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suddencolds · 2 months

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The Worst Timing | [5/5]

we made it!!! part 5/5 + a mini epilogue (5.6k words) at long last 🥹 (aka the installment in which i remember that h/c has a c in it in addition to the h, haha.) [part 1] is here!

this is an OC fic - here is a list of everything I've written w these two!

Summary: Yves invites Vincent to a wedding, in France, where the rest of his family will be in attendance. It's a very important wedding, so he's definitely not going to let anything—much less the flu—ruin it. (ft. fake dating, an international trip, downplaying illness, sharing a hotel room)

—

The world comes back to him in pieces—first the wooden panels of the ceiling, the sloped wooden beams. The coldness of the room, the slight, monotonous whir of the air circulating through one of the vents overhead.

He’s leaned up against the wall, seated on the floor in the hallway, and Vincent is kneeling beside him, his eyebrows furrowed.

It takes him a moment to realize where he is. He had been about to head back to the courtyard, hadn’t he? He doesn’t have much memory of anything that happened after, but judging by Vincent’s reaction, he thinks he can probably guess.

“Hi,” Yves says, for lack of a better thing to say.

He watches a complicated set of expressions flicker through Vincent’s face—relief, first, before it turns to something distinctly less neutral.

“You’re awake,” Vincent says. He turns away, for a moment. Yves notes the clench of his jaw, the tightness of his grip—his fingers white around Yves’s sleeve.

“Was I out for long?”

“A couple minutes.”

Yves wants to say something. He should say something. Anything to lighten the tension, anything to get the point across that this is all just an unlucky miscalculation, on his part. It really isn’t something Vincent should have to be worried about.

“I’m sorry for making you wait,” he starts. Really, what he means is, I’m sorry for making you worry about me. “I promise I’mb fine.”

The look on Vincent’s face, then, is something that Yves hasn’t seen before.

“Why do you have to—” he starts, frustration rising in his voice. He sighs, his jaw set. “I don’t understand why you—” He drops his hand from Yves’s sleeve, and it’s then when Yves notices the stiffness to his shoulders, the tension in his posture. He runs a hand through his hair, lets out another short, exasperated breath. “You’re not fine.”

It’s strange, Yves thinks, to see him like this—Vincent, who usually never wears his emotions on his face, looks clearly displeased, now.

“Hey,” Yves says, softly. He reaches out to take Vincent’s hand. Vincent goes very still with the contact, but he doesn’t say anything. “I—”

Fuck. His body seems to always pick the worst time for unwanted interjections. He wrenches his hand away just in time to smother a sneeze into his sleeve, though it’s forceful enough to leave him slightly lightheaded.

“Stay here,” Vincent says, getting to his feet. “Lay down if you get dizzy again.”

Yves blinks. “Where are you going?”

“To tell the others that we’re leaving.”

Yves wants to protest. Dinner is already halfway over. It’s not as if the festivities are particularly strenuous. They’ll probably move inside after dinner, where it’s warmer.

But he thinks better of it. Judging by how exhausted he still feels, how much his head aches, it probably wouldn’t be wise to push it.

“Don’t tell them about this,” he says.

Vincent’s eyebrows furrow. “What?”

“Aimee is going to worry if she finds out,” Yves says, dropping his head to his knees. He doesn’t want to look at Vincent, doesn’t want to know what expression is on his face. “Just—let them have this night. It’s—supposed to be perfect.” I really wanted it to be perfect, he almost adds. There’s a strange tightness to his throat as he says it, a strange heaviness to his chest.

He knows what it means. If, after he’s tried so hard to do his part, their evening still ends up ruined on his own accord, he’s not sure if he could live with himself after.

For a moment, Vincent doesn’t say anything at all.

“Okay,” he says, at last. “Just stay here.”

And then he heads down the hallway. The door at the end of the reception hall swings shut behind him. Yves thinks he should be relieved, but he finds that he doesn’t feel much other than exhausted.

—

The ride home on the shuttle is silent. Vincent sits next to him, even though all of the other seats are empty. Yves thinks the proximity is probably inadvisable. He opens his mouth to say as much, and then shuts it.

Vincent sits and stares straight ahead, his posture stiff, and doesn’t say anything for the entirety of the ride. It’s strange. Yves is no stranger to silence—Vincent is, after all, a coworker, and Yves has endured more than a few quiet elevator rides and quiet team lunches at the office, but it’s strange because it’s Vincent.

Vincent, who usually takes care to make conversation with him, whenever it’s just the two of them. Vincent, who stayed up through the lull of antihistamines a couple months ago to talk to Yves, until Yves had given him explicit permission to go to sleep.

Yves tries not to think about it. Through the haze of his fever, everything feels unusually bright—the interior of the shuttle, with its leather seats and metal handrails.

The shuttle stops just outside the main entrance to their hotel. Just before he gets to the doors, he stumbles. Vincent’s hand shoots out, instinctively, to steady him.

“Sorry,” Yves says, a little sheepishly. It’s not that he’s dizzy. The roads are just uneven, and it’s dark. “I can walk.”

But Vincent doesn’t let go—not for the entirety of the walk through the cool, air-conditioned lobby, through the hallways to the hotel elevators. Not when the elevator stops at their floor, not when they pass by the grid of wooden doors leading up to their room.

Before Yves can manage to reach for his keycard, Vincent has already swiped them in, scarily efficient. He slides the card back into his pocket, pushes the door open.

“Thadks for walking me back,” Yves says. “Sorry you couldn’t stay longer. You mbust’ve been halfway through dinner.”

“I already finished eating,” Vincent says.

“Even dessert?” Yves says. “I think Aimee got everyone creme brulee from one of the local bakeries. I was excited to try it. Maybe Leon can save us some.” he muffles a yawn into his hand. It’s too early to be sleeping, but his pull out bed looks very inviting right now.

“Take the bed,” Vincent says.

Yves blinks at him. “What?”

“The bed’s warmer.”

There’s absolutely no way he’s going to let Vincent take the pull-out bed in his place, Yves thinks blearily. He’s spent the past couple nights muffling sneezes into the covers—if there’s anything he’s certain of, it’s that he really, really doesn’t want Vincent to catch this.

“I dod’t think we should switch,” he says, sniffling. “I’ve been sleeping here ever sidce I started coming down with this. I’mb— hHeh-!” He veers away, raising an elbow to his face. “hh—HHEh’IIDZschH’-iEEW! Ugh, I’mb pretty sure I contaminated it.”

“We can both take the bed, if you’d prefer,” Vincent says. As if it’s that simple.

Yves opens his mouth to protest—is Vincent really okay with sharing a bed with him?—but then he thinks about Vincent finding him in the hallway—the stricken expression on his face, then, his eyes wide, his jaw clenched—and thinks better of himself.

Instead, he lets Vincent lead him to the bedroom. The bed is neatly made—the covers drawn, the pillows propped up against the headboard.

“Lay down,” Vincent says, pushing lightly down on his shoulders. Yves sits. He peels off his suit jacket, folds it, and sets it aside on the nightstand.

“Hey, I kdow that was sudden,” he says, in reference to earlier. “I’mb sorry you had to witness it. I… probably shouldn’t have pushed it.”

Vincent says nothing, to that.

Yves lays down, shuts his eyes. “You didn’t have to accompady me home, you know.”

Silence. He exhales, burrowing deeper into the covers. “It’s not as bad as it looks, seriously.”

He opens his mouth to say more. He has to say something, he thinks, to convince Vincent that it’s really not that big of a deal. Anything, to assuage that look on Vincent’s face.

But he’s so tired. He can feel the exhaustion now that he’s finally let himself lay down. The bed is traitorously comfortable, with its soft feather pillows and its fluffy layers of blankets, and Vincent was right—it really is warmer.

He feels the press of a hand on his forehead, feels the cold, unyielding pressure. Feels gentle, calloused fingers brush the hair out of his face.

“Sleep,” Vincent says, firmly.

And Yves—

Yves, already half gone, is powerless, when Vincent says it like that.

—

When he wakes, it’s just barely bright outside. He takes it in—the first few rays of sunlight, streaking through the curtains. The bed, a little more well-cushioned than the pullout bed he’d spent the past few nights on—higher up and decisively sturdier. He blinks.

Beside him, seated on a chair he recognizes as belonging to the desk at the opposite end of the room, is Vincent.

Vincent, awake. Yves isn’t sure if he’s slept at all. He certainly doesn’t look tired, at first glance, but closer inspection reveals a little more. It’s evident in the way he holds his shoulders, stiff, and perhaps a little tired, as if there’s been tension sitting in them all night.

He’s reading a book. Whether he bought it at the convenience store downstairs, or on one of the other days when Yves was busy running errands for the wedding and Vincent was elsewhere, or whether it’d been sitting in his suitcase since the start of the vacation, Yves doesn’t know.

“How’s the book?” Yves says.

His throat is dry, he realizes, for the way it makes him cough, afterwards. Vincent’s eyes meet his, unerringly. He shuts the book, sets it down on the bedside table.

“It’s a little boring,” Vincent says. “How’s the fever?”

Before Yves can answer, Vincent leans forward and presses the back of his hand to Yves’s forehead. His touch is unerringly gentle, and Yves allows himself to look.

Vincent’s eyebrows are furrowed, his eyes narrowed slightly in concentration, and Yves wonders, suddenly, if he’s been this worried for awhile, now. If he’s been this worried ever since he’d walked them both back into the hotel room last night.

“I’m fine,” Yves says.

It has the opposite effect he intends it to.

Vincent’s expression shutters. “The last time you said that, you passed out in front of me,” he says, withdrawing his hand with a frown. “So forgive me if I don’t entirely believe you.”

Yves sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. It’s a fair point. “I’m usually more reliable whed it comes to these things.”

“What things?”

“Kdowing my limits.”

Vincent says, “I think you knew your limits. I think you just didn’t want to honor them, because you decided the wedding took precedence.”

He’s… frustrated, Yves realizes. Still. He’s sure he can guess why. Their fake relationship does not extend to Vincent having to look after him, to Vincent having to drop everything in the middle of a wedding, of all things, to take him home. To Vincent having to worry about all this—the fever Yves knows he has, now, and the bed he’s currently taking up—on top of everything else. As if being in a foreign country, surrounded by people he knows almost exclusively through Yves, who, for the most part, converse in a language he barely speaks, wasn’t already enough work on its own.

And Yves gets it. He hadn’t wanted this to happen, either. He’d told himself that if this—this pretend relationship, this pretense—is contingent upon both of them playing their part, the least he can do is be self-sufficient outside of it.

But now—because Vincent is here with him, and because they share a hotel room—all of this is now Vincent’s problem, too, by extension.

“Did you sleep at all last night?” he asks.

Vincent smiles at him, a little wryly, as if the answer is evident.

“You gave up your bed just for me to steal it,” Yves says, in an attempt to lighten the mood. “It’s really comfortable, and all, but I’mb pretty sure they make these kinds of beds for two.”

“Is that a proposition?” Vincent says.

“Maybe.” Yves thinks it through. “Realistically, probably ndot, until I have a chance to shower.” He’s still dressed in his dress shirt and slacks from yesterday, a little embarrassingly—he should probably get changed. “Speaking of which, I should do that soon, so you don’t feel the need to stay up all night reading—” Yves leans forward, squints at the book cover on the nightstand. “—Hemingway? Somehow, I didn’t expect you to be the type.”

“I’m not,” Vincent says. “Victoire lent it to me.”

“Oh,” Yves says, trying to think of when Vincent would’ve had time to ask her for a recommendation. “Yeah. She’s—” He twists aside, ducking into his elbow. “hHEH’IIDzschh-EEW! snf-! She’s quite the literary reader. Is it really that boring?”

“I can see why people think the transparency of his prose is appealing,” Vincent says. “But I’m fifty pages in, and nothing has happened.”

“Isd’t that the sort of thing Hemingway can get away with, since he’s straightforward about it?”

“In a short story, maybe,” Vincent says. Then: “You are trying to make me feel better.”

Ah.

Yves laughs. “Where in the world did you get that idea?”

Vincent just sighs. “I would be exceptionally unobservant not to notice when I’ve seen you do the same thing all this week.”

“What?”

“Telling people that you’re fine,” Vincent says. “And distracting them when they don’t believe you.”

Yves doesn’t think that’s entirely accurate. It’s not like he was trying to be dishonest. It’s just that it was never the most important thing to address.

“Distracting is a bit disingenuous.”

“I don’t get it,” Vincent says, with a frown. “You’re so insistent on putting yourself last, even when you were obviously—” He sighs. There it is—that expression again, the one that makes itself evident through the furrowed eyebrows, the tense set of his jaw—frustration, and maybe something else. “You’re surrounded by people who care about you, so why not just—”

“There are plenty of things more important than how I’mb feeling,” Yves says.

“I don’t think that’s true.”

But of course it is, Yves thinks. A wedding is a once in a lifetime occurrence. An illness is nothing, in the face of that.

“I promised I’d be there,” he says, because when it really comes down to it, it’s true. He had no intention of going back on his word. “I didn’t want to be the one to let them down. Is that so hard to believe?” He reaches up with a hand to massage his temples. His head aches, even though he’s slept for long enough that he feels like it ought to feel a little better, by now. “It’s already bad enough that I had to drag you into this.”

“You didn’t drag me into this,” Vincent says. “I came on my own volition.”

Yves tries a laugh, but it’s humorless. “I made you leave halfway through the wedding dinner.”

“I’d already finished eating.”

“Ndot to mention, you practically had to carry me upstairs.”

“Because you’re ill.”

“That’s no excuse.” Yves wants to say more, but he finds himself beholden to a tickle in the back of his throat—irritatingly present, until he concedes to it by ducking into his elbow to cough, and cough.

When he looks up, blinking tears out of his vision, Vincent isn’t looking at him.

“You should get some rest,” he says, simply.

Yves can tell—just by the way he says it—that there is no argument to him, anymore. Just like that, Vincent is back to being closed off—poised and perfectly, infuriatingly unreadable, just like he is at work, his face so carefully a mask of indifference, even in the most stressful presentations, the most frustrating disagreements. Yves wants none of it.

“Hey,” he says. A part of him itches to crack a joke, to change the subject—anything to take away this air of seriousness. A part of him wants to reach out, again—to take Vincent’s hand, entwine their fingers; to reassure him, again, that he’s really fine.

“I’m sorry,” he says, instead. Maybe it’s the fever that loosens his tongue. Maybe it’s just a combination of everything.

He can feel Vincent’s eyes on him, still. Vincent has always held a sort of intensity to him, a quiet sort of perceptiveness. “I’m not sure I follow,” Vincent says.

“This visit was supposed to be fun for you,” he says. “And now you’re here, stuck in the hotel room because of me, even though today was supposed to be for sightseeing.”

It doesn’t feel like enough. What can he say to make it enough? There’s a strange ache in his chest, a strange, crushing pressure. Yves is horrified to find his eyes stinging. He’s held it together for so long, he thinks. Why now? Why, when Vincent is right here?

But a part of him knows, too. Of course traveling to a different country would be more involved than going to a party, or spending an evening at a stranger’s house. But there was a time when he thought this could really just be a fun excursion for the both of them—half a week in his family’s home country, with someone who he thoroughly enjoys spending time with.

And now, because of this untimely illness—or because of his own short-sightedness in managing it—it isn’t. He didn’t get to stay through dinner, didn’t get to wish Aimee and Genevieve a good rest of their night, like he’d planned to. He has no idea if things went smoothly in his absence. To make matters worse, Vincent is here, having endured a sleepless night, instead of anywhere else.

And really, when he thinks about it, who does have to blame for all of this, except himself?

“I didn’t mean for it to turn out like this,” he says. “So I’m sorry.” He resists the urge to swipe a hand over his eyes—surely, he thinks, that would give him away.

He turns away. It’s convenient, he thinks, that the embarrassing sniffle that follows could be attributed to something else.

“You’ve been nothing but accommodating to me, this whole visit,” Vincent says. “If anything, I should’ve insisted that you take the bed earlier. You haven’t been sleeping well, have you?”

He says it with such certainty. Yves opens his mouth to protest this—or to apologize, for all the times he must’ve kept Vincent up, including but not limited to last night—but Vincent presses on.

“You spent all of yesterday morning helping everyone get ready, and when I got back, you apologized for not being around—as if the reason why you weren’t around wasn’t that you were so busy making sure everything was fine for everyone else.” Vincent pauses, takes in a slow, measured breath. Yves is surprised to hear that he sounds… distinctly angry, in a way that Yves is not used to hearing.

“And then you showed up to the rehearsal and the wedding, even though you weren’t feeling well. And you still think you have something to apologize for? Are you even hearing yourself?” Yves hears the creak of the chair as he stands, the sound of quiet footsteps. Feels the dip of the bed as Vincent takes a seat at the edge of it.

“You know, after you left the dinner table, Genevieve was talking about how much she liked your speech? Do you know that yesterday morning, Solaine told me how grateful she was that you helped her with fixing her dress? Do you know that when I got lunch with Leon and Victoire, they told me how much time you spent preparing for everything—the speech, and the wedding, both?”

Oh. Yves hadn’t known any of those things, and he knows Vincent isn’t the kind of person who would lie about this sort of thing.

“I don’t get it,” Vincent says, sounding distinctly pained to say it. “How could you possibly think that you haven’t done enough?”

Yves finds himself taken aback—by the frustration in his voice, by the fact that Vincent has noticed these things in the first place, by the fact that he’s deemed them important enough to take stock of. He makes it sound so simple.

“I don’t know,” Yves says, at last. He shuts his eyes. “If it was enough.”

“I’m telling you that it was,” Vincent says.

But Yves knows that he could have done more, if the circumstances were different. If he hadn’t been so out of it during the wedding. If he’d taken the necessary precautions to avoid coming down with this in the first place. If he’d been able to stay through dinner, at least; if he hadn’t needed Vincent to accompany him home.

“You don’t believe me,” Vincent says, with a sigh.

Yves doesn’t say anything, to that.

“I can’t speak for anyone else,” Vincent says. There’s the slight rustling of the covers as he shifts, rearranging one of the pillows at the headboard. “But I had fun.”

Yves’s heart twists.

It’s sweet, unexpectedly. “You don’t have to say that just to make me feel better,” Yves says.

“When have I ever said anything just to make you feel better?” Vincent says, with a short laugh. When Yves chances a look at him, he’s smiling down at himself. “I mean it. Meeting your family has been a lot of fun. It’s not often that I get the chance to be a part of something like this.”

Whether he’s referring to France, or the wedding and the festivities, or being surrounded by Yves’s large extended family, Yves isn’t sure. But if Vincent is trying to cheer him up, it’s working.

“I can see why you like France so much,” he says, turning his gaze out the window, though the view outside is filtered through the semi-translucent curtains. “It’s beautiful.”

“Today was supposed to be the last day for sightseeing,” Yves says, a little regretful. “But you’re stuck here.”

“In a sunny, luxurious hotel room, with a view of the pool and the garden?” Vincent says, with a scoff. “I could think of worse places to be.”

Staying up all night, just to check up on Yves, more accurately. Vincent must be tired, too—yesterday was already tiring enough. And now it’s morning already, and he hasn’t gotten any sleep.

“Reading Hemingway,” Yves adds.

Vincent looks a little surprised. Then he laughs. “Yes. I guess you’re right. Perhaps it’s an agonizing experience after all.”

The yawn he stifles into his hand, after that isn’t half as subtle as he tries to make it.

Yves feels his eyebrows creep up. “Are you sure you don’t want to get some sleep? There’s plenty of room.” He scoots a little closer to the edge of the bed, just to make a point.

Vincent peers down at the space beside him, a little hesitant. “At 10am?”

“It’d be, what, 4am, back in Eastern time?” Yves says. “By Ndew York standards, you’re supposed to already be asleep.”

“That’s not how it works,” Vincent says, but he dutifully moves a little closer to Yves anyways. He’s changed out of yesterday’s wedding attire, more sensibly, but now he’s wearing a knitted cardigan which Yves thinks looks unfairly, terribly good on him. Yves finds himself marveling at the unfairness of it all. How can someone look so good wearing something so casual?

Vincent smells good, up close. When he lays down next to Yves, pulling the covers gingerly over himself—leaving a careful amount of room between them, but still dangerously, intoxicatingly close—Yves feels his breath catch in his throat.

Vincent is right there, less than an arm’s length away from him, closer than he’s ever been, and Yves—Yves is—

“See,” Yves says, as evenly as he can manage to, in his current state, as if his heart isn’t practically beating out of his chest. He swallows. His throat feels dry. “This bed definitely fits two.”

“I suppose it does,” Vincent says. “Now you can tell me if I’m a terrible person to share a bed with.”

“After everything I’ve put you through,” Yves says, “I think I’d honestly feel reassured if you were.”

Vincent smiles, again, as if he finds this humorous. “Are you sure you’re going to be fine?”

“Positive,” Yves says. “You should sleep. I’ll wake you if I ndeed anything.”

“Okay. If you’re sure.” Vincent shuts his eyes.

It’s not long before his breathing evens out, not long before he goes perfectly still. He must really be tired, Yves thinks, with a pang.

Yves, for some reason, finds that he can’t get to sleep. He stares up at the ceiling for what feels like minutes on end, shuts his eyes, all to no avail. Maybe it’s because he’s already slept far more than his usual share. Maybe it’s the jetlag. Maybe it’s merely Vincent’s unusual presence—the strangeness of having him so close, in an environment so intimate.

But when he allows himself to look, he sees—

Vincent, his eyes shut, his eyelashes fanning out over his cheeks. From the window, the filtered light gleams unevenly across the crown of dark hair on his head. There’s almost no movement to him at all, aside from the even rise and fall of his shoulders.

And Yves knows what the feeling in his chest is. He’s regrettably, intimately familiar with it.

He just isn’t sure he likes what it means.

—

Vincent—despite falling asleep so quickly—is up before him. When Yves wakes, next, it’s to a hand to his forehead.

“Hey,” Vincent is saying, softly. “Yves. You have a visitor.”

Yves opens his eyes.

He’s feeling—a little better, remarkably. Still feverish, still a little unsteady, but leagues better as compared to yesterday. When he looks over, he sees—

He doesn’t jolt upright, but it’s a close thing. “Aimee!”

He barely has a chance to ask before she’s crashing into him, encircling him in a tight hug. “Yves!” she exclaims, pulling back from him. “How are you feeling? Oh my gosh, when I heard you left early because you were unwell, I was so worried…”

Yves grimaces, turning away. “Sorry, I had every idtention of staying until the end—”

“You came all the way out with the flu!” she says. “I honestly can’t believe you. The fact that you still took the trouble to attend with a fever—”

“It—” Yves starts, but he finds himself twisting away, lifting an arm to his face. “hhEH-! HEEhD’TTSCHH-iiiEEw! Snf-! It’s fide, snf-! I’mb practically recovered already.”

“I should’ve told you not to push yourself when you told me you were coming down with something,” Aimee says, shaking her head. “And you stayed and gave such a lovely speech, even though you weren’t feeling well? When I was talking to Victoire after, she mentioned that you’ve been sick for days and Genevieve—you should’ve said something.”

“I’ll say somethidg next time,” Yves says, a little sheepishly. “Did the wedding go okay?”

Aimee visibly brightens, at this. “It was more than okay,” she says, her eyes gleaming. “It blew every expectation that I had out of the water.”

Aimee fills him in on everything that happened after he left, last night—dessert, the first dance, the cake-cutting; her favorites out of the photos they’d taken after the ceremony (a shot of Genevieve braiding her hair during the cocktail hour; a shot of them leaning in close, for the dance, tired but smiling; a shot of the cake with its multiple tiers, the frosting strung like banners across it; another where both of them are holding onto the cutting knife together and Genevieve looks like she is trying not to laugh; a shot of the bouquet toss, the flowers suspended in mid-air). She tells him about the conversations she and Genevieve had with others about marriage and their futures and their plans for their honeymoon.

Then she lectures him on how he should worry about his health first, next time. She tells him, in no uncertain terms, that she’s fully prepared to give him a piece of her mind the next time he tries to pull something like this. She insists that his health is more important than anything. Vincent stands off to the side the entire time, his arms crossed, passively listening in, but when Yves looks over helplessly, mid-lecture, he definitely looks a little smug.

All in all, she doesn’t seem disappointed in him at all. And, more importantly, she seems happy. Yves finds himself relieved, at this.

Genevieve stops by, too, a little later, to thank him for the advice he’d given her the day before the wedding. She hugs him too, and she leaves him a bag of tea that she promises “is practically a cure to anything—I hope it makes your flight home tomorrow a little more tolerable.” Victoire stops by, with Leon, and Yves resigns himself to more lecturing from the both of them. It’s humbling, a little, to be lectured by his younger sister and his younger brother, though he concedes that perhaps this time, it might be at least partially warranted.

Then Leon opens their hotel fridge to show him the two creme brulees he and Vincent had missed out on, packaged nicely in small paper containers. (“Vincent told me you were interested in these,” he says, and Yves finds himself slightly mortified—but perhaps also a little endeared—that whatever it was that he’d said last night, offhandedly, Vincent had deemed it important enough to text Leon about.)

Later, after Yves showers and gets changed—when he and Vincent eat the creme brulees at the table in the living room, and Vincent tells him that he’s finished the book, perhaps a little masochistically (“it doesn’t get any better,” he says, sounding a little spiteful)—Yves finds himself smiling.

He’s happy, he realizes, despite everything that’s happened. Even with the slight headache, and the lingering congestion, the fever that hasn’t quite gone away entirely. The revelation comes as a surprise to him, at first. But when he thinks about the people he’s surrounded with, he thinks perhaps it isn’t all that surprising.

—

EPILOGUE

“Are you sure you’re feeling alright?” Vincent asks.

“Yes,” Yves says. It’s not a lie.

This time, he’s seated right next to the window, and Vincent is in the middle seat. Yves had offered to take the middle seat instead, but Vincent had insisted(“If you wanted to sleep, you could lean against the window,” he’d said, and Yves had accepted only because it would be better to fall asleep against the window than do something embarrassing, like fall asleep on Vincent’s shoulder).

“It’s just the annoyidg residual symptoms, now,” he says. “I—”

God. He always has the worst timing. He veers away, muffling a tightly contained sneeze into his shoulder.

“hHEH-’IIDDZschH-yyEW! Snf-! I’mb — hHhEHh’DjjsSHH-iEW! Ugh, I’m fine. I feel better thad I sound.”

“Bless you,” Vincent says, leaning over to press his hand against Yves’s forehead. “No fever,” he says. “That’s good. But you should take another day off when we get back.”

Yves doesn’t think taking another day off is necessary. “I spedt the entirety of yesterday sleeping,” he says. “I think I’ve rested enough.”

Vincent just raises an eyebrow at him. “Need I remind you that someone very wise told you to take it easy?”

“Since when has Aimee been your spokesperson?”

“She made a lot of good points,” Vincent says, deceptively unassuming. “I think you should consider taking notes.”

Yves looks at him for a moment. “You’re laughing at me.”

This time, Vincent smiles. “Maybe.”

Yves leans back in his seat, reaching up with one hand to massage his temples. The changing cabin pressure is not exactly comfortable—his head still hurts a little, but he’s flown enough times to know that it won’t be as much of a problem once they finish their ascent.

“Thadks again for coming,” he says, unwrapping one of the small, packaged pillows the airline has left on their seats.

“You invited me,” Vincent says, blinking. “All I did was show up.”

But that isn’t true at all, Yves thinks. Vincent is the one who spent time learning basic French, who met Yves’s family and who spoke with everyone with genuine interest, who bought Yves medicine and water, all while being careful to not be overbearing. Vincent is the one who left the wedding early to walk Yves back to the hotel, who stayed with him the entire day afterwards.

“That’s such a huge understatement I don’t even kdow where to get started,” Yves says. “Thanks for meetidg my family—they love you, by the way. They’re going to be askidg about you every summer from now on, I just know it.”

He can already picture it—June, this year, after busy season is over, if their fake relationship lasts that long. Another flight where they’re next to each other. Another dozen conversations about how they’d met, about what it’s like dating a coworker, about what their plans for the future are.

Perhaps it’s wishful thinking. This was never meant to be a long-term arrangement in the first place. But something about this—about being here with Vincent—just feels so unthinkingly easy.

“It’s no problem,” Vincent says. “The feeling is mutual. I’m glad I got to meet them.”

“Thanks for looking after me, too,” Yves says, with another apologetic smile. “I’mb sure being stuck in a hotel room all day wasn’t how you were planning on spending your last day of vacation.”

“I don’t mind,” Vincent says, sounding strangely like he means it. “I like spending time with you.”

Yves nearly drops the pillow he’s holding.

When he looks back at Vincent, Vincent looks faintly amused. “Is that so surprising? I think I’d be a terrible fake boyfriend if I didn’t.”

“You make a really good one, as it stands,” Yves tells him, sincerely, and Vincent smiles.

Yves looks out the window—where the city beneath them begins to resolve itself into miniature, where the sky stretches where he can see Vincent reflected faintly back at him, from the glass—and finds that he feels impossibly light.

#sneeze fic #snz fic #sneeze kink #snz kink #snzfic #when i set off to write a slow burn h/c fic i don't think i expected it to be 28k words #this was a journey for me... thank you sincerely to everyone who's joined me for the ride 😭#i am not sure if this specific chapter feels rushed? or if it's too short? (if it does i'm very sorry 🙇‍♀️)#some thoughts... (spoilers ahead; pls read the chapter before proceeding)#1) this installment in particular is something of a turning point in their relationship development (and i hope that's not too subtle)#2) vincent not being like a traditionally 'soft' caretaker and having his frustration show a little more openly is something i've had in my #head for awhile :') it was fun to let that crystallize this chapter #yvverse #my fic

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definitelynotshouting · 6 months

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Okay, so, question I've had for a while but never got around to asking, what the FUCK is up with Grian's wings?

If all physical differences in players (like those particularly ascribed to 'Hybrids' in mcyt fanon) in Hunger AU are a result of conscious altering of your own code for the express purpose of achieving YOUR IDEAL BODY(tm) then what does that mean for Grian and his wings? No one seems to regard Grian's wings as "What The Fuck, You Can DO That?!?" so presumably wings aren't so big of a change from normal biology that players can't do that. If so, why is it not more common? Man, if I could have wings I'd jump on that in seconds. Especially with the sheer utility the ability to fucking FLY gives players. Are wings (and maybe other larger alterations) just like, REALLY HARD to code in? If so, that might add a really cool layer of "Oh wow! They must be a really good coder!" to players who meet people like that.

On a related note, Grian seems to have a positive regard for his wings, which is interesting because I would be willing to bet he didn't have that before *insert sounds of worm-bursting and non-consensual body modification*. I imagine seeing his wings would likely feel like a reminder of the Watchers and what they did to him. BUT, Watchers manipulate their own code when they change like Grian did to, y'know, not be a worm anymore so Grian probably specifically chose how he looked, right? So, unless he did so really rushed and somehow made a mistake while doing so (which he might not be able to risk the structural damage of correcting), keeping the wings was a conscious decision. Does Grian just not associate his wings with the Watchers or is it something else? Does he just really enjoy having wings?

HELLO I AM SO GLAD YOU'VE ASKED THIS BECAUSE I HAVE ‼️‼️‼️‼️ MANY THOUGHTS ABOUT IT ‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️

Okay okay so these are all SUCH valid questions, lemme go through them one by one. Wings are indeed something anyone could have if they wanted to code them in-- and in fact, i do believe many other Players have wings throughout the universe!!! As far as body mods go, i like to think of them as decently popular, so its definitely not anything too weird to see. In chapter 5, i even make a mention to Pearl having moth wings she occasionally codes in due to preference!!! So wings of many different types are definitely available-- but the catch is that they're real fiddly to code. You cant just give yourself wings, you have to code in the bone structure, the muscles, the tendons, etc etc, and then you have to change your entire body structure as well to work with and fully support them. They can be awkward and unwieldy, as ive tried to show in the fic itself, and i think that alone can be a big discouragement for Players considering coding in wings, along with the sheer coding effort needed to obtain them and make them functional

And the thing is, elytra already exist-- they're far more compact, they dont take up as much space, you can take them on and off super easily without having to mess with your coding, and they basically do the same thing. Sure, its a pain to get one, but a lot of Players really enjoy the sense of accomplishment, and i think theres a bit of cultural prestige too in that regard. Server milestones are a huge thing in Player culture, and getting your first pair of elytra is a big one!!! So it makes sense to me that people who just dont want to go through the effort of coding in wings (which can then in turn complicate how they code other future modifications) primarily stick to elytra.

And everybody is different-- some people prefer attributes that arent wings. I like to think everyone in hermitcraft generally is a mix of "jeez thats effort, i could be building my base instead of doing that" and "eh im fine how i am, i like it" and "well we have elytra shops everywhere so why bother".

So in short, yeah!! Wings are a bit complex to code in. They're still pretty popular, i think plenty of Players do choose to incorporate them, but it takes a lot of hard and thorough work to make sure they function right and wont bug you out when you use them. There are billions of Players scattered across the universe, so what you're seeing in the fic right now is truly just a drop in the ocean when it comes to Player body diversity :] and then, elytra basically already help Players achieve a form of flight without the hassle of recoding their entire body structure, so i think the majority of Players just prefer to use them instead.

AS FOR GRIAN'S WINGS IN PARTICULAR......

Well..... its complicated. Particularly his feelings about them-- in the fic, i referenced them as the only good thing the Watchers ever gave him, and thats how he sees it, i think: a thin silver lining. He's had many, many years to get used to them, and i think he goes through periods where he hates them and the memories attached, too. Ultimately, he's kinda stuck with them, so i think he hit a form of acceptance (as bitter-tinged as it may be) out of sheer necessity for his own sanity.

As for why he has them, and hasnt coded them out: i think of it as a particular quirk of biology/structural coding. Watchers have a more instinctive way of coding than Players, but a Player-minded Watcher is still going to think like a Player, and thats going to muddle things a lot. Grian essentially had to relearn how to code, in a way that satisfied both Player and Watcher-style coding, and the results at first were.... a little rough around the edges. Once he managed to finally take on his original former appearance, the wings from his true form just kind of.... stuck. I like to think it took a few increasingly desperate tries before he realized he just could not figure out how to get rid of them (bc of how different his new code was), and had to accept that this was just how he was gonna have to live for a while until he finally figured it out. And then, well.... you can get used to anything, if you're stuck with it long enough. I think after a while it just stopped being a huge priority, and then he reached a point where it would be more awkward to live without them than with them, and he eventually dropped the idea altogether. And i think sometimes, they function almost like a scar, to him-- a reminder of what he went through, yes, but a reminder that he did manage to escape. And, ofc, he also just really, really likes flying skdjskdjdj

So yeah, loads of complicated feelings there about his wings, and its stuff i do plan on exploring later in the fic!!! This got a little rambly, but i hope this makes sense and answers your questions!!!! :D its a fun little complicated knot that im glad someone has gotten curious enough to ask about!!!!

#shouting speaks #asks #hunger au #grian #watcher grian #watcher!grian #hermitcraft #ig like. basically its all abt human behavior at the end of the day #not everybody codes in wings bc not everybody wants to. grian chooses to keep them bc hes lived w/ them so long it feels better this way #also i do think it took several tries for him to regain his player appearance. like he glitched several times #while trying to modify his body to accomodate the Problem Wings™#kinda like... what was it. load bearing coconut in the tf2 games #you take it out the entire game wont start #he tried taking out his wings and it almost turned him into goo. atp it was better just to leave them until he gained more experience #and then when he got to that point it no longer felt like a priority/he'd settled into having them #so yeah fkwjdkekdk human illogic behavior. ur gonna see that a TON in the fic itself #long post #txt

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darklilcreature · 1 year

Text

Beautiful Little Creature

Notes: Sorry it has taken so long...things have been crazy 🦇🖤

Chapter 3

The giant groaned as he slowly pushed the marvelous black marble doors open. As you step inside the you whimper as a shiver runs through your body. The room, if that is what one would call it, was bigger than your entire little flat back at home.

The room was dark, lit only by the blazing fireplace, and burning torches mounted along the walls. The longer you stood there, the more nervous you got. This was certainly starting to feel like a very bad idea. Dark and twisted was one thing in your life. But this was starting to get a little too much for your dark little soul. Another groan from behind you and the shutting of the doors made you jump. A whimper stuck in your throat and a racing heart had you quickly heading back to the door.

“Leaving so soon Ms. Ives? We haven’t even had the chance to chat. Why don’t you have a seat before rushing out, you might come to find this is everything you have been dreaming of.”

There was that voice again. Slowly turning around, keeping your head down, trying your utmost best to regain your composure, you took a deep breath before looking up. The gasp that left your lips had you blushing. Your eyes fell upon the most beautiful looking creature you had ever seen. Taller than most, skin that was possibly as pale as yours, the most sweets white curls framing their face. Eyes so blue you had already gotten lost swimming in them.

You found yourself walking slowly towards them, your eyes never leaving theirs. The whimper that was once stuck in your throat had left your lips the moment you sat down in front of them. You were calm yet your heart wanted to leap from your chest. Your mouth was dry, leaving you completely speechless. The figure before you took a seat and smiled wickedly at you.

“Welcome to Netherworld Ms. Ives, I must apologize once again for my tardiness. But if you choose to join me, you will see that running a college like this is anything short from easy.” As a few moments past without an answer the Principal stood and come over to you. A touch to your arm had you snap out of your trans. The warmth of their hand was overwhelming and deliciously pleasant. Your cheeks warmed as you looked up at them. “I do apologize Principal Morningstar; it seems I am at a slight lose for words in your presence.” With a slight tilt of their head and a small smile they return to their chair.

“Most interesting college you have here. Can’t find out much about it, and the town has this ludicrous idea that it popped up over night. Since my arrival, I have yet to see or hear a student or even another staff member. So, if I may, what kind of college is this exactly?” Your words stern and slightly cold. While time here had not been as long as it had probably felt, you wished to leave sooner rather than later. Yet as you shifted in your chair, their gazing had you wanting to stay a little longer.

“It’s a school for special children and young adults Ms. Ives. The students that come here are of unique backgrounds and have very specific futures. We are here to make sure they fulfill these goals and do so with only the finest results. We do not settle mediocracy here.”

The answer you got is certainly not something you were expecting. While most schools wanted their pupils to try to their best abilities, hearing them tell you that they wouldn’t settle for anything less than greatness seemed harsh and unfair to children. No matter what their futures are meant to be.

“Well, I have never been one to force a child to do more than what I know is their best. But I always make sure that their best is achieved. No reason to push them if one knows that a B student will never be an A student.” You paused for a second, you could have sworn you saw flames dancing in their eyes. “I would also very much like to understand what you mean by special children? I find it hard to believe that this is a school for special needs students.”

A knock on the door had the Principal standing up with a slight smile. “I am sorry Ms. Ives; I unfortunately have other matters I need to attend to. I will have a contact and further information emailed through to you later this evening. I have been informed that you have been looking at transport and a house?” You were about to speak when they raised a hand and continued their thought “I have taken it upon myself to have it all arranged. Your goods will be collected from your hotel, and everything should be ready for you by the time you leave here. Please can you let me know what else you require so that we can arrange to have it delivered to your new home.” Irritation had set in by this point. Who the hell did they think they were. “Principal Morningstar, I have not even accepted the job, I also do not take kindly to my personal space and life being interfered in. This is a boundary that, I don’t how or why, has been greatly overstepped.”

The doors behind you opened, the Principal leaning over you, their hands on either side of the arm rests, their face inches from yours. “Feisty little thing aren’t you Ms. Ives? Whats done is done, and let’s be honest with one another shall we? We both know that you are going to accept my offer, how could you not?”

The principal ushered you out the office and the doors shut once again behind you. You were speechless yet oddly hot and bothered by the situation that had just happened. You blindingly walked through the school, somehow naturally just knowing which way to head out as if you have been walking these corridors for years. Once outside you found a car already waiting outside for you, waiting to take you to your new home, and seemingly your new life.

Tags:

@pebbleswritessometimes - 😘🥰🖤 kisses to you babes @justcallmelittleone

@gwendolinechristieiscute - tagging you from here hun. Other blog was linked, so have started over separately.

#gwendoline christie #gwendolineuniverse #lucifer sandman #lgbtq #gay girls #girls who kiss girls #girls who like girls #morningstarxoc #morningstar #lesbian #lesbian pride

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sapphirefallschronicles · 1 year

Text

- ̥۪͙۪˚┊❛ Welcome to Sapphire Falls - chapter 17 ❜┊˚̥۪͙۪◌

Basketballer!Chris Evans x Abigail Syverson (plus size!ofc) & Farmer!Syverson x Livia Darmandi (Asian ofc)

Summary: Livia has finished her short story and asks Sy to read it.

Word count: 1.7k

Warnings: None

The Advent Calendar (a.k.a. the masterlist)

Okay, so the first few chapters of my short story are finished. No, wait, that’s a lie. The entire thing is finished, but only the first few chapters are readable. I called Sy, wondering if he could offer me a lift and he gladly did. Driving me to the copyshop went by faster than the navigation predicted, but that is all thanks to Sy’s “chased by the devil”-driving style.

‘So please, wait here, okay?’ I ask him. ‘Don’t drive off.’

‘I wouldn’t dare.’

I grab my hand bag, before I hop out of the truck. I make my way to the copyshop, quickly give the print order and within ten minutes and only costing me two dollars, I’ve printed out fifty pages of my short story. Securely tucked away in the handbag, I walk back and get in the truck.

‘Done.’

Sy nods. ‘Ian called. Again.’

‘For fuck’s sake,’ I exclaim, really getting tired of his stupid antics. I grab my phone that I apparently left in the car and block his number. ‘I should’ve done that sooner,’ I note. ‘Blocking was the answer to everlasting peace.’

When Sy drives back, he asks: ‘How did you meet Ian?’

In the time I’ve been back in Sapphire Falls, I’ve mentioned Ian, but I never told him the details about my tumultuous relationship with him. Especially not how I met him. ‘I met him at a bar during college. He was a bit of a… What should I call it… The loveable nerdy friend of the jock.’ I turn to the side and add: ‘If that makes sense.’

‘Oddly specific even.’

‘Well, we hit it off, started dating, broke up, got back together, and repeated that cycle a few times. You know, the on-and-off relationship cliche. Really, it’s not even worth talking too long about. What about you? Did you ever date?’

Sy shakes his head. ‘I got no time for dating,’ he says.

‘Well, if it’s true love, you make time,’ I note.

I wonder what Sy did in the years we spend apart. He might not have dated and pursued relationships, he must’ve done something.

However, that thought makes me feel oddly jealous, so I push the thought of Sy and other women aside.

‘Well, you’re not in a rush, right?’ I ask him. ‘Unlike the rest of town by the way. Your truck was spotted and everyone inside the shop started drooling. It’s borderline pavlovian.’

Sy smirks. ‘What did you print? Or am I still not allowed to ask about it?’

‘Well, I printed out the first fifty pages of my short story. I finished the entire thing, but the rest is not readable yet.’ I turn to the side and take in Sy’s attractive features. The small bump on his nose, the thick beard and the deep frown. ‘Do you want to read it?’ I ask him.

The frown becomes deeper. ‘Why do you want me to read it?’

‘Because I want your opinion on it. Please, Sy, would you? It would mean the world to me.’

‘Ah, even from the corners of my eyes I can see that damn pout of yours,’ he says. ‘Stop that.’

‘Only if you read it.’

He groans. ‘I’ll read it. Fifty pages is doable,’ he says.

‘Yeah, that’s the spirit. Thank you.’

He nods with a smile. ‘Sure thing, Liv.’

●・○・●・○・●

I spend my time on the farm, gently petting the sweet goats. At first I thought Sy was exaggerating when he said the goats didn’t like them, but I saw the way they looked at him and I realized he might be right.

I walk over the large landscape and I see Sy sitting in the shed he built when he was younger. The shed where I have one of my most hidden, yet most beautiful memories stored with him. Part of me wants to bring it up, wants to tell him how much I loved that night and therefore how much I loved him, but I don’t.

I can’t.

That next morning, after we woke up in the shed, we pretended like nothing happened. I handed him back his shirt, quickly put on my own pajamas. We sauntered back to the house. The last thing we sort of said about the matter was when he brought me to my room. He stopped in the doorway and gave me one soft kiss on my forehead. A brief smile was toying on his face, before he nodded, squeezed my hand and walked away.

I wonder if he remembered that night as clearly as I do. I kinda wish he did.

‘Liv!’

I look up, to see Sy jogging up to me, my partial manuscript in his hand.

‘You’ve got more, I hope,’ he says.

I let out a shy chuckle. ‘Because you thought it was good or because you want to smack me with a thicker pile of paper, because I suck?’

‘What? Liv, this is absolutely amazing.’ He smiles and says: ‘I love your writing style. It’s quick, yet poetic. Not dragging at all.’

I take in the compliment. I love people talking about my writing, but a compliment from Sy just hits different. ‘I have more. Just have to give it one more check.’

‘If you are done with that, I’ll drive you to the copyshop again.’ He looks at the papers in his hand before he asks: ‘Oh, and the handsome farmer is totally based on me, right?’

I smack his chest. ‘No,’ I mutter, though that is totally a lie. ‘Maybe.’

Sy laughs. ‘Well, you dragged me along to the copyshop, now I’m gonna drag you along.’

‘Where to?’

‘To my bedroom.’

Don’t do this to yourself, Livia. Do not let your mind wander.

‘Why?’ I manage to choke out.

‘Because…’ He awkwardly scratches his beard. ‘I’ve got your books there.’

I’ve heard from Abigail that he bought my books, but he hasn’t mentioned it himself just yet. It’s almost weird to hear it from him. ‘Oh… Did you read them?’

‘Every single one of them,’ he says. ‘Mom was obsessed and always forced me to go buy them. I bought copies for myself while I was there.’

I know how Sy has never been the type of guy who would read. He never appreciated books in the way I would. I remember when we were younger, we had to read a book for school. Sometimes I’d force him, but other times I would read them to them, while he was working on the farm. Whether he’d be cleaning the stables, organizing logs or building the shed, I’d be near him, the book in hand and I’d read it to him, adding ridiculous voices and what not.

It was the only way to get him to read a book, so he wouldn’t fail class.

But that was back in high school. I thought that after I had left, he’d never pick up a book again.

And now I hear it from him.

He read my books.

I follow him inside, into his minimalistic room. ‘You liked them?’

‘I loved them,’ he says. ‘I always knew you would make it as a writer, but these books were amazing.’ He pushes some things aside and grabs all the books I’ve written. ‘They were my only connection to you.’

‘Sy,’ I whisper. ‘That is… So sweet.’

‘I can see your main characters are like you,’ he says with a gentle smile, placing the books on his desk. He plops down on the bed and adds: ‘Mags from the Game Over series managed to wrap everyone around her finger.’

I frown. ‘Mags had the gift of manipulation.’

Sy shakes his head. ‘You don’t. You don’t manipulate. You… Ah shit, how do I say this?’

Realizing he is trying to word it correctly, but can’t seem to find the right words, I decide to help him out.

‘Mags does it on purpose, I don’t?’

He nods. ‘That’s right.’

‘What about Roxy from Verified?’

He smiles. ‘Roxy is fearless.’

‘I’m not fearless.’

‘You are, Liv. You moved to New York City of all the places in the world. By yourself. I call that pretty fearless.’

I grab the chair of his desk and say: ‘I’m not fearless, Sy.’

He lets out a deep sigh. ‘To me you are.’ The words linger in the air and I try to find the correct words, but now I’m at a loss. ‘And this new main character, Alyssa, she’s just as magnificent as you are. Kind, sweet and patient.’

Sy’s eyes are vulnerable, open and I wonder what I should say to him.

‘People change,’ I say. ‘I changed.’

‘You grew up,’ he says. ‘You matured. Of course you changed, but who you are to the core, that will never change.’

My mouth is dry and then I feel a tear burning in my eyes, followed by many more. ‘I’m so sorry,’ I whisper. ‘I’m sorry for disappearing.’

He pushes himself from the bed, before he crouches down in front of me. His hands on my thighs. ‘Don’t apologize.’

‘You kept up with me, while I never kept up with you. I thought about you, I have my first suitcase with daisies, stored with memories, but… I never came back, because the more time went by, the scarier it became. I’m a horrible friend.’

‘No, you are not,’ he says. ‘Because you did come back.’ In his own rough way, he brushes the tears from my cheeks. ‘And we’re going to do better now, the both of us. Come on, I could’ve gotten on Instagram and found a way to message you. This is not on you, this is on us.’

I hold his face in my hands and I nod. ‘We’ll do better.’

I already part my lips, wanting to tell him something, when we hear the doorbell. Judging from the absence of Abigail’s truck, I know he has to open the door. I let go of him and he hesitates for a second, before he gets up. ‘You go sign the books,’ he says.

‘What?’

‘Come on, the author of my favorite books is here.’ He chuckles and says: ‘And you better make it personal.’

#Welcome to Sapphire Falls #Welcome to Sapphire Falls Masterlist #diegos-butt & keanureevesisbae advent calender #Chris Evans #Henry Cavill #Syverson #Basketballer!Chris Evans #Farmer!Syverson #Plus size!ofc #Asian!ofc #chris evans x plus size ofc #henry cavill x asian ofc #chris evans x ofc #henry cavill x ofc

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lowlylux · 2 months

Text

I am a Sinner (You are a Saint)

Chapter Fourteen | One World

Ship: HeiKazuScara

Rating: E

Status: In Progress

Word Count: 3.5k words

Description:

“You shall be cast out of the heavenly realm indefinitely.”

Kunikuzushi feels arms grab his own as he is forced to his feet. He struggles, keeping his eyes on his mother only. “Mother! Don’t let them do this!” The guards continue to drag him away, even if it is a struggle. “Mother!” He knows the gate to the human realm is growing closer to him. The more time passes, the less chance he has to escape. But the divine never back out of their decisions…never. He looks to his mother one last time, hoping that she at least looks at him. But her gaze refuses to meet his own.

When he is finally cast out, the air rushing past his entire body, he could only visualize his mother’s pained expression.

He has never felt so alone…

AO3 Link

“I’m surprised you actually showed up,” Kaeya says casually, crossing his right leg and placing it on his left. He has some sort of drink in a glass, and Scaramouche hopes it isn’t alcohol just for the sake of everyone’s sanity. “Considering they showed up to your house, no one would judge you for staying home.”

“You definitely would have talked about it for days afterward,” Diluc says with a scoff. He’s sitting with Childe, in seats far away from Kaeya. Childe is holding onto Diluc’s waist, resting his chin on his boyfriend’s shoulder. “But Scaramouche, it’s good you came.”

Scaramouche hesitantly takes a seat, noting that for once, the bar is completely empty save for the few people he expected to see today. “For all the praise I’m getting for showing up, I’m still not sure why you all wanted me here.”

“Are you familiar with the gnosis pool?”

Scaramouche nods, growing uncomfortable with the conversation. “The divine determined that knowledge was superior to the evolution of the angelic realm, and mandated that an angel’s memory should be available to others. Although, I’m not too sure how much is updated if we fall.” Scaramouche’s eyes flick forward, staying on Kaeya. “Why do you want to know?”

Kaeya takes a sip of his drink before talking, staying as calm as ever. “We have reason to believe that the current leader of the demonic realm is a fallen angel.”

Scaramouche’s heart drops at such words, looking to Childe for some assistance. He doesn’t even know why, but something in him hopes that Childe can shed some light on the situation, but the demon avoids his gaze. “What do you mean? Angels don’t just fall to the demonic realm…and based on my own memory, we haven’t had anyone fall since before the war. So who exactly do you think the Tsaritsa is?”

Diluc squeezes Childe’s hand for a moment before sighing. “Have you heard of Barnabas?”

Scaramouche’s brain feels as if it has short circuited, unable to fully recognize the words these people are saying. “She died after the war. We held a funeral for her.”

“She’s alive.”

“No,” Scaramouche says, shaking his head. “It was shortly after I was created. My mother specifically told me that I was created due to the rage of losing both her sister and Barnabas.”

“And what if she lied to you?” Kaeya questions, rolling his only visible eye when Scaramouche sends him a look. “She lied, saying that she didn’t know about the uprising and you’re sitting here looking at me as if she is a saint.”

“She’s my mother.”

“And she lied to you, get over it.”

“Kaeya, that’s enough,” Diluc says, sitting forward. “I’m well aware that this entire situation is fucked up, but that doesn’t mean you need to be an ass to the only chance we have.”

“If he was actually capable of basic comprehension maybe I wouldn’t have to be.”

“And if you were able to properly communicate with others we wouldn’t have a problem,” Diluc hisses out, grabbing Childe’s hand for comfort once more. The demon is the one to squeeze this time, successfully calming the man. “We have reasons to believe that Barnabas was able to ascend and become an archangel, and in order to continue their control, the divine cast her out.”

“If she became an archangel, people would have talked about it,” Scaramouche says, not quite in denial, but suspicious. “Everyone in the angelic realm believes that she is dead…but…”

“But?”

“It would make sense why Celestia was afraid of me becoming too involved with anything,” Scaramouche mutters, putting the puzzle pieces together himself. “They claim that our ranks are eternal, but if one was able to ascend, it could potentially decimate their entire society. It would make sense that certain people are far more predisposed to ascend, which is why an seemingly arbitrary list of people weren’t able to have free reign like other angels.” Scaramouche’s gaze snaps forward, “but all this is hypothetical. The only angel to ascend was rumored to be under high stress and protecting another life.”

“And what happened to that archangel?” Diluc questions, staying calm and keeping an even tone as he speaks.

“The records of them were sealed into the gnosis pool…and I never felt the need to look into it.”

“Scara,” Childe says hesitantly, talking for the first time. “If Dottore and Pantalone are going after you, that means they are close to summoning the Tsaritsa. We need to find out if she has weaknesses.”

“And why are we sure that you won’t betray us?” Kaeya asks, his attention now on the demon. “You’re a harbinger, that’s only awarded to those who are her confidants.”

“My queen is the reason I am able to make my own decisions. I stand here only because she saw something in me,” Childe says defensively. “If there is a way to make her stand down, I will urge all of you to take it. But, she’s changed over the centuries. While I adore her and owe her my existence, I refuse to sit by and let her destroy the human realm and herself.”

“In other words, shut up about things you don’t understand,” Diluc mutters, rolling his eyes at his brother. His attention goes back to Scaramouche. “Only angels can access the gnosis pool, and if our theory is correct, we need to see if there is something we can use against her.”

“What if I can’t access it anymore? They cast me out.”

“Then it will be another failed plan,” Diluc says, trying to reassure the angel. “We need a few days to get the spell ready so you can access it from here…but if it ends up being unsuccessful, we will not fault you in the slightest, understood?”

Scaramouche can only nod.

●•·•●

Heizou didn’t expect returning to work to be as boring as it is. No, boring is not quite the right word for it, aggravating is a much better one. Everyone is tip-toeing around him, acting as if he is a porcelain doll that could break. Yes, he was kidnapped during an investigation, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t against going back out there.

Scaramouche is connected to the magical world, yes, but maybe Heizou can do something to stop Dottore and Pantalone in his own world. He didn’t see them coming at first, but he knows their tricks. Possession, shape shifting, and an over reliance on their opponents being less intelligent than them. Heizou can definitely work with that.

Hell, he doesn’t even know what Scaramouche is doing at the moment. He trusts him, but that doesn’t mean he can’t wonder what’s going to happen. He clicks through files he’s accumulated on both Dottore and Pantalone.

And there really isn’t much.

He didn't expect there to be, after all these two have been planning all this for a long time. They even infiltrated his workplace to keep other people’s eyes off the truth. However, there is still enough to work with.

Heizou considers himself to be smart. He has to be when working as a detective. So seemingly meaningless information is like a Christmas gift to him, forever furthering the investigation. Because if you can look into the small facts, like what they ate at a steakhouse, or where Dottore went to kindergarten, threads begin to unravel. The truth can’t really be hidden, merely obstructed. But if you take the time, you can blow away the dust and reveal everything you need to know.

So he definitely plans to do that. While Scaramouche can continue to unravel their plan, Heizou will attack their entire way of living. It’s not a solid plan, and it could most definitely come crashing down and actively hurt him in the end, but Heizou cannot bring himself to care.

“Heizou?”

The detective’s attention snaps away from his computer, allowing him to look at his superior. Kujou Sara stands there, looking hesitant. “Did your boyfriend adopt another wild animal?”

Heizou raises an eyebrow, fully questioning what she is asking. When Sara points to the ground he stands up, looking down. And honestly, he didn’t expect to see a fox sitting there calmly, staring directly at him. And the eyes…he definitely thinks there is something more to it.

Quickly recovering, he just shrugs. “Kazuha said he needed to grab a few things and asked me to take care of this one. I should have asked, sorry.”

“…make sure it doesn’t ruin the carpets,” Kujou Sara says with her eyes narrowed. She obviously doesn’t believe him, but he really appreciates her trusting him to not do anything stupid. But who knows, thinking a random fox is anything other than a fox is rather stupid.

When his boss leaves, the fox wastes no time in jumping onto Heizou’s desk. It stares at him, blinking slowly, clearly assessing him to an uncomfortable degree. Or maybe it isn’t, maybe Heizou is going crazy. Honestly, that is probably the answer now that he thinks about it.

“Are you actually a fox?”

It was a shot in the dark, and it definitely makes Heizou feel like he is going crazy. But with the way the fox moves, it almost feels like the creature shakes its head.

“Are you here because of Scara?”

It nods this time, and Heizou feels as if he is going insane. It is a good thing he has his own private office or his coworkers would mock him relentlessly for talking to a literal wild creature.

“Are you here to kill him?”

It shakes its head.

“To protect him?”

It just stands still, which Heizou decides must mean that the situation is far more complicated then a simple yes or no interrogation.

“To watch him?”

The fox nods once more, and it surely was not the answer Heizou was hoping for. Honestly, he doesn’t know what he is really hoping for.

“Why?”

While Scaramouche insisted that he could craft jewelry using the feathers he selected from his wings, both Heizou and Kazuha refused. Both said that they would do it right, and while neither had previously done anything close to jewelry making, neither of them faltered in their collective decision. If the receiver of the feather is supposed to craft the jewelry in the Angelic Realm, they can do it down here as well.

During his breaks, Heizou had been watching Youtube videos on how to start crafting an necklace that would rival whatever Kazuha is cooking up (and has most likely finished by now). So, when this fox stands up and puts a paw on the feather, Heizou cannot help but worry.

“You’re connected to heaven?”

The fox stands still: another complicated answer.

So, Heizou just narrows his eyes for a moment, his mind going through many possibilities before arriving at a very simple one. He stares at the fox for a moment, looking for anything that indicates something different from what he has come up with in his mind.

“His mother sent you.”

The fox nods and Heizou quickly realizes that maybe this will be a day he doesn’t talk about once he gets home…at least not with his angel.

●•·•●

Kazuha found himself admiring the earring he made, the feather almost shimmering in the light. Scaramouche took forever selecting two feathers, according to the angel he needed to ensure that both were of equal quality. But Kazuha likes to think this is special. Scaramouche isn’t unintelligent, he knows that both his partners favor different styles, and most likely selected feathers to portray that.

When the front door slams, Kazuha sits up immediately, heart racing when he thinks of Scaramouche seeing the earring for the first time. He can already imagine the smile that will spread across the angel’s face.

But Scaramouche barely even looks at Kazuha before flopping onto Kazuha with the grace of an elephant. He buries his face into Kazuha’s shoulder and just sits there, as if silently asking Kazuha to ask what happened.

“I’m guessing hanging out with Childe didn’t go well.”

Scaramouche only grunts in response, nuzzling further into Kazuha’s shoulder. Kazuha takes that as an answer though and continues on as if he had said a thousand words.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Scaramouche moves, shifting so that he and Kazuha are face to face. He looks conflicted, and Kazuha frankly does not like it whatsoever. “They think there is more to the current ruler of the Demonic Realm than meets the eye.”

“Oh?”

“Don’t ask me to clarify,” Scaramouche says with a sigh, messing with Kazuha’s sleeve. “I don’t even know all the details myself…What they’re suggesting is practically impossible.”

Kazuha moves hair out of Scaramouche’s face, silently noting that the angel’s hair is getting long again. But He doesn’t have the heart to point it out, especially due to the choppy haircut Scaramouche once gave himself, now growing out into quite a nice one. “That sounds stressful.”

“It’s fine…I think,” Scaramouche says, not really believing his words. “But they want me to do something that I’m not comfortable with…Looking into another angel’s memory is something I never thought of doing.”

“What?”

“Celestia makes sure our memories are preserved so we can further our own knowledge. It’s not utilized a lot because we don’t have control over what is saved. It saves every moment of our lives.”

Kazuha pauses, his mind going over the sudden information. “Does that mean that any time we…”

“I don’t like thinking about it.”

Well that certainly answers his question. Now, while he does feel comforted that it probably would never be seen, he cannot help but feel a bit uncomfortable that any intimate moment he has had with Scaramouche has been recorded. “Why didn’t you say anything about that?”

Scaramouche finally meets his gaze, and Kazuha's heart practically melts. The angel looks absolutely devastated, as if waiting for Kazuha to throw him aside for this. His wings are even drooping, barely visible due to the angle Kazuha is sitting at. “I didn’t think my memory was still being recorded once I was cast out. I’m so sorry, I should have told you both about the possibility.”

“Hey,” Kazuha says softly, holding Scaramouche’s face, “you didn’t know. And if what you said is true, not like someone is going to just happen upon your memories.”

Kazuha notices Scaramouche’s eyes watering and immediately brushes away any tears that start to fall. “You two are too good to me. I don’t deserve it.”

“Scara…If I could, I would shower you with everything you would ever want until you admitted that you deserve that tenfold. I would hold you in my arms, praising you until my throat goes dry. But for now I think just telling you that neither Heizou nor I care about something as insignificant as our lives with you being immortalized.”

Scaramouche stares at Kazuha in shock, his eyes wide. Honestly, Kazuha suspects that the man’s brain has short circuited.

“I love you so much.”

And suddenly Kazuha also cannot think clearly. He doesn’t even respond at first, instead causing the angel to worry as he stays silent. Kazuha pulls Scaramouche closer to him, pressing his lips softly onto the other’s. When they separate a few moments later, he smiles. “I love you too.”

And for the first time, Scaramouche is actually looking at Kazuha. Kazuha notes how the angel looks him over, observing every reaction he is having due to the sudden confession. But when Scaramouche spots the earring, he visibly stops before reaching out and touching it.

“What do you think?”

“You made it an earring,” Scaramouche whispers, letting out a breath as he continues to observe it. He holds it in his hand, letting the light catch it as he just stares. But when he suddenly grabs Kazuha’s face, forcing a kiss that does not feel like the previous one, Kazuha cannot help but gasp in surprise.

Truthfully, if Kazuha knew that wearing the feather would cause Scaramouche to kiss him like this, he would have done it immediately. He keeps his hands to his sides, deciding to not make a move until getting permission. Not that it really seems like he needs it, as Scaramouche continues on without a care in the world.

He deepens the kiss, his arms moving to loosely wrap around Kazuha’s neck, successfully pulling him closer. Kazuha is becoming hyper aware of every move Scaramouche makes, moaning into the angel’s mouth as the world around them disappears.

They separate for a moment, their breaths mingling as they just appreciate each other's presence for now. Kazuha rests his forehead on Scaramouche’s, softly smiling. “Are you okay?” Scaramouche asks.

And Kazuha, for all that he likes to believe he knows how the human brain works, looks absolutely confused. “What?”

“You’re stiff…” Scaramouche mutters, intertwining one of his hands with Kazuha’s. “Did I do something wrong?”

Kazuha squeezes his partner’s hand, pressing a soft kiss onto the angel’s forehead. “I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“I thought I told you to stop doing that.”

“I guess you did,” Kazuha replies, smiling as Scaramouche gets visibly annoyed, scrunching up his face. “Maybe I’m developing memory loss due to my old age.”

“You’re twenty-four,” Scaramouche says with a blank expression, and then, seemingly, he gets another idea. “And I’m older than you by a few thousand years at least.”

“Ah but humans change faster than angels, so how do you know I’m not old by human standards?”

“I’ll tell Beidou you called her old.”

“Please don’t.” Kazuha shudders at the thoughts of his last breath as Beidou murders him. He decides to ignore those thoughts, as he would at least hope Beidou wouldn’t kill him. “But seriously, what do you want me to do?”

Scaramouche’s cheeks flush red as he pushes against Kazuha’s chest. “You can’t just ask me something like that.”

“Why not?” Kazuha asks coyly, grinning widely. “Is it my fault that I want to know what you want? Or maybe I could just do the process of elimination, hmm?” He still smiles as he presses a soft kiss onto Scaramouche’s lips. “Maybe this?” He grabs a handful of Scaramouche’s hair, pulling the angel's head to the side so that he can start pressing soft kisses onto his partner’s neck.

And even though Scaramouche is clearly enjoying this, the angel shakes his head. When Kazuha lets him go, he doesn’t fail to hear the whine coming from him.

“Well I simply need to think about this then,” Kazuha says, messing with the angel’s wings this time, pulling at specific feathers meticulously. “Maybe you just tell me what you want.”

Scaramouche nods, visibly swallowing before taking Kazuha’s hands with this and placing them on his hips. Kazuha wastes no time in squeezing his partner, finding the edge of Scaramouche’s shirt, drawing circles onto his skin. He pushes against Scaramouche’s hips with his own, relishing in the small sounds Scaramouche releases.

Scaramouche is always vocal, and honestly, Kazuha loves it. He adores relishing in the knowledge that his angel slowly begins to lose himself when like this. And when it starts happening, he knows that he is doing everything right.

Scaramouche still does not relinquish control however, instead moving his hips against Kazuha’s, just using the hands on his hips to keep him stable. Kazuha just stares at Scaramouche, enjoying every expression that appears on his beautiful face.

But Scaramouche doesn’t seem as enamored with the idea of Kazua watching him with a stupid smile on his face. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Well if I can only keep my hands here, there’s not much else I can do,” Kazuha teases, closing his eyes for a split second when Scaramouche grinds against him with the right amount of pressure.

“I hate you,” Scaramouche mutters, burying his face into Kazuha’s shoulder.

“Does that mean I can move my hands?”

Scaramouche doesn’t respond, instead continuing his actions. But, with Scaramouche’s current mood, Kazuha takes that as an answer and starts to toy with the angel’s waistline. Scaramouche lifts his hips immediately, giving him an opening to push the clothing down.

“It might be uncomfortable..”

“Shut up.” Scaramouche mumbles into his shoulder. His hands are traveling down as well, messing with Kazuha’s sweatpants. There aren't even words needed as Kazuha just picks up Scaramouche and allows him to tug them down.

When they get comfortable once more, Kazuha finds enjoyment over how flustered Scaramouche looks. Kazuha grins as Scaramouche cries out, his eyes tracing over every feature and reaction as he slowly moves his hand along both his and Scaramouche’s cocks.

Scaramouche holds onto Kazuha tightly, his nails digging deeper the longer their moment lasts. And, to the angel’s credit, it does last for a good while. Even when everything is said and done, Scaramouche stays close to Kazuha, his breath tickling the other’s neck.

Kazuha presses a few scattered kisses onto the angel’s skin, enjoying the silence. And it is in this moment, that Kazuha determines that he refuses to let Scaramouche deal with all of this alone.

He will help. That he is sure of.

13 << >> 15

masterlist

#lowlylux #fanfiction #genshin impact #genshin impact fanfiction #archive of our own #kaedehara kazuha #genshin #kazuha #heizou #fallen angel au #heiscara #heikazuscara #scarakazuhei #scarahei #scaramouche #kazuhei

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darklittlecreature666 · 1 year

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Beautiful Little Creature

Chapter 3

Notes: Sorry it has taken so long...things have been crazy 🦇🖤

“Leaving so soon Ms. Ives? We haven’t even had the chance to chat. Why don’t you have a seat before rushing out, you might come to find this is everything you have been dreaming of.”

Tags:

@pebbleswritessometimes - 😘🥰🖤 kisses to you babes @justcallmelittleone

#morningstarxoc #girls who want girls #girls who kiss girls #lgbtq #lesbian pride #lesbian #gay girls

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crissiebaby · 1 year

Text

DiapOut: Chapter 21

“Alright, Diaper Lovers! Huddle up!” shouted Kyoko, gathering her team into a small circle as they waited in the green room for Round Three to kick off, “It was a valiant effort and we held onto our lead because of it but we can’t get complacent. Since there’s usually a pile of points for the winning team, the next round should determine the winner, so there’ll be no wiggle room for error.”

Nodding along, the three other members of the WET Diaper Lovers Club were operating in perfect sync thanks to their heightened comradery during the sound round. “Tell us what we need to do,” said Zeke, winking at Kyoko in solidarity. If there was anyone he could place his trust in, it was Kyoko. In his eyes, so long as she was leading the charge, their team had one hell of a fighting chance.

“Thank you, Zeke,” said Kyoko, returning his wink in kind, “Okay, here’s the plan-”

Before Kyoko could launch into her plot for a pathway to victory, the sound of Keelee entering through the heavy green room door cut her off. “Kyoko Fu…Fuji…wa…Just get over here, Kyoko,” said Keelee, gesturing for Kyoko to join her at the door.

Looking back at her crew, Kyoko wasn’t exactly thrilled to be pulled away at such a pivotal moment. Thankfully, Cade was there to give her the green light, “Go ahead. We’ll be right here when you get back. I’m sure Zeke can keep Rupert and me from burning the whole place down.”

“What am I, your dad now?” responded Zeke as he playfully elbowed Cade in the side, “He’s right, though, Kyoko. We’ve got plenty of time. Besides, what’s the point of having a VP if I can’t hold down the fort in your absence.”

Blushing slightly, Kyoko couldn’t be happier to have her boys at her side. While they could be a bit frustrating to manage at the worst of times, they were some of the best friends she’d ever had. Without them, she never would’ve had the courage to form their club in the first place, let alone stand up to the school board, and bring them all the way to Hollywood to be in a game show together. “Thanks, guys, you’re the best friends a stinky bab like me could ever wish for,” she said, spreading her arms out wide and bringing everyone in for a group hug.

“Ahem! We’re on a tight schedule, Kyoko,” said Keelee, having no time to care about the love fest going on between Kyoko and her teammates.

Breaking from the group hug, Kyoko waved goodbye as she rushed over to Keelee who promptly ushered her through the door. Moving through the dim corridor at Keelee’s side, she couldn’t help but feel her heart rate start to pick up a bit. She was too much of an anxious mess to ever act on anything but girls like Keelee were definitely her type. Nothing was hotter to her than a confident, slightly tomboyish girl and Keelee fit that bill to a T. “So…uh…you work here for long?” she said nervously, her forehead sweating thanks to the awkward silence that followed, “Oh…it’s Fujiwara, by the way…you were pretty close, though…”

“Good to know,” said Keelee, still too peeved by her conversation with Ayaya to bother small talking with a guest. It wasn’t that she had anything against Kyoko, specifically. She just didn’t want to be around anyone right now. Mercifully, it was a short trip to their destination, “She’s waiting for you inside. You can head back to the green room when you’re done.”

If Kyoko’s heart was racing before, it was practically thumping at light speed as stared blankly at the dressing room door with the words, CassiRole, on it. “W-What…um…why does she…” she began to ask, only to watch her only source of answers in Keelee briskly walk down the hall toward the sound stage.

What could someone as famous as Cassi want to see her for? It wasn’t like she’d even done anything overtly impressive during the games. Taking a few deep, calming breaths, she put on her best game face. Celebrities were just like normal people, right? Plus, she’d been standing only a few feet from Cassi anytime they were filming. What was there to fret over?

Pushing all of her panicked thoughts to the side, Kyoko entered the dressing room, finding it completely dark except for the bright bulbs that surrounded Cassi’s vanity mirror. Contained within the isolated, glowing beams was Cassi’s shadowy figure; the light obscuring the specifics of her body. “Um…hello? Y-You asked to see me?” she stuttered, fighting through a lump in her throat.

“Oh, dear! Have you never heard of knocking?” said Cassi in a half-joking tone. She lowered herself behind the chair stationed in front of the vanity, pretending to be unaware that the mirror ensured that her nude body was kept on full display. Unlike Zeke, who had managed to dodge every seduction trick she had, Kyoko had run right into her trap, entering the dressing room without knocking so that Cassi could fake being startled in a state of undress.

Falling for Cassi’s ploy hook, line, and sinker, Kyoko’s eyes went as wide as dinner plates, believing she had rudely intruded upon someone’s privacy. She averted her gaze, inching her way back through the door, “Oh my Goddess! I’m so, so sorry. I’ll get out of your hair.”

“Wait!” said Cassi, stopping Kyoko just as she was about to shut the door, “Look, it’s fine. I wanted to see you anyway. Just grab me my robe so I can cover up.”

Not wanting to leave the door ajar more than she had to, Kyoko slid back into the dressing room and shut the door soundly behind her. “Right…your robe,” she said under her breath, tiptoeing toward the changing rack where a silk robe was dangling off of a hanger. She snatched the smooth, thin fabric off of the rack and carried it over to Cassi, keeping her eyes locked on the ceiling the whole time.

“Thank you, cutie,” said Cassi, plucking the robe from Kyoko’s hand so that the silky texture danced across her fingertips as she pulled it away. Sneaking a peek back at Kyoko’s face, she was pleased to see that it was as red as a cherry, “I was watching you out there today. You’re one heck of a Messer, pun intended. If only you had a better team surrounding you, you might’ve led quite the comeback.

Smiling at the compliment, Kyoko felt a bit guilty accepting praise while her friends were simultaneously put down. Unfortunately, given who she was talking to, she was far too starstruck to argue against anything Cassi was saying. “Th-thank you, CassiRole,” she stuttered.

“Oh, please! No need to be so formal! You can just call me Cassi if you’d like,” said Cassi as she wrapped the robe’s drawstring around her waist. Keeping an eye on Kyoko the whole time, she was thrilled to see that she was just as nervous as Zeke had been. However, while Kyoko’s anxiety could make her easier to manipulate, she also ran the risk of scaring her off in the same way Zeke was if she pushed too hard and fast. Placing a gentle hand on Kyoko’s arm, she allowed her expression to soften, “Really, I know you're talking to ABDL royalty here but I’m just a normal person. Honestly, it can be pretty difficult to meet and get to know new people now.” She lowered her head, waiting for the inevitable, sympathetic response.

“Oh gosh! I’m sorry, I don’t mean to act so jittery. It just…you’re you, ya know. I’ve, like, literally had a crush on you since I first found your channel,” blurted out Kyoko, realizing what she was confessing to just a hair too late. She covered her mouth, the rosiness in her cheeks growing more prominent, “I-I didn’t mean to…imply that…oh geez, sorry if that was weird. I was just…”

All of a sudden, Kyoko found herself no longer able to continue her sentence as Cassi placed a second hand on her opposite arm and proceeded to step toward her. “A crush, huh? How funny…because I’ve been eyeing you from across the set myself,” she said, backing Kyoko up until her heels were pushed up against Cassi’s chaise lounge chair, “That’s another hard part about fame. It can be really difficult getting close to new people who aren’t just in it for the spotlight. Tell me, do you just see me as a spotlight too?” She punctuated the end of her sentence with the most sincere pair of bedroom eyes she could muster as she allowed her robe to slide off one of her shoulders.

Falling back onto the princess lounger, Kyoko could feel the inside of her diaper heating up as her kitten became moist and puffy. “N-no, I don’t think of you as a spotlight,” she said, looking down at her pampered-up lap in hopes of easing her sex-crazed mental state. Being stuck in a diaper lover club with only guys, her opportunity to find other cute girls with a similar interest in padded playtime was extremely limited. She’d had a handful of sexual interactions since arriving at college but had found no luck in scoring a girl who was willing to engage with her ABDL side, leading to short-lived one-night stands of vanilla fucking. Now, with Cassi making very blatant advances toward her, there was no way she could refuse such a tantalizing offer.

Sensing the submissiveness in Kyoko’s gaze, Cassi lowered herself onto the chaise lounge next to Kyoko, placing a firm hand on her upper thigh in the process. “That’s great to hear, baby,” she said, whispering sweet nothings into Kyoko’s ear and watching hungrily as a chill traveled throughout her pray’s body, “But if it’s all the same to you, I’d be happy to give you the VIP treatment if you know what I mean.” She slowly slid her hand up Kyoko’s thigh until it was nuzzled up next to her diaper, making her intentions crystal clear.

Gulping hard, Kyoko was at a loss for words. Never in a million years did she think signing up for an ABDL game show would lead her. She meekly nodded, allowing Cassi to lean her back on the long, plush chair. In the back of her mind, she had to amend a previous thought. Ultra-fem girls like Cassi were, indeed, her type as well.

TO BE CONTINUED…

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Edited by AllySmolShork

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mysicklove-main · 1 year

Note

Is there anything else you wanna rant about with “your new pack” ?

u just want me to make-out with u don't u 🙄 🙄🙄

but yes sure i can talk for hours, especially since im working on the next chpt currently. (might take bout a week to post tho considering im so busy)

for everyone else not reading this fic, I will post your requests and other stuff after i finish the next chapter!!!

to begin with, i dont know how the hell to make everyone have equal amount of time shown. I want everyone to like all characters, but i accidentally write way more for specific characters than others which is unfair i feel to my (very fictional characters who dont give a fuck) boys. for example, think bout how much we see Keigo compared to Izuku. Its just hard to do it with 5 different ppl so.

I want to rewrite all my beginning chapters bc I feel like i rushed it thinking it was going to be a short story. But here i am, 79k+ words in and the beginning i feel is so so so bad. like i can't even reread it bc i cringe. but i am also so lazy and rlly dont want to rewrite it lol so i just pretend it doesn't exist.

comments, mean way too much to me. Like all writers i love getting a notification that someone commented on my fic, but now its getting to the point where im like, "damn this chpt didn't get many comments, did i do something wrong?" so that's embarrassing and i def need to chill and be grateful for what i have. Im working on it.

Eijiro, Izuku, Shoto are so fucking hard to write and Katsuki and Keigo are so easy to write. Its so strange that im struggling with Izuku, bc he is my favorite, but im trying to show that he is a little fucked up from his past but I also dont want to write him as super quiet. Idk i feel like i kinda brushed off his trauma and i didn't mean to. so that sucks. with Eijiro his actions are easy, simply cause i wrote him as someone to be very touchy and affectionate off the bat. plus he talks alot so. but his internal thoughts are so fucking difficult to write. like what are you thinking bout?? you know she is your mate, but he is trying to get his best friend to get with you. it is so hard. Shoto is the complete opposite. I dont know how the hell he would react in different situations, bc he is more quiet out of the boys, but I want to also show that he is also trying his best too. his deranged thoughts are easy to do, but everything else is a wreck. i think he is the hardest to write for by far.

speaking of shoto his character is so inconsistent. idk if ppl notice, but i do. in the beginning his is more obsessive and has the most negative thoughts. he kinda crazy, u feel me? now, i dont write as much of his creepy perverted thoughts. i just kinda forget to. so now he feels kinda bland and i need to figure out how to bring back some excitement back to his character. maybe this chapter ill go back to the creepy, obsessive, thoughts. it was so fun to write. this all goes back to how hard shots is to write.

I switch perspectives alot and I hope ppl understand what's going on and who is thinking what. I think I have a mix of second person (obvi, with the "you") and 3rd person. bc i narrate others reactions to the situations, and kinda treat Y/N as a character in the story, not as your self. does that make sense??? idk.

since hybrid stories are my fav, i would like to write more, but in different scenarios. for example, another Y/N x Wolf! Katsuki fic, but this katsuki would be a diff one from the other wolf katsuki in Your New Pack. Like i did with the Bunny! Izuku Headcannons. That izuku is diff than Your New Pack one. but would ppl be bored of it?? ik i will never lol.

i wish i could post a poll on who ppl like the best on ao3, just bc im curious who has the most fanboys. (it would prob be keigo tho lol)

i got bored of katsuki wearing the muzzle in the house, so i just trashed it. def poor writing thing to do, but idc at this point, it would throw off my plans for chpts if he was always wearing the muzzle.

sorry i talk alot, but hey u asked for it.

#chit chats #your new pack #ao3

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justinewt · 2 years

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Peaceful Bloodshed - THE 100 REWRITE Chapter Nine

[THE 100 MASTERLIST]

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Summary: Murphy had been found outside camp grounds, covered in blood and wounds. This was unexpected to say the least. But what followed was even more unexpected. One after the other, people started getting sick, coughing blood. The Grounders had finally retaliated and they just had to sit and wait for the 100 to die on their own. When you try to decimate an army from the inside, the battle is sure going to be easier.

Words: 3.8k

Warnings: The 100 season 1 spoilers (specifically episode 10 “I Am Become Death”), short chapter, lots of blood everywhere lmao, sickness, crying, breakdown, a little angst, some sarcasm, fluff, kissing, implied intercourse at the end (i’m not comfortable writing those kind of scenes myself so i just cut early on lmao sorry)

Michelle and Raven exchanged a confused look. They watched Clarke rush to the dropship to go to Murphy while everyone around them were coughing blood feverishly. The two young women were lost in front of what was happening and suddenly Michelle felt like a lump in her throat. She thought it was only because of the stress caused by everything they were all put through constantly but when she winced and was seized with a violent dry coughing that shook her so violently she lost balance and fell to her knees, blood dripping from her mouth and pooling on the ground in front of her. She brought her hands to her neck and moaned in pain, keeping her mouth slightly opened as if keeping it this way would make anything better.

“Michelle.” Raven was shocked and trie to help her up but she was pushed away.

“Stay away from me, Raven.” She articulated, gasping for air before benting over once again and coughing more blood. Reluctantly, the mechanic stepped away, watching Michelle in pain and not being able to help her without putting herself at risk. Michelle supported herself on the ground with her hand and got up with difficulty. Holding her neck like the pressure of her hand around her skin would change anything, she walked to the dropship, feeling like she was on the verge of dying. She managed to walk to the entrance of the dropship and pull the drape hanging across the door frame, but she fell over. Out of nowhere, she felt hands grab her by the waist, catching her in her fall and she turned around to push the person away, falling down. It was Bellamy and he let her go in shock upon seeing blood on her face. “Bellamy, stay away from me.”

“Michelle?” Still crouching near Murphy, the blonde was crossed with intense worry when she found her best friend lying there, covered in blood as well. She came to her and helped her to sit up, squeezing her shoulders. Bellamy watched Clarke and noticed the wiped off blood beneath her eyes and given the way he looked at her too, he wasn’t aware she was sick with whatever this was.

“Did he do something to you?” He inquired, his gun resting in his hands. Clarke shook her head in response and looked up at Bellamy, frowning with concern. “What is this?”

“Biological warfare.” She stated, with a dry voice. Her throat must have started to feel sore too. If she was sick, she wouldn’t just cry blood for a second. It would get way worse. Bellamy stared at Clarke, trying to conceal and contain his shock. “You were waiting for the Grounders to retaliate for the bridge? This is it.” She turned her head to Murphy. “Murphy’s the weapon.”

“Is this your revenge?” Bellamy rose his voice and looked at Murphy while Clarke brought on a bunk on the floor and lied Michelle down on her side so if she had to cough any more blood, she wouldn’t suffocate with it. She went back to Murphy to take care of the wounds on his face and the others that were sick came in the dropship and lied on the floor and on other bunks around the first floor. “Helping the Grounders kill us?”

“I didn’t know about this. I swear.” Murphy replied with difficulty.

“Stop lying.” Bellamy then suddenly yelled, and Michell winced. She closed her eyes a second and looked back at Clarke and Murphy. “When are they coming?”

“Murphy. Think, all right?” She gently pressed him. “What can you tell us that’s useful? Did you hear anything?”

“They are vicious. Cruel.”

“You wanna see “vicious”?”

“Hey, don’t.” Clarke stopped Bellamy as he stepped toward Murphy, understanbly angry at the latter. “Whatever this thing is, it spreads through contact.”

“Clarke?” Finn rushed inside the dropship and despite being weakened and in pain, Michelle rolled her eyes and coughed a little but only a few drops of blood came out of her mouth this time.

“Finn, you shouldn’t be in here. No one should.” Clarke exclaimed.

“I heard you were sick.” He breathed out and looked around the room. His gaze passed on the teenagers crammed in a corner of the first floor and on Michelle agonizing on the side. “Clarke, what is this?”

“I don’t know. Some kind of hemorrhagic fever.” It was certainly her best guess at the moment. She had medical knowledge but she didn’t know everything. “We just need to contain it before—” Michelle straightened up with a start when some started seizing on the floor, coughing and grunting. She sat up and let her head rest on the wall with a sigh. She felt exhausted like she had run a marathung when a few minutes ago she was doing perfectly fine. It was crazy. Clarke stood up, heading for the teenager who was seizing but Finn stopped her. “Don’t touch me. You could get sick. Wash your hands now.”

“What the hell is happening to him?” Finn wondered as the guy got on all four and coughed blood before falling dead on the floor. Michelle widened her eyes and passed her hands from her forehead to her hair, swallowing harshly. Of course, it triggered a coughing fit and she leaned on her hands and hacked blood on the floor, shaking because of the energy it took from her. She gagged, in pain and lied back down on her back. She took a deep breath in and brought her shaking hands to her burning face, anguished and feeling miserable. Her whole body ached and felt itchy but the only thing she could do was to bleed out by coughing her lungs out, irritating her whole throat so bad she couldn’t even breathe without it hurting like hell.

“Hey, hey. Michelle.” Clarke was crouched near her and she gently took her face in her hands to take a look.

“I don’t want to die, Clarke.” Michelle said, wealky, but speaking up had become too hard and it caused her to start violently coughing again. Clarke brought a towel to her mouth to contain the blood.

“You’re not going to die, okay?” She whispered to her, giving her a comforting smile.

“What do we do?” Finn inquired and the blonde walked up to him.

“Quarantine. Round up everyone who had contact with Murphy. Bring them here.” She instructed and he was on his way.

“And everyone they had contact with?” Bellamy asked her.

“Well, we have to start somewhere. Connor, who was with you when you found him?” She repeated herself, insisting as her question were met by silence. “Who carried him in? Think.”

“The first one there was Octavia.” He finally articulated, blood all over his mouth. Unable to move a finger, Michelle watched Bellamy storm out of the dropship at the mention of his little sister being a potential victim of what Murphy brought back in camp with him. He came back with her a minute later and she was examined by Clarke while more sick teenagers made their way in, coughing in tissues. Hearing everyone coughing, groaning and moaning in pain was awful. It felt like death was in the air and they were just agonizing around the place.

People were coughing, including Michelle who was struggling not to fall asleep from the exhaustion. She curled up and looked at the entrance. When she realized Finn was carrying Clarke, she felt the urge to get up and go to her, but she didn’t have the strength to move a finger, so she just watched them, looking like she was dying. The cough was less bad than when it started, she didn’t belch out as much blood but she was completely drained of all her energy and strength, like she was paralyzed and could only move her eyes to look around and breath.

“What do I have to do to stop you from coming in here?” Clarke faintly articulated in Finn’s arms.

“Get better.” He simply retorted.

“If he’s not sick by now, he’s probably immune like me.” Octavia added, joining them inside.

“Here. Come on, she can take mine.” Murphy got off the hammock he rested in and pointed it to Finn so he could lie Clarke on it. He walked to the opposite side and went to sit down near where Michelle was resting. She watched them move around, struggling to keep her eyes open.

“What else did Lincoln tell you?” Finn inquired after he put Clarke on the hammock so she could rest.

“The virus doesn’t last long.” She declared and turned around.

“It’s true. I feel better.” Murphy added.

“They need to stay hydrated.” Clarke articulated, trying to get up but Finn put his hand on her shoulder to keep her lying down.

“You need to stay hydrated.” He retorted as Octavia brought a cup of water for the blond to drink. She took a sip of it and sent Octavia to give water to the others. Murphy rested his head against the wall and rolled it to the side to look down at Michelle, curled up on the berth by his side and sketched a smile under the drying blood covering his face.

“Michelle.” He softly called out her name and straightened up when she didn’t respond. His smile faded and he bent over the girl and had her roll on her back. Her eyes were closed, and she was so silent he thought that she was dead for an instant, but he noticed her chest heaving with her breathing and he sighed in relief and shook her slightly to try and wake her up, but she didn’t react. Frowning, he brought the palm of his hand to her forehead and her skin was burning up, so he took his hand off of her face. “Uh, guys.”

“What now, Murphy?” Finn looked at him and as Octavia was about to start bringing water to everyone in the dropship, she glanced at Murphy and Michelle.

“Michelle passed out. She’s having a fever.” Clarke winced as she leaned on her elbows to look past the hammock and see Michelle from where she was. She was exhausted and in pain, but she worried for her best friend and sister.

“She could have seizures.” She swallowed harshly, taking breaks in between her words and coughed briefly. “Put a wet cloth on her forehead to help her temperature drop. When she wakes up, bring her water.”

“Here.” Octavia grabbed a cloth and put it over the cup and flipped it upside down, letting the water soak into the fabric and she handed it to Murphy before going back to bringing water to the other sick teenagers. He cleared Michelle’s forehead of the strands of hair on her face and placed the cool, damp washcloth.

“What do I do now?” Murphy looked at Clarke, still crouched next to Michelle.

“Wet her face until she wakes up.” Clarke instructed Murphy in a faint voice. He nodded and went to get some water and came back to Michelle’s side. He folded another tissue and dipped in the water and gently patted it on her face, keeping the cup he had filled with water on the floor next to him, so he would have something to give her to drink when she woke up. He turned his face to Finn who was still standing by Clarke but the latter had fallen asleep.

“At this rate, when the Grounders get here, there’ll be no one left to fight back.”

“That’s the point.” Octavia retorted while someone drank for the cup she held with her hand. There was a silence, Finn’s eyes peering around.

“Then we slow them down.” He exclaimed and jogged out of the dropship. Murphy sighed and shot up his eyebrows, shifting his focus back at a recovering Michelle under his care as he kept wetting her face, a hint of worry in his eyes. Murphy was a selfish jackass, but he was the one that noticed Michelle wasn’t doing well and he was the one caring for her at the moment. He stopped in his gesture when he saw her blink and her eyelids lift gradually.

“Hey. Hey. Michelle, here. Drink.” He put his hand beneath her head and brought the cup up to her lips. She struggled to straighten up but with his help, eventually sat and she circled it with her hands and drank with a grimace. “How are you feeling?”

“Like dying.” She joked, sketching a smirk before coughing slightly and leaning against the wall, letting Murphy get the cup off her hands. People started coughing “You’re feeling better?”

“Yeah.” He nodded.

“Lucky bastard.” She scoffed.

“Hey, Murphy?” He stood up and looked at Octavia when she called out his name and the girl pointed to a teenager gagging and on the verge of having a seizure, lying in the corner. “Clarke says when that happens to roll him over.”

“I’m on it.” He glanced at Michelle and walked to the other guy to help. Michelle took a deep breath in and out and looked around without moving too much. She was starting to feel better, and her fever had cooled down enough for her to not really feel like death anymore, but she was still a little too weak to do anything. She wanted to recover quickly so she could help but beside holding the wet cloth to her face and wait, she had nothing more she could do to get better. After a minute or so, two boys came in, holding a third one with his arms around their shoulders. Michelle narrowed her eyes and recognized Bellamy with blood on his face, coughing.

“Bell? No.” Octavia breathed out and rushed to him. “Clear some space. Lay him down.”

They put him on a mattress installed near where Michelle was, and she watched as Octavia rolled him on his side and tapped in his back. He coughed and vomited blood on the floor before lying on his back, gasping loudly. Michelle looked at Octavia wiping the blood and sweat off his face. She couldn’t hear what they were saying to each other, but she bit her lips and looked away, tears clouding her eyes. She knew that she could’ve died but somehow the realization was just hitting now, and she clenched her jaw, resting her hand on her eyes, tears rolling down her cheeks. Maybe it was the pressure falling, the exhaustion, the fever, her fear that her mother was dead, all the blood everywhere or just everything adding up that made her breakdown. She couldn’t help it. Her lips were shaking and the tears just flowing on her face in silence. She took her hand off her face and wiped the tears, sniffing briefly when she heard someone’s footsteps coming toward her. It was Murphy. He sat down next to her. She sighed and buried her face in the palms of her hands.

“Ugh, fuck me.”

“If that offer stands when you feel better, I'll take it.” She let her hands fall on her laps and looked at him.

“Ha. Ha. Ha. Stop making fun of me.”

“I’m not making fun of you. I swear.” He said with a smirk and scoffed, shaking his head. Michelle giggled, cheered up by her interaction with Murphy. She glanced at Murphy and randomly looked around, a smile on her face. Her gaze crossed Bellamy’s leaning on his elbow.

“He woke up.” Murphy picked up the empty cup at Michelle’s feet and stood up. He filled it up with water and went to scooch down near Bellamy, but the latter pushed him away. She joined them and crouched down. She opened her mouth, about to tell him he needed to drink when she noticed dark blood flowing from his nose. Murphy grabbed a tissue nearby and held it up to Bellamy, but he ignored him and was going to wipe the blood on his sleeve until Michelle took it from Murphy’s hand and only then, the big guy finally took it and cleaned up the blood, giving a nod to Michelle to thank her.

“When I get better…” He slowly turned his head towards Murphy, giving him a death stare. “…and you’re still in here—”

“Hey.” Michelle and Murphy both looked up and Clarke was standing behind them. “I got this one.”

“Yeah.” He mumbled as he stood up, giving the cup of water to Clarke. The blond patted Michelle’s shoulder as she walked past her, following Murphy and they smiled at each other happy to see both of them back on their feet. They walked further in the dropship.

“Hey, you gotta clean this mess up.” She circled at his face with her finger, a smirk stretching her lips and she progressively lowered her voice because she didn’t want her friend or anyone, hearing what she was about to tell him. “The dried blood face mask doesn't really turn me on, sorry.”

“Yes, boss.” He replied, adding a dramatic military salute and she laughed, shaking her head, running her fingers through her hair and tucking it behind her ear. She couldn’t believe she said something like this to Murphy, and how and why she was feeling things for him after everything. He wasn’t the best guy to hook up with, given his behavior but, it was how it was. And sleeping together or flirting a little while covered in blood was nothing binding. It wasn't like he was asking her to marry him.

Bellamy, Clarke and Michelle stood outside, at the entrance of the dropship as other teenagers walked in, some wearing pieces of fabric to cover their faces and protect themselves from the virus. Every single one of them looked up when an explosion sounded in the distance in the forest and a mushroom of smoke spread up to the cloud.

“They did it.” Bellamy said, making Michelle frown slightly.

“Who did what?”

“Jasper, Monty, Raven and Finn. They placed a bomb on the bridge to delay the Grounders.” He replied, never taking his eyes off the smoke. When they heard Clarke speak up, staring at the sky, Michelle and him both looked at her.

“I am become Death… destroyer of worlds.” She felt their gazes on her and glanced at them before looking back up. “It’s Oppenheimer. The man who built the first—”

“I know who Oppenheimer is.” Bellamy answered softly.

“Well, I don’t. I mean— I do.” Michelle chuckled, wondering why she even spoke at all. “I only remember his name. In my defense, I didn’t really have time to not forget about him when I was in solitary confinement, you know?”

“That’s all right. I don’t call you “soldier” for no reason.” She frowned, staring at him, trying to understand what his point was. “I figured you weren’t a genius.”

“Oh my god.” She exclaimed, pushing his arm and they laughed. “You’re such a jerk, Bellamy Blake.”

The sun was setting on the trees surrounding the camp of the 100 teenagers that came down to the ground almost a month ago now, and that weren’t exactly a 100 anymore. They lost many of their people, before and when the virus stroke after Murphy came back. Now, most of them were doing better, walking and chattering around camp. The atmosphere was much calmer and quieter than earlier. Those who hadn’t recovered were either dead by now or still resting and the others were chilling in the area.

“There. It’s them. Open the gate.” Harper exclaimed suddenly as she looked over the walls, watching the forest. Everyone started applauding and cheering as they walked in holding up their guns, proud. Michelle and Clarke smiled and glanced at each other before looking around the crowd. It was a relief to see everyone like this after what they went through. They bought time from the Grounders' attack and got through what they tried to take them down with. A little behind, Finn helped an injured Raven to walk into camp and the smile on Clarke’s face faded as she tried to keep it together and don’t look either disappointed, jalous or sad. Michelle saw it and she passed her arm around her friend’s shoulders. She rubbed her shoulder and gave a smile at her. They eventually followed Finn and Raven inside the dropship so the doctor’s daughter could check on her. He put her in the hammock Murphy and then Clarke rested in and Finn and Michelle stood behind the blonde as she took a look at the mechanic.

“She’s getting stronger.” She assured, turning to Finn. Michelle followed Clarke as she headed out of the dropship and passing by Murphy, crouched next to a wounded boy, he nodded and smiled at the girls as they walked by.

“You’re outside of the wall without a gun.” Bellamy’s voice rose beside Michelle and Clarke as they stood there, staring at all the graves.

“Fourteen graves.” Clarke stated, heavily.

“We need to talk about Murphy.” Michelle didn’t move her head but looked at Bellamy from the corner of her eyes. She had no desire to see him thrown into the woods again. She bit her lip and let the blonde talk, glancing around at the two other guys holding torches nearby, watching the woods.

“He was right about the bridge.”

“We’ll see.” He wasn’t very convinced about that apparently. “Octavia says the Mountain Men are pissed. Whatever that means.”

“I’d say it means we need as many soldiers as we can get.”

“So what, we have pardon power now?”

“It’s hard running things.” She retorted. Bellamy shot up his eyebrows while she looked back at the graves at their feet. “Fourteen.”

Michelle followed Clarke back into camp and went to walk around the drop ship on her own after wishing Clarke goodnight and briefly hugging. The air was fresh that night. The breeze blew into her jacket and caressed her skin and hair softly. She closed her eyes for a second and took a deep breath in and leaned against the wall of the dropship, glancing at the stars shining in the night sky, thinking about the people of the Ark, thinking about her mother. Her heart sank a little, but she was soon snapped out of her thoughts when she heard a branch crack under someone’s shoe. She realized it was Murphy and relaxed. As he approached, he theatrically raised his arms and smiled.

“I’m all cleaned up.” He stopped right in front of her and there was a silence, looking into each other’s eyes for a second. He leaned forward and their lips met, tenderly while he cuped her cheeks in his hands. She grabbed his sides, holding on his torn T Shirt and brought him closer, intensifying the kiss as that pleasant warmth she felt, grew in her lower stomach. She had never felt something like this and never expected it to be for someone like Murphy, but she had grown fond of him, for some reason. Her whole body felt like it was set on fire by his touch and she would gladly let herself be burned alive.

[To be continued…]

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Published (05/27/2022) by Andrea

Taglist: @cathrin2405 @kika64

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purrincess-chat · 2 years

Text

Marinette Dupain-Cheng’s Spite Playlist: Remix CH33

The time has finally come! Let’s finish this thing out with style, shall we? All of Marinette’s dreams are about to come true ;)

Previous First Next AO3

Chapter 33: Rare

**2 months later**

“Nervous?” Eliott asked.

Marinette blinked as they waited for the elevator to ascend and nodded.

“I’ve been by a few times with Audrey to assess the progress,” she said. “I just hope everything turned out okay.”

“I’m sure they’re all great.” Lisette assured her.

“Hey, where’s Adrien? Isn’t he modeling too?” Macy asked.

Marinette thought back to her specific instructions to deliver Macy’s dress ahead of time. “Uh, he’s already here I think,” she said as the elevator opened on their floor.

“It’s about time you all arrived, are you trying to make my hair turn gray? I was about to call my stylist,” Audrey said as they stepped off the elevator.

Adrien stood on her other side, hands shoved into his pockets. Marinette cocked a brow at him. He winked, and her shoulders relaxed.

“Your line turned out fabulous, darling! I am living for your designs.” Audrey draped an arm around Marinette and led them to the display. “I was getting rather bored with the same old pitches. You are certainly a breath of fresh air.”

“Thank you so much, Audrey.” Marinette tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear with a smile.

She swept an arm out to present the mannequins. “Voilà.”

Marinette’s hand flew to her mouth. Everything was perfect. From Adrien’s colorful tux to the soft tulle of Lisette’s dress, every stitch had been meticulously executed. Audrey only staffed the best.

“They’re beautiful!” Macy gasped.

Her friends circled each one in awe, but Marinette remained rooted in place, eyes stinging.

“You okay, M?” Eliott asked, glancing up from a light blue dress.

“Yeah, it’s just…” She wiped her eyes. “Seeing them all…and they’re all exactly how I imagined and…”

Adrien wrapped an arm around her as she covered her face with a breathy laugh.

“I really love them.” She sniffled.

“As happy as I am to see that the waterproof mascara was a solid investment, enough chitchat. The show is next week. We need to sort out last-minute alterations.” Audrey clapped.

Marinette took a deep, composing breath as everyone moved to the dressing stalls, though Adrien remained by her side.

“I’m so proud of you,” he whispered, brushing her cheek with his thumb.

“Thank you.” She stepped into his arms, stretching up to kiss him.

“Adrien!” Audrey called.

They sighed, and Adrien planted a quick kiss on her lips before retreating to his changing stall.

“Um…” Macy piped up behind her. “Which one am I wearing?”

Marinette turned to her with a smile, taking her hand and pulling her along. “Come on, I’ll help you.”

She led Macy to a booth and closed the curtain, pacing over to the rack to retrieve her masterpiece. Her heart raced as she trailed her fingers over the soft white fabric—the crowning jewel of her collection. The piece that would close out the show, the dress made with her own hands for one specific person—the dress she made for Macy.

A smile broke over her lips as she lifted it from the rack and carried it over to the booth. Hooking it on the hanger inside, she stepped back as the others emerged from their stalls. Eliott’s outfit was colorful and casual, perfect for everyday wear. Adrien strutted up to his mirror in a tux embroidered with her signature flowers. Lisette twirled, her light pink skirt swaying against her legs. All of her friends were wearing her designs, and she’d never been prouder.

“I’m digging the fabric you used,” Eliott said, feeling his shirt as his tailor adjusted his shorts.

“And the pockets.” Lisette added, shoving her hands in them for emphasis.

“I’m glad you like them,” Marinette said as the elevator dinged again.

Gabrielle stepped off, and the room fell silent. She glanced around at the others who visibly bristled, but Marinette rushed over to meet her.

“You made it. Awesome!”

“Yeah. I’m not late, am I?” Gabrielle ripped her gaze from Eliott’s glare.

Marinette shook her head. “Not at all. Odette can help you over there.”

Marinette pointed, and Gabrielle followed her finger, flicking her gaze back to the others briefly before lifting the strap of her bag over her head and sauntering off.

“What is she doing here?” Eliott hissed when Marinette returned.

“I invited her.”

“Why?” Lisette asked.

“Because…she and I are sort of friends.” When they gave her puzzled looks, she winced. “It’s a long story.”

“I guess if anyone can help Gabrielle, it’s you, Marinette.” Eliott conceded. “Don’t expect me to invite her to movie nights anytime soon though.”

They weren’t ready to forgive Gabrielle yet, a reality Marinette accepted. Healing took time—Marinette was proof of that, but if she could forgive Chloe Bourgeois, she was sure everyone else could forgive Gabrielle. It was a step in the right direction at least.

Macy stepped out of her stall, tugging on her plain, white dress, and Marinette waved her over.

“Are you sure this is right?” Macy asked, running her hands over the skirt. “Everyone else is so colorful, but my dress is so plain. I’m going to stick out.”

“You’re going to stick out, but not for the reason you think. You’ll see,” Marinette said. “Do you trust me?”

Macy faced her reflection and nodded. “Okay.”

Marinette got to work, but the dress needed little altering. It fit Macy like a glove just like she knew it would.

“You’re all done,” she said. “I know it seems like yours doesn’t fit in, but trust me, everyone will love it.”

“Marinette, I need you over here!” Audrey called.

“Coming!” Marinette scurried across the room. “What’s wrong?”

“Adrien needs help with a piece of his suit, go check on it.” Audrey waved her toward the changing stalls.

“Adrien?” Marinette approached his curtain. A hand shot out, grabbing her wrist and pulling her in. “Whoa, hey-”

“Shh!” He pressed a finger to her lips, a wicked grin stretching his cheeks.

“There’s something wrong with your tux?” She examined the coat, but it looked fine to her.

He wrapped his arms around her back, touching his nose to hers. “Nah, it’s perfect. I just wanted you to come over here.”

“You pulled me away from my work just to make out in a changing room?” She shot him a playful glare.

“Who said anything about making out?” He quirked a smug brow.

“I- Well- You- I didn’t- I just-” Her cheeks burned, and Adrien snickered, leaning his forehead against hers with an impish grin. “You’re such a tease.”

“But I always deliver,” he said against her lips.

She’d kill him. Later. Right now, all she could think about was the taste of his breath and his hands in her hair. They’d been together for two months, but Adrien still took her breath away.

“Marinette?” Eliott called from outside.

She leaned her head back, forcing their lips apart. Undeterred, Adrien kissed along her jaw and pulled her against him.

“You can’t keep me in here forever,” she said as he trailed down her neck to her collar bone.

Footsteps approached, and when the curtain shot open, they jumped apart. Marinette scrambled to adjust his coat, clearing her throat.

“Um, okay, button’s all fixed,” she said. When Eliott crossed his arms over his chest, she added, “I was just- he had a loose button, so I was fixing it.”

“Mmhmm.” Eliott hummed. “With your mouth?”

“What- We weren’t- No. I was just- Coming, Audrey!” She lowered her head and pushed past him.

Neither of them could look him in the eye for the rest of the night, and no one else knew why their cheeks were always the tiniest bit flush.

♪♫♪ Look at Her Now ♪♫♪

“Don’t be nervous.” Adrien placed his hands on Marinette’s shoulders as she chewed her nails ten minutes before the show started. He was dressed in his tux, though his bowtie hung untied around his neck. Marinette fussed with it, unable to keep her hands still.

“What’s to be nervous about? It’s only my whole future on the line,” she said, smoothing his coat once she’d finished. “I feel like I’m gonna pass out. Or throw up. Or throw up, then pass out.”

“You’ll be fine. Everything is running on schedule. Your models are all here. Clara is warmed up for her performance. The press is here. Everyone’s finding their seats including your parents on the front row. Relax.” He soothed, massaging her shoulders.

“Okay. You’re right. Everything is fine. I’m fine. It’s all fine.” She paced back and forth, running her sweaty hands down her skirt. “What if I forget my lines?”

“There’s a prompter at the end of the runway.” Adrien reminded her. He pulled her in, pausing her pacing with a kiss to the cheek. “I have to go finish makeup, but after my walk, I’ll be right beside you, okay?”

“Okay,” she said with a hint of hysteria.

“Deep breaths!” he called.

He gave her a thumbs up, but the moment he rounded the corner, she resumed pacing. “Okay, Marinette. Everything is fine. You’re fine. Deep breaths. You got this. No worries.”

“Ya know, I never noticed how much you talk to yourself.”

She jumped at Chloe’s voice behind her, spinning around to see her in a golden gown.

“Nervous habit,” Marinette said, looking her up and down with a smile. “You’re wearing one of my dresses.”

“Yeah, my mom asked me to be in your show.” Chloe fluffed the skirt.

“Did she?” Marinette cocked a brow.

“She asked me if I wanted to…after I asked her if I could be,” she said. “Whatever. Same thing.”

“I thought you wouldn’t be caught dead wearing one of my hideous designs.” Marinette cocked a hip.

“Ugh, you’re so-”

“You look beautiful.” Marinette cut her off with a sincere smile. “Thank you, Chloe.”

Chloe stiffened as Marinette pulled her in for a hug. She leaned into Marinette’s embrace but pushed her away the moment someone walked by, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Adrien is right, you know,” Chloe said. “You always find a way to overcome everything people throw at you. You really are a diamond, and everyone is about to see how brightly you can shine.”

Marinette blinked in surprise. Chloe rolled her eyes and headed to her position in the lineup as everyone scrambled to make last-minute adjustments to hair and makeup. All of her friends were there to support her. No matter what happened, they would always be there for her.

“30 seconds!”

Clara took her position on the stage as the music started, and Marinette moved to the monitor to watch as she started to sing. Camera bulbs flashed as Adrien made his way down the runway, and Marinette held her breath. He struck a pose at the end, and at the sound of their applause, she breathed a sigh of relief. Lisette started as he turned back, high-fiving him as they passed each other, and Marinette’s first message flashed on the screens.

Beauty is not a height.

“Hey.” Adrien held his arms out, pressing a quick kiss to her temple. “So far so good. They’re still clapping.”

“That’s good.” She nodded.

Chloe made her way out next, eating up the attention from the crowd.

Beauty is not a social status.

“Marinette, we have a problem!” Eliott rushed up to her.

“What? What’s wrong?” Her heart skipped into a sprint again.

“Macy doesn’t want to walk,” he said.

Marinette took off, Adrien hot on her heels.

“Macy?” Marinette called, turning the corner to find her friend sitting in her makeup chair with a dejected expression. “Macy…”

“I’m sorry, Marinette. I really wanted to support you, but I just can’t do this.” She shook her head. “This dress is beautiful, but it’s so different from all of the other pieces. It’s just not for me.”

Marinette set her clipboard down on the vanity and cupped Macy’s face in her hands.

“It’s exactly for you,” she said. “I never told you because I wanted it to be a surprise, but Macy, I designed this dress specifically for you.”

“What?” Her eyebrows knitted together.

“You were the muse that inspired me to create this whole line, and I made your dress the foundation of my collection. It’s my best piece, and that’s why I’ve saved it for last,” Marinette said.

“But it’s so plain…” Macy ran her hands over the fabric.

“But that’s where you’re wrong.” Marinette smiled, placing a hand on her shoulder. “This dress is unique, like you, and soon everyone will see it’s how beautiful you both are.”

When Macy pursed her lips, Marinette gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “Trust me.”

Macy glanced at the dwindling line of models. Eliott stood at the front of the line waiting to go next and shot Macy a worried look.

“Okay…”

Marinette helped her up and led her to the back of the line.

Beauty is not a gender. Beauty is not an age. Beauty is not a hair color. Beauty is not one person.

Macy eyed the curtain of mist at the entrance to the runway, releasing Marinette’s hand only at the last moment. All eyes trained on her curious white dress as Macy made her way to the first mark. Her shoulders curled.

Backstage, Marinette watched the monitors with bated breath—everyone as uneasy as Macy. Then the dress began to bleed.

“Whoa, what?” Eliott gasped.

Blues and pinks and purples bled into the white in intricate swirls, and the once plain dress morphed into the most colorful piece in the collection. Marinette covered her mouth to muffle her squeal of delight.

Camera bulbs flashed like wild as the crowd cheered her on. Confused, Macy spared a quick glance down at her dress, now bleeding with color. Thunderous applause roared as she made her way further up the runway, gaining confidence with each step. Behind her on the screen flashed a simple phrase that carried the weight of Marinette’s message, only three small words:

Beauty is you.

“How did you-” Gabrielle blinked.

“I used dye on the thread.” Marinette explained.

“And the mist activated it,” Eliott said, a grin curling on his lips as everyone backstage joined in the applause.

Clara’s song ended as Macy reached the end of the runway, striking a powerful pose as photographers fought over the perfect angle. Marinette stepped onto the stage, floating down the runway in a soft pink gown of her own. Macy shot her a bright smile, eyes watering with tears as the two embraced.

Audrey passed Marinette the mic, and she took the center stage. “When I created my brand, I asked myself one question: What message do I want to send to the world?” she said. “For many years, this industry has been led by the thinnest and the most flawless, narrowing the definition of what is beautiful to exclude many ordinary people. People like you and me.” She paused to glance at Macy briefly before continuing, “I want to redefine beauty because it’s all around us in every person that we meet. We just have to give them an opportunity to let their true colors shine.”

Everyone applauded, and Marinette lowered the microphone with an elated giggle.

“Beauty is in all of us, and you are beautiful.”

The audience rose to their feet, their cheers and applause filling the room. Marinette held her head high, glancing back to see her friends cheering her on from behind the curtains. Her smile widened when she locked eyes with her parents, beaming proudly in the crowd. This was it. Her shining moment. Her glowing statement. Her brilliant sparkle, and she was radiant.

#my writing #mdcspr #marinette dupain-cheng's spite playlist remix

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storytellerofuntoldlegends · 3 years

Text

an icarus and his sun: chapter 3

A/N: seablings headcanon? seablings headcanon. (i adore jimmy and lizzie's dynamic, they're siblings ur honor. and joel makes a pretty great in-law tbh)

Warnings: arguing, flirting, teasing/banter

AO3 Link - Tumblr Masterpost

Katherine was extremely serious about the “no weapons” thing. Not a single tool was allowed, not even shovels or hoes. She had everyone place their weapons and tools in specifically marked chests, assuring each of them that they could get them back after the meeting, and that her iron golems would protect them from any threats if they were to arise. Besides, the chests were just at the entrance of her castle, visible from the meeting table. They could easily rush to their weapons if need be. It didn’t mean anyone was less jumpy about it, though. And Jimmy was particularly antsy- Fwhip was practically glowering at the table, and while Sausage looked outwardly cheerful, there was an edge to every word he spoke. Jimmy couldn’t fight the paranoia that one or both of them had snuck weapons to the meeting, and was just waiting for the right moment to strike.

And then there was Scott. There wasn’t anything outwardly shifty about the winged elf, but… there was definitely… something. Jimmy wasn’t sure what it was, but he couldn’t keep his eyes off Scott. He was perfectly poised, as always, every hair in place and wings mantled. There was something elegant and serene about Scott as he listened to Katherine speak with a gentle smile. His gaze was focused on her, and Jimmy tried to search those icy blue eyes for any hint of malice. He found nothing but kindness, and that was what worried him. Surely Scott should be up to something… right? He had seemed so hostile the other day, but then they both apologized to each other… maybe he had nothing to worry about. But then there was that strange, soft yet calculating look he had given Jimmy, like he could finally start seeing the complete picture a puzzle would make. Was that something bad?

Jimmy’s thoughts were interrupted by Scott’s eyes suddenly meeting his, one eyebrow raised. Jimmy tried his best not to jump as he quickly looked away, focusing on Katherine. He could still feel Scott’s eyes on him, and absurdly, Jimmy felt like he was melting. Figures that Scott would have secret laser eyes or something. He wouldn’t even need a weapon, that was his plan all along. Surely that’s why Jimmy felt like he was going to implode, he definitely wasn’t embarrassed. Definitely. Thankfully, Scott’s eyes shifted away as Katherine spoke again.

“Now, there is one very important thing I wanted to discuss at this meeting. I don’t know if any of you have heard, but there are some new empires rising up. I think we should do our best to welcome the new rulers,” Katherine said. For the first time in the whole meeting, Fwhip looked interested. Somehow that scared Jimmy more than when he was grumpy and despondent.

“What would you suggest?” Fwhip asked, voice smooth and suspiciously charming. Jimmy didn’t like his tone one bit, but Katherine seemed to fall for it, beaming at Fwhip’s sudden interest.

“I would like to hold the first ever House Blossom Ball. All rulers will be invited, and it will be held in honor of the two new empires in our lands,” she explained.

“Oh that sounds wonderful!” Gem exclaimed, and excited murmurs of agreement circled through the room. But Jimmy felt uneasy. He did like the idea of a ball, dancing and dressing up fancy with friends sounded fun! But Fwhip’s excitement didn’t sit quite right with him, and there was the other issue of the two new empires. How did they know they could really trust them? Establishing a good relationship was important, yes, but was inviting them in so openly the best idea? Jimmy had tried being so open before, but look where that got him. A war over a disc, and a ravine on the outskirts of his empire. And now whatever was happening between him and Scott. Then suddenly, as if just thinking of him prompted him to speak, Scott brought up one of the very things that Jimmy was worried about.

“What do we know about these empires? Do you think we can trust them?” he asked. The excited murmurs stopped, something uneasy settling in the air instead. Katherine faltered for a moment, but kept her head high.

“The House Blossom Ball will hold the same rule as our meetings now do: no weapons. So unwarranted attacks will not be an issue. And not a lot is known about the other empires… they are just starting out, after all. One of them is in the jungle, and his empire can only be found if you are lost. The other empire seems to have sprouted up from nowhere, but its ruler has come a long way to settle here. In a way, both are lost. As the ten ruling powers in this land, I think it is our duty to welcome them so that they won’t have to be lost anymore,” Katherine said firmly.

“Poetic,” Fwhip said, voice a little overly saccharine for Jimmy’s liking. Katherine seemed a little put off by his tone as well, but didn’t comment on it. A determined frown came to Jimmy’s face. His skepticism be damned, he was going to support Katherine. He turned to her and smiled, reaching out to gently clasp Katherine’s hand, not unlike how she had after the last meeting.

“I agree with you, Katherine. Let’s help them be found,” Jimmy said softly, giving her hand a light squeeze before letting go. Katherine smiled at the touch, seeming grateful that Jimmy backed her up.

“Can’t believe I’m saying this, but I agree with Jimmy,” Scott said dryly. Jimmy looked to Scott in surprise, expecting more of a fight, some clever retort or thought-out reason for why the ball couldn’t happen.

“Thank you, Scott,” Jimmy said, unable to keep a small smile off of his face. Scott’s nose scrunched up in irritation- and yup, there was the Scott he knew. Always looking at Jimmy with disdain or irritation.

“I was more supporting Katherine here than anything else,” Scott pointed out with a huff.

“But you specifically mentioned me…” Jimmy trailed off with a teasing grin. Scott’s cheeks tinted pink, just ever so slightly- but he still glared at Jimmy in frustration.

“Shut up,” he muttered. Jimmy grinned wider.

“Make me,” he teased, parroting Scott’s words from the last meeting. Sausage gasped, excitedly tapping Pearl’s arm as she shushed him and muttered something about how we had talked about this, Sausage.

“Well… we definitely have two supporters of the ball, any other thoughts?” Katherine asked, not-so-subtly changing the subject.

“I am absolutely in support, it sounds fun!” Gem replied, elbowing Fwhip. He jumped, and nodded in agreement.

“If Scott and Jimmy are going to be there, I definitely want to see what goes down,” Sausage chimed in with a grin. Scott and Jimmy both made an offended sound, but Pearl spoke up before either of them could say anything.

“And it’s a good diplomatic foot forward with the two new empires, Sausage. I think the ball is a lovely idea, Katherine,” Pearl said, offering an apologetic smile to both Scott and Jimmy for Sausage’s comment.

“I’m in too! I’d love a chance to dress all fancy and dance with Joel,” Lizzie added, linking arms with Joel and gazing up at him with a charming smile. Joel blushed a bit, and nodded his agreement as well.

“Well, since it seems like everyone else is going to this dance, guess I’d better show up too,” Pixl said with a nonchalant shrug and a grin. Katherine clapped her hands in excitement.

“Oh wonderful! I think I’ll cut this meeting short then, I have a lot of preparations to take care of, and I will send out the invitations soon!” Katherine said, rising from the table. The other rulers followed her lead, each of them bidding her goodbye before they went to their respective chests to retrieve their weapons and tools.

“I look forward to the ball, Katherine. I’m sure it’ll be a blast,” Fwhip said with a bow of his head and a cocky grin. Katherine beamed in response.

“Thank you! I’m glad to see you’re excited!” she replied, bowing her head to Fwhip as well. Jimmy still wasn’t sure how he felt about Fwhip’s sudden interest at the meeting… but then again Fwhip was only really Jimmy’s enemy. He and Katherine were on good terms, after all. He should trust Katherine’s judgement, even if he didn’t like Fwhip. He did, however, wait until Fwhip left to walk up to Katherine and bid her goodbye.

“See you later, Katherine! I’m excited for the ball, I’m sure with you in charge it will go great!” he said with a grin. Katherine laughed, blushing slightly.

“Aw, thanks Jimmy! And who knows, maybe the ball will not only forge new alliances with the new empires, but will strengthen or fix the bonds of the current ones,” Katherine said, glancing pointedly at Scott, whose back was to them as he looked over his weapons, before she looked back at Jimmy. She smiled not-so-innocently, and Jimmy’s face flushed in embarrassment.

“I- well, I dunno about that. But… maybe. Today’s meeting didn’t go too bad, right?” Jimmy asked with a hopeful smile. Katherine giggled.

“Right! You guys are really turning a corner here, I can feel it!” she chirped. Jimmy laughed, shaking his head.

“Whatever you say, Katherine. I’ll be off now,” Jimmy said, bowing his head.

“Bye!” Katherine replied, bowing her head too and offering a little wave as Jimmy left. He waved back, and was still smiling to himself as he met Joel and Lizzie outside. The two of them had their elytra on, and there was a smug grin on Lizzie’s face that Jimmy didn’t like one bit.

“What’s that smile for?” Jimmy asked with a laugh as he equipped his elytra.

“Oh, I was just thinking about how you couldn’t contribute anything to the first half of the meeting because you were making eyes at a certain elf,” Lizzie said with a teasing lilt.

“I wasn’t ‘making eyes,’ I was making sure that he wasn’t up to anything!” Jimmy spluttered.

“Sure you were,” Lizzie crooned, taking off before Jimmy got a chance to respond. Joel sighed, smiling sympathetically at him before following after Lizzie. Jimmy took off too, the conversation far from over, in his opinion.

Jimmy wasn’t quite fast enough to keep up with Lizzie, but she and Joel waited for him on the dock outside of his house. The three of them had often hung out and chatted on the dock, long before Joel and Lizzie had gotten married or even began courting. Their empires had been much smaller then, but the bond between the three of them hadn’t changed. Which was why Jimmy was (affectionately) furious with Lizzie for implying something about himself and Scott. He sat down beside her, feet dangling over the water.

“Explain yourself, right now,” Jimmy huffed, trying to put on an angry act but couldn’t really keep it up with Lizzie. She smiled far too innocently at him, and okay. Maybe he could manage a frustrated expression pointed at her.

“I mean, she’s got a point. Plus I heard about that uh- scuffle, you two had,” Joel said, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he leaned forward to look past Lizzie at Jimmy.

“Ooh yeah, Katherine did tell us about that. You’d better watch out for those land boys, Jimmy. They’re trouble,” Lizzie said with a mock-concerned tone, but her playful grin gave her away. Joel shifted to look at Lizzie with an offended noise.

“Babe, I’m right here,” he said, near pouting.

“I know what I said. You’re trouble, King of Mezalea,” Lizzie teased.

“Like you’re any better, Ocean Queen,” Joel replied with a laugh. Lizzie giggled, playfully swatting at Joel's arm.

"You may be right, but this is about Jimmy’s troublesome land boy," Lizzie pointed out as she turned back to Jimmy.

"He's not my land boy!" he protested, face heating up slightly.

"Aww, that blush says otherwise!" Lizzie teased.

“He could be your land boy if you weren’t so busy trying to kill each other,” Joel chimed in.

“That’s exactly why he’s never gonna be ‘mine,’ he hates me, and I hate him! There’s nothing else going on!” Jimmy protested.

“Are you sure you two hate each other? You seemed pretty friendly at the meeting today,” Joel pointed out, voice a bit more gentle than the teasing tone it had been before. Jimmy sighed.

“That’s only cause Katherine insisted on us apologizing to each other when we uh. Fought. We’re only playing nice for Katherine’s sake,” Jimmy said sheepishly.

“Uh huh. Or you’re playing nice because you think Scott is pretty,” Lizzie teased, elbowing Jimmy playfully.

“I don’t think he’s pretty! I- I mean objectively he looks nice I guess but it’s more irritating than anything! How can a guy be so perfectly poised and elegant all the time, it’s annoying!” Jimmy spluttered. Joel and Lizzie exchanged amused, bewildered looks before looking back at Jimmy.

“Wow, you really do have it bad for him, huh,” Joel commented with a disbelieving laugh. Jimmy made an offended sound, opening his mouth to retort but was halted by Lizzie patting his arm comfortingly.

“It’s okay Jimmy, I’m sure Scott will come around and see what a sweet swamp boy you are,” she crooned, Jimmy flushing at the childhood nickname Lizzie always used for him.

“You two are impossible, nothing’s going to happen between us! And I’d prefer it that way!” Jimmy shot back with a frown.

“Methinks the cod boy protests too much,” Joel said dryly.

“I’m the Codfather, thank you very much,” Jimmy huffed.

“Hey, maybe if things work out really well, you’ll be a Codhusband,” Lizzie replied with a sly grin. Jimmy buried his face in his hands, trying to hide how bright red he was.

“Stop iiiit,” he whined. Lizzie only laughed, but threw an arm around his shoulders to give a small hug in apology. Joel reached around Lizzie to pat Jimmy’s back, and despite the teasing he had endured from them, Jimmy felt pleasantly warm and comforted all the same. Although to be fair, Joel and Lizzie always playfully teased him. But it would often end like this, the three of them nestled close together on the edge of the dock, watching the sun set over the water.

Taglists below! Ask to be added or removed!!

MCYT General Fic Taglist: @corazon10000 @damiensaidno @franticfandomfanatic @gattonero17 @hetapeep41 @space-ace123

AIAHS Taglist: @anty-kreatywna @devilwoodkitty18 @riobug

#empires smp #scott smajor #jimmy solidarity #katherine elizabeth #ldshadowlady #smallishbeans #fwhip #mythicalsausage #geminitay #pearlescentmoon #pixlriffs #flower husbands #seablings #empires smp fic #mcyt #aiahs #sage writes

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floating-mid-air · 3 years

Text

The Princess of all Saiyans

Masterlist

Hey Everyone! It's been a while. My life's been kind of hectic the past couple of months. Long story short: I Graduated from Highschool this year, so I was busy with everything having to do with that. Then my summer job sadly prevented me from writing as well. And then I started College, which was a big change for me. For now, there are no more chapters in my life opening or closing. Now I'm finally in a place where I feel comfortable continuing this book again. I could've honestly been writing during all of this chaos. But I wouldn't have been pleased with the quality of my writing. I'm really excited to get back into the swing of things. I don't think this chapter panned out the way I originally planned, but I'm still happy with it. As always, I hope you enjoy it. And if you have any comments or concerns, feel free to let me know. My inbox is always open!

Chapter 11

You've been walking for quite some time now, and the experience has been excruciating. You haven't been in this much pain since you and Raditz were on planet Telia, ten-something years ago. Those damn underlings were able to get a good sneak attack on you. Though you can't say, you let them get away scot-free. You made sure to make their entire dreadful race pay for that injury. You and Raditz had covered up that incident, much like you're doing with your current injury.

"So---" You can hear Goku talking to Krillin from just slightly left of you. "Did you guys find the senzu beans?" Wow, Kakarot may be the least subtle creature you've ever encountered.

"Ya." Krillin chuckles. "All four of us were in pretty rough shape." Goku glances at you with a worried look on his face. You glare at him as Raditz eyes the two of you skeptically. He knows something's off between the two of you. Maybe something serious did happen while you and his brother were trapped together.

A bit more time has passed, and you've been trying your best to keep up with the others. But it isn't as easy as you thought. You're now trailing behind the rest of them, with Raditz turning back to look at you every so often. The largest Saiyan slows down to catch up with your slower pace, now walking beside you.

He turns to you, whispering in a low tone. "Something's off." Raditz can no longer stay silent about his concerns. First, it was the strange vibes between you and Kakarot. And now it's your out-of-character demeanor making him uneasy.

"About what?"

"You. Typically you walk beside your brother, and when he doesn't let you, you make sure you're always only a few paces behind. But right now, you couldn't be more content to trail everyone. Plus, you're far too confident to not be in the very front." Raditz has been around far too long for your liking. Damn him. He knows you far too well, and you hate him for it.

You roll your eyes at him. "So this conclusion of yours is based on the way I'm walking? I'm tired. When I fought, Burter, that physically drained me. And then I got trapped in a ditch with your moronic brother, that mentally drained me. I'm exhausted, Raditz."

"It's not just the way you're walking. It's your mannerisms as well." He points at your side. "Your hand hasn't moved from your side from the moment I first saw you."

"God, Raditz." You scoff. "Stop overanalyzing everything."

"Getting defensive now? That's your M.O whenever you're hiding something." He looks back and forth between your face and your hand that has remained glued to your side. The gears in the older Saiyan's head slowly but surely turning. " Y/N, are you hurt?"

"No." You snap your eyes shut, biting your lip hard enough to draw blood in an attempt to suppress a wince of pain. "I'm fine."

He tilts his head at you. "Y/N, I know you claim otherwise, but I'm not stupid. I know you're in pain."

You chuckle softly in a self-pitying way. "Am I that easy to read?"

Raditz shakes his head, smiling to himself. "No, I've just known you for a long time now." He returns to his serious demeanor, his gaze returning to the area of your wound. "How bad is it?"

"I barely feel it at all. Though, climbing out of that ditch must have reopened the cut."

Raditz snickers. "You're a bad liar."

"That's strange. I've been told in the past that I'm quite good at lying."

A smirk spreads across Raditz's lips. "Well, you apparently aren't when I'm involved."

The larger Saiyan glances at the back of your brother's head. You respond with a glare, firmly pulling on a large chunk of his hair. You know what Raditz wants to do, and it's not happening. "Don't even think about it."

"I-I think we should tell him Y/N."

"No." You let go of his hair, tapping his chest with extreme force. "You're going to keep your big mouth shut. Vegeta will freak out. You know how irrational he gets."

Raditz decides to let you have your way--- for now. The man can't help but wonder why you're so stubborn, but then again, his nature isn't much different from yours.

With every minute that passes, your condition only seems to worsen. Your eyes even start to droop. "Y/N?" Raditz turns to you, his features beginning to fill with worry. He places one of his large hands on your forehead. You're burning up. "You have a fever. Your wound must be infected."

"No." You shake your head in disagreement, almost like a child. As your mental state becomes more and more delirious.

"Vegeta!" Raditz shouts, gaining your brother's attention.

"Fuck you, Raditz! You're such a blabbermouth!" You shout at the larger Saiyan in front of you.

"What's wrong this time? Is my sister trying to pull you into another one of her elaborate schemes?"

"Y/N's hurt--- bad." Vegeta's eyes widen, and not even a millisecond later, he rushes to your side. "She has a fever. I think her cut is infected."

"Where is it?" He crosses his arms at you, noticing your hand placed firmly on your side. He moves your hand out of the way with ease, lifting your armor. "How did this happen?"

"Burter nicked me during our fight. It's no big deal."

"No big deal? It's infected, you stupid woman!" He turns his attention to Kakarot. "Did you know about this?"

You snicker. "Oh ya, Vegeta. I get hurt, and the first person I run to tell is Kakarot." Vegeta's fists clench at your sarcastic remark, turning his fit of rage back at you.

"You know, in certain situations, you're more prone to infections. And a planet like Namek checks all of the boxes! You know you need to be more careful. Damn our mother and her faulty genetics!" Sadly that's a trait you had inherited from your mother. On most planets, you'd be fine, and injuring yourself would be no big deal. But Namek has specific conditions that result in you being more vulnerable.

"Raditz, pick her up." Raditz picks you up, giving you a piggyback ride. You wrap your arms around his neck, giving yourself better balance. Vegeta glances up at you. He looks even madder than usual. "With the condition, you're in, you will not be fighting. You will stay away from Jeice, and you won't even enter the same proximity as Ginyu. Do you understand me?"

"But--"

"No!" His voice booms, gaining the attention of every creature for miles. "I'm not kidding around. Do you understand me?"

You bite your lip, tilting your head downwards, avoiding your brother's gaze like the plague. "Yes, Vegeta." Vegeta returns to the front of the group, his mood sourer than ever.

As Raditz begins to walk, he starts talking to you again. "Are you mad at me?" You don't verbally respond. Instead, you claw into his shoulders, your nails digging into his flesh. "Fuck. I'll take that as a yes."

"You're a tattletale."

Raditz chuckles. "No wonder why Vegeta babies you. You'll thank me for this later, you stubborn woman. And I've kept your secrets before, handfuls of them, actually. Like what happened on planet Telia----" Raditz realized the grave mistake he had just made, mentioning that incident in the presence of the very being you worked so hard to hide it from.

You slap the older Saiyan upside the head as Vegeta turns backward, a scowl plastered on his face. "What happened on plant Telia?" It was a rhetorical question, mocking both you and Raditz. "Oh, the three of us will be discussing this in length later. Because it sounds to me like you both lied to me on that initial report." You and Raditz gulp, you've heard that tone from your brother millions of times now, and it has never once become any less terrifying.

"Oh, lighten up, Geta." You groan. "That was like, what? Around thirteen years ago?"

"The amount of time that has passed matters very little to me. As I said before, this is a discussion for later."

A few more hours have passed, which honestly feels like days at this point. And considering Namek's strange day cycle, it very well could've been. "How much farther?" Your question was clearly directed at Vegeta. And at this point, you're not even sure he has any idea where you're headed either.

"I don't know why you're the one complaining." Raditz huffs. "You're not the one doing all of the walking! And if you ask him that one more time, I'm going to drop you." Ok so maybe, that wasn't the first time you've asked that question today. Or the second, or third, you're very bored.

"Man Raditz." You roll your eyes, which are barely open at this point. "You sure complain--- a lot."

"You were just complaining." The long-haired Saiyan grumbles.

"No, I simply asked Vegeta a question. There's a difference Raditz. I know it's hard for your feeble mind to understand." When you're sick, you tend to act, oh what's the word? Bitcher than normal. And that's saying a lot.

Raditz clenches his jaw. "Vegeta. I need a break from your sister."

"That's how I felt ninety percent of the time I was stuck in a room with you, Nappa, and Cado. And you didn't see me running to wine to Frieza about it."

Before Raditz can retort, your brother interjects. "That's enough! From both of you!"

Krillin, Gohan, and Goku have identical bewildered expressions on their faces. Krillin turns to Vegeta, lowering his voice to a whisper. He doesn't want to be the next victim of your wrath. "Do they always fight like this?" The human finds this perplexing. Back on Earth, the pair seemed inseparable. They appeared to be the Saiyan equivalent of what on Earth would be considered best friends.

Vegeta lets out an exaggerated sigh. "Yes, but typically it's more playful in nature. When my sister is sick, she becomes even brattier than usual."

Vegeta's warning to both of you seems to have fallen on dead ears. Because your quarrel has not ceased, in fact, it has only elevated. "I will drop you, you royal brat!"

"I dare you to you second-class runt. I could still kick your ass even in my delirious state. I wouldn't even have to try very hard."

"I'm considering----"

Before Raditz can even get three words out, your bickering is once again interrupted, and not by the person you may think. "Enough!" Gohan shouts. You honestly forgot the others were here for a moment."If you two keep fighting like this, you're going to get all of us killed!" You and Raditz stare at the boy in shock. It's been a long time since the two of you have been yelled at by a child. The last time being when you were children yourselves. Vegeta hasn't changed much since childhood. He's been bossing you around and shouting at you since you were children, but I'm sure that's not very surprising.

"Ya, and I can take Y/N---- if you need a break." Goku rubs the back of his neck, chuckling sheepishly. "Not that I want to hold Y/N or anything."

"No." You rapidly shake your head. "Raditz, I'm sorry. I'll be good now--- I promise."

A wicked grin spreads across Raditz's lips right before he grabs your hands with his larger ones. He loosens your grip around his neck, moving your body with ease, scooping you up into his arms. Every step Raditz takes toward Goku seems even more antagonizing slower than the last. Until he's standing directly in front of his younger brother. He elevates his arms slightly, dropping you right in front of an unsuspecting Goku.

Lucky for you, Goku has sharp reflexes. That allows the Saiyan to catch you easily. Raditz look's his brother dead in the eyes, his typical arrogant grin still on his lips. "She's your problem now, Kakarot." Raditz gazes downward to look at you. "Stop pouting. Maybe next time, you'll be nicer to good old Raditz."

A low growl echoes in the back of your throat as you glare daggers at the Saiyan standing before you. "Ya, or maybe next time, I'll rip out your tail and strangle you with it!" The only thing that's stopping you from lunging at Raditz is Goku's firm grip holding you in place.

Rather than arguing that the entire group has become accustomed to, the whole area has become dead silent. You're no longer pouting. Instead, you are glaring at the man who continues to carry you bridal style. You've never liked being held like this. It makes you feel weak like you have no control over your own body.

What makes you even more irritated, Is how Goku reacts to your death stare. He just grins at you. Does he just never get angry? What kind of Saiyan is he? It fills you with so much anger that someone as dopey as Kakarot has Saiyan blood flowing through his veins.

You clench your fists. You just wanna punch Kakarot so badly. He just has such a punchable face. If you could take away his cheery personality, he'd actually be quite attractive. Wait--- what the hell are you thinking? Kakarot is stupid and way too friendly for you to ever think of him in that way.

You move your fist up, finally giving in to your urges, attempting to punch the man holding you. Probably not your wisest moment, but your brain isn't functioning normally right now. Goku catches your hand with ease. His reflexes are unreal, or maybe this fever has you more sluggish than you believed. You'd prefer to think that it's the second option. He chuckles to himself. He's still not upset. What the hell is wrong with him? "Come on, Y/N. You gotta be quicker than that." He's challenging you. How Saiyan like of him. You seem to always be able to find specks of Saiyan nature in the cheerful man. And those are the aspects you actually like about him.

Your eyes begin to once again feel heavy as your eyes droop shut, just before you fall asleep in the arms of your enemy.

Twenty-Something Years Ago:

You're sitting on your bed, sitting crisscrossed, a book laying open on your lap. Since your father is currently off-planet, you can read all you want. You're enamored with your newest book. It's all about a topic referred to as diplomacy. It's fascinating and has many concepts that are entirely foreign to you, yet at the same time, some of these ideas are also familiar.

As you read, your door slams open, but you pay the interruption almost no attention, not even bothering to look up from your book. Honestly, the unwelcome intrusion has you more angered than anything else. "God, Vegeta." You roll your eyes. "Haven't you ever heard of knocking?" Something's not right. When Vegeta usually bursts into your room, he's automatically shouting at you.

Out of pure curiosity, you look up from your book. However, standing at your door, you don't find Vegeta. A boy with a very similar appearance but with a much smaller stature stands in your door frame. He's out of breath, desperately huffing for air. "Tarble?" You furrow your brows at your brother, launching off your bed to get closer to him. "What's wrong?" You have this sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach. Your twin has never behaved in such a manner before.

"Captain--- Captain Ginyu is here." Tarble is shaking, his eyes watering slightly.

You scowl ever so slightly. "But Ginyu's not scheduled to be on planet Vegeta any time soon."

"It's--- It's a surprise visit. What do we do, Y/N?"

You contemplate for a moment before your features fill with alarm. "Tarble? Where's Vegeta?"

His lip quivers as he looks down at the floor. "He's with Captain Ginyu."

"Damn it." You mutter under your breath. Diplomacy is a skill you need right now. And Vegeta doesn't have a single quality that a diplomat possesses. Your elder brother is more likely to unnecessarily provoke the Captain, putting your entire race in hot water with the Frieza Force.

You rush over to your bedside table, rummaging through the drawer. Once you have your scouter in your hand, you run back over to your brother. "Stay in here, and use this to channel our father. Let him know what's going on." You push past your twin, about to leave, before Tarble's voice calls out to you.

"Wait, Y/N!" You turn back to look at him. "Where are you going?"

"I have to go stop our older brother from doing something stupid. Everything will be fine, I promise. Just calm down and do as I said." And with that, you take off, praying that Vegeta hasn't already done something rash.

As you sprint down the halls of the palace, you run face-first into the torso of a large body. "Princess?"

You look up at the bald Saiyan, the one who's supposed to be at your brother's side at all times. Since the future king of planet Vegeta needs to be protected. "Nappa, Where is my brother?"

The imbecile scratches the back of his neck, contemplating much longer for your liking. "I'm not sure. I haven't seen the runt in quite some time. You should probably ask Vegeta."

You scowl at the Saiyan. "Not Tarble, you fool! I'm asking you where Vegeta is!"

"Oh, Why didn't you just say so?" It's taking every ounce of restraint you have in your body to not viciously attack Nappa. "He's just outside of the palace."

You run through Nappa, intentionally knocking the large Saiayn onto the floor. His stupidity lost you precious time. It was quite an amusing sight, though. A mere child, being able to take down one of your father's best warriors.

You arrive outside of the palace, your eyes landing on your target. This is the first time you've ever seen Captain Ginyu. Sure, you've heard stories of the purple man. And much like your people, Ginyu is just as bloodthirsty and just as ruthless. Much to your surprise, the Captain doesn't have an army behind him. This was just before the Ginyu Force had formed. All Ginyu was at this point in time was a captain of one of Frieza's many armies.

You walk over to them, now standing at your brother's side. "Captain Ginyu." You speak with your hands, an exaggerated smile appearing on your lips. "To what do we owe the honor?"

The man looks down at you, clearly analyzing you with his scouter. "Well, if this isn't a surprise. I think this is the first time I've had the pleasure of meeting you, Y/N." Ginyu extends his large hand out to you, causing Vegeta to feel a great deal of alarm. Your brother's body has gone tense with an apprehensive look on his face. But when your older brother looks over to you, there isn't even a glint of fear in your eyes. You're calm, almost as if one of Lord Frieza's deadliest warriors was not standing before you. You accept the Captain's hand, presenting him with a short but polite handshake. "Your father doesn't like showing you off much, does he?"

You chuckle softly. "My father likes to hold his cards close to his chest. I'm sure a man like yourself is quite similar." Sucking up to Ginyu is not your favorite pastime, but it needs to be done. And every Saiyan on this planet knows your big brother is far too prideful to do it himself.

Ginyu looks between you and Vegeta carefully. For someone so highly regarded by Frieza, he sure isn't subtle. He's trying to read your facial expressions. Unfortunately for him, your father has raised you both much better than that. A poker face to you feels more natural than a genuine expression. "Speaking of your father, where is he right now?"

"He's of---"

You quickly cut Vegeta off. "He's in a meeting. That's why our father sent me out. He wanted you to know he sends his regards, but his hands are tied at the moment. He will be here at soon as possible. I hope my brother and I can suffice your needs in the meantime."

Captain Ginyu eyes you skeptically, tilting his head at you ever so slightly. "That sounds serious. I hope it's nothing too pressing."

"Of course not. It's nothing my father can't handle."

You're about to continue your schmoozing, but you're stopped by Vegeta aggressively yanking on your arm. "We need to talk-- in private."

You grimace at your brother's words. He just always has to make everything that much more difficult for you. You turn back to Ginyu, offering the man a cheerful smile. "Will you excuse us for a moment? We'll be right back."

Vegeta drags you around a corner, concealing you both from Ginyu's prying eyes. "What do you think you're doing?" He huffs at you in a whisper. "I had everything under control."

You snicker, crossing your arms. "You were just about to tell Ginyu that our father was off-planet. It sounds to me like I got here just in time to prevent you from making a grave mistake."

"I don't see why that matters."

"And that's the issue, Vegeta. Now we don't have time for this. Let's go." You turn back around, walking back over to Ginyu, Vegeta trailing not far behind. "I'd like to apologize for my brother's rudeness, Captain Ginyu." You shake your head but with a slight smirk across your lips. "All Saiyan men are the same, and my brother is no exception. They're incredibly thickheaded and quite savage. I'm convinced they don't even realize what brutes they are." You watch your brother ball his hands up into fists from beside you. It fills you with an immense feeling of joy knowing you're getting under Vegeta's skin for once. You turn back to Ginyu, plastering that disingenuous grin on your face. "Now, how about we give you a tour of our wonderful planet?"

You and Vegeta have shown Ginyu around almost the entirety of your planet, and you must admit you're beginning to grow worried. Luckily you've managed to hold off any more questions about your father's whereabouts by charming him with various facts about planet Vegeta. But to be honest, you're not sure how much longer you can hold up this charade for. You've exhausted pretty much every idea that you've been able to come up with.

"Captain Ginyu!" Your father's brash voice invades your ears as you turn around to finally see the man you've been anxiously waiting for. You've never seen your father walk in such an urgent manner, and it's pretty funny watching your twin struggling to keep up with your father's pace.

Your father places himself between you and Vegeta, ruffling your hair affectionately. You look up at him. "How'd your meeting go?"

Your father meets your gaze, catching onto your deception almost immediately. "It went very well. Thank you both for keeping Captain Ginyu company in my absence, but I think I can handle it from here." He directs his attention back onto Captain Ginyu. "Now, how about we discuss you're abrupt arrival somewhere more private."

The two men exit your field of view, leaving the three of you alone. Tarble, in his typical fashion, glues himself to your side. "What the hell was that?" Vegeta spits out with venom. "Where was your pride? You were basically groveling at his feet."

You furrow your brows at him. "I was doing what needed to be done. And if you think our father isn't currently doing the same thing, you're a bigger fool than I thought."

"I know our father is being more agreeable with him, but not at the cost of his pride."

"It's always about pride with you." You step closer to Vegeta, closing the distance between you. "Your pride today would have cost the loss of countless lives today, Vegeta."

"Then so be it. If there are Saiayn's that inadequate on our planet, we should probably just exterminate them now. It'll save us the hassle later on."

You snicker, shaking your head at Vegeta. "Some King you'll be." You turn to your twin. "Let's go, Tarble. I have no desire to be near our foolish brother right now."

The conversation between Captain Ginyu and your father was brief. It was a very anticlimactic ending to the naked eye. The briefness of this encounter only set off more alarm bells in King Vegeta's head. It was clear to the man that Ginyu's excuse for being on his planet was bullshit. He's just not quite sure what the captain's intentions were, but he sure as hell is going to find out.

As soon as Ginyu left planet Vegeta, he promptly set course for his next destination. He's headed straight to Lord Frieza to report his findings, and he's eager to do so.

Ginyu arrives on the planet in record time, heading straight for the throne room. Ginyu kneels before Frieza, waiting for his boss to speak. "Captain Ginyu. You're sure back early. I trust you were able to gather enough information on the young prince."

Captain Ginyu nods enthusiastically. "Of course, Lord Frieza. The Price was exactly the same as the previous data we collected on him. He's powerful and quite intelligent for a Saiyan. Though, he did inherit that nasty temper from his father."

Frieza sighs. "How disappointing."

"But I did discover something that you may find interesting, Lord Frieza."

Frieza tilts his head at the man. He can't help but feel intrigued. "Go on." It's not that easy for him to find an advantage over those monkeys, so he'll take any information Ginyu can give him, no matter how minuscule.

"Y/N--- King Vegeta's daughter piqued my interest greatly. She's not even close to as strong as her brother, but she's remarkably clever. She's very good with words, she knows how to manipulate people. I'd say she might even be better than King Vegeta himself."

"Now, that is fascinating. Good work, Ginyu. I'll look into the Princess's abilities more in-depth later. You're excused."

This is just something I felt the need to clarify: So in this chapter's flashback, Vegeta is around three, and Y/N and Tarble are about two. In my head, I picture children on planet Vegeta behaving like miniature adults. My idea is once they leave their chambers (the tanks they are raised in to get their basic Saiyan instincts under control), their minds are fully grown, but their physical growth is quite delayed. That's why they curse and stuff. I have a minuscule window of time to squash in all of my plot ideas. So this was the best way to do so.

#goku #goku x reader #saiyan reader #vegeta #vegeta's sister #DBZ Fanfiction #dbz x reader #dragon ball x reader #dragon ball z #the princess of all saiyans

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morievna · 3 years

Text

Mix_13 reaction and my little problem with Mafuyu this arc

tw: negativity, spoilers

me after reading mix_13 translations:

Theoretically that chapter is not that bad per se (we finally got Mafuyama talking to each other, some cute scenes, and I liked that Ueno was honest with himself at the end), but…

Oh my gosh I just hate when in stories you have something out of the blue preventing characters from talking properly – and here we got that Ueno just had to go for last train *sigh* srsly it felt that it was done only to add more drama (when there is a lot already) – it would be so much better if Mafuyu had asked Ueno to stay overnight *sigh**wishful thinking*

To be honest I pretty much agree with opinions that it is a bit strange that all mix chapters are a bit short (about 20 pages). Volume 6 is the thinnest of them all. Although it is hard to say whether it is Gusari or Cheri+ decision – simply chapter’s length were more irregular earlier. Just recently after finishing each chapter I have feeling that “it ended too soon” and some things could be more developed… which is not great :/

Especially I have a bit of problem with Mafuyu in this arc – he doesn’t feel enough full-fleshed as character to me.

From previous arc we know that he has complicated stance with music – it is like it has two different sides:

good thing that allows to express feelings - > being out of his own shell and connecting to others

jealousy and solitude -> bad thing that took Yuki away -> Ueno is spending a lot of time with SYH -> Mafuyu feeling lonely and different from them

it looks like for Mafuyu seeing Ueno with SYH triggered trauma and reminded him of past isolation, which led him to drift away further from them. Like this chapter stated – he is rejecting music completely, which essentially is bad thing since it always allowed him to show his emotions to others (even though it wasn’t easy).

It feels like he regressed as character too much - for example comparing to previous arc where Mafuyama had miscommunication issue, which they solved together pretty neatly. Even though it seems to be partially intentional – after all healing and changing as person is not something linear or easy, but since it is not really emphasized in story so far - I am not 100% sure if that is a point that Gusari want us to get across. There is just not enough introspection in his POV chapters - both internal monologues and conversations with others are rather scarce.

Like it is up to readers to make sensible explanations of Mafuyu’s actions – which theoretically is the bad thing per se, but that vagueness of the story just starts to be too frustrating to me personally.

Another thing, it is hard to guess what Mafuyu is specifically feeling about Ueno right now. Just it feels too unbalanced with Ueno is trying his best. Even though he is busy with SYH, he still more proactive than Mafuyu – he was the one excited about Given debut, asking to hang out, rushing to see Mafuyu on his request and his general attitude. On the other side, it just seems that Mafuyu is not even considering Ueno feelings at the moment, which is disappointing *sigh*

Ofc it is not that I hate Mafuyu or consider him shallow character – it feels like story is not realizing its full potential and all recent choices are only to add and add and add more drama. It doesn’t feel organic to me and more like author just wants story to go certain way and not solve miscommunication too quickly.

Though I doubt that Mafuyuama will breakup – imo Mafuyu has to open himself to Ueno at some point… I guess some other character (probably Hiiragi) will help him with that but will we see.

After all:

Ofc it is not something easy, but avoiding it is not good solution anyway.

Honestly, it would be the best for whole cast to go for therapy, but unfortunately things like that usually don’t happen in manga, so... *sigh*

Sorry for all that negativity - just even if there is good stuff in current arc, it is hard to me to look past some bad storytelling choices :/

Anyway, thanks for reading and have a nice day <3

#given #given spoilers #mafuyu satou #uenoyama ritsuka #given manga #sigh

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sweetestlamb · 3 years

Text

Mostrami Amore.

Summary: Cha-young tries to move on from a certain mafia boss.

Author’s Note: Thank for to everyone who sent in prompts for Chayenzo, it resulted in this mess. I don’t have much to say, I considered making this into a multi- chaptered story but honestly I don’t have time for another ongoing story so if this seems rushed it was a little, I wrote it in one go today. Hope you enjoy this, I stuck in some of my favorite crack ship because I am weak and obsessed. Happy reading!

p.s takes place after final episode but han seo lives because this is my world and I get to play God.

Another postcard.

Their delivery becomes sporadic and she’s embarrassed at the giddiness that washes over her each time a new square is sent miles across a wide stretch of ocean, the view on the card most likely lackluster in comparison to the true rendering of Malta. She has spent many hours on her laptop searching for images of the small paradisiac island, yearning to see what he sees and feel just a tad bit closer to him. Most of her life has been spent in solitude with only her work acquaintances filling the void at times, so she expected herself to be more equipped to deal with his disappearance and subsequent absence. But nothing prepares her for those moments at the coffee shop, when she finds herself smiling across a table only to realize there is no miniature espresso cup in the hand of a very dangerous Italian Korean mafia member grinning back at her.

The smile melts off her face and she swallows the bitter cool sludge in her cup, the beverage tasting exactly as he had described it without him there.

Nights are the hardest, loneliness coils around her like a snake.

There was never any other fate for them, she knew that when Vincenzo murdered all their enemies this was their only real outcome. He would always be a fugitive on the run and she an accomplice if he were captured and questioned, it was in both of their best interests if he vanished from the face of the planet. But knowing that does nothing to qualm the ever present feeling of isolation that clings to her skin as she sits alone on her couch, downing makgeolli at a vicious pace. Trying to wash his taste from her mouth, that kiss on loop in her mind and the phantom grip of his hand on her neck.

It’s those treacherous nights without the plaza members that have become a second family to her and Han Seo following her like the lost puppy he is calling her “Noona” so freely and frequently until she forgets her own name, that she allows herself to feel exactly what she’s feelings.

Heartbroken.

Desperate.

Lonely.

Rage.

The last one she hides like a dirty secret in the closet of her heart, she knew what she was signing up for. She has no legitimate reason to be angry, or so she tries to reason with herself. But. This was the same man who had bypassed the security of one of the richest men in Korea and ultimately killed him without leaving a trace. She had watched him do despicable things, blackmailing, threatening, seducing, and murdering others as he saw fit and yet, he hadn’t used any of those dastardly ways to see her. That chance meeting at the art gallery had been the last she had seen of him, Then a few weeks later another postcard with the same message she had boldly uttered at the airport, it feels insufficient after having him in her arms again. She knew in that moment that they would never be enough again. She hadn’t even argued when Mr. Nam claimed he would leave this one on his table instead, she merely nodded and walked away to peruse the new sexual assault case she has taken recently.

It gets harder and harder to hear Han Seo regaling the wonders of his “hyung”, her anger boiling deep below the surface like magma waiting to explode and transform into something tangible and destructive.

“He told me that he has a room for me too. I wonder when he’ll let us visit.”

She nods absently, staring out the window at the sunlight twinkling in through the blinds but then his words register and the gears in her head churn before running the sentence back through to carefully process them.

“He---what? You spoke to Vincenzo?”

The human puppy pouts his lips before tilting his head and dealing a hard blow to her ego and her heart, “Yeah, he sends me letters. I got so scared the first time! He said the letter would self-destruct after I read it and I really thought that was true and I dived across the room to escape but I bumped my head on the table and then...”

He sent Han Seo letters.

She had received the same fucking postcard for months on end with the same message she had said to him, and he had time to write Han Seo letters. He hadn’t sent her even one in the time he had been gone.

“That fucking bastard!” She explodes interrupting Han Seo’s recount of his near death experience and he looks wide- eyed and taken back by her outburst, she almost soothes him before another wave of anger rushes through her veins. She had accepted the bare minimum because she thought this was all he could give her but it seemed she was being too naïve. He was Vincenzo Cassano after all, he could make anything happen. She had seen it with her own two eyes. If he wasn’t reaching out to her maybe that was a message and she was too blind to see it.

“Noona? Are you okay?” Han Seo looks absolutely terrified, eyes huge and quivering. She doesn’t bother answering, grabbing her cup of lukewarm coffee and stomping out of the office ignoring Mr. Nam’s calls behind her. She’s tired of being an idiot.

She throws herself into forgetting him, the same way he seems to have forgotten her despite his words to her that fateful night on the stairs.

I thought about you everyday.

Actions speak louder than words and she is done accepting his crumbs. She has never needed anyone, had even accepted when her own father wanted nothing to do with her; she has basically been prepping for this moment her entire life.

So she goes shopping with Miri, buying gadgets that she has no idea how to use but that the other girl makes sound like things that she definitely needs such as a new home security system, her break in still fresh in her mind. She grins at the pretty smile on the other girl’s round face as she explains the specification of the machines around them and she can see why Han Seo has such a huge crush on the girl, the pretty blush that blossoms on the other girl’s cheek after stating the fact out loud is adorable and she pinches said cheek much to her chagrin.

“You should worry about your own love life.” Miri teases but the words sting like acid on her skin and she turns away to hide the grimace on her face, but she’s not fast enough and the other girl catches her wrist halting her movement.

“What? What’s wrong? Did something happen to Mr. Cassano?” Miri whispers the last part, looking around to make sure that nobody overhears them.

She forces herself to stifle her emotions, trapping them in the back of her mind refusing to let him have this kind of affect on her.

“I wouldn’t know.” She tries for a emotionless tone but even she can hear the bitterness in her own voice and Miri’s eyes fill with pity and it makes her sick to her stomach, “Don’t. I am going to be fine. Let’s just go.”

They don’t utter single word in the car ride home.

After that it becomes painfully obvious that everyone in the plaza thinks something is wrong with her and are teaming up to make her feel better. It’s the packed lunches that keep showing up on her desk without fail, her clothes being steamed and pressed for free, the way that they won’t allow her to be alone and there are countless spontaneous family game nights all ending with her drunk and being carried home.

Tonight Mr. Tak is the unlucky volunteer, dragging her limp body in her father’s house and she thinks of all the times that they drank here together and a certain person was the one hauling her body to bed complaining and grumbling but that distractingly fond smile on his face that he only ever seemed to shoot her way. Her heart thumped loudly as he loomed over her and leaned in close, getting her hopes up only to brush her hair behind her ears and softly tell her, “Go to sleep now,” and she had never been obedient all her teachers could testify to that but when he looked at her like that she was powerless to do anything else but listen.

“I miss him.” The traitorous words fall from her lips and vanish into the inky darkness of the night.

A deep sigh from the left of her, “We know.”

She feels vulnerable, the worst thing about having a weakness is other’s noticing too. She hates how weak she feels.

“I am going to forget him.”

The body supporting most of her weight tenses under her arm and she waits for his response, they all love Vincenzo- he had become their unexpected hero and leader in many ways. They would always take his side, she knows that.

“If that’s what you need to do to be happy. Then, do it. Loving a man like Vincenzo isn’t easy.”

She turns to look at him in genuine shock.

“What? You thought I would tell you to keep waiting with no end in sight? You should know by now, you mean a lot to us too. Your happiness is important to us too, we’re a family.”

“But we’re the Cassano family,” she challenges unable to accept that they could love her without Vincenzo attached, but Mr. Tak shrugs at the clarification, “We can be the Hong Family too.”

She feels her eyes swimming.

“I should go inside.”

She feels sober and more awake than ever, she stays up all night twirling the long strands of her hair in between her fingers.

Thinking.

Variety is the spice of life.

She doesn’t know where she’s heard that but it’s those sage words that are the catalyst for her spontaneous decision.

“Same as always? Silky with some body?” Her stylist peers into her eyes through the wide mirror and she hears herself say, “No I want a cut and some color.” Yu-jin raises one pretty tweezed brow but nods after a moment’s pause, “Okay. How short are you thinking?”

And that’s how she starts her day with long thick hair that grazes her lower back and ends it with a short bob that tickles her neck. It feels like a weight has been lifted from her shoulder, metaphorically and literally and she loves the face that she sees in the mirror, her eyes looking brighter than they have in months. She feels more alive, like a snake shedding its skin and becoming a newer and fresher version of itself.

“Your hair?” That becomes the running theme for her day, shocked gaping mouths and hands reaching out for the hair that was once there. She merely smirks at their palpable surprise, especially Seol-jin who doesn’t recognize her from behind.

“I haven’t seen a pretty lady like you aro--Oh Ms. Hong! I’m so sorry I didn’t recognize you, I am so sorry please excuse me!” The interpretative dancer bolts away leaving her to watch him bemused, she skips to Jipuragi with a pep in her step laughing loudly when Mr. Nam drops his coffee upon seeing her and the brown liquid goes flying and douses him in a sticky hot mess.

It’s an entertaining day to say the least.

Moments later when he’s finished cleaning himself up and changing into the cheetah print track suit that he insisted to keeping in the office, he mentions that a new postcard has arrived. She nods at the information, looking at her laptop and it’s only seconds later that she finally looks up and sees that he’s waiting for her response. She doesn’t have one.

Forcing a tight smile on her face she replies, “Oh that’s great. Just put it with the others.”

He does.

But she can feel his eyes on her, his concern heavy and tangible in the air.

She pretends not to notice and keeps clicking away on her laptop, only glancing over at the card once or twice. But it’s only out of habit.

Nothing more.

She starts going on dates with random men. Men she meets in coffee shops, on the streets, in bars, hell one time even the bookstore. She never meets the same man twice and they never get what they want but it does make her feel desirable and that’s all she’s looking for.

“Where are you going?” Han Seo asks her curiously, Miri by his side as she struts out the plaza new perfume on her skin.

“On a date. I’ll see you both later.” They both gape at her and can only watch with wide eyes as she sashays away, heels clicking with every step.

Word spreads like wildfire and no one takes it harder than Mr. An, who calls her a “jezebel” and cries at the front of the law firm for hours, she has to step over him to go get lunch shaking him off when he latches on to her ankles.

The others just look at her with sad eyes, filled with both understanding and disappointment.

Much to her surprise the lunch boxes keep coming and her clothes are still pressed and starched to perfection though.

She also starts taking self defense classes, Korea is much more dangerous than she had first suspected and she has to be able to protect herself because nobody is coming to save her. Not anymore.

It becomes a great outlet for her built up anger and her instructor praises her for being a fast learner. She grins and nods before flipping him and twisting his arm around his own neck in a modified sleeper hold. When he taps on her arm she squeezes tighter instead of letting go and he goes limp for a moment before she comes back to herself and releases him hastily with a quick apology, “Sorry!”

He rubs his neck, panting for air and she feels guilty, there's a tinge of that but most of all she feels powerful, more so than she has for a long time.

It’s crazy but she finds herself asking him for drinks after class and even crazier is that he agrees even with her marks still there on his skin, the area bruised and red. He looks at her like she’s challenge that he wants to conquer, she lets him believe that’s possible. It’s only a bit of fun anyway, she has no plans for anything serious.

Drinks turn into a drunken cab ride home with his hand on her thigh, hot through the thin material of her tights and they don’t feel right- too small and not rough enough but she’s moving on and she has no time to reminisce.

There hasn’t even been a postcard lately. Message, loud and clear.

When she shoves the keys into her door, he’s glued to her body leaving wet kisses on the long column of her neck and she tries to suppress the nausea that swims in her stomach, everything feels wrong and she hates herself for feeling that way. Why shouldn’t she fuck whoever she wants? He is probably doing the same thing, everyday on his beautiful private island. Kissing women that aren’t her and whispering dirty Italian words into their ears as he rocks back and forth, nary a thought of that Korean woman he knew once upon a time.

Fuck him.

She rocks back into the purposeful grind of the hips behind her, feeling the hardness that digs into the soft flesh of her ass and finally the door opens and they both tumble in haphazardly and he thrusts a hand under her loose shirt fingering at her breasts before a dark figure moves far too quickly in her peripheral and she hears her date cry out in pain.

She almost faints at the familiar sight of the one person she never expected to see, the hard glint of his cold eyes as he twists the same hand that had just been fondling her chest. The grip looks painful, the wrist contorted in an unnatural manner.

“What the fuck? You have a boyfriend?!” Her instructor cries out, voice high pitched falling to his knees as Vincenzo kicks his feet out from under him.

She rolls her eyes, of course he would come now when she is trying (and failing) to get over him.

Vindictively she answers the question, ‘No.”

But that makes Vincenzo twist the wrist in his grip even tighter and she can see the bones breaking so she takes pity on the poor man, he didn’t sign up for a murderous mafia leader after all.

“Just let him go. You have no right to do any of this.”

He doesn’t listen right away and absently she wonders if she’ll need to test out her new moves on him, it would be satisfying to deck him square in the face. She dreams of that as often as she dreams of their reunion. Her feelings are...complicated to say the least.

Then with a grunt, he throws the other man away like he’s trash and growls out, “Get out of here before I kill you.”

She tries not be get turned on by that. But it’s a hard sell, her body already getting revved up. He’s telling the truth.

The man wastes no time, jumping to his feet and bolting out the door without one backwards glance. Asshole, he was really just leaving her with a clearly unstable and dangerous man.

“We need to talk.” Vincenzo squeezes out between clenched teeth, and her blood runs cold but she stares him dead in the eyes tired of this game they’ve been playing, if he’s here to end things she wants to know.

“Okay. Then talk.”

She looks insanely beautiful, with her hair cropped so short bringing his eyes to the tantalizing length of her neck. His eyes close in on a spot of moisture on her neck, he feels his blood boiling imagining that bastard touching any part of her. She’s glaring right back at him, her chest rising and falling and he can’t help but check her out, it’s been months since he saw her in person the photo of her doing aerial yoga above his bed couldn’t compare to the tempest that is Cha-young in real life.

The flat plane of her belly is on display under the white crop top loosely stretched across her chest which leads down to her slim hips and legs wrapped in white spandex, leaving very little to the imagination not that he hasn’t imagined her in far less many, many times. Too many times to count. Spilling across the silk adorning his king sized bed with only her name on his lips.

She looks fucking hot.

That makes it even more frustrating because he can still clearly see that bastard wrapped around her like a snake and his hands going up her shirt---he has to take a deep breath before he breaks something. Or chases that asshole to break his face.

There’s so much he wants to say to her, so much he owes her.

I missed you.

I love you.

Come with me.

“Who the hell was that?” He says this instead then watches her eyes glint over into nothing but pure murderous rage. Wrong move. But he couldn’t help it, green eyed raged taking away his decision making abilities.

“That’s all you have to say? Get out.”

He wasn’t expecting rose petals and trumpets when he returned but he definitely wasn’t expecting this, her cold glare or another man in his spot. He thought she would wait for him, just as he had done for her.

“Are you serious right now?” He counters, flabbergasted.

“Deadly. Get out.”

He clenches his fist, and then stomps out. Turning back but only to watch the door slam in his face.

What the hell.

It had only taken a letter from Han Seo to get him on boat that would take him to an open field and hours later he was soaring through the skies on a hot air balloon, on his way back to Korea. It was insane and he barely had time to explain to his family but Luca nodded at him like this was the only choice and told him that he would take care of everything, and he trusted those words more than he had ever trusted anything in his life.

“Vai a prendere la tua donna( go get your woman).”

He had nodded, gruffly patting the other man on his shoulder before hopping over into the waiting boat.

But he wasn’t so certain anymore that Cha-young was his.

She seems different. Colder almost, she leaves whenever I mention your name and she goes on dates now. I think she’s moving on hyung, what are you going to do?

Those words had been the scariest thing he had never seen. Scarier than every gun that had ever been pointed at his head. He thought what they had was something special, something that could stand the test of time and distance. He stared at the huge pile of letters on his bedside, all addressed to her. He had written one everyday since they had been separated, but each time he was too much of a coward to send it. In those letters he could say things that he could never say to her face, things like how much he ached without her by his side and how her smile was the only thing that kept him going. In those letters he could regal the ways he loved her, and how deeply she had been branded into his soul, every atom of his body belonged to her and her alone. He would kill for her, die for her, anything she needed or merely wanted he would provide it, all she needed to do was ask.

He could only share those feelings in the letters.

He walks for hours, until he ends up at his old apartment the familiar door greeting him and he sticks his hand in his pocket before he remembers that he gave the key away, with a sigh he starts to walk away before the door creaks open and he hears a voice he hasn’t heard in months.

“Hyung!”

A warmth spreads across his back as a solid weight almost knocks him off his feet. He reaches one arm around his body, awkwardly slapping the face that is pressing into his collar.

“You really chose to stay here.”

He feels the nod on his shoulder, “Of course. It made me feel closer to you hyung, I missed you.”

He grunts in response, before turning around and tugging the younger man into a real hug. He had missed the annoying little leech too, he had missed everyone.

They are still in each other’s embrace for a moment before Han Seo pulls away, sympathy etched deep on his face.

“She wasn’t happy to see you.”

“There was someone else there.” He hates the words even as they leave his mouth and Han Seo winces, looking pained for him before tugging him into the small apartment. Everything is just like he left it. He looks around in awe.

“I’m sorry hyung. What are you going to do?”

That’s the golden question, he pondered it all the way here and he’s no closer to knowing the answer to that. Usually she is the one that makes the move, she has always been the brave one between them. He back steps and says things he doesn’t mean and she sees through him and smashes down all his walls. That’s how this has always worked.

“I don’t know. Maybe I should just leave her alone. Let her be happy.”

A loud scoff reaches his ears, “Sure. Is that why you sailed across sharked infested waters and trusted a hot air balloon company run my former thugs?”

He smarts at the sarcastic reply and glares before flicking the cheeky brat on his nose, "I liked you better when you were stupid you know. Now you're a little smart ass."

The younger man looks even more youthful as he grins back at him, rubbing at his nose before shrugging. "I learned from the best."

He has no rebuttal for that so he tries to flick him again, giving chase when he darts off.

It feels good to be home.

He warns Han Seo not to tell anyone that he's here least they give away his location.

So he's not surprised the next day to find the cavalry at his doorstep hands filled to the brim with containers of food. There are tears, mostly from Mr. Nam who won't stop screaming his name and pinching his cheeks to see if he's real and Mr. An who wraps around him like a koala despite his very detailed threats. It's all chaos and so familiar that his heart aches but her absence is like a hole in his chest. Nobody mentions her but they all keep looking at the door, so it's obvious that she was invited but chose not to come.

Because she didn't want to see him.

"You're here to win her back right?" He doesn't know who even utters the words but when he glances up they are all looking at him expectantly.

He didn't know that was what he was indeed here for thought that she would happily welcome him back and they could pick up where they left off but she's made it clear that this won't be the case. This will be the most important fight of his life.

"Yes. I'm here for Cha-young."

He gets enthusiastic thumbs up and a loud giggle from the Yeon-Jin and Cheol-Wook’s adorable baby, her little hands too uncoordinated to do a thumbs up but she waves excitedly feeding off the energy around her.

He wonders how Cha-young would look with a baby in her arms, their baby it's a dangerous thought. But one that he can't get out of his mind once he thinks it.

They stay until midnight, forcing him to eat and drink too much soju until he passes out to dreams filled with a round Cha-young, belly swollen and protruding from her body.

It doesn't take much to learn her schedule(Mr. Nam hands him a laminated copy) and he has to put on a disguise but he enters the shop seconds after her, hearing her order that god awful sewer water she's so fond of.

"An espresso for me." He leans in too close, almost brushing her shoulder and she jolts at the sound of his voice, turning to stare at him as if she's a mirage.

"You're still here?" She whispers and then shakes her head and looks away as if she's hadn't meant to say the words aloud.

It hurts him that she thought he would leave without telling her but he can't blame her, he has been anything but consistent. Instead of answering, he leans forward to hand his credit card to the cashier who glances between them suspiciously before accepting the card.

Their orders are ready in seconds and he follows her as she walks to their table, butterflies in his stomach at the familiar sight.

She turns to him with a glare, "It's just the only available table."

He moves to pull out her chair and she starts at him tight lipped before sitting down. She's in a tight black suit today, two long slits on the side of her pants going all the way up to her thighs. He gulps down his drink to get rid of the drool pooling in his mouth.

"You're upset with me."

She stares at him like he's the biggest idiot on the planet, it's not a look he receives often but she's always the outlier in his otherwise organized life.

"Astute observation." She quips back, sucking loudly at her coffee.

"Why?"

He considered how to go about breeching this subject and in the end had decided on going straight to the source, he had been under the impression that this was working for them.

Her face morphs into a person he hasn't seen for a long time, the Cha-young that would berate him and make him angry enough to curse in Italian.

"Do you think this little of me?"

He's completely lost, "What do you mean? What did I do that was so wrong? Wrong enough for you to cheat on me!" He's panting now, his voice has gotten loud enough to catch people's attention he can feel them watching their table, nosy and invested.

"Cheat on you?"

Cold as ice, her voice is. It almost makes him shiver.

"How could I possibly cheat on you? We're not together. You send me the same postcard with the same message every few months. I have no idea what you're doing in Malta, who you're with. You can't even be bothered to send me a letter, do you think this is a relationship? You think it's enough to pop up like this every once in a blue moon? You've told me nothing about how you feel about me but I'm supposed to be satisfied with whatever you throw my way?"

If he wasn't sitting down his legs would have already given out he's certain about that. Her voice is deadly quiet each word landing and chipping away at his confidence.

"I'm doing the best I can! You knew it would be like this after everything was over, why are you blaming me now? How about you, I don't know how you feel either!"

"I love you! Anyone with eyes can see that, I told you that at the airport too. And again when I took a bullet for you, you didn't think that meant I loved you? I was willing to die for you."

Shit.

It's not at all how he expected them to confess their love for each other, it's hard to believe the words that are coming out of her mouth as she bares her teeth at him.

"So why are you doing this? Why are there other men?"

Why aren't I enough? He wants to say but he's scared of her answer, terrified that she'll say that she can't do this anymore. That he just isn’t enough anymore.

She stares at him long and hard.

Waiting for something. But he doesn't know what.

"You haven't changed at all. You're still a coward, I'm not interested in guessing anymore. I’m done playing this game.”

She stands up and walks away, leaving her unfinished coffee on the table.

Unwanted just like him.

She doesn't see him for days and she accepts that her words had done their damage, she had cried until she fell asleep that night. Waking up with swollen red eyes that no amount of concealer would save but thankfully no one commented on her state.

She goes through her day on autopilot and before she knows it she's back home, ready to face her night alone again. She pushes the door open, half praying he'll be waiting for her but her hopes shattered when she turns on the lights and finds no one.

"It's better this way." She lies to herself, pouring herself an obscene glass of soju. She's going to need plenty of alcohol to get through this pain.

Her head is woozy and heavy when she hears a sound, suddenly alert she stills in her chair before rushing over to get a frying pan walking on the tips of her toes she prowls closer to the clicking sound, finding herself at the window peering at a long lost friend. Placing the frying pan on her window sill she pry opens the window, screeching when the audacious bird flies inside landing on her table as if he belongs there.

"Hey Inzaghi! Get your dirty bird feet off my table!"

He looks at her nonchalantly, making himself comfortable on said table and she sighs before shutting the window and drunkenly swaying over to him.

"What are you even doing there? Do you want to be my bird now, I won't be a very good owner. I won't remember to feed you. I barely remember to feed myself."

Despite being a bird he finds a way to roll his eyes at her before standing up and only then does she notice something on his leg. She looks at him cautiously before moving closer and untying the paper on his leg, the pigeon barely reacts before flying over to her couch. She sighs in annoyance, she's going to have to clean everything after this bird leaves.

She unwinds the string holding the paper together, unrolling the paper scroll. There is a message written inside: the rooftop. 9 pm.

Glancing at her clock the time shines at her.

7:34pm.

"This could be a trap."

It very much could be, she has enemies now. It was a small price to pay for taking down Babel but she's always looking over her shoulders now, so this note could easily be someone luring her to hurt her or get back at Vincenzo.

Inzaghi coos loudly at her as if he can hear her thoughts. This time he finds a way to look exasperated.

She stumbles off to her room.

She needs time to think.

"So she told you that she loved you and you didn't say it back?"

"I was shocked. She was growling at me and looked ready to kill me at the same time." He reasons back, trying to show his hyung his point of view. The younger man doesn't look even a little bit convinced by his logic.

"Okay and? That sounds perfectly normal for you too. You should have shot someone and wrote it back in their blood on the table."

He recoils in disgust at the suggestion, "What the hell is wrong with you? Are you actually insane, why the fuck would I do that?"

Han Seo stares deadpan in return.

He puts up a hand trying to stop whatever response he has, "Don't say it."

It doesn't work.

"Pig's blood. Don't forget I saw it all, I've never seen Ms. Hong look so excited before. You're both crazy."

Well, that had been different. It was an old tradition, she simply had an appreciation for the classics.

"And I bet you're defending her right now in your mind. Noona is just like you, that's why you're made for each other. She's the gasoline to your fire."

"You know that would just make an even larger fire right?"

"Yes. I'm smart now remember? I know what I said."

He sighs falling into the comfortable familiarity of the couch, a spring digging into his thigh.

"Why didn't you say it back?" His stills at the barely whispered question, his chest constricting as he recalls the passionate confession. He had frozen, like he'd always known she was the brave one between them. Always doing the unexpected and the time was no different, her words had knocked him off his feet.

"Because I was scared."

Han Seo huffs at his honesty. He doesn't know where the words are coming from but he's tired of keeping it all in.

"Because if anything happens to her it'll break me, I thought it would be better if I kept her at a distance. I thought this was enough. I thought this would be easier. When I think about her I want to drop everything and just be with her and that...was too dangerous. I had to keep my distance."

There's a pregnant pause, just the sound of their breathing filling the void.

"Was it?"

"What?"

"Easier. Is this better? Enough?"

He thinks about Cha-young getting married to a faceless man, exchanging vows and sealing it with a kiss, happy and in love on their honeymoon wanton moans and screams from their room, learning that they're having a baby and her round and glowing with someone else's child smiling brightly as she rubs her belly and it's too much. He wants to smash it all into little pieces.

"No. It's not enough. I need her, without her nothing is enough."

"That's what you should have said to her. Don't glare at me I'm right, but I have an idea. I saw it in an American cartoon."

And that's how he lets his younger brother convince him to send a note to Cha-young using Inzaghi, the pigeon had shown up one night and he'd been so happy he almost kissed the bird.

"How will he know where Cha Young lives?" He asks skeptical even as he ties the note to the birds leg.

"I showed him a picture of her house. According to the cartoon, birds just know.”

He stares at the younger man, wondering why he's listening to this ridiculous plan.

"This is stupid. I should just text her, Inzaghi is never going to deliver this. He's just a regular pigeon."

"This is more romantic." He answers matter of fact.

"How is a pigeon delivering a message in anyway romantic?" He challenges already knowing from the shit eating grin he won’t like the response.

"The same way pig blood was." The brat counters and he doesn't get a chance to respond before Han Seo picks Inzaghi up and throws him out the window, "In the name of love!" He only barely stops himself from bashing his head into the wall, the younger man has to wrestle him to the ground.

It's stupid. They did all of this for nothing the cool breeze makes him pull his coat tighter around his body, exposed to the weather on the open space of the rooftop.

He checks his watch, 9:48.

She's not coming and the worst part is that he doesn't know if it's because that damn bird never delivered his message or if it's because she really doesn't want anything to do with him. The burden of not knowing hurts more than anything.

Expelling the air in his lungs he walks back to the single door that leads off the roof, twisting the doorknob in his hand and pulling it open.

Meeting the shocked face of one Cha-young.

They both just stare at each other before he speaks, "You came."

He can't believe it. Inzaghi had actually delivered the note, somehow the pigeon had found her house and she was here. He almost pinches himself to see if he'd passed out on the roof and this was just a dream.

"I didn't know Inzaghi was a carrier pigeon." She futilely tries to change the subject and he takes a step back, gathering the tattered pieces of his courage. The same courage that had propelled him to kiss her all those months ago on the stairs.

"I'm so happy you're here. I waited for you."

She stares at him like he has two heads before blushing, and avoiding his eyes.

"Come with me." He extends his hands and tries not to be too hurt when she bypasses it and steps around him instead.

At least she was here.

With a quick swipe of his hand he sends the message to his accomplices.

Now.

The lights come on, fairy lights decorating the roof top in a heavenly glow. She spins around in wonder, eyes nearly as bright she's so beautiful it's almost painful to look at her.

Then the music starts.

The soft notes filling the space.

When I walk down a road I don't know well....

She looks around in wonder, staring back at him she can’t believe what’s happening.

Then the letters start falling from the sky, all the letters he had written to her alone and missing her thousands of miles away. His plaza family smiles down at him, throwing letters from a higher building.

Cha-young stares up at the sky in surprise, hundreds of letters landing all around her.

It had taken a few days for Luca to send them all over and then another day to get the guts to do this, there was no turning back now. He had never willingly made himself vulnerable to anyone else, but according to Han Seo it was the only way he was going to win her back.

“She just wants to know that you love her too. Show her.”

He watches anxiously as she picks up a letter, stroking lightly at her own name on the front looking at him with stunned wet eyes.

“You wrote me a letter.” Her voice is revere and awe that he doesn’t deserve, not after everything he has put her through in the sake of protecting himself but he’s too elated to see her looking at him like that again, like he’s someone important to her.

“182. For each day we were apart. I told you I thought about you everyday, and every time I did I wrote you a letter.”

She stares at the letter in her hand, gently ripping it open and devouring the words on the page. Nerves shoot up and down his body as he watches her read his most private thoughts about her, her expressive face for once empty of emotions as she silently reads the letter.

He waits.

Breathless and terrified.

“Why didn’t you ever send them? They were mine so why did you keep them?” He hears an edge in her voice that makes him wonder if she’s only talking about the letters.

“Cha-young, I don’t think you understand.”

She breathes out loudly, stomping over to him until they are inches apart and he has no choice but to look into the deep pool of her eyes.

“I don’t! I don’t understand anything, I thought you had found someone else in Malta and the postcards were just your way of being nice. I thought you didn’t feel the same way I did, you were sending Han Seo letters but you wouldn’t do the same for me. What was I supposed to think? Why didn’t you try to help me understand, you were gone for six months!”

There’s so much wrong with everything she said, how could he find anyone else when his heart beats for her? How could he forget her when everything he did reminded him of her, he saw her every night in his dreams. But he doesn’t make the same mistake this time, he says what’s important.

“I feel the same way. I love you Cha-young. I thought this was better for you, that this could be enough. But I was wrong, I missed you every minute of every--”

“Come home with me.”

He stops, stares, gapes and then stares some more.

“What? I wasn’t finished confessing though.” Actually offended that she interrupted his planned speech. He was about to recite one of his favorite Italian love poems for her and then ask her to dance.

She rolls her eyes dragging him towards the door, “Don’t you think we’ve wasted enough time? It’s been six months and you have been here for too long, you have to go soon.”

She’s right, he has a flight in two days for an identity he borrowed for his escape.

“Listen to her, just go back to her place and have a good night!” That sounds like Cheol-Wook and then they all erupt into applause and start cheering and hollering, chanting their names and then to his embarrassment they start chanting, “Go have sex! Go have sex!” complete with the monks banging on their drums and he doesn’t think he will ever live down this moment, especially when he sees Miri capturing it on the new video camera he had gifted her.

He flips them off as an eager Cha-young pulls him away their laughter following them all the way.

The car ride is too long on the way over and she wonders how quickly she can undress them both as soon as they reach, there is simply no time to waste.

But once they get to the doorstep he suddenly freezes, tugging her backwards into his chest.

“This looks familiar doesn’t it?” His voice is dark and smoky and she immediately knows what he’s referring to, and she refuses to give him any reaction.

“Are you seriously doing this right now?”

“You let someone else touch you. Here.” He runs a hand up her neck, briefly squeezing, “And here,” she gasps at his hands suddenly on her breast, squeezing harshly at the tender flesh.

“So what are you going to do about it?” She knows that she’s playing with fire, but that is their foundation. She has never aimed to cool him off or tone him down, she sees the dark side inside of him and loves it, encourages it and feeds on it herself allowing it to bring her darkness out too.

He kicks the door open, shoving her side and she delights at the rough treatment. She hopes that she is filled with his bruises tomorrow.

She doesn’t wait for his next move, pulling her shirt up and over her head before tugging off her skirt leaving herself in a barely there lace panties and a matching lace bra that is translucent, her nipples peeking through the sheer material. He stares at her transfixed, his hunger evident in his eyes and in the tent forming in his tight dress pants.

“Take those off.” She commands and he smirks before obeying, peeling the pants off his thighs standing in his button down shirt and tight boxer briefs that leave nothing to her imagination, every delicious inch of him visible. She steps forward bringing their bodies in contact, before thrusting her hand inside the opening of his briefs. He feels hard and smooth, liquid pooling at the tip and she twists her hand collecting it to ease her slow strokes up and down. His voice hitches as she fingers his balls and without warning she tugs his boxers off, leaving him bare to her eyes.

Mesmerized by the unencumbered sight of him, she drops to her knees using her hand to guide him to her eagerly waiting mouth.

His flavor explodes on her tongue and she swallows more, grabbing his hips to drag him deeper into her mouth until she can feel him in her throat, but even after her eyes start to burn and she feels herself choking she doesn’t stop, bobbing up and down hungrily, sloppy wet sounds filling the room in a filthy symphony. At first he lets her control the movement, pliant in her hands but as she increases her speed and suction he starts groaning and huffing loudly and then she feels his hand on the back of her hand, keeping her in place and when she looks up at him he looks wrecked. Eyes dazed and his face red and flushed, she ingrains that image in her mind, for when he’s gone and all she has are her toys.

She stares back defiantly before he draws himself out of her mouth, a single line of spit connecting them and then he thrusts back into her mouth roughly and she opens her mouth wider to accept the abuse, loving every second of it even as a her throat aches. He sets a frantic pace, his balls slamming against her chin and she doesn’t realize at first that his grunts have transformed into words, too much blood rushing to her head.

“Mine. Mine, nobody can---ah fuck! Nobody can see you like this. Only me. You’re mine.”

He fucks her mouth like it’s his to use and do what he pleases, and she’s wetter than she’s ever been listening to him claim her verbally and with the wet push of his dick in her mouth.

She starts grinding on the floor like a cat in heat and without preamble he grabs her under her armpits and lifts her like she weighs nothing, his dick sliding free from her hot mouth, “I want to make you scream.” He says this like a declaration of love and she throws herself at him, kissing the words off his lips. His tongue swirls in her mouth and she wonders if he can taste himself in her. It makes her hotter and she grinds her barely covered pussy onto his naked length, groaning at the friction even though the thin layer separating them.

He tosses her onto the bed and she doesn’t even remember them walking, his tongue and his wondering fingers had completely distracted her.

She lays sprawled across the bed as he stares at her, like she’s feast he can’t wait to devour.

“Nobody has been in here.” She doesn’t know if he’s asking a question or making a statement, but she feels that his jealousy is real. Seeing her with someone else had done something to him, guilt washes over her. If she had seen him with someone else she would have lost her mind too.

“Nobody. I never brought anyone home before, that guy was a mistake. I was just hurt and missing you. I’m sorry.”

He had abandoned her for six months and she didn’t owe him anything but his pain is her pain and they are stronger now, everything has been said.

“Good.”

Then he rips her panties away and buries his face between her legs, prying her wide open with his hands and lapping at her with his searing hot tongue. Immediately he has his wish and she screams, loud enough to fill the entire room.

“Already screaming amore? It’s going to be a long night, I want to make you hoarse.”

She doesn’t get a moment to respond before he’s back to licking and sucking at her most sacred part, fingers deep inside her as he thrusts and strokes alongside his tongue, his fingers and tongue moving in tandem and she tries to stifle the scream but a particularly deep fuck makes the sound erupt from her throat and her head feels dizzy from the overwhelming sensation.

He has boundless energy it seems, as time drags by and she feels her body tightening up as he systemically destroys her, he never takes a break or pauses, slurping up all the liquid that drips from her and the sounds of him swallowing are beyond erotic. When a hand runs up her stomach and squeezes at a bouncing breast she can’t contain her moans of pleasure, crying out as his fingers pinching the tight bud of her nipple.

“Please.”

He coos in her, “So pretty when you beg.” Then he sticks his tongue as far as it can go and she hears the rush of blood in her head as her body shakes apart and her release gushes from her body, twitching when he laps it all up her oversensitive body recoiling from the overstimulation.

She has never come like that before, most men have never put in the work necessary to make her come and she wasn’t one to fake it so her experiences with sex with someone else were few and far in between.

This feels like nirvana.

“You still with me amore?” The bastard looks so smug, looming above her naked arms on the side of her head, and she had no idea when he took his shirt off.

“I can’t feel like my legs.”

He chuckles loudly at the statement, grinning growing wider.

“Well I can assure you that they’re still there and they will look great wrapped around my waist.”

Raising to his challenge, although her body is still buzzing she wraps her legs around his waist, they feel like jelly but she finds the strength to follow through with her movement.

“I was right they do look great.”

“Well this would look great in me.” She counters, grabbing at his thick ruddy red dick jutting from his body and he rocks into her hand before knocking her hand away and taking himself in his hand.

“Do we need a condom?” He asks her, looking like he is ready to stop at nay minute if she tells him that they do.

“No.”

She has been on birth control since she was a teen and there’s been no one for her since she met him, and she trusts that it’s been the same for him.

“Thank goodness, I want to feel everything.” He barely finishes his sentence before he’s easing into her, slow and steady. She lets him continue for a moment before she tightens her legs around his waist and pulls him in roughly, as deep as she can get him in this position. “Fuck, you’re so impatient.”

“Shut up and fuck me already.”

He grumbles at her calling her bossy, but she sighs when he draws out and slams back in with a quick snap of his hips.

“Yes just like that!”

He takes direction very well, repeating the motion until the bed starts to creak from their movements, he pistons in and out of her gone all semblance of gentle or slow, they have teetered into a speed that can only be defined as “break neck” and she feels her body sliding up the mattress as he pounds into her over and over again, she latches onto his neck eager to leave a branding mark on him and he groans at the suction, grinding harder into her and gripping her ass to force her to meet his vicious thrusts.

Absently she feels him peeling her bra from her body, the only remaining item of clothing that has survived their coupling and she knows exactly when he sees the scar. The grotesque knitting of skin that had left a permanent scar on her shoulder, she almost covers it up but when she peels her eyes open he is staring at her mesmerized.

“Don’t look.”

He leans down to kiss it, the softest more precious kiss she has ever received in her life.

He peppers more kisses all over, then strokes at it with a single finger.

“I should have realized, this was your confession. I was an idiot. I will never be that stupid again, I love you so much. I would do anything for you. Anything.”

He puts her legs on her shoulder, nearly bending her in half before resuming his thrusts but they are less frenzied now, it feels like lovemaking. Her eyes prickle when he kisses her scar with every downward thrust, whispering, “Beautiful, so beautiful. Every inch of you.”

She cries out.

With every thrust he kisses her scar, making her feel lightheaded and naked.

When he moves them into a new position, her back to his front giving him better access to her scar, she loses herself as he whispers sweet nothings into her ears and litters the spot with warm kisses.

She falls off the edge with his lips on her scar and him deep inside her, warm bursts filling her up before leaking out onto the bed sheets.

“Today’s our last day.”

Waking up next to him is torture, she tries not to ingrain that in her mind but it’s too late it’s already there. He blinks away the sleep in his eyes at her words and then nods solemnly in agreement.

“Yes for this visit. But I’ll always come back for you.”

She smiles brightly, “Don’t keep me waiting for too long.”

They don’t leave the bed except to get breakfast and that ends with her laid across the kitchen table getting taken from behind after teasing him. He can’t seem to keep his hands off her new hair, twisting the short strands in his hands and yanking on them. She catches him looking at her heatedly more than once.

Then they wind up in the shower, trying to clean up and getting dirtier instead, his hands tight in her hair and around her waist as he hoists her up to pound her into the wall. Making up for lost time.

They get messages from their entire family, Vincenzo showing her a message from Han Seo asking if he’s going to be an uncle soon. She promises to embarrass him in front of Miri very, very soon.

Both pretend they don’t feel the day fading away, bringing them closer to their goodbye.

Tomorrow he will be gone again, but there’s no guessing now. She knows what she means to him now and that’s more than enough.

She wakes up to an empty bed and a ticket to Malta, the ball is in her court.

#vincenzo #chayenzo #smut #but you know with feelings #romance isn't dead #you can find it in strange places #like pig's blood #han seo has the best wingman #the mafia family

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akumaalert · 3 years

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Snippet of “Awake” - First Chapter of “Divergence”

Hey, all! Wanted to share a snippet of the first chapter (”Awake”) of “Divergence” - a fic that will offshoot from “Heavy Metal Lover.” Note that this is basically a whole spoiler for chapter 20 of “Heavy Metal Lover.” If you’re like me and see random stuff saying “Don’t click if you haven’t read...” and click anyway: Hi! Welcome, chaos lover. If you like this and want to know the context, please feel free to check out the full work on AO3.

“Divergence” should be posted within two weeks and will be open to requests for the reader (”Lucky”) to have different experiences than what she has in the original. This can mean the following:

- AUs

- Re-tellings of certain scenes of the original

- Reader-specific details included in old or new/original scenes (i.e., reader is plus sized, skinny, tall, short, etc.)

- Genderbending of any of the characters

Originally made this Tumblr to share snippets of the stories on...so happy that I could finally do that! If you want to skip writing that was in the story, you can start at “Though sleep pulled at your eyelids...”

Story contains mature elements, swearing, and explicit mention of sex. Please be forewarned.

Looking back, it would only be a wonder that it did not occur sooner.

As soon as you were alone in the bedroom, you took off your shoes and eyed the clothes Heisenberg had provided you from the factory...

...before turning to the tub.

Couldn't hurt to bathe. Love to be clean.

That man is coming back up to this bedroom.

This is the point, self.

The logical side of your brain, for once, remained quiet.

Though you had clearly lost all sense of sensibility, you at least moved the divider to completely block the tub from any but the most determined of views.

The water had been scalding when you got in.

By the time you had bathed and decided that your foolishness had reached its limit, it was stark cold.

"This was stupid," you said. "Fucking stupid. What did I want? Him to join me? This is the universe saying 'Wake the fuck up.'"

Though your fingers were pruned, you dried yourself off and pulled a nightgown from the small cupboard beneath the sink.

Sheer as ever. Fuck's sake. The universe had truly saved you.

Until it hadn't.

Heisenberg rushed into the room like a rocket and you jumped as the door slammed close.

"...you here, Luck?"

"Yeah," you called out. "Um...don't come over here...gotta get dressed real quick."

"...k" called Heisenberg.

Wasting no time, you slid the gown over your body and made sure to fan out the edges as far as they would go.

You needed no mirror to see your nipples proudly displayed through the fabric.

Mouthing a 'fuck' for good measure, you frowned.

"Heisenberg?"

"Yes?"

"Do you...do you mind looking away for a second?"

"From you?"

"Yes."

"...are...are you coming out naked?"

"No," you snapped.

An awkward silence greeted you.

"Heisenberg?"

"Huh?"

"You looking away?"

"Oh. Yeah. You're good now."

Peeking from behind the divider, you only saw Heisenberg's back.

With more speed than you were familiar with, you bolted to the bed and ducked under the covers.

Once secure beneath the pillowy softness, you breathed a sigh of relief.

"Okay. It’s safe."

You did not miss how Heisenberg whirled around.

"Oh...fuck...that was fast."

"Yeah," you said absently.

"Trying to set a fucking record?"

"Something like that."

"Mmn. I...gotta get changed."

"Okay."

The two of you stared at the other.

"You trying to get a free show or you gonna cover those peepers?"

"...I figured you would go behind the divider."

"The divider is on your side of the bed."

"Oh," you said dumbly. "Oh. Yeah...wait."

Yanking the pillow from underneath your head, you smashed it onto your face above your mouth and pressed down.

Heisenberg chuckled. "Dramatic as hell."

"Doing what you asked of me."

"...didn't formally ask you to...did I?"

Swallowing found your throat on fire.

"Mmn."

"What was that?"

"Mmn," you repeated.

"Heh...don't go into public speaking, kid."

You frowned at the ceiling and the darkness of your eyes.

Instead of speaking, Heisenberg decided to tell you he was done by climbing in the bed beside you. It struck you suddenly that lamps had been placed in the room instead of the candles that the castle was so beset with. But when you removed your pillow, you found yourself met by more muted darkness.

"Sure you okay with this?" asked Heisenberg. "I can fuck off and go into another room. I like to bitch like a drama king, but I don't need anything crazy set up for me."

"Bed is pretty big," you said carelessly. "S'okay. We've been closer."

The chuckle Heisenberg gave was absolutely filthy.

"We have...haven't we?"

The fucking lilt would be the death of you. What a relief it was to blink blindly and stupidly at the man in peace without judgment.

"Hey - last time I'm reminding you...what's your one job?"

"Get you out in the morning," you replied.

"Because?"

"Ah...generators...production line...something about a reset..."

"That's my girl. Nighty night, Luck."

"Night, Heis."

A turn. A breath. A feeling that you would never be able to sleep with the man so close that you could feel his body heat radiating from him like a welcome sign.

But you awoke.

You awoke often.

You awoke in the middle of the night from a dream you could barely recall and all the images of Alcina at the forefront of your mind.

You awoke in Heisenberg's arms and sobbed into his chest as he clung you to him just as sweetly as any of your snowy imaginings.

"Fuck you doing awake? No...shh...it's okay...shh...you're alright. I'm here. I've got you."

Though sleep pulled at your eyelids, you nudged your head up to feel the spikes of Heisenberg's scruff. You had to stay awake. Could not return to sleep and Alcina awaiting you with her long talons and even longer legs.

"Nightmare?"

You nodded into his neck.

"Mmn. Have those myself...think you can go back to sleep? Don't think it's quite time for me to leave yet if you just wanna yak about it or something."

Swallowing, you exhaled. "Don't wanna go back to sleep."

With a grunt, Heisenberg sat up to leave you curled on the sheets.

"Just checking the time..."

When Heisenberg turned to pull something from the floor, you noticed that your eyes had somewhat adjusted to the dark. Enough so that you saw the loose movements of his arms and realized that he had gone to bed without a shirt.

"Fuck...two in the morning..."

"I'm sorry," you said, tensing. But Heisenberg was mumbling and coming back to you with open arms. "Sorry I woke you..."

"S'alright," he said, yawning afterward. "Gotten less sleep and done more stupid things after than make sure the reset doesn't fuck up the factory..."

As he spoke, you could feel one of his hands rubbing up and down your arm a bit too roughly. An awkward and well intended move to comfort you.

"Still...I'm sorry...you need all the sleep you can manage to get. I don't know how much work the whole factory thing will be..."

"Honestly not much as long as I get back in time," he said, hand squeezing your arm for good measure before returning to that same rough rubbing motion. "Could probably even come back here afterwards...heh...that would spook that sixty-foot snake."

You laughed a sleepy laugh and settled further into his grasp.

"Mmn...like a fucking little bunny...cuddling into me and shit..."

"I can stop...pull away..."

Heisenberg's hand stopped rubbing you in favor of clutching you to him.

"Shh...you're talking nonsense. Need some sleep."

"Heis..."

"Shhh..."

"Heis, you can just tell me that you like it when we cuddle."

When he tsked and laid his chin on your head, you smiled. It felt so much like that day at the stronghold.

"Why would I say that? Not in the business of lying to people."

Lying...yes...because what we are doing now is causing you so much distress...

"Well," you said, smiling. "I'll say it then. I like it when we cuddle. Especially in bed. Feels more comfy than cuddling in front of the lycans."

A shiver - as though Heisenberg had been beset by the cold - ran through his body.

"Oof...y'okay?"

"Yeah, yeah..." he said absently. "Uh...actually...we might wanna go to sleep after all..."

"Mmn?"

"Yeah...early morning..."

"You mind if I hold onto you for a while? This...this actually helps from the nightmare."

The only way you knew how to describe Heisenberg in that moment was jittery. His movements were fine on their own but were conducted with such awkward quickness as to be alarming.

When he did not answer you, you looked up at him through the dark.

"What's wrong?" you asked.

A beat of silence and then another.

"Nothing's wrong." Quick words to match his quick movement.

"Heisenberg..."

"It's Heis."

"...you...Heis...something isn't right. Just talk to me. In English, preferably."

What you could only assume was a curse in German fell from his lips.

"I...fuck's sake, buttercup...I don't know how to...if you...this was such a bad idea...so fucking STUPID."

"What?" You paused, gathering enough evidence from his huff. "Sleeping together?"

"Yes."

"It was your idea."

"I FUCKING KNOW THAT, OKAY?" he hissed. "Just...I thought...earlier...it made more sense...this made more sense..."

"Glad something did because I am completely and utterly confused," you admitted.

"You're confused? You started flirting with me." Heisenberg grumbled something low and rough. "Fucking gave me ideas...false hope...so I thought...guh I'm such a fucking idiot..."

Hope began to fuel you too. Fuel you and feed into the most terrible of terrific ideas.

"Are you...whatever you're trying to say...I was flirting with you. That wasn't false. Honestly...I was in the bathtub just moments before you came in hoping you would join me."

"...you what now?"

You could not help but laugh. The fact that you could not see Heisenberg's expressive face only added to the hilarity as you imagined a hundred different emotions running through that scarred skin.

"I took a bath...a long one...hoping that you would come up here in the middle of it and offer to join me...figured one thing could lead into another and the bed was here anyway..."

The pauses in between Heisenberg's voice could only endear you to him. He seemed every bit lost for words.

"You...are you talking about...what are you talking about?"

"Sleeping with you," you supplied with a shrug. "What are you talking about?"

"Sleeping...you...ah...I wasn't...I wasn't mistaken? Shit...I...I may or may not have a fucking stiffy over here...because the cuddling is...something you enjoy so much."

"Oh?" you purred. The chance of escaping in the delights of Heisenberg’s body made your body positively teem with anticipation. But you could not forget your own actions...the last time you had seen him in such a vulnerable state. Losing some confidence, you glanced at the darkness of the bed instead of his body. "Umm...I want to touch you...want to...would it be okay if I touched you?"

"Yeah...course. You've touched me before."

"No...I mean...is it...fuck...can I jack you off?"

For a long while, Heisenberg said nothing.

The next thing you heard was a rattling spit.

"OUCH GODDAMN MOTHERFUCKER!" he whispered.

"What's wrong?"

"Pinched myself."

"You...why are you pinching yourself?"

"Because I'm clearly fucking awake but clearly dreaming at the same time because yes, I would enjoy that very much. Please. And thank you."

"Are...are you sure?"

Heisenberg's hand came down heavy but without malice on your neck.

"OW!"

"Shit...I was trying to grab your hand."

Providing your hand to his, you hitched a breath when he splayed it against his chest. His heartbeat thudded against your palm. Wrenching your knees upward, you brushed against that heated length between his legs.

"I...um...we should probably talk about boundaries before I do this."

"Huh?"

"Is this...are you okay with me just jacking you off?"

"Just? This is a goddamn holiday. Marking it on the calendar. Nothing little about it."

"Dumbass. That's not what I'm saying," you said, scratching his chest somewhat affectionately to show him that you meant no harm. "Do you...are you wanting anything more? Because I'm on my period...I'm up for it...but it might get messy and I know that's the last mess I want a certain someone finding."

"We...we can do more? More like..." You heard him take in a shaky inhale. "Can we...is like full blown intercourse on the table?"

"Sure...long as you don't call it that again," you said, shaking your head.

Grumbling and tensing his shoulders, Heisenberg whined when you dropped your touch to round one of his nipples.

"What the fuck else am I supposed to call it?"

"Sex. Fucking. Making love," you added jokingly. "Um...ah...you know...I hadn't thought about it, but maybe you genuinely didn't know. German to English...or...ah...Romanian to English. Might not have those words."

"I like making love," he said with certainty in his voice. "Let's do that. Make love."

You had expected him to laugh at that suggestion if he acknowledged it at all. But there he was giddy and practically giggling over the most flowery option he was given.

"Okay...are there any places that you don't like being touched?"

"Not that I know of," he admitted. "Are there...is there somewhere I shouldn't touch you?"

"Not necessarily...just...no going down on me this time. Sex is one thing-"

"Making love."

"-us um...us making love is fine, but I don't want to get eaten out while my period is going on. And don't show me your dick after or comment on the blood...just...get rid of it. Please. And...and nothing too crazy to start out with. I'm not a prude, but don't want to be choked or anything harsh like that. Just...vanilla for our first go. Then we can see where things take us."

"Roger that! Heard loud and clear," he said, leaning his face to kiss your forehead. For all the lack of a relationship, Heisenberg was making you feel far much more mushy and cared for than your ex ever had. You let your hand round his stomach slow and soft in response.

"Thank you. We...if you want to, I'll jack you off for a bit before you grab the condom."

"The...I don't have one of those."

That made you freeze.

"Not even in this room? Your chambers? If you don't feel like getting up, I can grab them from wherever they are."

Heisenberg went uncharacteristically quiet.

"Heis?"

"None in this room," he said plainly.

"I'm not trying to make you uncomfortable by asking...but...is that typical? You having sex without a condom?"

It worried you. Here you were all too willing to have him fuck you into the mattress while he could be having all sorts of unprotected sex with who knows who in the village. He was attractive - a lord. Anyone with a pair of eyes could easily fall in lust if not love with him.

Anyone with ears too...fucking sexy ringmaster voice...

"Not typical, no."

"No? Has it just...been a while?"

"Never."

"Huh?"

"Never made love before."

That sent you sitting up in bed.

"WHAT?"

"What?"

"HEISEN..." you lowered your voice, realizing he was growing tense. "You've never...I don't believe you. Quit joking. Not the time."

"Not joking," he grumbled. "Why would I joke about that?"

"You're just..."

"I'm what?"

"You're you," you said as if it clarified anything at all. "You're a lord in a small town. You have a face of a model. Not...not trying to open old wounds, but you're absolutely gorgeous underneath all those layers..."

"Yeah," he snorted. "Fatass McGee will be strutting the runways any day now."

"Oh my god...you're serious." Lying back down, you brought your hand to the clothed length between his legs. He had grown noticeably more soft since the brush of your knee, but you could feel his cock twitch when you cupped him. "So...no one? Not even foreplay or...what about kissing?"

"...ahhh...nah...none of that either...you're probably the first person to see me naked since I was a little kid...well...maybe a few folks in Constantinople. Got sloshed one time and woke up naked tied to a lamppost. But...other than that...all you."

There seemed to be no end to the surprises that would fall from Heisenberg's mouth. You stared at him - or the inky shadow that was him - and ran teasing fingers up his shaft.

"I uhh...fuck...I'm pretty sure anyone who saw me then is dead by now though," he supplied.

"Heis...you're so fucking ridiculous."

#heavy metal lover #divergence #karl heisenberg x reader #karl heisenberg x you

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andraaste · 3 years

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I am not your enemy - Lance fanfiction part 9

So, here's the last chapter for now. I hope I can introduce you to the next one fairly quickly, but it's still being written. Hoping you liked those already released and see you soon for chapter 10 🐉

(Link for Chapter 10 here)

Chapter 9 : I've always been used to only showing my human form

My footsteps echoed in the silent of the Guards' Corridor. I had just left Lance's room and it was with a much lighter heart than when I entered that I walked away. The distant rumor of the happy conversations had finally died down, leaving me wondering how long I had been able to spend with the dragon.

Finally, I didn’t regret my impromptu visit. Even if our understanding remained fragile and our points of convergence continued to darken the picture, his presence had nevertheless proved, in many respects, more beneficial than harmful. So, to my surprise, I never believed that one day I would come to beg for his patience to relieve my ailments.

Unlike the last time, it was with a feeling of euphoria that I could feel the magic continue to flow through me. Not as vigorously as when I awakened my powers, but undoubtedly, its power had slowly returned to pulsating in my veins. When I wiggled my fingers, I could still feel bits of heat run through my muscles. And the strangest thing about it was that instead of wearing me out, this power rush seemed to invigorate me.

For the first time in weeks, I felt good.

Looking up, I noticed that a small figure was wandering right in front of me. In the half-light of the corridor, I narrowed my eyes to try to make out her more clearly. When she passed in front of one of the windows, the moonlight let me see the face of a little girl with long, light hair. Not seeming to notice my presence, she continued to wander until she reached the entrance to the Crystal Room, right next to me. When the girl finally reached my height, I was surprised to find myself overcome by a familiar feeling.

Did I know this child ?

The young girl finally entered the room without a glance in my direction. Intrigued and attracted by her aura, I decided to follow suit.

I entered in my turn cautiously and almost immediately, a feeling of serenity had seized my heart when my gaze rested on the immense Crystal enthroned religiously in the center of the large room. On the doorstep, I was dumbfounded for a moment.

Strangely enough, I had not been back here since waking up. Truth be told, I had even avoided that room in which I had spent far too much of my life.

However, I didn’t know for what reason.

Bathed in a soft light, the Crystal seemed so imposing to me that I could not look away for several seconds. Without realizing it, my steps slowly led me to it, my hand timidly extended in front of me. As my fingers approached the smooth surface of its barrier, I felt the warm energy of my powers unleashed down my arm to the palm of my palm. Kinds of tingling covered me almost entirely and it’s the shortness of breath that I felt one of my fingers cross the protection which surrounded the luminescent crystals.

- Andraste ?

I jumped even more at the hearing of the voice that echoed behind my back. As if caught in the act, I quickly withdrew my hand and turned to my interlocutor.

It was his long blonde hair that I noticed first.

- Leiftan, what are you doing here ?

How had I managed not to realize his presence ? Since the big battle, aengel and I were connected. Whenever he stood next to me, I got to feel his emotions as if they were mine, and probably the other way around.

- I'll turn the question back to you, he said to me, his face marked by a certain curiosity. I couldn't get to sleep. When I left my room, I saw you come out of one of them and lead you here.

He marked a silence full of innuendo before adding, in a much colder tone :

- From Lance's, it seems to me.

I tensed at hearing his last sentence. A dull anger seized for a short moment in my heart and it took me a few seconds to realize that it was not mine.

- Yes, I just needed to clear some things up with him.

- At this time of night ?

I had the impression of undergoing the interrogation of a jealous lover, except that it did not concern him.

- I have no further explanation for you, Leiftan.

The latter didn't answer anything and just probed my face.

I had seen him very little lately. The aengel seemed to do his utmost to flee any presence and to keep away from all responsibility. I had already tried to ask him to train me, especially about my powers because until now, he had been the only one who could help me, but he had each time declined my requests.

- Good. But I reiterate, what are you doing here in the middle of the night ?

His anger had subsided, I only felt a great calm accompanied by a touch of curiosity. But his question brought me back to reality.

Where had the little girl gone ?

I realized that I had not seen her since I entered the room.

- I saw a child come in here, I said, hesitating to continue. There was something strange about her.

- Can you explain to me ?

I was a little confused on how to phrase it. How do I tell him that his aura attracted me ?

- She reminded me of... the Oracle, I finally let go.

His eyes widened slightly at what I was advancing, but he quickly regained his composure.

- I think I know who you're talking about.

- Really ? I exclaimed, in my turn surprised.

- Yes, Huang Hua reported to me the presence of a child in the HQ that nobody knows anything about. She does not speak, but some people have speculated that there is a connection between her and the Oracle.

I couldn't believe my ears. This little one has something to do with the Oracle ?

- I have for my part never crossed, I can tell you nothing more.

- Do you know how long she's been at HQ ?

He knew very well where I was going with this.

- It seems to me that she was noticed for the first time shortly before our return, he announced to me, his face serious.

Leiftan and I pondered his words. Our awakening was clearly not trivial, something strange was manifesting itself on Eldarya and I wasn't sure I wanted to find out.

- I'll leave you, it's getting late and I think you might be better off doing the same.

He walked towards the hallway door and added quietly :

- Good night, Andraste.

Giving me one last look filled with infinite sadness, he finally left the room.

- Good night, Leiftan, I answered weakly.

Two days passed following these two unexpected interviews and the guard finally charged me with a few simple missions which occupied my days. My visit to the dragon chamber had really been fruitful, because since our discovery on the possible communion of our powers, I had the impression that mine had never really left me. I had thus discovered that I was again able to send a faint light from my hands, even in the absence of Lance, which gave me incredible surges of energy. I was finally starting not to tire myself at the slightest effort, even if I continued to perceive anomalies in my physical state, which did not prevent my mood from being markedly improved.

Having joined the Obsidian Guard, I had therefore started to perform the few requests that I was able to do as long as there was no specific mission to perform. I walked through the forge when I heard a voice that I recognized immediately.

My heart was racing against my will.

- We're going to need enough materials to consolidate these weapons. It will also be necessary to train new recruits and see their level in combat. I don't have time to train everyone, but I trust you to give me your feedback.

Without being noticed, I walked over to a shelf and put down what I had just bought at the market. Trying to concentrate on my task, I couldn't help but strain my ears.

- No worries boss, you know you can count on me. I already have some reports for you.

- Very good. Thanks Falco, it's a great job.

The young man by the name of Falco put a solemn fist on his heart and bowed slightly before stepping out of the forge. I was speechless. It was the first time that I had seen Lance as the leader of the guard and I had to admit that he seemed made for it. His naturally bossy tone commanded respect, and I was troubled to see the trust and admiration his subordinates seemed to have in him.

Pretending not to have noticed it, I bustled about my task and listed the effects I had just bought before putting them away in each compartment. After that, I gathered the things I needed to be able to complete my missions for the day and get out of here. But to my chagrin, one of the items on the list was at the top of one of the shelves. Huffing in annoyance, I reached out as far as I could but only managed to touch the end of the object. I was about to give up the idea when an arm appeared in my sight and effortlessly grabbed the mesh I needed. Standing behind me, I didn't have to see him to know who he was, though.

The tanned hand of the leader of the Obsidian patiently handed the object to me.

Turning my head, I fell on a bluish gaze plunged into mine. I grabbed the object not avoiding the trouble, I was going to succeed in catching it.

- Thank you, but it was not worth it, I was going to manage to catch it.

A carnivorous smile stretched his features.

- Yet I thought I understood the reverse.

- It must be because of your chivalrous soul, you can't help but rescue a young girl in distress.

Lance gave a deep laugh that echoed close to my ear. He then pretended to look for a parchment in front of me and very quickly, I found myself stuck in the space of his arms. The rest of his words echoed even closer.

- It's true, but I think it's only in your presence, that.

He wasn't looking at me as he said those words, focused on a point straight in front of him. I remained frozen in place, I was far too aware of his proximity all around me to dare a movement.

- And so, you felt compelled to help me? It's funny, I knew you rather inclined to serve me more than anything else.

I felt the dragon smile behind my back.

- You're not wrong. But didn't you already tell you that I had changed ?

- Yes. And far too many times for my taste, if you want to know.

His laughter echoed between us once again and I couldn't help but smile too. He eventually found the parchment he was looking for and finally withdrew his arms, allowing me to finally resume my normal breathing.

- You are free tonight ? he asked me as if nothing had happened.

In response, I gave him a dumbfounded look that amused him once again. He was definitely in a good mood today.

- It seems to me that you asked me for help with a certain thing and that I suggest you do that tonight.

With a lump in my stomach, I found myself knocking on Lance's bedroom door again at a late hour, preferring to avoid the busy times in the hallway so as not to be surprised. This time, the dragon opened me much faster and moreover, he had taken care to keep some of his armor while still being more comfortable. Without a word, he let me in as if the gesture had already become a habit, and closed behind my back just as eloquently. He moved away from the clapper and briskly walked around me to remove his gloves and place them on his desk.

He seemed to ignore me completely. I waited several seconds but he definitely showed no sign of starting a conversation.

- So like that, you invite a girl to your room and you play the distant guy? I gave him bluntly.

Taken aback, the dragon looked at me with a strange eye, looking amused but also ...

An amused smile was born on his lips.

- You would have more interest in remaining a nice girl and not looking too much for me on this ground, you know. I will not hold back indefinitely, he said, planting his gaze on mine, in which I thought I read some undisguised envy.

Did I understand what he meant ?

My god, I was very hot all of a sudden.

- Lance ...

Seeing that he had managed to confuse me, the dragon seemed to revel in having cornered me. Because if I answered, the slope could become too slippery and we both knew it.

He laughed under his breath before finally changing the subject.

- Do you have any news about your powers ? he asked me.

Relieved, I smiled slightly before rolling up my sleeve and letting the beams of light travel up my arm. I thought I saw an imperceptible admiration appear on his face.

- Their feeling hasn't left me since the other night. It's still very weak, I can barely use it, but they're there, I finished with a hint of pride.

Lance tilted his head, suddenly looking thoughtful.

- It's a very good start. We will already start by focusing on this element before tackling a more complicated one.

- More complicated ?

- Well in my memories, you had a huge pair of wings on your back, he said with a thin smile.

My wings ... it is true that with Leiftan, he was the one who had seen my powers the most at work, in the end. Even though it was clearly not in the best of conditions. Thoughtful, I passed an absent hand between my shoulder blades but unsurprisingly, no trace of wings marked my back.

- It's true, I would love to find them, I said softly.

A memory suddenly came back to me.

- Tell me, the other night when I left your room, something rather strange happened.

- What ? he asked me, suddenly really intrigued.

- Going out into the hallway, I passed a child walking alone. She didn't seem to have noticed my presence. She went to the Crystal Room and when I followed her, she sort of ... disappeared.

Lance seemed to think for a moment.

- It is probably Ophéliai where it comes from, even if some hypothesize...

- That she would have a connection with the Oracle, I continued in his place.

Like every time something intrigued him, he raised one of his eyebrows.

- Indeed. But why are you telling me about it ?

I pursed my lips. I hadn't told anyone what had happened before Leiftan arrived in the room.

- When I entered, I felt a kind of connection between the Crystal and me. My powers absolutely seemed to want to manifest, and I don't know how that protective barrier works, but when my finger went through it...

- Wait, he stopped me, you crossed the barrier ?

I hesitated for a moment. Was it a good idea to confide in him ?

- Yes, at least, I had started to cross it. But the closer I got, the more I felt that my aengel strength was taking over. It was ... powerful.

Lance was silent for a long time, seeming to analyze my words. I clearly didn't like his silence.

- I think it's not for nothing if you saw her that night precisely, he began. You had just reactivated your powers, and if Ophelia really has a connection to the Oracle, it wouldn't be surprising if she sought to get in touch with you. The barrier is an enchanted protective field, normally no one is supposed to be able to cross it, but I guess that last point is not for you.

He paused again before concluding :

- I don't know if it's a good thing or not, but the Oracle seems to try to push you to use them, or at least to find them.

The words of the leader of the Obsidian echoed what I had feared. The Oracle seemed to want to get in touch with me, but for what reason exactly ?

I wondered if Leiftan's presence that evening was really harmless...

- Hopefully I can find them entirely, then. I don't feel that all of these events are heralding anything good.

- Me neither, if you want to know everything, he said in a serious tone. In any event, this proves that the process will have to be speeded up. I also thought about what happened between our respective magics, and I would like to try something else.

Playfully, Lance slowly approached the center of the room. When he reached my height, I was amazed to see ice blue scales appear along his skin. Escaping from the collar of his top, they went up to the bottom of his face, much like when he had marked me with his streaks two days before. His arms and hands also covered, more sparsely, and soon I could see a dragon tail wagging calmly behind his back.

I was totally fascinated by his appearance. I had seen him in his draconian form before, but never that way. Seeing him half transformed in this way reminded me of Tia, his mother, whom I had seen by his side in the memories of his ancestors in Memoria.

As if drawn in spite of myself, I raised a hand and let it slide along the scales that covered the base of his jaw. Rigid and cold, I felt them vibrate slightly under my fingers as his gaze never left me. Lance looked surprised at first, straining under my fingers, but finally let me.

- Do you feel better like that ? I asked him, watching the play of lights reflecting off the blue of his now hardened skin. Tia seemed more comfortable in this form, did you too ?

The dragon did not move a millimeter, but hearing his mother's first name, I saw him swallow his saliva with difficulty.

- I've always been used to showing only my human form, so it's very easy for me to stay that way. But yes, the most comfortable appearance is this, he told me in a deep and low voice, almost ashamed.

I gently pulled my hand away and watched his scales move slightly, as if a shiver ran through him just where my fingers left him.

- They are beautiful, I said, looking up to his.

I saw him swallow again and thought for a moment that he was going to make a move in my direction, but he finally restrained himself and just said :

- I avoid showing myself like that, in general. Normal people don't really feel confident when they learn they are in the presence of a dragon, he argued, his jaws clenched. Moreover for most, this form can seem repulsive.

I was shocked to hear those words. Faeries must be used to seeing creatures of all kinds, so why should the appearance turn them off ?

- I find it anything but repulsive, I felt compelled to tell him. And yet, I have lived much longer on Earth than here.

His features relaxed under my words.

- Dragons are believed to be a long extinct race, and their stories are largely unknown to the people of the lands of Eel. It is therefore not surprising to see them react in a virulent way to something that they thought was gone.

- Maybe, but it's still silly, I said, quite annoyed. Dragons are certainly very large, but certainly not repulsive.

Lance looked at me for a long time before laughing. His gaze suddenly softened.

- I hope I can count on your bravery to kick their buttocks for me, in this case.

I returned his smile sincerely, rocked by this revelation that saddened me for injustice. Because in a way I could understand what he was feeling. How would people react if they saw me walking around with aengel wings on my back ? They would probably be scared too, even if my form was softer than his.

I realized that humans and faeries looked more alike than I thought, the same fear of the unknown marking them indelibly.

- Well, what did you want to try, suddenly ?

His gaze suddenly became serious again, but the weak smile never left him.

- Do you know if you trust me, or still not ?

I hadn't really expected this question. But if I was here now, it had to be a bit like that, right ?

- Let's say I trust you a little more than before, I tell him cautiously.

He nodded in approval.

- I've been doing quite a bit of research on the powers of aengels and dragons since the other night, and there is something I would like to try. But for that, you have to trust me a minimum.

- All right, tell me what to do.

(Chapter 10)

#eldarya fanfic #eldarya new era #eldarya #eldarya lance #eldarya writing #fanfiction #ashkore #lance #i am not your enemy

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