gully they'd been found in, campfires burning making their shadows seem like extra mountains, most were in the range of twenty feet tall.

Harry couldn't help his mouth falling open in a bit of surprise. He'd thought the dragons were big, but these actually managed to beat that!

Harry asked how many there were, and Hagrid said no more than eighty.

"So many in one place?" Harry said in surprise, picturing moving mountains all trying to camp together boggling his mind. However, he quickly caught sight of the small little pitiful frowns and realized his mistake before Remus corrected, "actually Harry, that's miniscule, not even half as many as a normal healthy population would be at."

Harry's surprise mounted even higher as he wondered at just what really had happened to kill off almost an entire species.

Hermione was surprised that was it, and Hagrid agreed there should have been more. There used to be hundreds of different tribes all across the world, but they'd been dying out for ages. Some because they so often killed themselves, they just weren't meant to live together so bunched up. Mostly it was wizards fault, forcing them into such cramped conditions so far away from people so they had no choice but to stick together for their own protection.

Harry shifted uncomfortably as he realized this. Even when he was very first told about magic he'd been introduced to it by being shown magic wasn't all good, but he'd never have imagined his own kind being responsible for the destruction of another species.

Harry kept the story on track, asking what they did when they found them.

Hagrid explained they went down there during the day, couldn't risk it at night for fear they'd think they were being snuck up on, plus they were asleep and snoring so loud they often caused an avalanche.

Sirius did manage a chuckle for that, eyeing Remus and not being very subtle about it, who was just as easily ignoring him.

When they did head in, they'd brought gifts for the Gurg, the in charge giant, this one named Karkus. Twenty-three feet tall with skin like a rhino.

Harry was having trouble picturing it. Even having seen a dragon, that was still a beast. Hagrid was the largest person he'd ever met, and he couldn't imagine the human features on something even larger, yet he was still getting this odd feeling he'd be experiencing something like it in person soon enough.

Ron asked if the giants tried to kill them upon arrival, and Hagrid agreed it was likely on several minds,

"Yes, simple murder on the mind, I'm surprised he wasn't dancing in excitement," Lily couldn't help but shift anxiously, even knowing it was Hagrid telling this story she couldn't help but keep picturing the state he was in while doing so, and she was still on edge waiting for the part of hearing how her friend got hurt.

but they did what Dumbledore said to, walked in with their gift held high and eyes only on the Gurg.

Ron asked what presents do you give giants with eager curiosity.

Remus couldn't help but smile at seeing such enthusiasm in Ron, at the eager way Harry was watching all this. It made him realize for the millionth time how interesting History of Magic could be for even someone with the vaguest interest in the subject.

Hagrid explained they liked magical gifts, just not magic being used against them. This time they'd brought a Gubraithian fire.

At the boys confused looks, Hermione said impatiently it was Everlasting fire, they should know that as Flitwick had mentioned it twice in class.

"Yes, and that automatically means, what again?" Sirius rolled his eyes.

Hagrid quickly kept going before Ron could answer.

"Smart man, or that could go on into its own book," James chuckled.

Saying they laid this at the Gurg's feet and proclaimed it a gift from Dumbledore sending his greetings. However Karkus couldn't respond because he didn't speak English, to Harry's surprise.

"Why are you surprised?" Lily asked. "You must already know not everything speaks the same language we do."

"I was thinking they were like Hagrid, but bigger, and it surprised me," Harry defended.

"I guess Hagrid didn't put this bluntly enough, but they're actually nothing like him. Much more, err, uncultured," James tried to think of an inoffensive way to put that and was sure he still failed, but Harry let the matter go.

Thankfully there was a translator giant.

"How did some know and others didn't?" Harry couldn't help the question bursting out.

"All these giants aren't from the same place, remember Hagrid already said they had to band together for survival. Some of them more than likely could have migrated from somewhere where they had learned the common dialect," Remus happily explained.

After that they only promised to come back the next day with another gift and then they left.

Hermione asked why the couldn't speak of matters right then, but Hagrid explained it built trust, say you're coming back again and then do so. Also if you pile on too much information at once they'll just kill you to simplify things.

"I can't decide which is my favorite reason," Remus chuckled.

"I can," Sirius grinned.

So they came back the next day with a goblin-made indestructible helmet and then they talked while Karkus mostly listened, and he seemed really interested in what Dumbledore was offering. So they promised to come back the next day with another present.

Everyone was grinning happily as well, thinking this was going much better than it had been this time around, and it was truly a great sign for their side.

But that night it all went wrong.

James cursed in frustration as Lily scooted closer to him with worry again. They actually couldn't go one second anymore thinking something good.

A fight broke out that night, it happened despite their small numbers, they just couldn't help it, all different tribes being forced to bunch up like that.

Remus couldn't help twitching uneasily, brushing at his ribs as he knew all too well of a beast's nature. Sirius noticed and gave him a nudge in those same ribs.

When the sun came back up, Karkus's head was now sitting at the bottom of the lake, and the new Gurg was Golgomath. It wasn't good that they'd already spent two days speaking with the previous Gurg, but they had to try.

Ron was astounded they still went to speak to him after this giant had spent the night ripping heads off.

"Well they'd have gone all that way for nothing if they'd just left after two days," Lily grimly said, though honestly half wishing Hagrid had left, she wasn't going to get her hopes up a second time this had turned out well.

Hagrid said of course they had, they weren't going to give up after two days.

"Aw Lily, how does it feel to be mimicking Hagrid?" Sirius grinned at her.

"Could have been worse," she rolled her eyes.

So they went down to speak to Golgomath and tried the same thing with a roll of dragon skin, and then Hagrid found himself hanging upside down by his feet.

Lily gasped and tried to lean around James in concern, but he hardly noticed as he kept going with worry. He'd never thought he'd have to be scared for Hagrid's well being before, but if anything could hurt him, it would be those brutes.

Olympe did some fast spell work, got them in the eyes with some Conjunctivitis Curses and the two got away after that, but they were in trouble now, they'd used magic against them and were not going to be allowed back into camp.

They all sighed with disappointment such a promising start had been tossed in the bin like that, the lot of them would always feel sorrow that no interspecies connection ever seemed to be possible.

Hermione then asked why it took so long to get here if he'd left after three days, but again Hagrid corrected they weren't going to give up that easy. They spent several days laying low and watching after that, and it wasn't pretty.

"When is it ever?" James grumped.

Hermione asked if more heads were ripped off, but Hagrid said that would be better than what was going on.

Sirius couldn't help snorting in surprise even as he looked on in confusion for something so violent coming from him.

Turns out Golgomath didn't object to all wizards.

"Oh no," Remus groaned in fear of what that meant.

"He couldn't, I mean they wouldn't really listen to Death Eaters," Harry quickly understood.

"Can't even be surprised anymore, just more annoyed," Sirius grumbled.

Harry quickly understood Death Eaters, which Hagrid agreed with, saying a couple of them were now the ones bringing the Gurg gifts and they weren't being hung by their feet.

"Can't even be bothered to do something useful while ruining our offerings of help," James scoffed.

Lily's face was drawn tight as she wondered if it wasn't even the Death Eater's who could have instigated this fight, if perhaps they'd been doing this for Golgomath since Hagrid got there, or even before.

Ron asked if Hagrid was sure they were Death Eaters, and Hagrid agreed he recognized one, Macnair, the bloke who'd tried to kill Buckbeak.

Sirius' face in particular darkened for that reminder, he was too fond of the hippogriff not to want that one dead on principle for this fact alone.

Hermione was getting desperate as she asked that Macnair had persuaded all the giants to join You-Know-Who?

"I thought she was calling him Voldemort now?" Sirius forced a laugh, enjoying this mundane detail rather than continuing to dwell on practically rehearing all of his current Order meetings. "She's not going back on that is she?"

"She still said You-Know-Who when she wasn't thinking about it, old habits die hard and all that," Harry sighed.

Hagrid told her to stop jumping ahead, he hadn't finished yet. He seemed keen to keep going, considering at the start he hadn't wanted to tell them at all.

That at least made them all smile again even for a brief moment. Trust Hagrid to manage this in the face of such a gruesome tail.

Olympe and Hagrid had decided they should still try and persuade some of Karkus' old followers, and Ron asked how they knew which those were.

Hagrid explained it was those beaten to a pulp but at least still alive patiently for them.

"At least he's kind while explaining about their hierarchy." Harry thought Sirius sounded too sarcastic for the kind tone he was going for.

So the ones who'd survived the regime change had crawled away into nearby caves and the two began looking around for those.

"And they went spelunking! Why couldn't I have been invited on this trip!" Sirius couldn't help bursting in protest for something he'd been thinking on since he'd found out where Hagrid had been.

The others watched him pitifully, no one was going to tell him otherwise what a bad idea that could have been, so instead Remus corrected, "I'm pretty sure those caves aren't deep enough to really be explorable enough to be called spelunking."

Sirius rolled his eyes at him but otherwise let it go.

Ron was awed they went poking around dark caves looking for giants.

"Well when he puts it like that it sounds ridiculous," James chuckled.

Hagrid did say they had to be careful, those Death Eaters were going around doing the same and now looking for them, more than likely Golgomath had told Macnair's group they were around.

Lily was still inching closer to James as much as she could with worry. She hadn't completely ruled out the giants as the most likely cause for Hagrid being so injured, but now the Death Eaters seemed a more likely suspect though a bit more hard pressed to manage such damage to Hagrid.

Hagrid was hard pressed to stop Olympe jumping on every one of them and cursing them. He spoke with a soft warmth in his voice about the fire in her, it was probably her French heritage.

Harry was fascinated when James read that with the exact same tone as Hagrid had managed, before James' eyes flickered to Lily with a fond smile and he told her, "got any French in you love?"

She smiled up at him and just tisked before waving him on. James did keep going with ease, well aware that for every twitch his wife had in concern for someone else, her next spell would be just as dangerous for the person who had caused it.

Hagrid gazed misty-eyed into the fire. Harry allowed him thirty seconds of reminiscence before clearing his throat loudly.

"Only thirty seconds? I'd have given him a least a minute," Sirius couldn't help but snicker.

After poking around six caves they finally found three holed up in one, Ron commenting how cramped it must have been in there.

Harry was feeling claustrophobic just thinking about it, and his sorrow for these giants only continued to grow as he heard what pitiful states they were living in. Who'd have thought a cupboard would ever feel like a luxury when compared to this.

One spoke English and translated that Dumbledore was still offering whatever he could to help them, and they kept coming back to visit the sick through a few other caves, they had almost seven convinced at one point.

Lily was getting worried that there was no wishful delight back in James' voice, like he was already expecting this to somehow turn out to be bad news as well. Where was that optimist who'd plagued her for six years at school, bouncing back and hoping this time it would turn around? Was this future truly making him so miserable he couldn't even cling to one of the things she couldn't help but be fondly exasperated of no matter how many times it annoyed her in her youth.

Ron optimistically said that was still of some good, but Hermione asked what he meant by at one point.

Then all four of them sighed as they realized what they'd missed but James hadn't.

Hagrid sadly said Golgomath had figured out what caves they were in and raided them, none others would let them come close after that.

"Damn," Sirius couldn't help the curse, gnashing his teeth in frustration as he was feeling the same way as James, like nothing was working out any better the second time than it was this time around.

Ron fell back in disappointment they weren't getting any giant help then.

Hagrid agreed with a deep sigh, flipping the steak so the cold side was now against his face.

"Exactly how long is that thing useful?" Lily demanded.

All of the boys startled in surprise at her sharp tone, and it took Remus a minute to understand the question, "ah, several hours actually before the juices dry up and it's no longer helpful." She nodded in thanks for the answer, which didn't explain why she still looked so angry. She couldn't explain though, wouldn't put into words just now of how watching this news affect her boys was just as stunning a blow as the news itself. The Marauders were usually such a lively bunch that seeing them so upset for so long was wearing on her three times as bad.

Hagrid still tried for some good news, saying that some still might not want to be ruled by Golgomath, and they'd remember Dumbledore's offer, maybe some would still come.

Still, Lily managed a smile for that, she'd have given Hagrid a kiss on the cheek if he'd been here just for making sure some of the good news still persisted.

They sat in silence for a moment before Hermione quietly asked if he'd found any news of his mother?

Sirius couldn't help a snort of amusement while praising Hermione, "no sense of personal questions for her eh?"

Harry chose not to defend that one even while James pouted at him and scolded someone who wasn't even here, "Hagrid didn't even finish his story though. Apparently it wasn't giants or Death Eaters that got him so messed up, there's clearly more to this."

Harry opened, then closed his mouth as he had no answer for that, but as always the sneaking suspicion he would find out.

Hagrid just stared at Hermione for a moment and she began stammering that she was sorry, she'd forgot-

"Forgot what exactly?" Remus couldn't help but laugh at her trying to backtrack. "She's already blurted the question, the apology after the fact doesn't do much good."

Hagrid interrupted to say she was dead, had been for years, they'd told him.

They all sighed with pity for Hagrid. That whole trip would have been worth it if Hagrid had managed a reconnection and an explanation for why he'd been abandoned other than 'that's just how giants are.'

Hermione said how sorry she was while Hagrid shrugged it off, saying she hadn't exactly been a great mother. Hermione gave the boys a pointed look, so Ron pointed out that Hagrid still hadn't explained his injuries.

"I'm fairly confident that's not what Hermione was wanting him to say," Lily wagged her finger at Harry, who put his hands up sheepishly, wishing his friend were around more and more lately just so he'd stop getting the fall out for their doings. He hadn't known how to apologize for this fact any better than Hermione had and was glad Ron had changed the subject.

Harry agreed or why he was back so late, Sirius had said Maxime had been back for ages. Who had attacked him?

Hagrid insisted he hadn't been attacked, but was cut off by a knock on the door.

"Who would be there so late?" James demanded in far more anger than was called for. He was more frustrated than anything at yet another answer being cut off like that, again!

"Probably Dumbledore," Remus decided. "He'd know someone came back onto the school grounds and put together easily enough Hagrid was back, he'd want a field report as soon as possible."

Hermione was so surprised her mug fell to the floor while Fang kept barking. All four of them got a peek out the window of a squat form through the curtains.

"That's not Dumbledore," Sirius' lip curled in disgust.

"Thank you for your candor," Lily snipped at him, shifting anxiously in place as well and wondering what that wench was doing around there so late.

Harry quickly seized his cloak again and the three hid from sight while Hagrid looked on in confusion.

"Don't worry, that'll turn into murderous here in a few moments," James said with honest relish. While in no way looking forward to how Umbridge was going to treat Hagrid, if Trelawney had been any indication, he was thoroughly going to enjoy when Hagrid ripped this toad limb from limb.

Someone hissed for their remaining mugs to be hidden.

Remus couldn't help smiling for whoever that was paying attention to details.

Hagrid did as told and stuffed them under Fang's cushion before opening the door to Umbridge, who hardly reached his navel.

She began speaking to him slowly and loudly, as if speaking to a deaf person.

"How does she continue to manage to be so insulting from the very start?" Lily began without a trace of disbelief, but utter disgust.

Asking if he was Hagrid? Then she snapped at his dog to get away, who was sniffing her curiously and trying to lick at her face.

"And here I thought Fang would try using her as a chew toy," Sirius said with honest disappointment.

"What happened to those good instincts?" James agreed, wishing Fang's menacing growl would make Umbridge think twice about being there.

Hagrid began he didn't want to be rude,

"That won't last long," Remus promised.

but who was she?

She introduced herself as her eyes began sweeping the cabin, passing twice where the trio was hidden.

"It's a small space, I'm not surprised while she's looking for whatever she thinks she is, but there's no way she knows you're there," James scoffed.

Hagrid was surprised to recognize her name as one from the Ministry, which she briskly agreed to while also telling she'd taken the Defence Against the Dark Arts job.

Hagrid told her that was brave,

"I've called that woman many things, that wasn't one of them," Harry said in disgust. He of course admired Hagrid for his automatic friendliness with anyone, he just wished he'd had the time to warn Hagrid it wasn't necessary here.

there weren't many who would-

and also High Inquisitor, Umbridge had kept speaking as if Hagrid hadn't spoken.

Hagrid asked what that was, but Umbridge ignored the question by returning it and gesturing at Hermione's broken mug.

"I'm not surprised she doesn't understand broken objects, considering that's what every mirror she looks into is," Sirius sneered.

Hagrid looked guiltily to their corner for a moment,

James wished he had been there for Hagrid to help with this, though even he couldn't come up with an idea of how to communicate while invisible and not attracting unwanted attention. He just didn't like being left out of things.

before quickly fibbing Fang had broken that.

Umbridge said she'd heard voices, and Hagrid also said he'd been talking to his dog.

Umbridge was not impressed, asking if he'd talked back?

Hagrid gave an uncomfortable shift before saying in a manner of speaking, he'd always thought Fang was near human enough-

Sirius couldn't help the crackle of laughter coming up his throat even as they all stayed tense and uneasy in place. Umbridge had kicked Harry off the Quidditch team because he'd gotten into a fight, what would she do if she found Harry out after curfew? It truly only seemed one moment away from his being expelled.

but Umbridge cut him off to point out there were footprints headed to his cabin.

Hermione gasped,

"Hermione is officially off the Auror job," Remus groaned, wishing he could slap his hand over her mouth like he'd done countless times to Sirius, except this for a much more important reason. Smart as she was, stealth clearly wasn't her thing.

Harry quickly put his hand over her mouth, but thankfully Fang was still sniffing loudly around her and Umbridge didn't seem to notice. Hagrid quickly waved to his bag against the door, explaining he'd just gotten back, perhaps someone had come by earlier and he hadn't been here.

Umbridge pointed out there were no footsteps away from this place.

"They flew away, guess you haven't managed to take away all happiness in that place yet," James snarked.

Hagrid didn't know what to say about that, but Umbridge lost interest and began walking around inspecting every inch of the place, even opening and closing some cupboards.

Lily spluttered with indignity. This woman marched into Hagrid's house, was interrogating him, and now going through his things! She'd long since had the notion to curse this woman into a puddle, and she still managed to find new ways to infuriate her.

She passed within an inch of the cloak and nearly stepped on the tread before turning back to Hagrid and asking how he was injured.

"Your mere presence on the grounds has tainted his features, it'll be a full blown epidemic soon," Remus scowled.

Hagrid stalled for several moments before saying he tripped.

Sirius had to resist the urge to facepalm at the piss-poor lie.

Umbridge repeated this in disbelief.

"Clearly a fall wouldn't concern her, she's so close to the ground her falling is the same as her squatting down," James snarled.

Hagrid elaborated he'd been around a friend who had Abraxan horses, and he'd been offered a ride and-

Umbridge cut him off to ask where he'd been.

"I can't believe Hagrid's still politely talking to her, I'd have chucked her head first into the snow by now," Sirius grumbled.

"Preferably yellow snow," Remus muttered.

Hagrid repeated the question to stall for time, Umbridge prompting him for taking to long.

"And that is her business, because?" Lily demanded coolly.

"She's clearly given herself the impression every person exists for her business," James said bitterly.

Term had started two months ago, another teacher had been covering these classes and his duties, and no one seemed to have an answer for her.

"The Bermuda Triangle, you should try it, it's lovely this time of year," Sirius snapped.

Hagrid clearly said the first thing that came to him, he'd been away for his health.

Remus face palmed.

Umbridge repeated this slowly while taking in his marred presence, Hagrid trying to go on to say he'd been going out for some fresh air- being cut off by Umbridge saying sweetly that as gamekeeper that must be so hard to come by.

Sirius point blank refused to admit that he'd been thinking something similar, and instead barked, "perhaps he just wanted a change of scenery, or he wanted to go ice fishing, but wait, it's still not her business!"

Hagrid's face was flushing red now underneath all the bruising as he tried to say he'd been wanting a change of scenery, Umbridge inserting mountain like?

Harry realized she already knew.

"I can't even say I'm surprised," Remus sighed. "The Ministry does have an idea of what Dumbledore was planning to do, but of course rather than help him they're going to impede him like the blithering morons they are."

Hagrid corrected France, for some sun and sea.

Umbridge was not impressed and Hagrid's friendly smile was now faltering as she informed him she'd be informing the Ministry of his late return.

"You can also inform the Minister of how much I care," Lily hissed.

She also told him of the inspections going on, the Ministry was determined to weed out unsatisfactory teachers, before deeming him a goodnight.

They all flinched with unease, even as white hot anger prodded them to keep furthering insults at that walking wart. Hagrid was an infinitely better person than Umbridge would ever be.

She finally left, and the three waited a moment to be sure she was gone before uncovering themselves, Hagrid at once saying in surprise she was inspecting people?

"And that's still the least of her personal issues," Lily said darkly, still looking repeatedly to the mark on the back of Harry's hand every now and again and the anger never fading.

Harry explained Trelawney was already on probation, while Hermione tentatively asked what Hagrid had planned for them?

Hagrid lightened at the subject, eagerly telling them they were going to enjoy this, he'd been saving these creatures specifically for their OWL year.

"And yet, I'm worried," Remus couldn't help but fidget uneasily, already imagining decking that woman for treating Hagrid the same way she did Trelawney.

Hermione asked how they were special exactly, but Hagrid refused, saying it was a surprise.

"And now I'm terrified," Sirius agreed.

Hermione dropped pretenses and told Hagrid that Umbridge was going to be even more trouble for him if he brought anything dangerous to class.

Hagrid was bemused as he told her they weren't dangerous, though they could look after themselves.

"This is getting less encouraging by the second," James groaned.

Hermione insisted Hagrid had to pass Umbridge's inspection,

"That was a lost cause before it started," Lily groaned, knowing Hermione was well aware of this. At some point hope turned into ignorance if not.

and he should be showing Porlocks and teaching the difference between Knarls and hedgehogs.

Hagrid scoffed those weren't very interesting, he had something much more impressive.

"I mean, I can see his point," Remus said fairly with an almost bemused smile, even Kettleburn had hurried through such lessons but had lingered on some of the more exotic creatures.

"You're not helping," Sirius grumbled.

Hagrid had been bringing these up for years, they were the only domestic herd in Britain.

"How does he manage to do that?" Lily demanded, looking ready to pull her hair out of her head in frustration for Hagrid making this worse every second.

"Give Hagrid some credit, if he says they're domesticated they most certainly are," Sirius defended.

Lily hardly agreed, but she wasn't going to argue the point either. She did of course agree, Hagrid was the most competent man she would ask for help with a creature aside from Remus, but that didn't make her feel any less anxious about what Umbridge was going to have to say about it.

Hermione was getting desperate now as she said Umbridge would take any excuse to rid teachers she found loyal to Dumbledore.

James' face twitched with agitation, wishing that was the only problem Umbridge could feasibly have with Hagrid instead of the one he'd gladly behead her for. Being part toad, he found it extremely hypocritical of her.

Hagrid merely yawned and cast a longing look at his bed.

"An honest luxury to someone who's been away from one for months," Remus agreed sadly.

He told her to stop worrying about him while patting her shoulder so hard she crashed to the ground.

"Hagrid's clearly been away too long if he's so forgotten his strength," Sirius grinned.

He apologized and told the lot of them he could handle it and to get back to the castle, before reminding them to wipe away their prints this time.

Hermione wouldn't let it go though, even as they left and they used a charm to erase they were there, she was saying she'd go back tomorrow and plan lessons for him if she had to.

"I honestly believe she could do that," Harry chuckled, he'd already been surprised Hermione hadn't been suggesting some to him.

She didn't care if Trelawney was gone, but Umbridge wasn't getting Hagrid!

"Damn straight!" Sirius agreed victoriously even as Harry felt a pit of unease welling up in him for that foreboding statement.

James was trying to nod in agreement even as he worried for how that could very well happen. If Harry could be booted from the Gryffindor team, he'd believe anything could go wrong at that school now.

HPHPHPHPHP

I really wish Maxime had made another appearance in series. She's only mentioned at the end of the next book at Dumbledore's funeral, and never does get another part to play which I find disappointing. She's a fully trained wizard as well as the Headmistress at a pristine school all while being half giant. That's a pretty unique story in itself. I suppose she doesn't show up for the final battle because word didn't get to her in time, yet Charlie makes an appearance, so I'm just a little sad she didn't as well.

#The LIfe that Never LIved #Harry Potter #fanfiction #reading the books #OotP #The Marauders #Jilly #James Potter #Remus Lupin #Sirius Black #Lily Potter

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victorsandvanquishers · 4 years

Note

The Fall of the House of Usher with the Black Bulls? Bonus points if you add some eerie aura to it, but that is totally up to you! Thank you in advance!

Hello! Thank you for requesting this fic. I took the liberty to apply some more themes from “The Fall of the House of Usher” than just the prompt’s family, eerie, and home themes. Twins, legacy, and of course, the quintessential haunted house, are also explored in this story!

As a sidenote - this fanfic features an ensemble cast, but primarily revolves around Secre and Zagred. Happy reading, and thank you again for requesting! (ᵔᴥᵔ)

~~~

Zagred haunts her. In a mansion overflowing with people and endless cheer, he haunts her.

“You had five hundred years to make peace. I had to die and then wake up as a ghost, with all the same pain and memories I had when I was still alive. I possessed a human being. You spent your life sitting on top of a statue before finding a boy to manipulate into doing your bidding.”

As she makes her way through the winding halls of the grand castle, Secre remembers speaking with Patolli of the Elf tribe few times in her five hundred and seventeen years. Still, there are words reverberating through her head in his voice, words he's never spoken to her since he barely knows her. Patolli barely remembered her when they met face to face again after the souls of the dead elves ascended, and she can't blame him. She'd been a crown prince's servant – her existence was meant for the shadows.

And yet, that's not how it is now. There aren't enough shadows in Henry Legolant's mansion for Secre Swallowtail to hide in.

“I can't change my actions, nor can I change my feelings, but you... You pretend like you've always cared. At least I did what I did out of rage, even if it was misguided, but you spent five hundred years chasing a rock. Who can you blame for your eternity of longing? You could have chosen death in those five hundred years, but you chose to wait instead because you had an inkling of hope that your beloved could be brought back.”

Secre swallows the lump in her throat and makes her way down the small flight of stairs. It seems her room is on the second floor of the grand castle today, instead of the fourth floor she'd walked up to the night before. The landing is buzzing with Luck Voltia's electric currents, and what she senses to be Charmy Pappitson's cotton magic. The smell of freshly baked bread gently wafts through the landing, infecting each and every one of her senses with the kindness and love she's been starving for, for five hundred years.

It's hunger, this feeling, not longing because the longing she had for Lumiere is moot now, because Lumiere is dust. He's the ash at the bottom of a fire pit in the early rays of dawn, but the hunger she feels now is something different, something more manic, something that slept quietly in her chest during her time as a bird, but suddenly awoke when she came across the fifteen-year-old boy who desperately reminded her of a dead dream, a dream where she and her Lumiere had a child, a child that doesn't exist.

It's this hunger that finally compelled her to stop using that fifteen-year-old boy for her own agenda. It's the hunger that drives her now, that drives her to protect that boy and his friends, to look at the shadows of Henry Legolant's castle with love instead of fear because now the shadows can help her to find the best spots to launch an attack if someone tries to hurt the boy and his friends, these human beings that are filling the hole in Secre's heart.

Atonement? I was fifteen when I died, fifteen when I woke up again. How can you look at me like I'm trash when you were the one who received the mercy of time when all I received was uncontrollable rage at knowing that no matter what I did in the end, I could never bring back what I lost? How can you look at me with such disdain knowing you're worse?”

Perhaps that's why her Lumiere is dead now. She has to pay for her negligence of a child who looked to her as a companion. It doesn't matter that Asta forgives her, that the others see her as a part of their family, none of it matters because Secre committed the same sin as Patolli, used a depressed, lonely boy to commit violence in the name of her beloved, used Asta to revive her Lumiere to defeat Zagred, just like Patolli used William Vangeance to revive his Licht, the Licht that never loved Patolli like Patolli loved him.

Just like the way Lumiere never loved her the way she loved him.

“You're worse than I will ever be, Secre of the noble house of Swallowtail. You're a filthy noblewoman who had everything and pretended she had nothing. You deserve this pain more than I do. You deserved to lose your Lumiere after five hundred years of waiting. You deserved to be strung along like the little rat that you are.”

It stings, but it's true, and maybe that's why Secre is still here and not dead at the bottom of a river. Zagred haunts her because he knows her. Zagred knows her as intimately as the verdant forests of the Forbidden Realm know the sun. Secre starves for kindness and warmth, just like Zagre starves for a corporeal body. Secre didn't kill herself in her five hundred years as a bird because for her, it was a blip on the radar, nothing more than an obstacle for her to get past to bring back her most precious light, her Lumiere. Nothing was sacred in that quest – not the fifteen-year-old boy who cried for magic so that he wouldn't be discriminated against, not the Magic Knights who were too daft to notice that she wasn't just an ordinary bird, and certainly not the nobles who were too ignorant to notice how they themselves sowed the seeds of dissent in their own kingdom. For Secre, none of it mattered because only Lumiere mattered.

And Zagred knows, and so he haunts her.

He takes on the voice of an elf she barely knows, and he finds her deepest, most repressed feelings before snatching them from the depths of her chest and bringing them into the light. Zagred forces her to admit that she's no different than the elf who almost sacrificed the entirety of the kingdom to bring back his brethren. Patolli of the Elf tribe barely knows her, and she barely knows Patolli of the Elf tribe, but Zagred knows her more than Lumiere ever did, and so he haunts her, haunts her under the guise of an elf who'd murdered countless human beings and managed to get away with it all. Patolli is her long-lost twin, and Zagred will never let her forget it.

“Demon.”

She walks into the dining hall, the tables already decked with food, beverage, and cutlery. The voice has shifted now, becoming more and more like the creature it belongs to, and not the elf who escaped.

Secre attempts a smile on her saturnine face, and finds that the effort hurts. She stops before Charmy and Luck can get a look at her. They're occupied with putting on the finishing touches to the overflowing table, Luck setting booby traps on Magna Swing's plate and fork, while Charmy instructs her sheep to pack food for the magical beasts living in the castle dungeons. They don't notice her yet, because she's a wraith in her own right, a ghost drifting from room to room.

“Oh, you're up,” she hears Yami Sukehiro drawl. She turns to the taller man, also an early-riser but just as clandestine as Secre. There's a cigarette hanging from his mouth, and his clothes smell like fresh leaves and dew, so she suspects he was out training in the forest before Charmy can ring her breakfast bells.

Secre nods in assent and turns back to the two young adults who've finally noticed her and are waving her over to take a seat. She attempts another smile, and this time, something resembling a smirk appears on her lips, but it still hurts, because Secre isn't used to smiling. She didn't smile when she and her Lumiere used to spend hours poring over books and tinkering around with magic in the castle yards. She knows little about how to socialize, but she tries. She tries because Zagred will kill her otherwise, under the guise of her spiritual twin, the elf named Patolli who has left Clover without being punished for his crimes.

“But I'm not really here, am I, Secre Swallowtail?”

“Nero, there you are!” Asta calls out, barging into the breakfast hall with his cleaning outfit already coated with dust and mud. “I was wondering where you went!”

“She came down to eat like a normal person,” Yami deadpans before bonking the boy on the head with a closed fist. Asta screeches in pain before passing out for ten seconds. When he wakes up, his eyes are sparkling with endearment, and Charmy has a pail of food ready for the beasts in the dungeon.

“I'll be right back,” Asta declares with more sparkles than necessary, and then he disappears, and Zagred's voice gets just a little lower.

“And he's not your son.”

Secre blinks, her red eyes going redder. No one notices, not even Yami who is dangerously observant at times. She looks down at the plate that Luck has filled up for her. Her ears perk up at the sound of Vanessa Enoteca's tell-tale yawns, and her eyes land on Rouge the cat, who cocks its head to the side and watches her, its fur as red as her eyes.

“And they aren't yours to protect.”

Patolli the elf's voice is gone now. It's Zagred, the demon, the being who knows her better than Lumiere, the creature who stole everything from her, her life, her light, her humanity.

Secre's eyes bleed red and she wants to destroy, wants to burn down everything in her path because she's hollow, her soul is corrupted, and she's one step away from becoming a monster like Licht, a monster that Asta and the Black Bulls will have to euthanize once she loses control.

“Nero-san? Is everything alright?” Secre hears, finding that the rage vanishes suddenly. She blinks a couple of times to completely wash away the reverie before turning to the familiar voices.

It's Grey and Gordon, their eyes filled with worry. Noelle is right behind them, pretending she isn't concerned, but her fists are balled in her lap and she's pensive, waiting for Secre to answer their question.

“I'm fine,” she says, the plastic smile budding on her lips, “just hungry.”

“Then you should eat!” Noelle squeaks, because she can't help herself when she's worried, and now Grey is shakily piling too many warm biscuits onto her plate while Gordon is pouring her coffee, and Charmy is singing, and Yami is smoking, and there is warmth, and love, and cheer, and Asta is back, and Asta is everything she's ever hoped her child would be, a beacon of hope in the darkness she's always lived in.

“Thank you,” Secre says.

'Fuck you.' She hisses inwardly at Zagred's voice, Zagred who is only dead in his corporeal form, but not in essence, because demons don't die.

“But we're cousins now.” Zagred coos back, because Zagred knows her intimately, the demon that set her tragedies in motion, who wants her to lose her mind when her grief becomes as all-encompassing as Licht's, and she becomes a demon herself.

Because that's what she is now – one step from becoming a demon.

She looks around the table at the family of misfits, all of them unrelated to her in every shape and form, and yet fundamentally her family – her lifeblood. Her Lumiere always told her to find her own happiness, but he had been her happiness, but now her Lumiere is dust, and she's still alive.

She attempts to smile again, and this time, Yami smiles indulgently at her efforts while Magna asks her if she wants more biscuits, even though there are seven biscuits on her plate.

Zagred haunts her, and Lumiere is dust. Patolli is her spiritual twin, and Asta and the Black Bulls are the children she never dared to ask for, for fear of retribution. Her light is gone, and the demon persists, but now she has this – this castle and this home, these shadows she has grown to love.

“I'll see you soon.” Zagred promises her.

And the red of her eyes bleed redder, because Secre isn't worried. When the time comes, she will trust her family to take care of her like her Lumiere took care of Licht. Because this castle, this home, is testament to the faith that they will put her to rest when the time comes.

“Thank you,” she says again, and takes a bite from her biscuit.

#Black Clover #Secre Swallowtail #Zagred #The Black Bulls #avafanfics

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missgeniality · 3 years

Text

Opaline Moon (m) - Teaser

“The Moon can never breathe, but it can take our breath away with the beauty of its cold, arid orb.” - Munia Khan

➺ Posting Date: 2nd April (Update: Fic has been posted here!)

➺ Banner: @hobiandsprite 💕

➺ Pairing: Seokjin x Female Reader

➺ Trope: Friends to Lovers, Idol!AU

➺ Genre: Angst, Smut, Fluff

➺ Rating: 18+

➺ Teaser Word Count: 401

➺ Warnings: None for the teaser - The fic will contain explicit sexual content, and appropriate warnings will be added to the fic itself.

➺ Author’s Note: My lovely, lovely moots who are giving their time to beta-read and help me with this madness, @taegularities and @baepsaetan, thank you so very much! When writers here say ‘this fic took a lot out of me’, I FELT that with this one. I’m also posting a teaser only because I feel super guilty for not posting this in March lol. It went through a million changes before finally taking this form, and I’m releasing a short snippet if anyone is interested. Hope you enjoy this & the fic itself! Let me know what you think :3 And send me an ask to be added to a taglist for the fic!

This is the second part of my Dress Down series, find more at it’s masterlist!

ɴᴀᴠɪɢᴀᴛɪᴏɴ | ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

“Yeah, but even… unofficially… we aren’t a thing, right?”

Your abrupt question takes Jin unaware, almond eyes widening, like a toddler caught in an act.

“No, no! Of course not! I would never!”

He’s still searching you, for what, you can’t possibly fathom. From the looks of it, he should be happy with this homeostasis; he doesn’t even know what this means for you. To still stay suspended in your place, not being able to move up or down, to continue having thorns digging into your beating soul as you watch him like nothing bothers your already frail feelings. Scene by scene, you can visualize the future, him distancing himself from you as he finds the one he calls his, with you left in the shadows. Your knees tremble in fear of the impending future.

Seeing you in a tizzy, he calls out, the voice too loud for the cafe and your mind’s prison cage.

“Yeah! Always.” You give it as much enthusiasm as you can muster.

Best friends.

Do let me know what you think :) You can find more of my writing at my masterlist here!

#jin fanfic #jin smut #jin angst #bts smut #bts fluff #kim seokjin fanfic #kim seokjin smut #kim seokjin fluff #kim seokjin angst #jin fluff #bts angst #jin x reader #seokjin fluff #seokjin smut #seokjin angst #seokjin x reader #thebtswritersclub #btsgoldnet

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myhockeyworld87 · 4 years

Text

Why Are You Here - Jamie Oleksiak - Part 3

Word Count: 2,786

POV: Reader

Warnings: Language

Notes: So this is the last part of this one. Hope you guys enjoyed it. It’s been a lot of fun writing for Big Rig! Let me know who you guys want to read about next. Happy Reading!

Why Are You Here Masterlist

Laying there just staring at Jamie, you couldn’t help but think of all the times in the past when you’d just fall asleep in this exact position; wrapped up in his body, feeling his warmth. It was everything that you cherished most about your relationship with him. Being like this, always felt like the rest of the world and its problems just disappeared. Only this time, the problem was staring you literally in the face. “Jamie, we need to…”

He didn’t let you finish. “I know. Can we just have ten more minutes like this? Then I promise we’ll talk.” Ten minutes, you could do that; just forget everything for that brief moment in time. Instead of saying anything, you just nodded your agreement. He snuggled you deeper into his chest then, your face nuzzling the hollow of this throat. In that instant, you felt so cared for and loved. You hadn’t felt that way since he left. It was a void you’d looked to fill for over a year and yet you’d only found it right now, with Jamie. You tried not to think about why he was the only one that made you feel this way, or what you were going to do after these ten minutes past. Instead, you just breathed in his scent, hoping to memorize everything at that moment, in case there wouldn’t be more.

Eventually, your eyes grew heavy and you let your lids fall shut, drifting off to sleep. It wasn’t the wisest decision you’d made, but then nothing you’d done in the past several hours was. Dreams of you and Jamie together permeated your brain. You both were so happy, so in love, that when you woke up it took a few minutes to realize that it was just a dream and not reality. Moonlight streamed through the curtains, casting the room in an ethereal glow. You were still wrapped in Jamie’s arms as he slept. Apparently, you’d both fallen asleep, not too surprising given what occurred between the two of you.

As you lay there, your thoughts drifted back to that day that Jamie got traded. If only he had asked you to go with him; things would be so different now. You’d probably be married by now, with quite possibly a baby on the way. When he’d first left, you had let your mind wander there; you walking down the aisle toward him. If you were being honest with yourself you’d always thought he was the one, still did. But that dream wasn’t meant to be, for even as you laid there naked in his arms, you couldn’t forget all the obstacles in your way.

You looked back up into Jamie’s face, so peaceful and content in sleep. It must be some sort of insanity that drove you to just lay there and look at him, knowing that things would never be the way that they were. Pain twisted in your heart, breaking it all over again. A single tear fell from your eyes and you inhaled sharply steeling your resolve so that others wouldn’t follow. This was utter nonsense, you couldn’t stay like this anymore, just lying there pretending. Jamie always slept like the dead, so it wasn’t too hard to extract yourself from his embrace. In under a minute, you were wrapped up in your robe, out on the couch with two of your warmest blankets on, trying to compensate for the loss of Jamie’s body next to yours.

What in the hell had you been thinking, to just fall in bed with Jamie like that? You should’ve known that it would only lead to more heartbreak. Was it too much to ask for someone who would just love you, and not leave you high and dry when times got difficult? Someone that cared for you, loved you and put you above everything else. You knew deep down it was what everyone craved, that one relationship that was just sacred and amazing, that held that all in encompassing love that was sought after. You knew you’d had that with Jamie, even if it was for a short time before he proved it all wrong. The question now was, could you find it again either with him or someone else? If there was one thing you knew for sure, you knew it wasn’t going to be with Aaron. Sure he was kind, sweet and gentle, but you just didn’t have that passion or burning love for him. What you felt from him was better described as friendship. You needed to find a way to let him know this in the morning, for no matter what happened with Jamie, you couldn’t continue to lead poor Aaron on.

You were startled out of your thoughts, as Jamie sat down on the couch next you clad only in his boxers, proceeding to worm his way under your blankets. “Why’d you leave?” He asked.

“We said ten minutes and we’re well past that.” There was a somberness to your voice and it mirrored the atmosphere of the room. Dim moonlight cast the place in shadows and made it hard for you to read Jamie’s expression. There was so much you wanted to say, yet you waited for him to make the first move.

“I don’t know what to say?” Was the first thing out of his mouth. If that was all he could think of then there was nothing left between you. The thought shattered your heart again, but then he continued. “I’m so sorry (Y/N). I’m sorry that I had to go to Pittsburgh, and that I didn’t ask you to come with me. I’m sorry for not calling you or texting you. I’m sorry for everything I did and didn’t do that day and every day after, until today.” He inhaled deeply, searching your face to gage if his words had any impact on you.

“Why?” It was one word, you didn’t have to say anything more, for he knew what you wanted to know.

“I couldn’t ask you to leave everything for me.” He blew out a frustrated breath before continuing. “You’d be leaving everything, your family, your job, your friends and for what, me? I couldn’t ask you to do that.”

You’d told yourself that was his excuse a thousand times after he left, yet somehow even after he said the words it still didn’t ring true with you. “It wasn’t your decision to make Jamie. It was mine, but you never asked. You should’ve given me the choice. You should’ve let me decide, but instead, you told me you wanted a fresh start, one that didn’t include me. Were things so bad that we couldn’t have that new start together?”

“Never.” He scooted closer to you on the sofa. “God they were perfect with you. You own a part of my soul for godsakes. I just couldn’t ask you to give up your life for me.” His jaw clenched in an effort to still the tears that threatened to stream down his face, yet one sole one leaked out. The million pieces that your heart had broken into just splintered to a million more, as you were openly sobbing now, for you were positive he owned your soul as well.

Reaching out you brushed away that one lone tear before saying, “All you had to do was ask.” It was literally that simple, couldn’t he see that.

A horrified expression crossed his face. “And what if you would’ve said no?” There it was the crux of the issue, the one thing that had never crossed your mind, for you knew if he would’ve just asked you to go, you would’ve said yes. No, had never been an option.

Taking his face in both of your hands, you looked him straight in the eyes so that he would believe the words you spoke. “I could never tell you no Jamie. I couldn’t then and I can’t now.” Drawing his face closer to yours, you continued. “I would’ve told you yes a thousand times over because you were my life.”

“But what about your family? Your friends?”

“They would all understand because they knew you were all that wrapped up in one person. You were my family, you were my best friend and I would’ve followed you to the end of the earth if you’d only asked me.” How did he not know this? How could he not see that you loved him beyond reasoning, still loved him?

Tears were flowing freely now, from his eyes, that you couldn’t wipe them away fast enough. On a choked sob, he replied. “You would’ve picked me?” There was still fear in his eyes, fear that you would tell him no even though it was a moot point.

“Every time, Jamie. Every time.”

“I’m so fucking stupid.” His head dropped down, taking your hands with it, as he had locked his around your wrists. “I should’ve asked you. I should’ve fucking asked.” The despondency in his voice, combined with his tears were your undoing, and you gathered him close to your chest. He stayed like that for several minutes. It wasn’t lost on you that he’d never been this emotional with you before. Of course, you’d seen a range of emotions throughout your relationship, but never this kind of sadness that seemed to be slowly tearing him apart and yourself in the process. He was baring his soul to you, and all you wanted to do was take his sorrow away, except you couldn’t for you felt it as well. All the missed time with each other that you couldn’t get back; it tore at you as well. There were no words you could say to him, for to say that it would be alright would be a lie, there was no way of going back, only an opportunity to move forward.

Finally, he pulled back to look at you; your faces mere inches apart. “You really would’ve chosen me wouldn’t you?” You nodded your head, as you didn’t trust your own voice at the moment. “No one ever picks me. I’m not Tyler, who has women falling at his feet or Chubbs who’s got that strong silent thing going on, that women love. I’m just some average guy that’s pretty good at hockey. Hell, even my sister is more well-known than me. I can’t even stay with one team for any length of time anymore.” You couldn’t take this; couldn’t listen to him berate himself.

“Jamie, stop! Stop talking about yourself like that.” You placed your hands on his shoulders, practically shaking him in the process of getting him to listen to you. “You are a phenomenal hockey player, and don’t let anyone tell you anything different. Do you hear me?” A weak smile played across his lips as you continued. “You’re smart and funny, and so incredibly handsome, that you make my heart stop when you walk into a room. Anyone that wouldn’t pick you is just downright crazy.” You knew that he only saw himself as just a normal guy, but he was so much more than that. The smile on his face grew wider than.

“I want you back (Y/N). I want us back.” Your mind went blank, as he caught you off guard. “The moment I found out I was coming back to Texas you’re all I thought about. I know you’re with Aaron, that’s why I asked you tonight if you love him because if you do I’ll walk away. It’ll be the hardest fucking thing I ever do, even more so than before, but I’ll do it.” Still, you didn’t say anything, as his eyes burrowed into yours, searching for some answer. “So do you love him? Just tell me.”

“No…No I don’t.” He sighed and you realized he must have been holding his breath in anticipation of your answer. “But…”

It was his turn to stop you then. “No buts (Y/N). If you don’t love him then I’m not walking away. I know I have a lot to make up for, and I will…I promise.”

“That’s not what I was going to say, Jamie.” He looked at you, confusion in his face. “I’d already made up my mind before, that I needed to tell Aaron it was over, no matter what happens between us.” Relief washed over him. “I was going to ask if you love her.”

“Her who?” He seemed genuinely confused by your question.

“The woman you were with at the fundraiser, the blonde.” From the look on his face, you would think he had no clue who she was, instead of actually being by her side the entire evening; well except for your little tryst in the bathroom.

“Who Brie?”

Brie, she looked like a Brie. Tall and model-like, she seemed a perfect fit for Jamie; more so than you. Jealousy boiled inside you, so your tone came off a bit harsher than you’d like when you said. “Sure, if that’s her name.” He started to laugh, the noise fueling the fire burning inside you. Throwing the blankets off you, you jumped off the couch to pace the living room. Finally, stopping in front of him with your hands on your hips. “It’s not fucking funny Jamie. You have a girlfriend and all you can do is sit there and laugh about it. You fuck me in the bathroom, while she’s right out there in the middle of the ballroom.” Not that you hadn’t done the same thing to Aaron, but that was not the point at the moment. “And then you come here and we do...” You threw your hands in the air, motioning to the bedroom. “Well we did what we did on my bed, and then you tell me you want me back. And all you can do is laugh when I ask about your girlfriend, like everything that happened tonight meant nothing.”

He grabbed you then and pulled you down on top of him; kissing you, halting any words that you were going to add. You struggled to pull back from his lips “Babe, I’m not dating Brie. She’s the new PR rep for the Stars, she was taking me around to some of the new donors since I’ve been gone for over a year.”

“Oh.” At first, it was the only thing that you could say, and then just to be sure you added. “So she’s not your girlfriend?”

“No, she most definitely is not my girlfriend.” He pressed his forehead to yours. “I’m kind of hoping that title is going to be yours. I mean if you’re willing to give me another shot.”

“I mean…I want to, but I can’t go through what happened before Jamie.”

He pushed a stray lock of hair behind your ear. “I won’t ever leave you again. I promise.”

He was staring deep into your eyes, hoping to convince you that his words were the truth. You forced yourself not to look away as you asked. “But what if…I mean…” There was no easy way to put it. “What if you get traded again?”

He closed his eyes then, shielding his thoughts from you. Time ticked away as you waited for his answer. It felt like an eternity before he finally gave it. “I hope that doesn’t happen, but if…if it does, I want you to go with me.”

Your heart flip-flopped. This was the reassurance you wanted, no needed, to hear before you gave your heart completely back to him. “So, you’d ask me?” You didn’t have to say anything more, for he knew what you meant.

The smile that brightened his face, was almost blinding. “I’d ask you.” When he said that, your smile mirrored his. He kissed you then, his tongue mingling with yours and you gave yourself over to him, but all too soon he pulled away. “So are you saying that you’ll give us a second chance?”

It crossed your mind to make him wait, but then you’d both waited long enough. “Yes Jamie, I’ll give us another shot.” His mouth was on yours in a split second. The kiss was hard and demanding, begging you to give everything you had and so much more. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you drew him closer to you if that was even possible. It was several minutes before you both needed air, and even then, he would still sneak little peck at your lips.

“I love you, (Y/N).” The tip of his nosed touched yours, as he gave you a sweet little Eskimo kiss.

“I love you too Jame, and I’m so glad you’re back here with me, where you belong.”

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