#i appreciate how his hair is kind of messy the way it's described in the books
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CHASING CARS - PIERRE GASLY
DESCRIPTION I Sometimes it take an accident to realize what you really want with the person you thought you weren’t in love with
PAIRING I Pierre Gasly × female!reader
WORDS COUNT I 2,2k
A/N I I wanted to write for Pierre, I wrote for Pierre. This might be super messy but I quite love it so I hope you will too 🥺
You hated everything about the situation.
The oppressing silence caused by the many departures from the teams and the public.
The missing noises caused normally by the cars, even when they weren’t racing.
The beatings of your heart being louder because of the stress.
This feeling of being part of a kind of post-apocalyptic disaster.
Knowing you were only a spectator of that whole scene.
°°°
Ever since you started seeing Pierre, you’ve tried to go to as many races as possible. You had a job that, thankfully, allowed you to travel and work from where you wanted to. So, it wasn’t hard for you to adapt your work schedule.
The fun part, if you could call that fun, was that it was harder to deal with Pierre than with your own job.
You didn’t have the easiest relationship. You weren’t even sure you could call this a relationship, technically. You met a few months ago, when one of your closest friends started working for Alpine and invited you to a Grand Prix. He knew you loved Formula One and he loved to tell people in the garage that you were the reason he even considered working here.
“So, we have to thank you for his amazing job?” you heard a voice in your back. You turned around and here he was. Standing here. With his messy hair, his arrogant and flirty smile and his tracksuit knotted around his waist. Pierre looked hot. You couldn’t lie about it. And he knew it.
“You know what they say,” you started, walking near Pierre to face him. “Behind every great man, there is a woman.”
From that moment, Pierre wanted you to be the great woman behind him.
It started with a night together, that same weekend. You were at the bar with the team to celebrate Pierre’s podium. You spend the evening dancing and laughing together, it wasn’t a surprise that you ended up in his bed. It felt like a victory for the both of you, both having a strong attraction for each other. You were the woman he wanted to have. He was the driver you wanted to get.
This is how it all begin. You were meeting you during race weekends and Pierre was coming to your place when he was free. It was a logical and comforting thing. You found peace in each other’s arms and moans. Feelings were not involved. No. Love was not involved. You appreciated Pierre a lot. You whished there was a word to describe someone between a good friend and a lover.
Because he was way more than a friend for you. But Pierre wasn’t your lover. He wasn’t your boyfriend. He was making sure you remember that.
Behind this perfect and paradisaic relationship was hiding the truth: you had more arguments than you should have. There wasn’t a weekend where you wouldn’t fight about anything. Most of the time, those fights would come out of jealousy. The way Pierre looked at the influencers and models invited to the race. How you would laugh with the mechanics to which the French driver would interpret as a flirt conversation. Or sometimes he would just let go his frustration of not qualifying high enough on you. “I’m not your stressed relief doll, Pierre.” You would remind him.
And today, he took it to heart.
You arrived in Australia with Pierre on Monday, so he had time to go to some events and do all the press stuff. As much as you were concerned, expect for the visit part, you spend most of your time in his hotel bedroom. There was always something quiet when you arrived early, like none of this situation was real. He wasn’t a famous driver, and you were just a normal couple enjoying their holidays.
Then the truth hit you hard. Really hard.
The qualification was terrible. Maybe it was the car, maybe it was something else, but it didn’t matter. Cause in the end, the conclusion was still the same: Pierre was eliminated in Q1. And he was angry about that result. He didn’t talk to anybody in the garage and avoided you for the rest of the afternoon.
Innocently, you thought it wouldn’t change your plan for Saturday’s night. When you were there, you and Pierre would order some food and enjoy a peaceful night in the hotel room. You didn’t want to go out or anything, since fans and journalists were everywhere. It was a way of relaxing him before the race.
So, when Pierre finally came back, much later than he usually does, you had everything prepared. But the look he gave you let you know it wasn’t going to be as easy as you thought. “I already eat,” he said in an emotionless tone. He never does that. Worse, he never goes anywhere without letting you know. Especially when you’re waiting for him. Because he knew you would.
You got up immediately. “Wait a minute, Gasly.” You managed to grab his arm before he went to the bathroom. “Where were you?”
“Nowhere that concerned you.” He replied, shrugging. “You always see you’re not my stress relief doll. So, I made you sure you wouldn’t have to deal with this.” But it didn’t sound as gentle and compassionate as it seemed like.
There was something in his eyes. Something you knew pretty well. Because you had the opportunity to see it anytime you were spending time together. Or, more exactly, when your bodies were together.
You couldn’t believe it. How could you be stupid enough to wait for a man who was doing God knows what with someone that wasn’t you? “Go to hell.” You mumbled, punching him away. The worst part was that Pierre didn’t even flinch. He didn’t move. He barely looked at you. It was like you didn’t matter at all. Almost like you never ever did. And he just wanted to be alone tonight.
Which was, maybe, the only truth in all the thing he wanted you to believe that night.
You almost didn’t stay for the race. You were this close to book a plane to go back home and miss everything. But was Pierre really the only thing that made you want to watch a Formula One race? You couldn’t accept that. You couldn’t give him that much credit.
So, you stayed. And watched the beginning of the race from the grandstand. You tried to be another normal fan among the others. Screamed with them when the cars were coming near you. Listening to their complains, laughing to some jokes. You thought you could enjoy the race peacefully.
Or so you did.
Because then it happened. You watched one Alpine being hit by another car. Rolling over. And over. And over. Until it stopped. And you finally saw the number 10 on it.
You remember everything. The noise the car made when it got hit. The noises it made when they both rolled over. The silence in the public when everyone was watching it in disbelief. The silence when the other cars stopped.
Then you remember nothing.
All you knew was that you were still there, hours later, sitting in silence. Trying to calm your mind down but it kept screaming horrible thoughts. How ironic that in a place where it’s a loud because of the cars the only thing making noises was your brain.
Your eyes were locked on the scene. Where there were still proofs of the car accident. From there, you could even see some of the Alpine’s paint on the road. Like it got teared apart. Just like your heart.
Two of your senses being focused on what happened, you didn’t notice the person coming and sitting next to you.
“You’re still here?” it was a stupid question. Of course, you were. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be able to see you and talk to you. But Pierre didn’t know what to say after what happened last night. He feels like, if he was in an RPG, he would have lost all his friendship progression bar with you and had to start all over again.
You couldn’t even turn to look at him. There was so much going on inside your head right now. The memories from last night’s fight, his words, his look…and then today’s accident. The surprise, the stress, the fear… “I thought I had lost you.” You whispered, almost like a thought leaving your mouth by accident.
“I watched the accident” you continued, finally finding the strength to make proper sentences, and organizing your thoughts. “I watched it. I felt…useless. You were down there. I thought you were dead, and I was just watching it. I couldn’t do anything. And all that I could think about was that I told you to go to hell last night. That I didn’t enjoy one last night with you. One last moment. I thought it wasn’t fair. And I felt selfish because it wasn’t even the thought of you being in an accident that I found unfair. It was that I didn’t have a moment with you.”
Through all your speech, Pierre held your hand. You didn’t even notice until he started caressing your skin softly. To encourage you. To prove you he was there now. “Glad to know my dick is more important than my life to you” he joked, and you hit him in the shoulder. “Ah, that was I needed. A good hit in the shoulder just where I got hurt.” He laughed again. He added a kiss in your hair just before you realized what he said.
“You, what?” you finally turned around to see him. And you had to be honest: he looked terrible. Pierre had some bruises on his arms, and you noticed the bandage on his shoulder sticking out of his shirt. He looked exhausted, with small eyes and a tired smile. But he was there. It was all that mattered in the end.
“Nothing too serious. I should be able to race in two weeks, so.” he was taking it better than you thought. But maybe the idea of being here and not in the hospital was helping.
“Listen,” he started, holding your hand tighter. “I’m sorry. For making you believe that I was with someone else yesterday. I was mad at me, at the world but certainly not at you. But I couldn’t…be there, act nice when all I wanted was punch some walls and drink more than I should. It was easier to make you leave than pretend to be fine. You always complain about me treating you like a stress relief doll.”
You sighed. “Idiot, I do that when you’re being mean to me when I did nothing. You don’t have to be fine all the time. You can be angry and sad or whatever emotions you want to feel, and I can help you. In a healthy way.”
You saw the surprise on his face. Like you said some magic words he didn’t expect. “Because…you still want me?” you could hear the hope in his voice. And it hurt you to answer honestly: “I don’t know.”
“You don’t…know?” he frowned.
You were now the one holding his hand, playing with his fingers to try and distract him. Or maybe making him accept what you were trying to say. “The way I got scared of losing you made me realize how much I cared about you Pierre. More than I ever did. It’s not a simple friendship or agreement or I don’t know what. I…appreciate you. And the truth is, if you can’t offer me a real relationship…I’m not sure I want to stay around. I deserve better. We both deserve better.”
You were convinced Pierre would agree with you. Saying you were right and that you should both start looking for someone that would offer the love you deserved. That it wasn’t fair for you to stay around when he wasn’t giving you what you were looking for. Maybe he wouldn’t agree and then it would just end badly. But you really thought it was the ending. You, leaving this place alone.
“I thought about this too.” He answered. “During the accident.”
“You had time to think while your car was doing all that stuff?”
“Yeah, you got me. During and after.” He laughed and he noticed the little smile on your face. “All I could picture when I thought it was…maybe the end for me, was you. You over here. And the idea of leaving you alone…boy I couldn’t accept that. I couldn’t leave you. And when I realized that I was still pretty much alive…I knew I couldn’t let you go. I had to keep you. I had to…love you. For real.”
This. Was definitely not on your scenario card. Pierre, the man you always knew as loving his single life and not wanted not to commit to a real relationship, admitting he wanted to be with you. For real.
“So… We might need to work on this but I think we can have a real thing.” He added, coming closer to you.
“Relationship.” You said. “Not a real thing. A relationship.”
“Relationship,” he laughed before finally putting his other hand on your face and kiss you.
This kiss was like no other. It wasn’t passionate, trying to prove something to the other. It was just real. Like a promise. Like the start of something new.
The start of a real relationship.
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#pierre gasly#Pierre Gasly x reader#Pierre Gasly imagine#pierre gasly x you#Pierre Gasly x y/n#Pierre Gasly angst#Pierre Gasly fluff#Pierre Gasly story#f1#F1 imagine#my writing
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pretty darlin appreciation listener addition
this is a compellation of everyone finding darlin hot and darlin not getting it this is part 1 with all the relevent listeners and part 2 will include the boys
this is inspired by @whorefordarlin btw
this might be long af
the only physical trait i give to trait is a beefy build and short hair
tw: alot of simping shenanigans, mention of shitty foster care parents/neglectful parents, i cant spell so be warned
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angel:(set durring darlins first meeting back)
angel had no idea what to expect from this 'mysterious pack member'. but it definitely wasn't this. i mean give angel some credit with the way the pack described the pack member it made them out to be some sort biker gang delinquent with and eye patch or something! but no the person Infront of the angel was most definitely not what they expected.
they were about 6 inches taller than them and and had a very pretty face with all kinds of pretty piercings on it. they were wearing a patched up leather jacket with a tank top under neath, tattered but tight jeans, and some beat up combat boots. all of this layered on top of they're very broad frame.
"Hi, i'm angel! nice to meet you!" angel greets with a nervous but excited glint in their eyes.
"oh! davids mate right?, nice to meet you too." tanker greeted back and GOOODD!! their voice was so fucking sexy. their voice was deep with a slight rasp to it that made angels face go red and burst into a fit of flustered giggles.
thus began the slightly awkward conversation between angel and tanker before the pack meeting started. with a red faced angel barely being able to keep together and a very concerned tank trying to decipher what all the giggling means
"hey by the way i think i scared your mate...". the pack meeting finally ended. tank ad david were going some final things when tank brought up angels strange behavior's.
david let out an amused huff "pft- i don't think you have to worry about tanker." he had this amused all knowing smile spread across his face recalling the 5 minute rant angel went on about just how hot tanker was.
"i- what does that mean???"
"don't worry about"
babe:(set in a library near asher and babes apartment)
"baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaabe im bored.." asher was starting to remember why he disliked libraries so much. they were everything he wasn't, quiet.
"asher i told you that you didn't have to come in with me today" asher's fiancé thick accent rang out quietly through the room. today babe had been called in the fill the last few minutes of someone's shift at the library because they had to go home early.
but before asher could reply the bell at the front door rings out as a very familiar head of white hair is spotted
"well hey there tanker, what you doin' here?" asher genuinely forgot that tank actually loved reading but he loved teasing (lovingly) them about it. "i could ask you the same thing, aren't you the one who constantly complains about libraries being boring or something?" tanker sarcastically shot back.
babes head wiped around breaking out of their concentration at the new voice. so this was the elusive 'super hot biker that comes in every Saturday', as their coworkers described them.
and that description was pretty accurate. they had sharp, half lidded eye that had this twinkle to them that made babe feel like they were in a ya novel when the made eye contact with the very attractive wolf. they some how have both a baby face and a nice sharp jawline and the same time. their hair was cut short and was slightly messy that made them some how even hotter. they were dressed in a lazy zip up hoodie and a band t-shirt along with the forbidden grey sweat pants.
they were hypnotic, alluring, fucking enchanting they wer-
"hey you good?" a deep rasping voice snaped them out of their own spiral. making them realize that A. they had been starring at poor confused wolf and B. asher had this all knowing, shit eating grin spread across his stupidly handsome face.
"o-oh right, um h-how can i help you?" shit their all flustered now and probably made tanker uncomfortable as well
"ive just come to return these." they answered noticeably not making eye contact with them, and thankfully. babe didn't now if the could keep together any longer if they had to keep looking at those bewitching eyes of theirs.
tanker heaves the stack of books they were holding onto the counter. "um o-oh y-yeah okay, let me just...." babe trailed off as they focused back to their work.
the transaction went by pretty fast with tank and Asher playfully bantering back and forth all the while babe processed the book returns. eventually all books were processed and tank was off on their way. Asher turns to them with the same shit eating grin on his face and states "aren't i glad you met me before tanker huh?"
sweetheart:(first day at high school, they're childhood besties)
"its okay, im sure this new family and school will really click with you!" sweethearts social worker had always been an optimistic women even though both of them knew the women was partially lying.
rita had been sweethearts social worker since they 6. so she most likely knew the whole song and dance of sh being forgotten and then eventfully returned. but she didn't know was that a new family meant new neglectful parents but it also meant new asshole kids and new neglectful teachers.
"sure..." to be entirly honest with you they weren't exactly excited, with the old bullies it was easy to predict and avoid. but with new bullies there was always a learning period and those always hurt the worst.
but eventually and much to sweethearts dismay they arrived to their final destination, met their new family and unpack their things into their "bedroom'. though you couldnt really call it a bedroom, it was more like mattress and night stand in an unfinished basement but they've had worse.
it took awhile but sleep came and went. they were up and out of the door by 5 am sharp, theyve made it a habit to not stick around and 'be a bother'. they sat down at the bus stop and got emersed into a book, the wait would be long after all.
they were so emersed they didn't notice the warm body that sat next to them. that was until of course that person fell asleep and start to let a soft snore. turning to look at them had sweetheart slightly fluster but also worry.
they had remarkably clear skin for a 15 year old and had short but shaggy hair that fell over and framed their face almost perfectly. but on the other hand they dressed and had the general demeaner of a typical bully. the cool and Grundy punk style they had to them though didn't come of as forced like alot of the others, it looked so natural and so good on them, well good enough to make sweethearts teenage heart flutter.
......okay that may have been a bit of a stretch since the person was asleep, but this was a good opportunity to scope out a possible danger that didn't with sweetheart getting pummeled... hopefully.
a sharp and admittedly cute snort interrupted sh's thoughts as that person woke up. there was a bleary almost adorably clueless look in their eyes as they but two and two together on where they were.
they looked around and made eye contact with sweetheart, then looked down at the book they had. and smiled...... but then quickly looked straight ahead
why did they have to be so. god. damn. gorgeous????
and what makes it worse (read as: better) was that they didnt even know any one knew about this book!!!
"u- um do you like this series?"
why did the say?!?!?! what compelled sweetheart to blurt that out in the most awkward way possibl-
"oh um, yeah its actually my favorite..." there was a slight nervous chuckle at the end of that sentence that made sh's heart sore in ways they never felt before.
the question and reply started an unlikely friendship between the two that no one, not even sweetheart saw coming. all because sh' thought the were pretty and liked the same book
lovely:(lovely was getting repairs done on their guitar when tank walks in)
this was the worst.....
lovely couldn't believe they had to sit here in this ironically quit music store. it was days like these they wish Vincent could go out into sunlight. it would mean at the very least they would have him there to bored along with them. but alas that wasn't the case.
they heard that this store in particular was good at repairs with instruments and had decent prices though. it was a small music shop that was decorated with history music, old expensive instruments lined the walls with a few poster of famous rock a metal idols along with them.
the only other person in the store with them was this older Hispanic man that looked like a much older Gómez Addams
suddenly the man shot up from his seat as soon as the shop bell ringed.
" aye!!! i havent seen in awhile where have you been lobo?!" the older Hispanic man that was working on their guitar asked with excitement towards the person
"ive been busy old man, i cant just hang around the shop all day like i did when i was kid." the deep raspy voiced stranger responded with amusement.
and when they came just a little close..... they just were so pretty???
lovely didnt even know if it was just the lighting or something but they were prettier than Vincent! and Vincent was stage 10 pretty boy but this random person in this small little music shop was prettier!?!? now dont get them wrong they love Vincent very much but for a brief moment they considered snapping a picture and asking Vincent for a polycule with this random but very attractive stranger. all the while the stranger was conversation with the old clerk while he works on lovely's guitar they were able to get a good look at them.
they well built but like in that really hot muscular with a layer of softness over the muscles that made them look both very strong but very huggable, the had soft short hair that lovely would've broken bones to run their had through. in their eyes there was this mysterious almost teasing look to them that had lovely hooked and all types of hot and bothered. everything about them was just so tantalizing.
the stranger or lobo as the store clerk called them had this aura around them that could only be described as playful but mysterious and those scars looked so good. lovely didn't know many people in real live make having scars so sexy-
" how did you fuck up this thing so bad??" the older clerk cries throwing his hands on his head in distress snapped them out of their small simping spiral. when looking at what the old man was talking about they saw a well used and loved bass sitting on the counter, guitar was already finished and set off to the side.
the body of the bass was slightly cracked and the strings looked like they were a tap away from snapping.
"I told you've i've been busy...." lobo trailed off almost ashamed of the state of their bass"
the older man only mumbled something in spanish about bullshit excuses and turned of to call out to lovely, telling them he's done with the repairs and told them the price. they paid and excited the building only catching the beginning of a likely very hefty scolding about the importants of bass care.
they immediately whipped out their phone once out of ear shot and called Vincent.
"vinney you will not believe i just saw someone prettier that you!!!"
okay thats it for now thxs for reading, srry for any spelling mistakes
#redacted asmr#redacted audio#redactedverse#redacted darlin#redacted asher#redacted david#redacted rambles#redacted angel#redacted baaabe#redacted baabe#redacted lovely#redacted shaw pack#redacted sweetheart#redacted vincent#redacted vincent solaire
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Darling, Never Stop Haunting Me (Spawn Astarion x F! Ghost Reader)
Chapter Four: Regrets
Synopsis: You wake up in a place you've never seen before and shit hits the fan pretty quickly.
CW: Mentions of unwanted touch, gore, violence, mentions of child loss (Victoria)
Disclaimer- put together the picture for the banner, but I do not own any of the pictures. Birdie's 'image' is a stock image. I will not describe the readers body in detail- she is just merely on the banner for ✨drama✨. I believe the picture of Astarion is from @cheekylittlepupp . And then the symbol of Orcus in the back is a free image off the internet.
Likes, Comments, and Reblogs are always appreciated! Thank you for all your support and love!
Chapter Three : Chapter Five: AO3
When you wake up again, your head is spinning and there is a man leaning over you with a smile on his face- he’s dressed head to toe in Paladin gear and there is a boot print with a compass insignia on his chest. The man is pretty, his skin has a slight bluish tint to it, but otherwise it’s more caramel colored, and he has a goofy, boyish grin. His hazel eyes bore into yours and his black messy hair frames his face.
Astarion would distrust him immediately.
Your head is throbbing and your abdomen still feels the ghost of the arrow going through your much smaller form. Yet, all you can think about is getting back to Astarion as soon as possible. You will destroy the world if you have to if it means being by his side again.
“Welcome to the City of Manifest!” he yells with excitement.
The city of what now?
“Oh no- I need to g-“
“Come on, get up, I have places to show you!” the man says, “my name is Brayden- a Wyst Paladin, most beautiful human you will ever meet, and,” he turns around with his arms wide, “certified tour guide for the newly dead!”
Newly dead? You’ve been dead for a few centuries now. Wait, are you?
“Dead!? Like gone gone?” you begin to panic, “no- I can’t! I- I have someone waiting for me to come back!”
Your whole body begins to shut down- the air you don’t need being dragged into you in quick harsh gasps from panic. You can’t be gone. You can’t be!
You hope Astarion is okay- maybe you aren’t too far away from where you died? You did just kind of show up here- you thought you would have been dragged into the Ethereal Current.
“Oh don’t fret! I’m sure they are on their way now- the City is not that far from wherever you died since you woke up here instead of in the good ole current,” the man continues to march towards the gates of the City, “people often come and live here with their passed loved ones or you can purchase a Manifesting Ring and be a solid humanoid outside of the City.”
“Solid?” you ask in confusion.
“Notice how you can feel the breeze?”
You pause and a small gust of wind kisses your face. Your hand goes hesitantly to your cheek- you actually felt the wind. Maybe you didn’t really notice because you were able to feel the wind as a cat anyhow so it wasn’t something you had to miss for too long.
“Wow,” you whisper.
You slide off your shoes and put your feet in the freshly rained on grass- a laugh of delight escapes your lips. You are genuinely truly solid.
Something sparks to life inside of you and all of the ‘What Ifs” begin to swirl around in your heart- making you positively giddy.
This means that you have a chance- an honest to Gods chance- at being romantically involved with Astarion. You jump and shout- running across the grass with your shoes in hand and Brayden chasing after you. You don’t stop until you hit the gates- breathless, but with no use for air.
It’s incredible. The ache in your legs, your lungs, and the cobblestone beneath your feet hurts, but in a way that is familiar and foreign all the same. You can feel frizzy flyaway hairs on your head and you can smell!
There must be a pastry shop somewhere and you are determined to find it, but first things first- you need to find Astarion.
“Grief and a half woman,” Brayden comes to a halt in front of her, “I’m the one who’s supposed to be leading you!”
You chuckle awkwardly, “Uh sorry- I guess I just got really excited.”
Brayden smiled understandingly.
“I was the same way when I arrived. I was also grateful to have another chance at life.”
You hum in agreement and allow him to actually guide you this time. He shows you the Magic Swan Tavern- the most popular in town for it’s shenanigans. He takes you through the entirety of the Portal Ward District and you make note of the nice dagger that Deric’s Weapons is selling.
Maybe, if you can scrounge up some money, you can buy it for Astarion as a, “Sorry I keeled over. Again.” present.
After the Portal Ward District, you end up in the Market Ward with people shouting out their prices and discounts. Then you are off to Forestview and then back through the Portal Ward- The Leafy Branch tavern is far more quiet and calm than The Magic Swan Tavern, but you think you would prefer the noisiness and fun. You’ve missed out on that kind of environment for a very very long time.
There is so much to remember that your head feels like it’s swimming- there’s candle shops, pastry shops, live entertainment, loved ones reuniting, and people walking around with their neighbors or friends.
You are snapped out of your mystified reality when you arrive at The Tombyard district- the smell of rot and the feelings of despair make you feel colder than you already are.
“This is the Tombyard- there is an eclectic group of individuals here,” Brayden says uneasily, “Necromancy and other magic that disturbs the peace of the dead are forbidden, but that doesn’t stop everyone.”
There is a loud clattering from the alleyway and the Cleric steps in front of you protectively.
“Wait here,” he says sternly, “don’t go away with anyone who is not me or your friend, okay?)
“Okay?”
What in the hells is happening?
10 minutes pass, then 20 before he reappears, except his eyes are different. Instead of being more brown, they are more red. His footsteps are way too soft compared to the clunking he was making earlier.
“I really appreciate the tour and everything,” you say to Brayden, “but I need to go and find my friend-”
“Oh come on- just let me buy you one drink!” He grabs your arm, trying to drag you to the Tavern.
The man’s entire demeanor had changed. He was not puppy-like anymore- he was far too cool and collected. Horrifically pushy too.
“No- I really need to find Astarion.”
“Forget him,” the man rolls his eyes, “he hasn’t gotten here yet. He’s probably moved on.”
What? This man was just telling you about all the places to show Astarion and now he is saying he isn’t coming?
You feel tears prick your eyes and your lower lip begins to tremble. That’s not possible- is it?
The man looks forlorn when he realizes how upset he made you. He comes over and gently pats your shoulders before looking you dead in the eyes. Although his face shows empathy, his eyes are empty and devoid of emotion.
You just need to get back to Astarion, this man doesn’t matter.
“Hey, look,” he says with a sigh, “I know someone who can help us find hi-“
“Where!?” You practically scream, “take me there right now!”
The man smiles at you and gestures for you to follow him back towards The Tombyard. Something inside of you screams to stop following him, but the dumb part of you, the worried part of you that needs Astarion NOW, is winning over common sense.
There are far more alleyways in the Tombyard than you realized (you weren’t really paying much attention anyway), but something about going through alleyways with a stranger screams, “Astarion is going to have a cow when he realizes you followed a stranger when he has to rescue you from said stranger.”
You stop, letting ‘Brayden’ go further ahead when your stomach turns even tighter. Something is wrong. Very very wrong.
It’s like being in the Catacombs again.
The man stops when he realizes you aren’t following him anymore, both of you staring at each other and standing mere feet apart.
Whoever this is- this is not the tour guide you met mere hours ago. This person has ill intentions.
“Who are you?”
The question hangs in the air like a threat. It wasn’t meant to be, but knowledge is power and that’s all you have right now.
His face contorts and the man snarls in frustration- revealing massive canines. Your eyes go wide as the entire illusion drops.
It’s Leon. Of course it’s fucking Leon.
“You and Astarion are an annoying fucking duo,” he says harshly, “between the two of you- I really don’t know who is worse, but I am certainly fed up.”
Oh that might be a threat.
You take off running- sliding around corners of alleyways with Leon hot on your heels through the back alley of The Tombyard. He was Cazador’s best hunter for a reason and he certainly isn’t losing your trail.
Oh to be a cat again- there are so many good hiding spots. Astarion is going to have to take you to Halsin immediately after this- you definitely need to add ‘Druid’ to your limited list of skills.
Leon sends you flying with a thunder wave and you have officially decided flying isn’t for you.
The wall hurts as you crash into it- your nose makes a cracking noise and some kind of blue liquid is coming out. Your head is spinning- the world is spinning. Your pants are ripped at the knees from skidding and your hands are raw with ectoplasm.
You’re going to die die (two times in a day? What the hell did you do to deserve this?)
Leon comes into your vision and you try to push yourself away- absolutely desperate to get away. It’s no use- every attempt at kicking out at him or fighting him off has failed and now he’s force feeding you a paralytic as he grips your scalp painfully- slamming your head against the pavement until you stop fighting back.
Tears slip down your face- you should have listened to your instincts. Now you’re never going to see Astarion again and it feels like a massive gut punch. You always waited too long and never took risks, but of course the one risk you take is going to be your last.
And it’s not the risk you wanted to take today.
I am so so sorry, Star, you think remorsefully, and Gods do I wish I told you I love you.
*******************************
The sound of Leon screaming and cursing in indignation is what snaps you back into the world.
He really fucking lost it after Cazador died, huh? Hopefully Victoria isn’t being subjected to this at home. If she is- you are going to need to locate the nearest looney bin for insane undead (it’s a literal bin, you and Astarion frequently joke about Gardening and used Cazador as fertilizer for really pretty pink flowers).
You are both in a cage (how fitting- a Birdie in a cage) and you think you may be in some kind of temple. It smells even worse than Szarr Palace and the individuals walking around are very obviously somewhere between a rotting zombie and an intelligent, humanoid. Astarion had described a man like this once- Balthazaar- and to your recollection, the man was a Necromancer.
So none of this really bodes well for either one of you right now.
“We had a deal!” Leon spits at the man looking at him in amusement from the other side, “a soul for a soul- I brought you someone else’s loved one and you owe me.”
“Hm,” the man says, “even when immortal, humans are still the dullest humanoid.”
“Ha!” You snort, Leon glaring at you, “what? You deserved that one.”
He growls something unintelligible towards you before turning to speak to the Necromancer again, but he’s already gone.
“You dolt!” you exclaim, “look at what you’ve done! You bored the man with the keys away.”
“Don’t you mean scare?”
“I know what I said- dick cheese,” you scrunch up your nose, stick out your tongue, and flip him off.
“Gods,” Leon groans, “you are as bad as Astarion. Maybe I should have tried to kill him the first time I asked to take you and he said no. Or I could have been more aggressive in my hunts, but of course the fucker has developed some basic common sense and combat skills.”
Your face must reveal some element of shock because Leon just snorts and shakes his head in disdain.
“That son-of-bitch never talked to you about that, did he?”
“Obviously not,” you quip, “does this look like the face of a person who knows what you are talking about?”
Leon looks at the ground- his shoulders slumped in defeat.
“Victoria died,” he says flatly, “Dalyria killed her before the ritual. I came here, hoping she was waiting for me, but she wasn’t able to get out of the Ethereal Current.
“I ran into that Necromancer,” he says with disgust, “and he told me that he could bring back Victoria, but he needed the soul of another person’s loved one. An eye for an eye- to complete the spell. I had already done the original groundwork- you were the missing piece.
“I asked Astarion to talk to you two days after you both left Baldur’s Gate, since we all knew he had some weird attachment to a cat, but obviously you didn’t get a say.”
You are floored. This definitely should have been a conversation for you two to have- a child literally died! You would have happily helped! You will definitely be having a conversation with Astarion about this. You at least deserve to have a say over your own life force.
“Ha, I thought he’d leave his guard down, slip up, something,” Leon scoffs, “but no. Every trap, every location, and every attempt has been thwarted by Astarion. Hells- I even fucking killed you before you left that portal and it’s like he’s still keeping me away from my daughter because he taught you to be suspicious.
“I wish Cazador had been able to torture that runt one last time or better ye-“
Somehow- your hand ends up around Leon’s vocal chords. And not just in a normal way- oh no. Your hand is submerged in his skin and is practically translucent. If you weren’t so positively pissed- you would have probably taken the time to throw up.
“You will not talk about him that way,” you leer into the man’s face and he does actually look afraid, “You would be lucky to be half the man Astarion is and if you slander his name one more time, I’m going to possess you and make you lap up disgusting, congealed blood off the floor- capiche?”
Leon continues to just look back at you in shock and horror so you tighten your grip.
“I SAID- CAPICHE!?”
Leon nods wordlessly and you let go of your chokehold on his vocal chords. You are also still in shock, but he doesn’t need to know that. He can’t know that you are very very new to this whole interactive ghost thing.
“What happens now?” You ask slowly, “do you know what is going to happen to us?”
Leon shrugs and just falls to the floor- sitting down against the cage in defeat.
“I don’t know, but I can’t imagine anything good.”
You frown, “what makes you say that?”
“Because of us.”
A chill runs up your spine and you begin to develop goose flesh along your arms. Slowly, you turn in the direction of Dalyria’s voice and what you see- you can hardly fathom. A blood curdling scream leaves your mouth.
Dalyria, Violet, Petras, Yousen, and Aurelia are all chopped up and sewn together at different places. One massive body with mismatched eyes adorning Dalyria’s head and the other eyes and mouths stitched shut. Dalyria has two tongues and drools pouring out of her mouth. They are all stitched onto Yousen’s torso but with Petras’ arms and legs. Every part is mutilated in some horrific way.
You put your face in your hands and sob so hard you begin to gag.
“Leon did this to us,” Dalyria slurs into the open, “we were the groundwork. Miss Incognito is still being worked on, but she’s gone too.”
No! You scream to yourself, no! They should all be happy- living their lives! Not- not this!
You favored Astarion, but you did like the others and you liked Victoria too. You tried to help them too when you could and they are- were- genuinely good people who never deserved this.
With shaking hands and chattering teeth- you feel something light up inside of you and a wave of red blurs your vision.
“You MONSTER!” You scream, getting up right, “you had no right!”
You kick your foot and will it to become translucent and it does. Leon’s head goes flying backwards into the cage and you try not to think about the squishy contents on your shoes.
The rage, grief, and sadness in your body is all inflicted onto Leon in crazy, supernatural ways. You are blinded by powers you didn’t even know you had, you barely even remember what actions you took or spells you unintentionally cast.
When Leon is finally lifeless and destroyed- you go to the other side of the cage and curl up in a ball in the corner.
You’ve never killed anyone and you are beginning to regret it now. Leon is unrecognizable and you struggle to look away.
Did you really just condemn a man to death because he had tried to get his beloved daughter back?
“What an impressive display of power!”
You look up and come eye to eye with a Lich of all the fucking things. Astarion is going to be so upset with you when he finds you. You can already hear him castigating you.
“WHAT IN THE WRETCHED HELLS WERE YOU THINKING!?”
Oh, you were just thinking that he may leave without you if he thought you fucked off and you love him too much to never see him again.
Just some silly little feelings is all.
For once, you are being the impulsive one. Hopefully Astarion is prepared to be the prepared one this time.
If he even comes for me, you think, I wouldn’t have gotten within 100 feet of this place if I had known there was a Lich here.
“You know, Leon said there was something special about you,” he circles the cage, “I thought he was talking out of his ass.
“How wonderful of him to have brought me such an incredible gift before his untimely demise. I suppose he should consider himself lucky- at least this way he can see his daughter again.”
The Lich chortles and a shiver goes up your spine as one of his lithe fingers reaches through the cage and strokes the side of your face. You feel your tears start up again in full force and then he cuts your cheek with his nail before lapping up the ectoplasm that flows through your veins through the cage. His breath is foul and rancid- his tongue feels like sandpaper on your skin.
“Mmmmm delicious,” the Lich smiles, “it’s a shame you’ve found a way to be useful to me and my research. Hopefully I will be able to indulge in you later.”
No, no, no! This can’t be happening.
“Pl-pleas-please don’t hurt me,” you say through sobs and tears, “I wo-won’t tell anyone what I saw- I will never come back here! Please!”
The Lich frowns and looks annoyed with you.
“Orcus help me, I hate beggars and weaklings,” he scoffs, “I’ll keep you with me so when I have use for you again- I know you won’t be very far.”
A searing pain roars through your body and the world goes completely dark.
****************************************************************
Author note: Likes, Comments, and Reblogs are always appreciated! Please let me know if you would like to be on the tag list! I am using the Ghostwalk campaign for NPCs, locations, etc. It is a 3e Campaign and doesn’t mirror 5e Ghosts. I have tweaked some of the ghost powers and such for the sake of the story, but if you would like more information on Ghostwalk and the City of Manifest, there is a PDF online that is free to download :)
Tag List: @n3rdybirdee @fandomarchiveilyd @dajeong @hotmesshobbit @godoffuckedupcats @bitchstarion @hereliesblackdragon @pebble-bb @preciouslittlebhaalbae @lavvyan @beepersteeper
Special thanks to @davenswitcher thank you for helping me brain storm 💜
#baldurs gate 3#astarion#astarion x reader#baldurs gate astarion#astarion x tav#bg3 spoilers#astarion romance#astarion x you#bg3#karlach#astarion x female reader#astarion x f! reader#astarion ancunin#bg3 astarion#astarion bg3#astarion angst#astarion fanfiction#astarion x female tav
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Hi! Can I request Jacq from Pokémon SV x male reader? If you accept this request, thank you!! (^ o ^)
STAFFROOM SWEETHEARTS. — JACQ X M!READER
❛ ⠀♡ . ˑ⠀featuring : jacq
❛ ⠀♡ . ˑ⠀synopsis : a budding love is blossoming between you and your fellow colleague !
❛ ⠀♡ . ˑ⠀notes : male reader. fluff. teacher/teacher trope. plus general thoughts. brief reference to hassel/brassius. headcanons. not proofread. hope you enjoy anon ♡ !!
When you decided to seek out a career in being an instructor, not once did you think that you would wind up with a job to teach at Mesagoza’s well-known academy.
Clavell was more than pleased to welcome you to the faculty. You were invited to come to the academy and get familiar with the place before the new school year commenced.
During that visit, you came across some of your new colleagues, who all happily introduced themselves and offered to show you around the academy. All of them were incredibly kind, but you found your gaze continuously gravitating towards one in particular.
The slightly disheveled, easy-going man who looked like he’d appreciate a quick nap.
From the moment that his eyes landed on you, he smiled softly and greeted you with a cute, “Hello, hello!”
After that visit, you two started to become closer to one another. It was far too easy to fall into long conversations with him. Which only started to become a bit of a problem when you would both realize that you’re running late to your own classes.
Speaking of your class, you teach Pokemon Handling. The ways to care for various types of Pokemon and what’s necessary to ensure they live healthy lives.
There are times where your lessons branch off to the biology aspects of these Pokemon types, which leads to you and Jacq planning lessons to do joint classes.
It doesn’t take long for the students to pick up on how you stare at Jacq, most likely the most interested in his rambling, when he starts to get into specifics and the way that Jacq looks more energized and at peace when you’re stepping in to share your own knowledge.
This has led to these students coming up with theories about you two. A lot of speculations arise, questions going on whether you two were even interested in men. Regardless, there are those that compare the way you two are to Hassel and Brassius, which only spawns in more discussions on your guys’ relationship.
Of course, students being students, they attempt to ask in what they believe are subtle ways. Anytime Jacq asks if anyone has any questions, he’s surprised to see the amount of hands going on when he’s been accustomed to them being more prepared to leave over anything else.
There are no words to describe the shock that washed over him when the question pertained to you and whether he likes you. Of course, he’s chuckling lightly while he runs his fingers through his already messy hair as he struggles to come up with a response.
No, he’s not surprised that his students managed to pick up on his growing feelings. They’re a smart bunch and very observant. Maybe a bit too observant for their own good.
He’ll try to direct the conversation back to the topic on hand though he does mention that he likes you very much, in a platonic sense (not that any of his students believe that part) and considers you to be a brilliant instructor.
The rumors only grow faster once that happened.
If you thought it was only your students attempting to meddle however they can then you’d be very mistaken. The other faculty start to get involved as well in their own ways.
Salvatore offers cute phrases in other languages to say, and Saguaro talks a lot about how you and Jacq should go out on a picnic and the many sandwiches you could make together.
Once you both start dating, it’s as if everyone in the academy can tell. Many of the students are happy to see two of their favorite instructors with each other, especially when they caught on that they were crushing beforehand. The other faculty members tease you both for doing the slightest bit of affection in the lounge room.
Every time you head into the lounge room, you always have a second drink just for Jacq. And each time, he will thank you by pressing a gentle kiss to your temple.
There are moments where he feels so tired but one glance at you gives him the motivation to get through the rest of the day. He greatly appreciates that you’re able to sense when his internal battery is dwindling down and welcomes the cuddles that you initiate with him. Expect to have plenty of dates that involve napping together.
You’re the one to make sure that he doesn’t drown himself in his research. Jacq has the tendency to lose track of time, unless he has something scheduled with you, so you’re often the one that your other colleagues ask to go find him to pull him out of his work.
Anytime he discovers something new, you’re the first person he turns to. You always listen to him attentively. He does the same in return whenever you get in a rambling mood, especially when you’re caring for your or his Pokemon and talk about some fun facts about little quirks or things that the Pokemon like.
Whenever he catches you battling for any reason, whether you’re helping him with his research or you’re both simply out and about, he’s always in awe at your strength.
The second that you turn around to return back to him, he’s staring at you with such a tender look on his face. “That’s my boyfriend!” He praises, eyes closing as he smiles at you. Your strength and Pokemon is a wonder and he will never get tired of watching you.
#— ✦ ˙ 𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓁𝓁𝒶𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃𝓈 .ᐟ#— ✦ ˙ 𝒶𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓇𝑜𝒾𝒹𝓈 .ᐟ#i've never written for jacq but i do love him#i hope i did him justice!#pokemon scarvio#pokemon sv#pokemon scarlet and violet#pokemon x reader#pokemon x male reader#pokemon jacq#pokemon jacq x reader#pokemon jacq x male reader#jacq x reader#jacq x male reader
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Dancing At A Funeral
Pairing: Ben Hargreeves x Gender-Neutral!Reader
Summary: (Y/N) reminisced some of their memories with Ben during his funeral.
Requested: Yes / No
Word count: 2.592
Posted: 23.06.2022
Warning(s): Ben’s death, fluff, grief, mentions of blood, season two spoilers, unedited imagine
Song inspiration: Good Grief - Bastille
A/N: I wrote this imagine way back in 2020, after finishing Season 2, so it’s been sitting in my drafts for way too long and just posting it to celebrate Season 3. Yay! It’s too long, I know, but I hope you still like it. Also, should I keep this with Vanya or should I change to Viktor now? The happening dates back to Season 1, so I am not sure. Feedbacks are always appreciated, because my writing is very rusty. Help your girl to improve, please! Also, English is not my first language, so mistakes can be found. I’m sorry and thank you! - G. x
Take note: (Y/N) and the Hargreeves siblings were twenty-one years old during the funeral.
It was one gloomy afternoon for six loving young adults: five of them were his extraordinary siblings and the remaining one was you, his beloved best friend.
The group was still shaken up for the heartbreaking news, but all of you managed to suppress the overflowing emotions by putting up your best poker face whilst you formed two neat semi-circles on both sides of his snow-covered casket.
“Why don’t you ever talk to your siblings about your feelings? Look at you right now: messy and all over the place.” You questioned while you pulled him in a gentle and comforting embrace.
“Emotions aren’t welcomed nor appreciated in the Hargreeves’ household, (Y/N). We’re all messed up, my siblings are just stronger than me.” He calmly informed you, lingering the warmth and comfort that your body emitted.
Ben Hargreeves - the sweetest and the most caring person that you have ever met in your life. He was loyal and understanding, an extraordinary person, abilities and character-wise.
“(Y/N), is everything all right?” Vanya derailed your train of thoughts, noticing how fixated your eyes were on your best friend’s picture - he seemed so happy and light-hearted.
“Yes. Thank you, Vanya!” You forcefully smiled, glancing at her with your slightly watery eyes. You were glad that she was still concerned about you, even though you barely saw her when Ben was still alive.
The rest of the Hargreeves siblings gave you a solace stare soon after, silently letting you know that they had your back at all times. It was a cold and snowy day, but their kindness and sympathy were enough to warm your body and your miserable heart.
“Kudos to you for staying strong, (Y/N)!” Klaus proudly exclaimed, slightly making you smile for his kind remarks.
Klaus. Klaus was the most supportive Hargreeves ever. He was the contrary of Ben, who was introvert, silent and shy. Klaus was rather extrovert, dorky and talkative. In fact, when the former wasn’t in the mood of talking, he was more of a listener, the latter was your companion on sputtering nonsense.
You were very grateful of them, Ben and Klaus were surely the reason that you have met each other, that you have become friends.
“Hey, dear!” A boy about your age startled you as he approached you whilst you bit on you calorie bomb pastry. “I’m so sorry to scare you, but I want to inform you that you have a stalker over there.” He pointed a booth with six twelve year olds, wearing immaculate and familiar uniforms: The Umbrella Academy.
They were famous. Well, the daily news were always full of them, so it was impossible to not acknowledge them.
“Excuse me?” You confusedly corrugated your forehead as you put your dessert back on its plate. “Aren’t you part of that group?”
He hummed and nodded. “Yes, but do you see that little kid there: shiny jet black hair, cute almond eyes, so handsome?” He moved his hands as he sincerely described the boy. “He’s my brother and he’s been admiring you since we came in.”
“That’s creepy, but he’s cute.” You chuckled as you waved your hands towards the children’s direction and the concerned boy covered his face with his both hands out of embarrassment, watching you and his brother through his fingers.
That moment was the beginning of your friendship with the Hargreeves siblings and, as they snuck out of their house almost every night to meet you at Griddy’s Doughnuts, you slowly learnt everything about them: from how their superpowers functioned to how dysfunctional their family was.
Although you got along very well with all of them, it was needless to say that your relationship with Ben, Klaus and Vanya were stronger. They were the most vulnerable ones in the Academy and they were never afraid to open up to you.
The friendship was amazing and it quickly grew, but, as the years went by, you also started falling apart - less siblings came to your daily meet ups, until Ben and Klaus were the only ones left. It didn’t mean that you hated the other siblings, though, you were still very fond of them, you were just not as close as before.
“Your bed is so soft!” Klaus exhaustedly commented as he messily plopped himself on your bed. The three of you decided to change your location since the pastries at Griddy’s Doughnuts started making you feel nauseous. You surely have tasted everything in that diner!
“Bookworm!” Ben shrieked at the sight of your huge book collection - it was his comfort object, mostly after using his powers during a mission.
Your friendship was not rocket science at all: they found their comfort person and they were grateful to have you. You were their only best friend and they perfectly knew that they could count on you, and vice versa. They were your safe haven, the ones who kept you safe and warm, and you were their pole star, the one who guided them when they were feeling lost or overwhelmed of their powers and Dad’s rules.
The two teenagers enjoyed visiting you almost every night, sometimes both of them would knock on your window, most times it would just be Ben, but never only Klaus, until one day, that very specific day.
“(Y/N)!” A trembling Klaus entered your window, despair and sorrow behind his voice. “(Y/N)!”
He was shaken up and felt uneasy. You were almost sure that something bad has happened in the Academy. “Klaus, breathe. Settle down and we’ll talk about it.”
You gave him your water bottle, letting him catch his breath. “(Y/N).”
“Klaus, take your time.” You gently announced, calming him down as you rubbed his back. What could have possibly happened? Nothing really bad, you hoped.
You both remained in silence for a little while - Klaus defeated his breathlessness and you watched him as he halted his emotions from spilling.
“Are you ready?” You carefully asked, getting the empty water bottle from Klaus’ hand. He just nodded in response. “All right, slowly and calmly.”
He started trembling once again and you continued rubbing his back, letting him know that he was not alone. He hardly swallowed as he gathered his courage to tell you everything.
You started panicking by seeing his actions, but you were the fortress between the two of you, you couldn’t break nor fall. Not right now.
“Something in the mission went wrong,” He sadly started, staring straightly in your eyes. “and Ben is gone.”
A big lump in your throat suddenly formed and it was very hard to swallow. Your shoulders fell down like teardrops, salted water started streaming down your face and your world fell apart.
Your hand and knees started to shake, not knowing how to take the news in. “It’s not a good joke, Klaus. You are lying!” You blurted out, eyes started to sting badly.
Ben meant so much to you and he perfectly knew it. He couldn’t just come over and joke about Ben’s life, it was illegal.
“(Y/N), honey.” Klaus engulfed you in a comforting hug, calming you down as you started to messily sob against the crook of his neck. You were hurt and your chest was so tight, heart breaking in small smithereens - he was now the one who needed to stay strong, for the both of you. “Yes, I know, I know. Just let it out, don’t be afraid.”
Well, so much for being the fortress. You felt that you weren’t strong, not at all - the enemy has attacked you one time and you quickly fell, you quickly broke. Ben and Klaus were the ones who gave you strength, but one of them brought all of it with him, in his grave.
“(Y/N),” A deep voice quickly shooed your thoughts away: Sir Reginald Hargreeves. “would you like to say a few words?”
You were so busy in reminiscing that you didn’t notice Reginald, Grace and Pogo arriving. Those memories with Ben made you happy, but a huge horde of sadness washed you away once the old man brought you back to reality: Ben was still dead.
Reginald Hargreeves never liked you and it was strange that he didn’t throw a fit as soon as he saw you in one of his kids’ funeral - perhaps it was out of respect for Ben. He has always reputed you as a bad influence to his children, mostly to Ben, but the teenagers stood up for you uncountable times, breaking the rules just to see you and Ben happy and smiling.
“No, Sir Hargreeves. Thank you!” Your voice broke in the middle of the short sentence and the siblings hastily gave you a comforting look, nonetheless their distressed faces. They hated seeing you suffer, just as much as you all hated Reginald and that meant a really lot.
The old man nodded in response and, as soon as he started walking back inside his mansion, Grace and Pogo following soon after, the sobbing of the Academy members intensified, pouring their hearts out whilst tears uncontrollably streamed down their faces.
“It’s nobody’s fault!” Vanya strongly pointed out, trying to make her siblings feel better after the eulogy that you have just missed.
“How would you know, Vanya? You weren’t even on the mission.” Diego sputtered and your heart ached at Vanya’s failed attempt of consoling her siblings.
Vanya softly gasped, tightly holding her black umbrella before leaving the courtyard. She must have felt left out, again.
“Nice going, asshole!” Luther fiercely spat, defending Vanya - a thing that Ben usually did.
You faced the remaining siblings and they started arguing between them again, sending you back to remembering your memories of Ben, of how he would run to your house to avoid his siblings’ futile fight.
“Hey, can I stay for a little while with you?” He shyly asked, hoping you wouldn’t turn his request down.
“Are your siblings fighting again?” You empathically questioned him, putting down the book that you were reading on your desk.
“Unfortunately.” His shoulders dropped down, sadly looking in your eyes. It hurt him to see his siblings argue over everything.
You smiled at him and put a vinyl record on your player, Stand By Me, sung by Ben E. King, starting. “I dedicate this song to you, Benerino!”
He quickly smiled and hummed to the song, both of you proudly singing when the chorus would come.
“Thank you.” He quietly murmured in your ear after you pulled him into a heartwarming hug.
You missed him. You missed him so damn much.
“(Y/N),” Klaus softly called you, thread of thoughts cut once again. “shall we dance?”
You raised an eyebrow and the waterworks turned on once again: Vanya was playing Stand By Me with her violin and Klaus remembered how Ben would ask you to dance whenever his favourite song played.
“Gladly!” You grabbed Klaus’ hand, letting go of your umbrella, snow flakes quickly resting on your head and shoulders.
You and Klaus slowly danced around Ben’s coffin. It seemed like you two were celebrating that the Horror was gone, but you were just cherishing the memories you shared with his beloved brother.
“Dad’s not around anymore, you can let your tears fall freely.” Klaus reminded you, knowing how much you were trying to contain your emotions.
“I just miss him, Klaus,” You truthfully admitted. “I miss him so much.”
Klaus’ glance shifted from you to something behind you, but he still listened to your confession. “I am sure that he misses you, too.”
When the song finished, you asked the boy to leave you for a little while, wanting to talk to the unanimated Ben for a few minutes. He gladly respected you decision and he went towards the gazebo, eyes fixated on you, or maybe on the empty spot next to you. Your eyes were blurry because of the tears, so you couldn’t really figure it out.
“Hey, Benerino!” You sweetly chuckled as you caressed the photo on his casket, snow slowly melting because of your hand’s warmth. “You’re gone too soon, but I hope you feel better wherever you are right now, albeit I still think that it’s just unfair. What’s going to be left of the world, if you’re not in it, huh?”
The thought of not growing old with him destroyed you. You were perfect for each other, you had loads of amazing things with him, and you wished you had Klaus’ powers to conjure Ben up. You wanted to see him again.
“You’ll be now missing from the photographs in the mansion. You gave me another reason to stop coming in this hellhole.” You softly laughed.
God, how much you missed hearing his laugh after your horrible jokes and puns.
“I’ve always told you to take care, Hargreeves.” You frowned. “We’d be on my bed right now, laughing and cuddling to battle the cold whilst Klaus intoxicated us with his messily rolled joint.”
You hated it when Klaus was drugged, but it was the anaesthesia to his awful life.
“Ben, I am so sorry if I never had the courage to tell you this, but I love you so much. I love you more than anything in my life and it just hurts because you would never know anything about it and I would never know what you think about it.” You messily wiped your eyes with the back of your hand.
“(Y/N)!” A Ben Hargreeves covered in dried blood approached you as soon as he entered your window. Your eyes nearly popped out of their orbit at the sight of him and you rushed towards his direction, wanting to engulf him in a huge bear-hug. “Don’t!”
You feigned offence and raised an eyebrow. “All right, but, at least, tell me that none of it is yours.”
He quietly chuckled, softly shaking his head. “Don’t you worry about it.”
“Well, thank goodness!” You sighed in relief. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”
He refused at first, but he caved in soon after. He came up to the terms that he couldn’t hug you if he was covered in blood and vice versa.
“You know, I’m the one with superpowers here, but you are way more powerful than me.” He confessed as you both plopped yourselves on your bed.
“How could you even say that, dummy?” You wondered, looking at his perfect face.
His face turned serious. “You perfectly know how I feel about myself after a mission, after killing people,” Absolutely! He would be disgusted to the point of despising his powers and existence. “but just with the sight of your gleeful smile, I already feel better and stronger.”
Ben was able to make you smile widely, thinking that he was very sweet to say those words. Little did you know he has just professed the feelings he had for you.
“Thank you so much for these nine years of friendship, Ben.” You shortly nodded. “You have been an awesome best friend.”
As soon as you finished, you called Klaus. He was looking on the spot next to you and you furrowed your eyebrows.
“Are you fine, Klaus?” You gently checked on the Séance, worrying about his sanity. “Are ghosts bothering you again?”
“Please don’t forget him.” He blurted out, ignoring your questions. Was Ben around you? Did he conjure him?
You shook your head to stop yourself from being delusional and answered Klaus. “How can I forget him? Every minute and every hour, I miss him, I miss him more.”
#ben hargreeves x reader#ben hargreeves#The Umbrella Academy#the umbrella academy x reader#klaus hargreeves x reader#klaus hargreeves#netflix#xbarrjallenx#justin min#justin min x reader
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Kinktober2023 Day 13: Face-Sitting
banner art by @/auroblaze
Summer Lovin'
contains: oral sex/cunnilingus, masturbation, cis/trans, angel/demon
dysphoria warning: Pride is a trans man whose genitals are described with the following terms: cunt, folds, clit, hole. Please use discretion if these words will trigger any dysphoria.
Kinktober2023 Prompt List & Neocities Page
Tips are appreciated!
Pride was literally from Hell, and even he couldn’t take this heat wave. All the windows in the apartment were thrown open wide, oscillating fans spun in every room, and it still wasn’t enough. He resorted to wearing nothing but his trunks and a loose tank top, which still didn’t help. Even the normally modest Justice had stripped down to his boxers, heavy locs high up on his head in a messy bun, forgoing his usual neatness. The oppressive heat beat them down until they gave up and spent the day on the couch. Justice stretched out on his back and Pride draped over his sticky chest, unable to do anything but sweat and complain about it.
“I wish it wasn’t so hot,” he mumbled.
“I wish we learned what air conditioning was before we found this place,” Justice said.
“Yeah, well you picked it out so…” He gave up halfway though the accusation. “Ugh. Whatever. I don’t care.”
“Wow. Not even picking a random fight. That’s how I know it’s hot out.”
Pride couldn’t retort to that either, groaning weakly instead. The fan in the center of the room blew a blissful puff of slightly cooler air over them, but it was gone too quickly to enjoy. It was hard to enjoy anything in this state. He was lying half-naked with Justice, and he couldn’t even revel in it.
Well… maybe he could try reveling in it.
He peeled his cheek off Justice and propped up on his chin. Justice looked kind of miserable, resting on the arm of the couch with his face screwed up with discomfort. Sweat beaded at his hairline, the occasional drop slipping down the side of his face. Pride reached out to trace his cheek, and his expression softened, lolling his head in the direction of his touch. He drew a circle around his lips, and Justice stretched his lips to kiss the end of his finger.
It was barely sexy, but Pride needed to think about anything else. He shuffled farther up to plant a real kiss on his mouth, slow and lazy. It carried a hint of salt from their endless sweating, but he didn’t care. Justice didn’t seem to mind either, rubbing his sticky back from under his shirt. Each pass he made pasted Pride’s body hair in a new direction, but it made him shiver anyway.
Justice pushed farther up his back, and it was the only excuse he needed to peel his shirt off. Pride dropped the damp garment onto the floor—Justice didn’t protest. Another sign of the times.—and resumed the kiss. When he opened his mouth, searching for deeper affection, Justice cupped the back of his head to help. They twisted their tongues in a lazy dance, too exhausted to push for anything heavier. It was a smooth, easy glide of lips, not concerned with anything but staying together.
Reveling in their closeness was much easier now. Pressed chest-to-chest, the blistering heat added to the mood, indistinguishable from unhurried lust. Pride sighed when their bodies brushed, skin slick with sweat. Gradually, he felt Justice’s cock poke his thigh, slowly hardening underneath him. He groaned a little, getting a new kind of damp between his legs.
“D’you wanna do something sexy?” Pride mumbled against his lips.
Justice hummed. “Maybe,” he said. “I kind of just want to lay here.”
“We can do both.”
He raised his eyebrows. Pride took the liberty of demonstrating.
First, he dragged himself up to his knees. He shuffled forward and nudged Justice off his perch, guiding him to lay his head on the cushion. By that point it was obvious, but Pride still went all the way, kneeling over his face and bracing himself on the arm of the couch.
��Best of both worlds,” Justice quipped, running his hands up his thighs.
“I’m glad we agree,” Pride said.
He wiggled his trunks off and dropped them on the floor with his shirt. No cool air rushed between his legs this time, every molecule baked in the ridiculous heat. But Pride was wet, and Justice gazed up at his cunt with leisurely want.
“Open,” Pride told him, and he did, tongue out and waiting.
Slowly, Pride lowered, using the couch to control his descent. Justice pushed through his slick folds as soon as he got close enough, warm tongue parting his cunt to lap his clit. Pride moaned breathily, pressing down on his mouth. Slick hands grabbed his waist, Justice licking him in wide stripes, and he went still to enjoy it.
The hot haze of the day had drained so much of his energy, Pride was more than happy to lean on his elbows and let Justice lick away. He met Pride's clit with slow caresses, taking his time. His tongue smoothed over his clit, up and down, drawing out his pleasure and his wetness. The occasional long, wet stripe up his cunt made him sigh.
Normally, Pride’s mouth would have been full of praise or teases, but he couldn’t muster up the brain power this time. His mind had melted into a thick sludge, thanks to the weather, and Justice’s tongue on his clit only sped up the process. His nerves tingled with static, the delightful sensations buzzed through his mind, but he could only moan or sigh about it.
Justice didn’t let it slow him down, not that he was moving very fast to begin with. He played with Pride’s clit as if he had all the time in the world, and meant to make use of it. Achingly slow brushes sent wave after wave of bliss through his body, and he didn’t stop there. When it started to feel too predictable, Justice slipped down and swirled his hole, teasing the very edges of his wet, loose cunt. Pride always moaned, always dug his nails into the couch, and always shuddered head to toe. And then Justice returned to working his clit, lapping him gently as if he never left.
Pride fought to keep his eyes open in the face of such exquisite pleasure. Without thinking, he rocked his hips, chasing the feeling. The hands on his waist squeezed, encouraging, so he kept going. With small rolls of his hips, Pride rubbed against Justice’s tongue as he licked. It brought intensity to his caresses, a little spike in a sea of softness.
“Mfhm,” Pride mumbled, barely able to speak. “Feels good…”
Justice muffled a small noise into his cunt, and squeezed his hips again. Pride leaned a little harder on the arm of the couch, rolling his hips harder. Justice moaned.
“You’re so good,” he continued, blabbing whatever came to mind. “Even when you’re—mmhn—all lazy, you still have t-to—fuck—h-have to eat your favorite food, hm?”
Justice sucked his clit softly, a clear response, and Pride moaned softly. He rocked with a bit more purpose, more intentionally grinding himself on his tongue now. Thrusting against such a hot, wet mouth was more than good—it was amazing, sending little lightning bolts up and down his spine. Pride almost drooled from the feeling, forgetting everything except how good it felt to fuck himself on Justice’s face.
The feeling distracted him so much, he almost didn’t notice the gentle slapping sound from behind him. One of the hands on his hips was long gone, and when he twisted around to investigate, he discovered why. Justice had pushed down his boxers, one hand slowly stroking his cock in time with Pride’s thrusts. Pre-cum leaked from his tip and spilled over his fingers.
“Oh, Justice,” he breathed, and lifted his hips off his face. A sloppy Justice protested, but could barely get a word out before Pride turned around and sat back down. “Next time, tell me so I can watch.”
Justice shuddered and eagerly started to eat him from the back. Pride rocked back against his tongue, using his torso for leverage, and watched him stroke himself at the same time. Every downstroke revealed more of his tip, hidden again when his hand went up, and Pride wished he had the energy to crawl over and suck it. The wet sound of his foreskin made him whimper. He ground back harder and harder, fucking himself on Justice and watching him jerk himself faster in tandem.
“You like how it tastes?” Pride asked. “S-so sweet that you can’t get enough, so you have to touch yourself.” He shuddered a sigh when Justice flicked his clit side to side. “So sweet, so good, J.”
Pride pushed back against his mouth and whined, freezing in place as Justice gave him as much as he could. He licked fast and intense, hand stuttering around his cock. All Pride could do was press back and accept it, take everything he had to offer and more. He moaned openly, exhaustion replaced with a desperate need.
“Yesyesyes,” he slurred. “More, more, don’t stop, I need it.”
Justice took it as a challenge. He sucked Pride’s clit hard enough to make him cry out, and flicked him faster than ever. Pride arched, toes curling, curling his fists against Justice. He had to close his eyes, intensity building and building up inside him.
“Close,” he warned. “’M close, so close, don’t stop.”
One last suck of his clit later, Pride came on Justice’s tongue. It shuddered through his body, flushing him with heat and ecstasy. His mushy brain was dribbling out his ears by the end of it, and possibly out of his cunt too.
“Ffmhmm,” Pride announced, before collapsing.
Justice grunted as he landed. He was still hard, cock half-forgotten in his hand while he worked to bring Pride to his end.
“Oh no,” he mumbled, poking it.
“I-I’m okay,” Justice panted.
Pride twisted around to make sure he wasn’t being polite. On the contrary, Justice appeared satisfied. Breathless, messy, covered in wetness, and a few hairs, but satisfied.
“Really,” he promised. “I just thought it would feel nice. And it did.”
As someone who loved orgasms, it took Pride a few seconds to accept this. “Hm. Okay.”
He flipped back over and cuddled against his chest again. Justice patted him awkwardly.
“Well, I do still need to clean my… everything.”
#kinktober#kinktober 2023#original writing#original smut#original fiction#original characters#queer characets#trans character#mlm#bi4bi#smut#queer nsft#trans nsft#annika talks#P&J#Pride & Justice
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Title: Friend? Or Foe?
Part 3 of my “The Lion's Den” series! Part 1 and 2 here!
Parings: None
Summary:
Days passed, and Leona continued this weird behavior. One day Leona was in Mirai’s space, and one day he wasn’t. One day they were bickering, fighting like they hated each other, and the next Mirai was crushing hard as Leona helped him study for his Potionology test. It was weird.
And he did visit often, even sometimes when Grim and Mirai weren’t there. And he could always tell he had been there. Mirai could tell from the way the cushions were rumpled, or by the way the throw was placed. Things were always a little out of place but never missing, and never messy.
cw: Arguments, light angst, bloody noses mentioned , fist fights (aftermath described), biting (references to my previous work in this series), smoking
a/n: Please Read: I don't wanna say this was graphic, but it all depends on your comfort levels as readers, so the warning is there. They do fight, but I wanna put it out there that Mirai is okay, he can hold his own.
a/n: This is not a "Bullies to lovers". Just putting that out there. I wanna show Mirai's and Leona's process of trust and eventual love.
Reblogs are appreciated, just use my custom tag, #TheMaladaptiveWriter12, if you do! (─‿‿─)♡
Cross posted from my Ao3: TheMaladaptiveWriter12
Life went back to normal after Mirai’s stay at the Savanaclaw Dorm. Ramshackle was still standing, Grim was Grim, and on Monday, classes started anew. And of course he got dozens and dozens of confused, and also concerned looks from student and staff alike, but what could he do, he looked terrible. And of course Ace, Deuce wanted to know who’d lay a hand on their best friend, and of course Professor Crewel wanted to light the whole campus on fire in overprotective rage, but Mirai didn’t care, he had more important things to worry about. Like his relationship with the man who gave him the black eye, Leona Kingscholar. Mirai was still crushing on Mr.Tall, dark, and handsome, but he couldn’t make heads or tails of it. Like, he was pretty certain the lion hated him, but if that was the case, why was he being so-
“Oi herbivore,” Leona called, “let’s ditch.”
Nice?
Mirai didn’t know how or why he ended up following Leona to the Botanical Gardens, when they should have been in the lecture hall, but here he was, sitting in the grass as Leona got comfortable under a tree. Mirai watched him for a bit, wondering what his aim was, because if there was anything Mirai learned since being dropped here was that not one of the boys, except Kalim maybe, did anything without some type of ulterior motive. Nothing really was out of the kindness of their hearts. Take Azul for example, not one of his good deeds, his contracts, were out of the kindness of his heart, each and everyone of them for his own gain. Or Ruggie, he never does anyone a favor unless he gets something two times more in value in return, namely money. Even Leona was infamous for doing it, even if what he wanted in return was peace and quiet.
“Trouble tuning the lights on up there?”
Mirai jumped from his musing, eyes locking onto Leona who had presumably been staring at him the entire time. Mirai pouted petulantly, with a roll of his eyes and busied himself with doing some homework that was due next period. Leona chuckled at his pouting, a smug look crawling it way onto his roguish face as he relaxed into the plush grass once more.
Some time had passed and Mirai was still stuck on one of his history homework questions. It was on the Fundamentals of Magic, and their Founding Fathers. The question was simple enough, but when you knew nothing of the world you were spat into, the simplest of things became a challenge.
“Since you’re not gonna let me nap in peace,” Leona gruffed, “tell me what’s got your tail twisted in a knot.”
“I-I, uh, sorry,” Mirai muttered, taking a hand from his hair, a habit of his when he was frustrated. And now that he thought about it, he must have been sighing as well.
Leona snapped his fingers to get the Prefect's attention, “Show me.”
Mirai reluctantly made his way to Leona’s spot in the grass before sitting beside his head. Leona took the worksheet from Mirai with his free hand and read it over.
“This stuff is elementary,” Leona scoffed, “I knew you were kinda airheaded, but not this bad.”
“And who knew the Great Leona Kingscholar could be a dunce,” Mirai quipped back.
“What was that?” Leona sneered.
“How ‘bout turning those lights for a second and think about what you just said,” Mirai smirked, throwing Leona’s words back at him.
Leona actually seemed to stop and think it over, and it seemed he caught on for he sighed with a grumble. “Give it here.”
“Gladly,” Mirai smiled.
Leona ended up spending the rest of the period helping Mirai, he even went as far as to teach him an old elementary school rhyme on how to remember the important names and information. And this is exactly what Mirai was talking about. Leona Kingscholor, the third year notorious for not doing anything unless he got something in return. The man notorious for hating tedious and irksome tasks, the Beastman notorious for not sticking his neck out for anyone unless it pertained to him, was helping Mirai Yuhara, Prefect of Ramshackle Dorm, the seventeen year old without a mark to his name, or an asset, with his History homework.
“You got it? Or do ya need me to run over it one more time?” Leona asked.
“U-Uh, I, uh, one, one more time,” Mirai stammered, “And uh, could you help me note the, uh, the important parts?”
Leona snapped his fingers for the notebook and a pencil, and Mirai scurried to pass them over. Leona sat up a bit as he went over it all once more, writing as he spoke. Mirai tried to take all the information in, he really did, but then again, maybe he was taking in a bit too much information. Like the way Leona’s ears twitched when he spoke, or the rasp in his voice, or the way the light from the Botanical Gardens glinted off chocolate waves, and beautiful earthy skin. Or maybe it was the way Leona’s tail swished lazily in the plush grass, or maybe it was the greens of his eyes that looked like deep pools emerald, eyes that held the warmth of a summer’s day, eyes that were now currently boring holes into Mirai’s soul-wait! What?!
Mirai jumped, mind reeling as he realized what he had been doing for the past-whatever minutes, instead of paying attention to what Leona was teaching.
“Mind telling me what’s so interesting about me instead of what I took the time out of my nap to teach you?” Leona gruffed.
“W-Wait, I was paying attention, I swear! I-I-I, ugh,” Mirai groaned, sighing as he ran his hand through his hair, “It’s as you said before, I’m an airhead. Always have been, I honestly think it’s something deeper, but never got tested ya’know? My mother used to tell me that I had trouble listening and following directions as a toddler, and I think the accident made it worse, scrambled the brain and whatnot, an-”
Mirai realized he was rambling, and oversharing, again, and promptly shut his mouth, annoyance overpowering his embarrassment. “Forget all of that. It’s as you said, I’m an airhead. So if you please, one more time?”
Leana didn’t say anything as he stared over again, and Mirai was grateful. He really didn’t want to explain himself, but he couldn’t help but wonder why Leona didn’t say anything. Was he just as embarrassed as Mirai was, annoyed, or did he just not know what to say? Mirai willed the thought away. He’d ponder later, but right now, he wanted to actually pay attention, he didn’t want to waste anymore of Leona’s time than he already did.
As the week passed, Mirai couldn’t get their impromptu study session out of his mind. He just couldn't figure out why he’d help him out like that. Not only did he interrupt his nap, which was the biggest crime to commit against Leona Kingscholar, he also wasted his time by zoning out, and despite all of that, Leona still helped him with his homework. He couldn’t make heads or tails of it.
Making his way through the Ramshackle’s front door, Mirai realized it was unlocked. That Grim, never remembering to lock the front door after he leaves. With a huff of annoyance, Mirai made his way in, shucking his shoes off at the door, he’d have to scold Grim when he got back.
“Honey, I’m home,” Mirai hollered to no one in particular, as he made his way into the lounge. It was a little something he did that got a little giggle from himself every time.
“Welcome back. Dinner’s on the stove.”
Mirai screeched at the raspy voice, his phone fumbling in his hands as he tried to catch it before it shattered on the floor. After Mirai got his bearings did he realize that lying on the couch under the stairs where the sun's afternoon rays were the strongest, was Leona Kingscholar. His molten chocolate tresses cascaded over the couch cushions, and his yellow Savanaclaw vest was balled up underneath his cheek. His sandals were nowhere to be found, probably left by the door, courteous, and on the far right armrest lay his gloves and belt.
“Le-Leona?!” Mirai stuttered.
“That’s ma name, don’t wear it out,” Leona muttered.
“Wha-What are you doing here? And how did you get in? You didn’t break the lock, did you?! Because if you did, I swear-”
“You swear what? Whaddya gonna do, Herbivore?”
Mirai went silent and pouted petulantly and Leona smirked like the smug cat he was.
“C’mon, Herbivore. I’m not that messy. That furball let me in when he was on his way out,” Leona supplied, stretching out across the couch.
Mirai thought about poor Grim. He probably was shaking in his fur when Leona approached him. Mirai sighed, “So what are you doing here?”
“Taking a nap,” Leona yawned, getting comfortable once more, “The guys won’t think to find me here.”
Mirai sighed again, knowing he wasn’t gonna win against Leona, not even in his own home. So he just ignored him as he left the lounge to make his way upstairs to get comfortable for the rest of the day. After Mirai changed into some comfortable clothes, made himself a snack, and made his way to the other couch in front of the tall floor to ceiling window. Drawing one side of the curtains to lessen the glare on his laptop, Mirai made sure not to deprive Leona of his sun, as he got comfortable before starting his homework.
The two of them sat in silence, but it was a comfortable one. Leona dozed quietly, the occasional snore, or sigh escaping his lips. And if he shuffled a bit to change positions, the old springs and frame of the couch creaked and squeaked in protest. On Mirai’s side of the room, the click-clack of Mirai typing on his laptop filled the silence, and if you tried hard enough, or had a heightened sense of hearing like Leona, you could pick up the quiet melody from the music Mirai had blaring in his cheap earbuds.
Time passed, but neither of them acknowledged it. The skies went from blue to orange, the sun's rays got warmer as their light changed from their soft yellows to deep golds. Dust motes danced across the room with the light rays as their stage, the dorm creaked and whined with every kiss of the breeze, but even after all of that, time seemed to stop. Nothing mattered, the world didn’t matter, nothing but the quiet moment in the Ramshackle lounge.
Leona awoke from his nap, slowly regaining the workings of his own body, becoming aware again. Like being aware that his right arm was asleep from sleeping on it, the annoying feeling of pins and needles crawling its way along his skin. He was aware of the fact that he somehow was lying with his tail wrapped around his hip, he was aware of his full bladder and empty stomach, and he was aware that he was still there on that crumby couch in the Ramshackle Dorm.
Distantly Leona wondered about the time, but didn’t care enough to feel around for his phone. If his dorm needed him, he’d deal with it later. Cracking an eye open, Leona eyed the Ramshackle Prefect. Mirai lay lax across the right armrest, his homework forgotten, his earbuds still blasting whatever noise he called music into his ears.
Leona sighed, sitting up, stretching his arms over his head, letting the kinks in his back pop loudly as he yawned tiredly, his mouth wide, teeth sharp. Checking his phone after fishing it from between the shoddy, torn, threadbare cushions, it was half past seven, and he had several missed calls from Ruggie. Great, he definitely was gonna get an earful from that little scavenger. Leona quietly gathered his things, his feet light and tactical on those worn and neglected wooden floors. Double checking one last time, Leona scanned the room, tired green eyes landing on the prefect once more.
Later that evening, Mirai was awoken by a hungry Grim and as he sat up, the throw he liked to keep on the rocking chair pooled into his lap.
Days passed, and Leona continued this weird behavior. One day Leona was in Mirai’s space, and one day he wasn’t. One day they were bickering, fighting like they hated each other, and the next Mirai was crushing hard as Leona helped him study for his Potionology test. It was weird. It was like night and day, and it seemed like Mirai was the only one affected.
Mirai asked Grim if he noticed, but the little monster hardly noticed anything that didn’t have to do with food or himself. But he did notice the increased visits from Leona, claiming that the sleep Housewarden was “cramping their style.”
And he did visit often, even sometimes when Grim and Mirai weren’t there. Sometimes Mirai would come back from classes and find him sleeping on the couch, but most of the time he wasn’t. But Mirai could tell he had been there. He could tell from the way the cushions were rumpled, or by the way the throw was placed. Things were always a little out of place but never missing, and never messy.
Ugh. Mirai was mentally berating himself for not making his way to the courtyard. That way he could cover more ground, that way he could get some help, but no, he made the stupid decision to hide in one of the bathrooms, and it just had to be the one on the farthest wing of the school. Just his rotten luck.
Mirai really needed to stop running his mouth. He and Grim were surrounded, it was six against one, well, two if you counted Grim. There were the two guys from Savanaclaw, a guy from Diasomnia, two guys from Octavinelle and a guy from Pomefiore, all of which were ready to beat him to a pulp.
“You don’t have your little entourage to help you now,” the blonde Pomefiore student sneered.
“Got nowheres ta go,” the Bobcat Beastman growled, closing in.
Mirai’s eyes darted for any openings, anything to help him, anything to get him out of this situation unscathed. But the more he looked, the more he searched, the more he began to panic. Then his eyes landed on Grim.
“Cat’s land on their feet, yeah,” Mirai muttered, his eye cutting to Grim, who he pushed behind himself.
“Whatcha whisperin’ about over there?!” The Leopard laughed, “Ya better be whisperin’ your prayers that you’ll be breathin’ after we’re done with ya.”
Grim sneered, “I keep telling ya I ain’t no cat.”
“Well let’s just hope you do,” Mirai muttered.
“What are you talkin’ abo-”
With a swiftness, Mirai snatched Grim up by the scruff of his fur, and chucked him across the room. Grim wailed, little stubby arms flailing as he flew, and luckily he landed on all four paws near the door.
“Hey,” the long black haired fae from Diasomnia shouted, ducking lest he get a face full of fur.
“Run Grim! Get outta here,” Mirai shouted.
“B-But-” Grim stuttered.
“Go get some help! Just go!”
The Leopard Beastman growled loudly, turning his attention to Mirai, and one of the Mers turned to Grim. Grim gulped loudly and scurried through the door and down the hall, the Fishman hot on his three pronged tail. Mirai hoped that that little cat got away.
“Leave the familiar be,” the blonde from Pomefiore said, “By the time his little legs can carry him, we’ll be done here.”
Mirai swallowed, his eyes narrowing.
The white haired Bobcat was first to lunge, Mirai evaded him, but the brown haired Leopard took his left, his literal blindside, and Mirai wasn’t as lucky. Mirai tried to rip his arm from his grasp, but the Bobcat rounded his right again, getting a hold of his right arm. Squirming, Mirai thrashed and kicked, his sneakers sliding as skidding across the slick tiled floors.
“What happened to all that talk, Dear one?” the Octavinelle student sneered, taking his time walking up to the three. “It is you who said you could take us all in a fight, yet you were the first one running.”
Mirai grunted as, yanking his arms, trying to free himself, “Shut up, fish face. Yo-”
Suddenly, the Mer snatched Mirai’s face between his fingers, squeezing hard, “Listen here, you waste of skin, some of us worked too long and too hard to get here, and I’m not gonna sit here and be insulted by someone who’s getting-”
Mirai spit in his face and the first punch was thrown.
Ploink. Ploink. Ploink.
The faucet leaked above Mirai as he lay there on the bathroom floor, watching the sunset through the small windows close to the ceiling. The forgotten bathroom was bathed in a serene golden glow, the warmth of the sun seeping into his skin. Gentle. Overbearing. Overheating.
Ploink. Ploink. Ploink.
Pound. Pound. Pound.
The faucet was dripping in time with his pulse, it was annoying. His head was pounding, so was his eye. It hurt to think, it hurt to look anywhere else but up, it hurt to breathe. Mirai reached up to his face, his fingers coming back a mottled red. Sticky. Tacky. Familiar.
Ploink. Ploink. Ploink.
Pound. Pound. Pound.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
His nose was clogged, swollen. He was pretty sure it was full of blood, and he was pretty sure he shouldn’t be lying like this, but far from caring. Not that he could sit up anyways. His breathing was shallow, his heart was beating slowly, and the slow waltz between the sink, his head, and his heart was making him nauseous. Mirai just hoped he didn’t blow chunks down his shirt. Because that would just be the icing on the cake.
Leona smelled iron before he even registered that that sickly thick scent was blood. Leona wouldn’t have cared, it wasn’t any of his business, but that scent was strong, too strong, and for some vile reason, it was oddly familiar. Leona traveled the empty halls, looking, searching, following the scent trail to the source. Leona turned the halls, his pace quickening a bit as he wracked his brain as to why he knew that scent.
Ruggie and Epel flashed through his mind, but they didn’t fit the bill. Ruggies blood wasn’t rich, it was always too thin, too light. With that fact, Leona made a mental note to up the little runt’s wages. Epel on the other hand normally smelled too sweet, but it was also rich, and balanced. The kid didn’t bleed much, not around him that was, but it wasn’t him either.
Mirai pulled himself up steadily, sobbing as his injuries twinged with fiery hate. His thighs screamed, his arms shook, and as another wave of nausea washed over him, his knees threatened to give. But he pushed himself to stand, managing to lean his weight over the counter, and when he did, he was panting hard, a cold sweat dotting his brow.
Mirai looked at himself in the mirror, and to be frank, the person staring back at him looked so alien to him, yet so familiar. His face was swollen. His lip was split on the left side, and his left eye, his left eye was already starting to bruise, the discoloration of his eye tinged with an angry red. And it hurt so much. His clothes were no better. His shirt was torn, with blotches of red staining it in certain places. He was wet, scuffed with dirt, his shoe was missing and his bag was in the toilet. Mirai swallowed a sob as he turned on the faucet, letting his head fall into the sink, watching the red run into pink down the drain.
Leona turned one last corner, and here, here it was strongest, and steadily getting stronger. Leona inhaled through his nose deeply, and the smell assaulted his senses. Why could he smell it so heavily? Why could taste it so vividly, like he was able to drink it down like a fine wine? Leona closed his eyes as he followed his nose. He could feel its warmth, he could feel it as it passed through his teeth, as red washed over his tongue, as the blood dripped passed his lips and down his chin. He could smell a mixture of deep iron, rich, yet so light. But he couldn’t see its owner. He could smell dust, sand, lavender, lavender. Lavender!
Suddenly Leona could see that small room he kept as a junk closet. He could hear the clutter around the falling to the floor, the things inside shattering. He saw that mop of blonde hair, he saw those bony shoulders as his own hands grabbed them, pulling, then red. Red. Red. It filled his mouth, his nose, he felt the warmth. The warmth from Mirai.
It was Mirai’s blood.
Mirai was scrubbing his hands when the bathroom door burst open. “Ya missed the show, come back another time,” Mirai sneered, not bothering to look up from the sink.
“Oi! What happened?!”
Mirai snapped his head to the door, expecting to see Ace, or Deuce, even Professor Trein or Professor Crewel, but not Leona.
“Ya got mud in your ears? What happened?!”
“Wha-What are you, what are you doing here?” Mirai asked absently, “Where’s Grim? Did he send you?”
“What?! No! I haven’t even seen that furball!”
Mirai’s mind was everywhere for a second, before he promptly shut off the water, pushing past Leona to leave, “I gotta go. I need to find Grim.”
“Whoa, whoa. Hold up. Where are you going?” Leona snapped, grabbing Mirai by the shoulder, but instantly regretted it as Mirai hissed in pain.
Mirai wrenched his arm away, fresh hot tears filling his eyes, “Ya got mud in your ears?” Mirai shouted, once again using Leona’s words against him, “I need to find Grim. They were after him too!”
Leona rolled his eyes, “That can wait, we need to get you to the infirmary.”
“No, it can’t wait. Grim he’s-he’s-”
“Hey, hey. Calm down, it’s-,”
“I-I-I don’t nee-”
Leona sighed before hauling the Prefect into his arms, and began to make his way down the hall. “It’s furball we're talking about. He might always be startin’ trouble, but you and I both know he’d rather set the school ablaze, than be caught with his tail between his legs.”
Mirai seemed to shrink in on himself. He was still missing a shoe, his bag was in a wet heap on the bathroom floor, and his clothes were wet and dirty, yet, here Leona was, holding him like he was a newlywed princess.
“So Infirmary first, Grim second, and then you’re gonna tell me who did this and what happened.”
Mirai didn’t say anything, only nodding as he clutched onto his phone for dear life, trying to force away the flush that was already making its way onto his freckled cheeks.
The Infirmary was empty, the nurse nowhere to be seen. Mirai’s heard of him, the other’s said he was a little too rough, and a bit of a quack, but Mirai’s never seen him. But that didn’t deter Leona from sitting the Ramshackle Prefect on one of the beds before turning to get some supplies. Mirai thought this scene was oddly familiar, well, maybe it was because he had watched it dozens of times in Anime and read it many times in Manga. Gosh, now Mirai was getting nervous. Leona rolled one of the stools and a medical table up to Mirai and sat down, pulling on a pair of rubber gloves. Okay, now he really was nervous.
“What?” Leona gruffed, raising an eyebrow.
“Whaddya gonna do?” Mirai asked skeptically.
“Open heart surgery. Lie down,” Leona deadpanned.
“Leona, I’m serious.”
“What do you think Ima do, you idiot?! It’s just bandages and disinfectant! It ain't rocket science!”
Mirai quieted, turning his gaze away from the Beastman in front of him. Leona sucked his teeth in annoyance, but proceeded anyway.
Leona started with gently pulling Mirai’s right hand into his left, the Perfect twitching slightly, but he didn’t pull away, his eyes trained on the world behind the window. Taking the cloth he had sitting in some hot water, and gently dabbed at his knuckles. Mirai whimpered, trying to pull his hand away, but Leona didn’t let him, tightening his grip in warning. Mirai shut his eyes tightly, still not looking his way, and relaxed his arm. Leona took that as his sign to continue.
Leona dabbed at the cuts once more, watching the prefect's face closely, as he made sure they were clean and free of any residue.
“This might sting a little,” Leona whispered as he went for the disinfectant. Mirai didn’t say anything as he shut his eyes once more.
Leona pressed down on the nozzle, the spray coating Mirai's fist, and the blonde immediately tensed up, his fingers clawing at the Beastman’s palm.
“Why are you helping me?” Mirai muttered after the burning dulled a bit.
Leona scoffed, “Don’t needa reason.”
“But that’s just it,” Mirai growled, a sudden flash of anger burning beneath his skin, “you do! Every single one of you, do!”
Leona looked taken aback before his eyes narrowed, “So now I can’t be nice?”
“Since when are you just nice?” Mirai said, rolling his eyes, “There’s always something innit for you.”
“Yeah, I ain’t just nice, but I’m not about to let ya bleed on the bathroom floor.”
“Why not?”
“Because ’m not not heartless.”
Mirai huffed, looking back at the setting sun.
“Did it hurt,” Leona asked quietly as he taped up Mirai’s fingers.
“Don’t remember it” Mirai muttered quietly.
“What’s that ‘pposed ta mean?”
When Mirai didn’t answer, Leona sighed and went back to what he was doing.
Cleaning up the rest of Mirai’s arm was just like his hand, he’d tense and pull, but never said a word. But Leona knew the more difficult task would be his face. Leona stood up to replace the water, and get a new cloth, and when he got back, the Prefect was still looking out the window, his face void of any emotion. Leona distantly wondered if the Prefect was scared, or if he was tired.
Sitting back down Leona stared at him for a bit, taking in the bruises and cuts on Mirai’s face. He didn’t look like himself, he didn’t look like the guy who’d take on the world all by himself, he didn’t look like the guy who would idiotically do anything you dared him, even if the reward was one corn chip. And yeah, Leona got that those weren’t really good qualities, but it was what made Mirai, Mirai.
“Hey,” Leona said quietly, slowly reaching for Mirai’s face and turning it towards himself. “Look at me.”
Mirai wasn’t quite looking, he wasn’t quite there to begin with, and something akin to fury, fury and something else he couldn't name gnawed at the Beastman’s stomach. But what he did know is that when he found those guys, he’d tear them apart.
“Hey,” Leona called again, “any light’s on up there?”
Mirai flinched, wincing as Leona ran the cloth across his busted lip.
“Did it hurt?” Leona asked again.
“Yeah,” Mirai mumbled.
If the other was referring to his lip or the initial beating, they both didn’t know.
In the end Grim was okay, he was safe, and Mirai couldn’t be happier. Mirai got his shoe back, which he was grateful for, since they were his only pair, and as for his bag, it belongs to the trash now. The guys, who Mirai may or may not have instigated a fight with, were never identified, and five days later, Mirai’s phone was fixed, thanks to a little blue haired half student, and upon leaving for the day one morning, a new expensive school bag sat neatly in a cardboard box on his doorstep.
Mirai sat under the awning above Ramshackle’s door, watching the rain pelt the pavement below, thinking. The skies were a dark gray, the winds punishing and cold, but for some reason it was comforting. For the first time, it seemed that this world finally aligned with how Mirai was feeling, that it was finally on his side.
Days passed, Mirai's face healed, his bruises healed, but something about Leona changed. A cigarette sat forgotten between red bitten lips as chipped black painted nails scratched at the healing scrapes on his knees, watching little beads of red bubble up from beneath his skin. Mirai sighed, pulling his shorts back over his knees, not caring if the hems stained. It wasn’t like he and Leona were friends, but something just, he didn’t know, shifted.
The third year didn’t invite him to skip class anymore, he didn’t send him of stupid tasks like getting his lunch, and he didn’t crash in Ramshackle’s lounge anymore. He hadn’t even seen the man in passing, it was like he became a ghost, and it seemed he was the only one concerned about it. It was weird, but then again, it all was weird to begin with.
Mirai sighed deeply, watching the smoke become one with the clouds. He thought back to that afternoon, gosh, he could hardly remember most of it. Of course he remembers how he got there, and how it started. He remembers making Grim leave, he definitely remembers spitting in that jerk’s face, then getting punched, but after that, nothing. The next thing he remembers is being the floor, and the pain that followed. Maybe it was that, maybe after Leona had seen how pathetic he looked that day, he realized just how weak and useless he was and decided to cut him off.
“Yeah, right,” Mirai scoffed to himself. It was never like he was important to Leona anyways. It wasn’t like he ever had a chance.
“Oi human!”
Mirai turned around and Grim stood behind him, his little paws crossed over his little nose.
“Yeah?” Mirai snickered.
“Your phone’s ringing,” Grim said, voice sounding nasally.
“Coming,” Mirai muttered, snuffing out his cigarette in the stone beside him.
Picking up Grim, Mirai headed inside, shutting the front door behind him.
#twisted wonderland#twst#disney twisted wonderland#disney twst#disney twist#twist#twist disney#yuu#leona x yuu#twst yuu#yu#twisted wonderland yuu#Leo#twst leona#leon#ra#ramshackle prefect#ramshackle oc#oc#twst oc#twisted oc#twisted wonderland oc#Mirai Yuhara#sl#sleepy writes#themaladaptivewriter12
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Idk if you're still taking requests but if so I have an idea
If not, stop here and go get some water. Right now! And do your stretches. Remember to treat yourself kindly!
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The fic request is legit just how stark chongyuns clothes are against the backdrop of liyue. With his white hair, almost glowing eyes and choice of attire he looks almost ethereal in the setting sun.
Good thing too, since he's been missing for days.
This could be any pairing you'd like, or no pairing at all. Your fics are fucking fantastic btw.
thank you so much for the kind words!! your wish is my command <3
i made it into a xingyun fic, i hope you don’t mind! this was brilliant! chongyun is very under-appreciated, so i am more than happy to give some representation to our boy!!
it’s my first time writing a few of these characters so i hope i did a good gob hehe
i hope you enjoy it!!! <3 (sorry it took so long, thank you for being patient!!)
Frost (Xingyun)
There were a lot of things that made Chongyun extraordinary. For starters, his very presence alone was enough to exorcise all demons within his immediate vicinity. That was quite a useful trait for a young exorcist to have, despite Chongyun’s own displeasure with the fact that, consequently, he had never actually seen a demon with his own eyes.
Another thing that was impressive about him was that he was Xingqiu’s best friend. Anyone acquainted with the wealthy and noble Xingqiu would know that it was no easy task. The young man was notorious for pulling pranks and teasing. Unfortunately, that meant that Chongyun was his favorite target. Despite all that, Chongyun remained a loyal and close friend of Xingqiu’s, speaking wonders to the exorcist’s patience.
Chongyun also always carried popsicles on him at all times, and couldn’t eat anything remotely spicy or hot temperature-wise. Many people found that fact odd. They had never seen the ‘ice prince’ consume anything even remotely warm, and even on especially hot days he would make himself scarce. Some began to speculate on why that was, but hardly any could come up with an answer. It was just another mystery of the mysterious young man that often accompanied Xingqiu.
The most significant thing about Chongyun that most people noticed right away, however, was his unique appearance. Liyue was a nation that loved its muted colors. Deep reds, browns, yellows, and blacks occupied much of the popular fashion. These all blended quite nicely with the surrounding natural scenery, creating a harmonious picture of tranquility.
Chongyun, however, stuck out like a sore thumb in comparison. His attire was stark white with accents of blue, pristine and spotless in every way. Xingqiu often wondered how the exorcist’s clothes never seemed to get dirty. The style of said attire was for expelling demons, and while it might have been more common among the exorcist clans like the one Chongyun hailed from, it was rather different in the neutral setting of the busy Liyue Harbor streets.
It wasn’t just his clothes. His physical appearance was just as striking, to the point where even if Chongyun were to wear more muted, plain clothing, he would still stand out regardless. The young exorcist sported pale blue hair that seemed to reflect and radiate light. It was effortlessly shiny and soft, falling around his face in a messy yet graceful halo. But it didn’t stop there.
The pale blue continued down to even his eyelashes, framing his icy eyes in an elegant and yet undoubtedly cold gaze. His irises seemed carved from ice itself, so blue and shining that they were practically glowing. Anyone caught in his wandering gaze would describe it as striking. Even Chongyun’s pupils were unique, taking a form more akin to cat-like slits than human-like rounded ones.
Of course, all of those things had a reason for them. Chongyun was born with unnaturally high yang energy, otherwise known as positive energy. That was how he was able to exorcise demons without even being able to see them, or getting powerful malevolent spirits to flee at his very approach.
The overflowing yang energy also made him unable to tolerate heat of any kind, or else risk throwing him into disarray. Sometimes he would even enter a manic state, emotions in utter turmoil, until he was able to cool himself down with one of his signature popsicles. Even his choice of clothing was intentional due to the yang energy coursing through him. It was white to reflect light and keep him from overheating, and it was also lightweight for the same reason.
Still, the average person wouldn’t know any of that, and so he remained mysterious in the eyes of many. In the setting sun, if one were to witness Chongyun exorcising demons in the mountains or plains of Liyue, awash in a shimmering light as though he were cloaked in it, glowing radiantly in the light of the sinking star, they might think that they had witnessed the divine.
Even Chongyun’s best friend could only describe the other’s appearance as ‘ethereal’, though he would never admit it to Chongyun aloud. Travelers, merchants, and adventurers alike who had spotted Chongyun in the wilderness often confused him for one of the fabled adepti of the region. In truth, his brilliance was not far off.
Now, ‘Why is this important?’ one might ask. Well, it was important because Chongyun went missing four days ago.
With his striking and unique appearance, spotting the young exorcist was not a difficult task. Yet no matter where Xingqiu looked, whether it be Liyue Harbor, the stone peaks of Qingyun, the marshes, or even as far north as Qingce Village, he saw no sign of his friend. Those he asked around, who were familiar with Chongyun’s appearance, had also not seen him.
Even while he was training relentlessly, Chongyun had never skipped a day of meeting Xingqiu in the Harbor. The noble boy would pester him otherwise. Which, of course, Xingqiu tried to do as soon as the exorcist failed to show up the first day. But for some reason, he couldn’t find Chongyun at any of their usual spots. So, he waited. Perhaps the ice prince really was just busy, but surely he would come tomorrow, right? Wrong.
Another day passed, and then another before Xingqiu couldn’t stand to worry any longer and got others involved. It was too unlike the exorcist not to visit for so long, Xingqiu knew that something was wrong. Xiangling, Hu Tao, Xinyan, and Yunjin all offered to help look. Soon, word got out and even the Traveler showed up to search, also gaining the assistance of Chongyun’s aunt Shenhe. Apparently once she heard that her nephew was missing, she charged out into the wilderness without another word.
The group took turns searching far and wide across Liyue. Yet another day passed, no sign of Chongyun. Until…
Shenhe had not rested even a single moment in the past twenty-four hours. It might have seemed harsh, but her training had prepared her for such a situation, and that kind of stamina was nothing new to her. Besides, she wouldn’t be able to rest anyway until Chongyun was found. She might seem cold and distant on the outside, but that was just a look that ran in the family. Deep down, she cared for her nephew greatly and his safety was her top priority.
She was cresting over a hill that spilled down into one of Liyue’s many wide plains when she saw it. In the distance, glowing brilliantly in the light of the setting sun with his stark white clothes and shining blue hair, stood Chongyun. He was like a beacon in the surrounding dull yellow grass and rugged gray rocks. Shenhe’s eyes narrowed in on his figure at once, and then she started running.
Though he would look ethereal almost no matter what, Chongyun was noticeably less blinding than usual. His pristine clothes were tattered and dirty, his hair mussed up, and worst of all, he was walking with a limp, which meant he was injured. Once she saw what state he was in, Shenhe rushed to his side in a flash.
At first, Chongyun was startled to see someone approaching him so quickly, immediately going on the defense. But once he saw who it was, he relaxed, shoulders slackening and reddened eyes brimming with tears. “Auntie… Shenhe…” he called weakly.
“I’m here,” she reassured him, grabbing his shoulders to support him and hold him steady. She noticed that he was burning up. “Are you alright? What happened to you?”
“Abyss… mages… They…” he tried to explain. His voice was hoarse and shaking, and he kept breaking out into coughs, however, so his aunt quickly shushed him.
“It’s okay, you’re safe now. You don’t have to talk anymore. Just rest,” she told him, but he began to protest.
“My body… hot… I need… popsicle.”
“Right, I have some here,” she quickly remembered. She reached one hand into her pouch and produced a pale blue popsicle, handing it over promptly.
Luckily, though Shenhe was not well-versed in the food people typically ate, she learned that particular recipe after becoming aware of how important the popsicles were to Chongyun. With Cloud Retainer’s guidance, she was able to make suitable icy treats that would also suppress his yang energy, and she made sure to bring some with her in her search in case Chongyun needed them. Now she was glad that she did.
The young exorcist took the popsicle gratefully, scarfing it down in a hurry. Once he had eaten it, he seemed much more relaxed, letting out a relieved sigh. Then, his whole weight crashed down onto Shenhe as he appeared to pass out. His aunt easily caught him, cradling him in her arms before hoisting him up and beginning the trek back to Liyue Harbor. She would take him to see Baizhu right away, and then inform the others that she had found him.
She made it back in record time, flying through the Liyue landscape while also being careful not to jostle her nephew too much. She headed straight to Bubu Pharmacy, and luckily, Baizhu was in. He quickly escorted her into the back where she placed Chongyun gently on a soft bed before turning to exit.
“Leaving so soon?” the green-haired man inquired, slightly surprised. He thought she would have wanted to stay and make sure Chongyun was alright.
“I trust you will take care of him. I need to inform the others that he has been found, and then I need to go and deal with the Abyss,” Shenhe replied coolly.
“The Abyss?” Baizhu questioned.
“They must pay,” was all she said in response, and then she was gone.
Baizhu sighed and then got to work. Overall, the examination was rather simple. Chongyun appeared to have a broken leg along with a few bruises and scratches here and there. His internal yang energy also seemed to have stabilized for the time being, so he was no longer burning up. The most concerning thing, however, were the needle marks in his arm.
“What’s that about?” Changsheng questioned sleepily from the pharmacist’s shoulder.
“I can’t know for sure. We’ll have to ask about it when he wakes up.”
Baizhu just hoped the young man wasn’t injected with anything. His vitals gave no sign of anything unusual, but one could never be too sure. Especially if the Abyss Order was involved. In the meantime, all he could do was treat the visible wounds and set the broken leg into a cast.
It was a little while longer before Chongyun stirred awake again. He felt drowsy and exhausted, his limbs weak like they weighed ten times heavier than normal.
As he cracked open his eyes, he saw piercing yellow irises and a little white snake looking down at him. “He’s awake,” the snake hissed.
“I can see that,” Baizhu commented. The snake didn’t reply, just curling back up to take another nap.
“Doctor Baizhu?” Chongyun called in a strained voice.
“Shhh don’t push yourself. Here, drink this,” the man ordered before holding a liquid up to his lips.
Chongyun took a hesitant sip, but when he instantly began to feel better, he greedily downed the rest of the medicine. Baizhu looked satisfied, setting the now-empty cup aside before reaching down to check the exorcist’s vitals once more.
“Ah, much better,” he said to no one in particular.
Chongyun felt that his throat had become less sore, and risked speaking once more. Luckily, his voice came out more normal the second time. “What happened? How did I get here?”
“I would like to ask you that,” Baizhu admitted. “But your Aunt, Shenhe, carried you here. She found you wandering out in the wilderness alone. Apparently it had something to do with the Abyss Order.”
At the words ‘Abyss Order’, Chongyun seemed to tense up. Baizhu immediately took notice of that, but first, he needed to know. “Do you remember what these are from?”
He pulled Chongyun's sleeve back to reveal the needle marks on his arm. The exorcist’s eyes widened in alarm before his brows furrowed together in contemplation. “I think… they were experimenting on me…” he mumbled.
“Did they inject you with anything?” Baizhu asked seriously.
To his relief, Chongyun shook his head. “No, I think they only extracted blood, but it was a lot of it. I remember feeling really drained.”
The doctor let out a sigh of relief. Before he could ask any further questions, someone came bursting through the door.
“Chongyun!” Xingqiu cried as he practically threw himself onto the bed.
The exorcist was momentarily stunned. His best friend was currently wrapping him in a bone-crushing hug. Luckily, he had shifted his broken leg out of the way in time before it was smashed under his friend’s weight. Thanks to Baizhu’s medicine, the limb was mostly numb.
The part that had him shocked was the fact that, while Xingqiu could be considered clingy at times, he had never wrapped Chongyun in his arms so tightly and so desperately, like he was afraid the exorcist would slip away through his fingertips. His friend was usually teasing him or tricking him into eating something spicy or something similar along those lines.
But now, Xingqiu was burying his head into Chongyun’s shoulder with his arms wound tightly around his neck. Chongyun felt dampness seep through his clothes and realized that Xingqiu was crying.
“Xingqiu? What’s wrong?” he asked worriedly.
“What’s wrong!?” Xingqiu wailed, whipping his head back to look his friend in the eyes. “What’s wrong is that you were missing, and I couldn’t find you, and I was scared because if I couldn’t find you and you never came back or you ended up dead and I was left here all alone without you, I wouldn’t know what to do!”
His words came out furiously rushed, as if he was pushing them out along with all of the air in his lungs. At the end, he hiccuped as another wave of tears poured from his eyes, sparkling as they fell to Chongyun’s chest. Xingqiu leaned over him, the light behind him acting as a halo, and even though he was crying, Chongyun couldn’t help thinking, He looks ethereal.
“I… I’m sorry,” Chongyun choked out despite himself. He wasn’t sure what Xingqiu wanted to hear exactly (he hardly ever did), but he would say anything to get his tears to stop.
“You idiot!” Xingqiu snapped, but he had a fond smile on his face. “Why are you apologizing when you didn’t even do anything wrong?”
“... I don’t know,” Chongyun admitted. But apparently, it had worked, because his best friend’s tears slowly stopped flowing.
Xingqiu wiped at his cheeks, embarrassed. “Archons, you stress me out,” he said.
“I stress you out?” Chongyun asked in disbelief.
To his surprise (and delight), Xingqiu started laughing. His smile was brighter than the light of the lamp behind him, melting the frost clouding Chongyun’s icy vision. The fear and pain he had felt over the last few days slipped away, the only thing on his mind was his friend here with him now.
“I was never so worried in my life,” Xingqiu explained once he had calmed down. “I felt like the world was ending.”
“Don’t exaggerate,” Chongyun muttered, blushing slightly and looking away. Belatedly, he noticed that Baizhu had slipped out of the room at some point.
“I’m not,” his friend said seriously. “Promise me you’ll never leave me again.”
Chongyun wasn’t sure how the exchange turned into him being the one having to make promises, but he didn’t even hesitate to agree. “I promise.”
“And I promise I’ll never tease you again, or make you eat Xiangling’s cooking, or swap out your popsicles with wasabi ones-”
“What!?”
“-or trick you into playing with the kids at the dock, or drag you along to boring merchant meetings, or-”
“Okay, Xingqiu, enough!” Chongyun interrupted, exasperated. “You don’t have to promise all those things.”
“But…” the young man trailed off, looking uncertain.
“What?”
“What if I push you too far, and you get fed up with me one day, and then you really do leave and never come back…?”
“XIngqiu, look at me,” Chongyun told him. His friend had been avoiding eye-contact, no doubt feeling guilty. “How long have we been friends for?”
“... A long time…”
“And since when have you teased me and played pranks on me?”
“... A long time…”
“Right,” Chongyun nodded firmly. “And in all that time, I have never once thought about leaving you.”
Xingqiu looked up sharply, clearly caught off-guard. “Not even once?” he asked softly.
“Not even once,” Chongyun confirmed.
His friend smiled. “Good, then stay by my side forever.”
Chongyun nodded once again. “I will.”
“Even if I do this?” Xingqiu asked, and then it was Chongyun’s turn to be surprised. His friend had leaned down and pressed a light, fleeting kiss to his lips. When he pulled away, the exorcist was looking up at him with wide eyes.
“Sorry. It’s just that, when you were missing, it occurred to me that I might never have the chance to do that. So, if you don’t feel the same way, you don’t need to reciprocate it. I’m okay with staying by your side forever as friends,” Xingqiu quickly clarified, but Chongyun was done listening.
“Who’s the idiot now?” Chongyun sighed.
“Huh!?”
“Just kiss me again, dummy.”
And so, that was how Chongyun going missing winded up resulting in a confession from his best friend. Although, he guessed they were more than best friends now. Oh, and if anyone was curious about the Abyss Order Mages behind Chongyun’s kidnapping, the screeches of Abyss Mages could be heard reverberating through the plains and echoing off the mountains of Liyue for the next few days to come.
Any who dared to venture that way would see nothing but a flash of ice, a tall woman with white hair, and the visage of a crane. While the Abyss Order might have been after Chongyun’s unusually high yang energy reserves, it was suffice to say they would not be getting anywhere near the young exorcist again anytime soon.
Once the two (former) friends had pulled apart after their second kiss, Chongyun was burning incredibly hot to the touch. Apparently, his yang energy had decided to make a full comeback. Xingqiu’s ambush had caught him off-guard, and now his emotions were slipping into disarray.
“Uhhh Xingqiu?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m gonna need you to go get me another popsicle…”
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Hey awesome job on that prev request! I appreciate you draw these reqs for lil anon like me 👍
Anyway, if you’re up for another character creation:
Male character. Skin is liquid paper white. Decent body build, above average with tone but hidden under clothes. Head shape is a perfect circle. Visible ears on the sides of the head, resembling drooped puppy triangle ears. Tired eyes, Average brows. Slight stubble along the jawline. Soft smile. Scruffy white hair with red horizontal stripes that start appearing at the ear level. Hair length reaches his shoulders, except side bangs which reach mid-torso, his bangs are messy but frame his face cleanly, a single bang in the center is long enough to reach his chin. Clothing...crimson trench coat with black along the trim and cuffs. Faded white dress shirt with a grey sweater vest over it and the bottom of the dress shirt sticking out, darker grey vertical diamond 🔹 pattern across the sweater vest. Dark grey or black pants.
This is just for fun and I don’t mind how long you finish! it’s always fun to see the way you interpertation these character designs! thanks again.
Here you go!!! Thanks so much for this!
These few circle-head requests have been really interesting, but I’d just like to ask for two things if you’d like to send in more requests! Firstly, more head shapes and body types! And secondly, some idea for a pose and vibe for the picture! I feel bad just drawing them all standing still in the middle of the page, but have no idea what else to do with them because you’ve only described their design! I kind of get an ominous vibe from this description, so that’s the sort of background I went for!
Anyway, thanks again! I’m really grateful you keep coming back for more!! And if anyone else wants to put in a request, check out my pinned post for details!
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I've always really loved how Geto's trauma has been portrayed. His weight loss is a small detail that I love even though it's sad and besides that his messy, unruly hair (even in scenes where he had his hair tied in a bun it still looked unkempt) and the way he didn't even wear his uniform properly anymore... :( These little details make his story so sad; he didn't have the motivation anymore to do even the simplest of things. This is something that is very important to show when you're portraying depression and trauma in media and Gege (and Mappa) did it perfectly.
For anime onlys this episode was really important. All they know about Geto is from the movie where he was an antagonist and it's important for them to know what exactly happened that made Geto become like that.
Geto was empathetic, kind, caring, and loving. But he's the one who suffered the most from being a jujutsu sorcerer. First of all, his cursed technique is the hardest both mentally and physically. It's literally described as “the taste of a cursed spirit no one knows... Like swallowing whole a cloth that was used to wipe up vomit”. Consuming people's negative emotions daily? It's understandable why Geto felt so shitty after doing it.
But after seeing people cheering at Riko's death, seeing his friends die protecting non-sorcerers, seeing a whole village of more than a hundred residents call on for the death of two little girls, it's very understandable why Geto just snapped. He undertook so much burden and pain, so much suffering and hardship, and all it resulted in was humans mistreating sorcerer's in such a horrible way.
That's when this quote comes: “it's just that in a world like this, I couldn't laugh from the bottom of my heart”. He couldn't live in a world where he and other jujutsu sorcerers were treated in such a way. And that's how he started away from his ideals.
I really hope I don't have to see anime onlys blindly hate on him anymore now that his full story and trauma is in front of them.
Geto Suguru I love and appreciate you so much :(
#Geto Suguru#Suguru Geto#jjk geto#geto jjk#jjk meta#jjk s2#jjk season 2#jujutsu kaisen#satosugu#gojo satoru#jujutsu geto
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Can you do a oneshot of L Lawliet where he is in a secret relationship with Light's twin sister and she finds out she is pregnant so she shows up at Task Force to tell L and just announces it to the whole task force but its L who announces he is the father.
OML I'm so sorry for the delay, Anon-san 😭😭
Lately I'm feeling so overwhelmed and in the dumps that I lost any sort of inspiration. I hope you like it thou.
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TITLE: NEWS
pairing: L x Yagami!fem!pregnant!reader
warning: none.
«See you later mom»
«Be careful dear. You too Light»
«Yeah bye mom»
And the door was softly closed after that answer. The two Yagami twins, Y/N and Light, always left home earlier than their sister Sayu. Light had to take the train for the Daikoku Private Academy while Y/N was a last year high school student at the Gamou Prep Academy, where her twin brother attended supplemental classes in the afternoon. Actually, it was what her family knew. The reality was a lot different.
Despite the two twins had the same age, the same skills and the same perfect school report, Y/N had that extra oomph that Light hadn't. It was thanks to this oomph that ensured her a special, secret job. She was noticed by no less than the greatest detective in the world, L.
Y/N Yagami had everything L needed: intellect, slyness, excellent rhetoric. At first, they had a simple working relationship made of mutual respect and esteem. But as time passed those feelings changed.
Initially Y/N felt strange: L was this mysterious detective with an extraordinary mind and skills, she never saw him in person. She had the impression that what she felt for him was wrong: what if L didn't exist? Y/N was so curious about him that one of their online meetings, she couldn’t wait to ask him thatquestion.
«L, can I ask you something?»
« 𝚈𝚎𝚜»
«Why did you decide not to show yourself? Can you describe yourself to me, please?»
A long pause followed her question. Y/N didn’t know what to say (or to do). She had the feeling she crossed the threshold.
«𝙱𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚊𝚜 𝙻 𝚍𝚒𝚍𝚗’𝚝 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚗 𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚝𝚢. 𝙸𝚝 𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚕𝚎𝚎𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚎 𝙻 𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛»
Such an arrogant person. Y/N expected an answer like that. So she gave up with her wish to see her crush' face.
Sometime later, however, the Yagami girl met someone. A pale, tall young man with a simple white shirt and faded jeans; his hair was moved by the wind and they seemed messy yet rather silky. He was standing there, at the top of the Tokyo Train Station's stairs, staring intensely at her, few steps higher than the girl. This man was blocking the way and Y/N was in a rush.
«Excuse me, I have to-»
«You're Y/N Yagami?» he immediately interrupted her and in the meantime he hid his hands in the pockets of that faded jeans.
«Who wants to know it?» Y/N replied defensive. Unlike Light, Y/N had good skills in many martial arts and she was ready to kick his ass, just in case.
«Me»
Y/N hadn’t the idea that in front of her there was L himself. He introduced himself as Ryuzaki but, for some reason, she couldn’t believe him. For her, it was like he had a good answer for everything as if he planned every single (and possible) question from the Yagami girl. That reminded her of…L. Everything about him reminded her of the detective.
Day after day this Ryuzaki started to appear more and more often in her life: at the train station, on her way home or after school. He told her he was studying for the entrance exam at the To-Oh University, that was why the two of them were seeing each other that often.
«I see, what do you want to study?»
«Criminology»
Y/N and Ryuzaki created a strange bond between them. The Yagami twin felt so at ease with him despite his particular (and rather unique) behaviour: she didn’t mind about the large amount of sugar he ate or the sitting position he took. He was so smart and brilliant…once again she thought about L.
It seemed like that Ryuzaki appreciated Y/N's presence too. He loved listening to her or analyse every single feature of her figure. She would find him staring at her such intensity that she would look away.
Y/N, however, had so much in her mind. She was so convinced that Ryuzaki and L were the same person that she felt so anxious around him. She had to know the truth.
«Ryuzaki, can you tell me something?»
«What is it, Y/N-san?»
«Are you L?»
The two of them were waiting for the train and Ryuzaki was standing (or "slouching" actually) right beside her. His dark hair covered the face and Y/N couldn’t tell what he was feeling or thinking. She was afraid that she crossed the threshold.
Ryuzaki smirked and sighed through the nose as if he laughed silently. Then he turned to look at her. «Yes»
He kept staring at her while Y/N got pale and returned the stare with wide E/C eyes. So she was right…he was L. The real L. She couldn’t believe that this man…with faded jeans and a simple white shirt…was L. The same L she started to love.
That was how their story began.
───────◇───────
Now Light was going to finish his last year of school together with his twin sister Y/N but something else what happening outside the Yagami household: Kira.
This person took the role of judge, jury and executioner of the criminal world not only in Japan. Kira was such a disgusting, immoral human being, Y/N hated him. Nobody had the right to play with other's life regardless of their police record. Light, however, didn't agree with his sister.
«I don't understand your point, N/N. The world would be a better place without criminals, you have to realise that»
«Of course it would be a better place without them, Light. But it's not the right method!»
«And what would be "the right method"?» Light asked her making air quotes with his fingers.
«Uhh…I don't know maybe putting them before a judge?» Y/N simply replied. «Kira is not the solution, Light»
Her brother was so different lately. Since this Kira appeared Light started to act strange, Y/N was the first to notice it. Not even her mother, father and Sayu perceived it.
Y/N was feeling strange too actually. After Ryuzaki's "confession" about his identity the two of them admitted their respective feelings. Y/N was so happy that Ryuzaki felt the same as her, she was so happy. Sachiko noticed it and asked her if her happiness was due to a boy but Y/N didn’t give her a proper answer.
Ryuzaki was investigating about Kira and he booked a suite at the Imperial Hotel and Y/N would pay him a visit from time to time. They talked, played, ate and even made love in that room. And it was since one of those times that Y/N started to feel weird.
«Let's not talk about it, alright Light?»
«Fine» her twin shrugged and kept walking home together. After a while they crossed a konbini, a Japanese convenience store.
«Wait Light, I have to buy something»
«Alright, I'll wait you here»
And Y/N ran inside the shop while Light started to read a book outside. She had to buy few things: a new set of pencils, chips and…a pregnancy test. Yes, a pregnancy test.
She had all the symptoms: swollen breasts, nausea, fatigue. And the fact that she missed the last period was a sort of final proof. But she wanted to be sure.
Once she payed everything Y/N left the shop and kept walking home with Light. He was looking suspiciously at her but he said nothing.
.
> TIME SKIP <
«Positive…it's positive» Y/N repeated in a whisper while looking at her pregnancy test. Her E/C eyes were still glued to the test when she heard someone knocking at the door.
«Y/N! I need the bathroom!»
«Me too!»
Light and Sayu were staying right outside the door, Y/N hoped they didn’t hear what she said before. She hid the test in the pockets of her jeans and left the bathroom.
«Sorry» and she ran downstairs. Light, once again, looked at her with clear suspicious and raised an eyebrow. Sayu took advantage of this moment to lock herself in the bathroom.
«Sayu! I have to go with dad, leave the bathroom!»
In the meantime, Y/N already left the house and was literally running towards the Imperial Hotel, where Ryuzaki had his room (and where the Task-force met L for the first time). He had to know it.
About ten minutes later Y/N arrived at the hotel and quickly went to Ryuzaki's suite. She was bouncing off the walls for the excitement.
«Ryuzaki!» she spread the door open and ran inside. She quickly reached him and made him turn towards her.
«What is it Y/N-chan?» he asked calmly.
«I have to tell you something!»
«And what would it be?»
«I'm pregnant!» she said smiling. It, however, faded quickly when she saw Ryuzaki's lack of reaction to that news. Was he…disappointe-
«What?! Are you serious Miss Y/N?» the young voice of Matsuda echoed in the room making Y/N distract from the man in front of her.
The Yagami girl noticed that her father's entire Task-Force was working in the same room as L and she didn’t notice them when she entered the suite. Excitement was replaced by fear.
«Uhm…well…»
«Congratulations!» Matsuda got up and walked closer to her with a kind smile on his young face. That smile cheered her up a little.
«Thank you Matsuda-san»
The rest of the Task-force congratulated to her too, they were all so happy about that news. The only one who didn’t say anything was L, the father.
Aizawa started to give Y/N some "parental" advices when L's suite room opened again revealing Soichiro and Light at the doorstep. Y/N didn’t notice it immediately and she couldn’t stop Matsuda from rushing towards his boss to give him that important announcement.
«Boss, did you know it?»
«What is it Matsuda?»
«Miss Y/N is pregnant!»
Silence.
Silence of a grave, to be precise.
Nobody dared to speak, to move, to breathe. It seemed only Matsuda wasn’t feeling that heavy atmosphere.
At those words Soichiro walked towards his daughter and placed his strong hands on her shoulders.
«Y/N, is it true?»
She gulped and swallowed hard. «Yes dad, Matsuda-san is right» her voice showed no fear, no embarrassment, no shame. Even if her family didn’t agree, she wasn’t going to give up that easily.
«Who is the father? Someone assaulted you?» he immediately asked sounding rather worried and serious. Y/N was going to answer when she heard some sort of mumbling from behind, where L was sitting.
«Did you say something, Ryuzaki?» asked Soichiro.
«I said, Yagami-san…» he took an ice-cream sandwich and divided it in two. «I am the proud father» he turned towards the policeman and licked the vanilla cream without looking away from the man.
Soichiro couldn’t see her but Y/N was smiling widely at Ryuzaki who smiled back for a mere second before
#death note#death note l#l x reader#l lawilet#female reader#l x you#l x y/n#yagami reader#ryuzaki#ryuzaki x reader#ryuzaki death note#ryuzaki lawliet#pregnant reader
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🌹 Sub!SuperM 18+ HC: Riding Their Faces
↳ NOTE. These guys... I swear. Bringing some heat to the dash right here. Enjoy the SuperMadness 👀
word count. 3.7k | bullet points | ot7
WARNINGS. ⚠️ all explicit, cum play, latex, hair & sweat kink, bondage, spit, brat taming, toys, breath play, ass fixation going strong, dominant reader, femdom, degradation, hardcore, veins kink, graphic language, strap-ons, crying kink, clothed sex, some crack
⌜ 💋 byun baekhyun ⌟
▸ strength: energy
not for the faint of heart. baekhyun thoroughly enjoys you giving it to him roughly; it’s the leader being led, how sexy is that
i spy with my femdom eye, baekhyun likes the bossy dommes who bring him to his knees — quite literally.
case in point: hates seeing you hold back. tells you to just bounce on him how you want it. no fumbling around, it’s gotta be hot and proper.
whatever you’re insecure about he hasn’t even noticed. the more confidently you’re taking your designated seat, the better. this shit’s gotta make him all loud and squeaky, baekhyun can’t get enough of your wild and demanding side. “don’t you dare move your hands!” — he’s already hooked.
yep, he’s part of the feral squad. and louder than the bass in jopping for that matter
small as hell face but the jaw is sharp, you can literally feel it, he fits between your legs so well
endless breath. put your pussy all over that nose, grind on it, cum all over him. society will thank you for suffocating a millionaire
like seriously the breath play is off the charts. if he’s into asphyxiation you’d not be surprised
meanwile baek’s naughty hips keep on bucking, like hello there, giving you a cheeky 69 invitation
such a cocky little shit, whiny byun all the way from those ruined orgasms he’ll be getting cuz you might just touch him with two fingers at best, you know how to keep him on his toes
swallows everything he’s like whatever, almost chokes because he’s so messy and greedy to taste you. damn baekhyun
does a “mmhhhnnn...!” sound all the time, this guy has pussy all over his face and is still more vocal than you no matter what you do
eats ass, all day if he can, knows the most shocking techniques, wants to get crushed by booty he’ll end up admitting it. no matter how big or small yours is. because remember, that face is small, everything is big to him
the type to cum on his stomach way before you do. groans a lot, then goes on even more intensely, how the hell did he just leak out five ounces of semen and still manage a whole tongue workout
slobbery and all over the place, those are tongue movements you can’t even think of in your wildest dreams
baekhyun is never content just making you cum once or just really lowkey, much less hearing you being silent. he’s a moodmaker, he naturally wants to hear you, and see you twitch like the world ends for goodness sake
brattiest tongue ever, always pulls out the taunting puppy licks, tries to grope you all the time, he’ll get a rough spanking later believe me
also gets his payback from you being crazy wet, as beautiful and cute his face might be it’s gonna end up damn ruined
not gonna lie his voice acrobatics will turn you into a waterfall that’s coming down on him
you can punish him for teasing by going raw with your hips, mochi is in wonderland, seeing stars. put his wrists in a spreader bar and go off is what i’m saying, YOLO
since baekhyun annoys the members by being so hyper in the evening, they appreciate you knocking him out for sleep. and indeed baekhyun dozes like a baby, probably using your ass as a pillow or something
you’ve drained the shit out of him and um watered the flower that is his face, so
another cupcake down, mission success, baekhyun certainly had his fill not to mention lucky you having to deal with his wildly talented mouth ahem, moral of the story annihilate him with your ass
⌜ 💋 lee taemin ⌟
▸ strength: steaminess
you will come (heh) to discover that none of his lyrics were a lie
yeah he’s busy hot boy shit for his gal
taemin has an all-soft and plush tongue that’s super pinkish. it literally feels so good, how to ever get enough of it holy shit
it also happens to be very long so buckle up, he wants to be deep inside of you, serve and please you
probably the most slow and agile movement in the group, tantalizing is the right word for sure
prefers kissing and sucking over just licking because he’s sappy, good on him and good on you those lips are heaven and need to be used by all means
once you go on the pill, taemin will eat his own creampies straight out of you, maybe even two at once, it’s taemin c’mon he’s above-average horny lord knows how much sperm he’s hoarding
loves drowning it seems
raunchy stuff aside, he always dresses up nicely or wears the fluffy sweaters you like the most on him. what an exclusive ride, the scent of the clothing turns you on even more he’s pulling all the registers taemin is so docile and giggly
most sensual style in the group, will edge and give you goosebumps first before the main course even remotely goes down, taemin thinks in several stages hot damn he calculated this
his face heats up so much it’s crazy, then again kkoongie capitalizes on all the warmth from the radiator so you might as well be taemin’s personal heating alright. it’s fun seeing him sweat like mad, see his neck veins bulge... ugh
is gonna be a provocateur and try to nibble on your folds, man he just wants to get slapped around you can see right through this brat’s rowdy plan
might even want his ass played with while you ride his face so prepare for some intense contortions, fingering, butt plugs, prostate massage, the whole array, gladly taemin is flexible
always pulls it off hands-free because he’s a pro and well yeah he’s always tied up how um totally surprising
and any challenge he will meet that i guarantee you
he has immediately apparent shinee concert stamina, longevity like his career, taemin can lend his face to your purposes for the whole night he doesn’t care if he needs to chuck it in the freezer afterwards
bonus: if taemin doesn’t at some point wear one of his glittery masks for sexy time, somebody is probably impersonating him and it’s not the real lee taemin i’m afraid
so many orgasms you’ll stop counting, one blends into the other, even if you’re not moving much, how does he do it
that being said gee can we just appreciate how beautiful his face is, everything about him, it’s gonna be so sexy and soft to kiss him to sleep oh my god
⌜ 💋 kim jongin ⌟
▸ strength: escalating
just how industrious is he? dammit kai is the rent due or something, this shit is not a comeback stage cool down
jongin is needy as fuck, he’s desperate to taste you especially in the morning when his lips are all plump
since then he’s skipped his skin care routine you do the bulk of the moisturizing you see
jokes aside get ready for whimpery kai thrusting his face right into you because he can, should you need something to hold onto, his thighs are literally right there
constant high-pitched moans, some during quick pauses, others stifled, kai are you okay he’s really going all out
so thirsty
if you don’t put a harness on him for this you’re missing out, also you need something to hold this wild slutty motherfucker in place
rock-hard throughout, harder than a goddamn superm choreography
also: sturdy chin that can take a lot, it’s made to be sat on
does a lot of the work, very active, main dancer vibes you know, you can be lazy and just enjoy
most continuous style in the group, gradually getting more and more passionate and nervous — the second you thought it gets boring he goes off, have fun losing your mind and seeing him basically K.O. himself
if he wants to make you cum, rapid tongue jabs deep into your clit, and his hard breath against it, no fair play in here
absolutely has a thing for your shaking thighs, like what the hell he’s blowing a huge load the more you tremble, and he’s goddamn crying from pleasure every time woah
those big ole lips are an absolute treat, yeah i’ll say it again his face is meant for this
wants to be called all kinds of names wow jongin, it just spurs him more
kai. is. so. good.
you can most definitely film your own POV cam, jongin can put on one hell of a show. just this time it’s not his eyes flirting with the camera, it’s his tongue getting a nice rough treatment oh yum
don’t get me wrong he can deliver a romantic version of this, but kai just likes you being tough on his face he can’t deny it
uses his hands so you can ride him even harder, all his teddy bears will be falling off the bed like dominoes
might one day ascend to heaven while giving head, wouldn’t regret it
can do it until complete exhaustion you guys just pass out
being such an oral workaholic do i sense a masochist streak in him there?
fucking typical capricorn
⌜ 💋 wong yukhei ⌟
▸ strength: appetite
first off yukhei is hilarious
it’s called eating out and that’s exactly what he does duh, he’s not nicknamed foodcas for no reason — the restaurant is open my dear, and he just served himself five courses (you)
gets super sweaty, forehead and down the neck, a 6′0 glazed bun can you imagine
giggles a lot, makes the atmosphere relaxed, loves banter before and after, an allround sweet experience
though beware, this guy is hungry. most prone to open his mouth super wide he wants to eat all of you at once
don’t tell kun how nasty he is, much less leader baekhyun, promise me that
and especially nosy kai should not hear about what sexy shit yukhei is doing in his freetime unless you want to trigger a war
that being said the wayv dorm is still the safest place to sit on his face, so. it’s a lawless land there, nobody gives a fuck anymore at this point. yangyang would not even blink if ten murdered someone in cold blood on the balcony, that’s how the atmosphere there can be best described
lucas being a far more harmless himbo still ironically fits into the environment being so sexually insatiable, just how often are you going to fuck? it’s only natural to lose the overview
he loudly pouts and complains when it ends, wants to go on and on, you need a lotta stamina to get with this guy this is not a warning it’s a fact — yukhei really wants to tire himself out and give everything
if you lower your thighs just a little you can feel his dangly earrings. kinda sexy but also a safety concern i know i know, he’s not gonna wear them next time
noisy as heck, wants to do well, always goes the extra mile to be sure you are all happy and satisfied with today’s dining
his tongue is... big...
we’re not gonna talk about that giant bulge either, such a huge tent in those pants it’s a whole camping ground. anyway
what we’ll talk about. his super soft blonde hair, we’re talking salon quality soft, that’s amazing to feel against your legs, it’s great to pull as well, or to twirl really playfully
though there’s not much playful going down when the initial inhibition drops
he’s not made of glass you can really get those hips going
sliding down his nose when you’re all wet... damn good stuff.
lucas is the kinda guy that has you grunting and gritting he loves your reactions, and how aggressive you can get. usually he’s the reaction king but like this? he can get used to it.
totally into having that kinda frog perspective it’s a whole new thing, he’s such a giant now he’s below you, the sight is just superb to him
less likely to have toys involved, but rather a bunch of rope for his chest, his arms, his long ass legs. yukhei is a bondage insider tip y’all
stable as a block of metal. if you go a little too wild on baekhyun he’s probably gonna break his mochi neck but lucas is a different calibre, this mf is made of giant muscles galore, i can only say one thing: finish him
⌜ 💋 mark lee ⌟
▸ strength: speed
talks a lot, even occasionally curses — instantly apologizing, but you curse right back, so this becomes the cussing olympics at some point, taeyong would bury his face in the ground all his parenting efforts have gone to waste
mark basically chokes himself
he can’t control his spit by all means jesus... in his own words: must be the drip then
next to taemin and baekhyun here we have the third drowning victim, mark is in serious need of multiple tissues or towels afterwards but that’s exactly what he likes
mark’s slutty side is not to be underestimated i’m warning you
that’s a healthy young man right here
loves to do quickies to get you off during daytime, if you’re horny just tell him and he’ll find a quiet spot, might do it on his knees rather than you riding him sometimes for practical reasons
all options open, mark is flexible af. if someone can promote with nct dream and superm at the same time that’s the result
so yeah you’ll experiment with positions and even outfits, what’s the most comfortable to wear?
few people even remotely think about this. mark himself stays in his signature sweater but the glasses come off, you know very well he’s a nerd without them he has nothing to prove lmao!
the clothes will be cozy but don’t let that fool you yet alright
this guy has watched too much porn to just keep it light and cute
don’t get me wrong you can baby him ad nauseam for the more gentle femdom moods
but at the end of the day mark loves some intense shit, he likes feisty girls who aren’t coy and subby, the more perverted you are the better, in fact he enjoys being shocked with brazen attitude and getting orders on what to do.
loves it when you to take it all out on him, rough is good. mark lee’s face is the rodeo range of super m alright, just don’t break his glorious jaw or anything, he still needs it okay
but yeah mark’s face is tempting to ride hard not gonna lie
his tongue can go so fast it’s at the speed of sound, no, the speed of fucking light. mark goes crazy on your clit, wait a few seconds, boom five orgasms rain down on you.
it’s like an anime swordsman just lifting the sword hilt, walking off calmly, and one minute later things are in shambles like how? mark’s sword tech is just epic like that
he’s a leo what did we expect, show-off
in the meantime, RIP to mark lee’s pants. they’ll be soaked with cum, gonna be a bitch to hide your clothes from taeyong who’s always eager to wash everything by himself
that aside, mark really enjoys the position, he doesn’t need much else to be honest, he goes “oh my god oh shit” enough for you to know
thank god he’s a rapper, otherwise his dang technique would be dangerous, he doesn’t breathe for half a minute or so
enjoys you really doing shallow thrusts, super fast and sloppy, loves how much you enjoy it
needless to say: breaks a guinness world record for most licks per second, it’s that mark lee flow
long story short his face is your favorite spot he can prepare for a daily session
all that practice on water melons paid off good job markly
⌜ 💋 ten lee ⌟
▸ strength: allround skill
you know a pro by how he’s offering you a tall glass of water beforehand
and by the way he’s chugging one himself
champion, a keeper
you’re guaranteed to love it, ten is amazing
takes his time, gets to know your every inch, figures out your soft spots in a matter of minutes to seconds
everything for his sexy mama, service sub right here
take him on a leash, grind on his lips, make him kiss your clit, he’ll respond by circling his tongue around obediently
chittaphon might be a little fidgety at the beginning, but the atmosphere is not as tense anymore after doing it two or three times.
ten is actually quite good cracking lighthearted jokes and showing his more extroverted side, he always gets like that with a partner.
you have an easy time with build-up conversations and communicating in general, same with aftercare pillow talk
that being said the degree of professionalism this guy is heading for needs a lot of talk in the first place.
ten likes doing advanced things that aren’t just intuitively understood, you need to exchange yourself a lot
through trial and error you figure out how to incorporate sex toys into the little routine you have going on
the pleasure will be so intense you’ll never want anything else fuck
ten is also down for a lot of moving around, some athletic shit
you’ll go from bouncing on his dick to smothering his face back and forth pretty much, let’s see how fast you’re gonna bust a huge nut like that my bet is five minutes
those like “oh... ah—” moans are just angelic
since he focuses so much on your erogenous zones and always keeps his hands involved, ten is always guaranteed to have you breaking a major sweat
ten does not like to eat any fruits, they say. well that’s true, because he’s too busy eating you that is. boy can basically retire from citizenhood, he’s that busy between your legs.
enough fruit juice for an entire week impending, don’t worry about his nutrients, this is also a form of diet.
uses his chin, his cheeks, the nose especially, the damn nose it’s perfectly shaped
wants you to really ride him hard, and fast, no holds barred at all, going so feral he’ll be squeezing his eyes shut
sometimes his hair gets in the way, it’s just so damn long. the result: hair ties for face-sitting, always on his wrist
among all members, buries his face the deepest, turns him on so much
always makes sure you’re both washed up, no impromptu sessions. ten is a hygiene priest and he’s right
the mattress is kinda bouncy and he always uses his favorite soft pillow under his head so you can definitely take mister ten lee to pound town like work your hips give it to him
in case he survives i send my congrats, you got yourself the right guy, terrific choice queen
⌜ 💋 lee taeyong ⌟
▸ strength: ideas
how much more religiously can he eat you out, he treats this like the best reward he can get
as you can probably tell by now, all the lee surname members are definitely a certain brand and clan of highly distinguished pussy eaters like, these guys are a fucking gang like... well taeyong is no different
reckless abandon oral, eats you like it’s the last day, even death fears lee taeyong when he’s in giving head mode
you might be showering together beforehand and be all shy and kissy like it’s puppy love. but that is all for naught when the tongue of god is unleashed and taeyong gets himself as messed up as he can
yeah i like the thought of god being incarnated as kinky taeyong begging to have his mouth spit and cummed in it just makes sense
very deep mumbles, very hard breathing, those veiny hands on your waist, he wants to make you feel good so bad, fuck he’s so sexy
intense facial expressions, need i say more
also um... he likes to be... threatened. he’s the student you’re the teacher, strict as hell surveying his every move, the more you yell at him the harder he gets, jesus christ he has a thing for you acting mad and shit
taeyong doesn’t even need you to pull off your underwear, he’s gone get through any type of fabric with that leaking mouth
let’s just say he likes to experiment with innovative techniques... anyway, taeyong is a nasty fucking freak, he’s a grade A hoe, you never know what to expect
one time he just licks like a shy doe, the next second slurping explosion 5000
imagine whipping his thighs with a riding crop while sitting right on that ultra gorgeous elven prince face like
taeyong is almost always getting super emotional. he sheds even more tears than kai, like at some point you’ll develop a crying kink because of him SOS
nervous as hell, shaky hands. that can easily be fixed sir let’s tie em up
has you moaning nonstop, he’s so engaged and so dead-on with his movements. don’t be surprised if this damned man has your eyes almost falling out
beware, this guy is into full-on sensual deprivation as well. blindfolds are only the start.
you might end up with a whole lotta black latex involved, who knows, a whole gimp on him he’s down for that, he learned from ten what it is blame chittaphon’s vast kinky knowledge
even better: while you’re grinding on him, taeyong likes you pumping his cock with a fleshlight with zero mercy until he yelps in tiny oops
hell he might ask you to roughly fuck his face with a strap and then ride it, the mister likes double treats huh
then again: wants it to be degrading and dirty and intense on some days, and really wholesome and romantic on others
especially aftercare will be sweet and dulcet, you take care of him, pepper him with kisses for being such a dutiful boy.
looks pretty no matter what. maybe he’s born with it maybe it’s tyongbelline. yeah just how handsome is that face and hair like... t’yongreal paris in full splendor
long story short he’s an oral deity. i rest my case howdy and goodbye see you next time aye
superm masterlist
© submissive-bangtan 2017-2021. all rights reserved. do not repost or translate. all depictions fictional.
#super m#super m smut#superm smut#superm x reader#superm hc#super m headcanon#superm scenario#superm reaction#taemin smut#baekhyun smut#kai smut#mark lee smut#ten smut#taeyong smut#lucas smut#taemin x reader#baekhyun x reader#ten x reader#taeyong x reader#lucas x reader#kai x reader#mark lee x reader#minors dni#ten hc#taemin hc#kai hc#baekhyun hc#lucas hc#mark lee hc#taeyong hc
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The Sun And Moon (Pete Davidson x Reader)
Heyyyyyy besties! So I'm back with another white boy of the month. I would like to warn you that this will be mentioning Pete's BPD and the reader will be mentioned as somebody that has had traumatic experiences however i am not mentioning what does that imply so don't worry about it. Other than that I hope you enjoy!
Being with Pete was almost a gift and a curse, you were so different yet so alike. The ultimate example of twinflames, the yin and yang. If someone had to describe what you two were like was that (y/n) was like the sun, a warm personality with kindness and such just overall this untouchable beauty from inside and out, also she adores to be under the sun, Pete sometimes found her as she laid on the floor next to her cat just so she can enjoy the warm rays, sometimes she would have her crystals (Pete called them "magic rocks") which Pete found so adorable, also as the weather got warmer she got happier.
Pete was the moon, a little bit more moody, mysterious, yet alluring, he intrigued anyone that was around him. Unlike (y/n) Pete was a night owl, he liked late night drives, staying up all night just smoking weed and watching movies, he liked the silence that the nightfall brought, he felt more at peace with the idea of relaxing and enjoying the darkness that others feared. Many times (y/n) woke up in the middle of the night and found him on her balcony, just sitting there and enjoying the view.
People around them brought up that comparison so much that they even got it as a couples tattoo, (y/n) got the sun behind her ear and Pete got the moon on his left middle finger cause he found it funny. However the curse was that they had to learn how to be around one another, yes they had similarities but they weren't quite the same situations.
Pete was a comedian, (y/n) was an author, both of them had to sometimes sit their ass down and think of something to write, but the circumstances were different.
"Baby I'm here"
Pete said as he shut the door of (y/n)'s apartment, dropping his pair of keys on the bowl that she had conveniently placed on a piece of furniture right next to her front door. Pete waited for an answer while taking off his shoes, (y/n) liked structure and she was a very neat person, another thing Pete had to learn, he wasn't dirty but he was a tad bit of messy so when he was at her apartment (which basically had become his also) he was careful with how he did things.
Silence greeted him back, he sucked in his teeth as he realized exactly why this was happening. (Y/n) had mentioned that she was writing the second book of her fantasy novel and she was in a bit of a writer's block, she had so many fresh ideas however when it came to writing them down sometimes her mind just wouldn't co operate and she just couldn't get it down in a way that she found right. He left the take out food on the small coffee table and continued to walk towards her bedroom.
There she was, slightly laying back on her leather chair with her laptop in front of her, just staring at her screen and occasionally pressing a few buttons. The door was somewhat open so he could take a good look at her, her hair was down, she was wearing some shorts and a t-shirt she had accidentally spilled bleach on so now it was a house shirt and no socks, she hated wearing socks. Pete knocked on the semi closed door to get her attention.
"Oh I didn't hear you come in"
"I figured, what are you doing here babe?"
"Regretting my decision on signing the contract for a second book"
She mumbled when Pete approached her and leaned down to press several kisses on her neck and cheeks. (Y/n) smiled and enjoyed the feeling of comfort he brought her before shaking her head and pulling away from him.
"I need to finish this chapter"
"What you need to do is eat, I'm pretty sure you skipped breakfast"
She knew he was right, that's why she didn't respond so she just kept on staring at her laptop screen, hoping that miraculously an idea will come to her head. She deeply appreciated his concern but she felt the pressure of her publicist that called everyday to ask about the book, today was one of the few days she chose to not pick up the phone. Pete once again was met with silence although that didn't stop him from placing his hands on her shoulders to give her a massage.
"Come on sunshine, you can take a break and clear your head"
"Pete I have to write thousands of pages in a short amount of time, it's not just fucking punchlines"
Pete's face made a sour expression at her jab. It did sting a little bit yet he tried to understand that she was just overwhelmed with the responsibility of delivering on time. He took a deep breath before patting her on the head and turning away from her.
"I'll be in the living room"
For some time she felt relieved that he left so she could refocus, however after a few moments when she started to see her reflection on the screen she started to realize what she had done which was awful. She felt so bad that she had to shut down the screen and close her laptop so she wouldn't look at herself, she spoke in such a disregarding manner that she felt disgusted. With tears already clouding her eyes she got up and found Pete watching TV, the take out in front of him and it didn't take long for her to notice that he had bought her favorite making her feel even worse. She stood in front of the TV and Pete looked in her eyes and smiled.
"I'm sorry"
Her voice breaks in the middle of the sentence. Pete's smiled dropped when he saw a year escaping and heard her whimpering voice, he immediately got up from the couch and went to hug her.
"Its okay sunshine"
"No it's not, I didn't mean it I swear"
"I know baby"
"I'm just so… stressed"
She said and let herself relax in his arms as she wrapped hers around his torso, feeling the warmth of his engulf her. His scent went to her nose making her feel safe in his arms as the tears stained his sweatshirt. Pete started rubbing her back to help her let out her emotions, he knew how emotional (y/n) was and he found it cute how she feels like cry no matter what the situation was, she had happy tears, angry tears, sad tears, she saw a dog tears, attending a wedding tears, he didn't mind it though on the contrary he liked that she was able to express her emotions with no fear.
"I understand baby, it did sting a bit though, you know how much I love my work"
"I know, I wasn't thinking when I said it which is wrong"
They had agreed that they wouldn't do the "it's ok" type of shit, they preferred to actually say when something either hurt them or bothered them so they can have clear boundaries with one another, it was one of the best decisions they could have ever made, it was one of the strongest foundations they had for their relationship. (Y/n) looked at him and Pete immediately went to wipe her tears, before pressing a kiss on her forehead.
"I'm sorry"
"I accept your apology. Are you feeling better now?"
"A little bit. Thank you for forgiving me and I will try to do my best to not repeat that behavior"
She responded, her voice now was more steady and clear. Setting boundaries between them and being clear about the behavior that is acceptable was something they had established early in the relationship, Pete was diagnosed with BPD and (y/n) had trauma from past experiences so they had agreed to see a couple's therapist in order for them to move on with their relationship in a healthy manner, so things like "it's ok" or "you know I didn't mean it that way" were unacceptable, taking accountability for their actions and having the humility to apologize was their key to success.
Pete's smile reappeared and now gave her a kiss on her lips, making (y/n) get a bit of a shiver down her spine. Their kisses always felt so strong, like energy passing through one to the other, it was such a magical experience to them.
"Are we good?"
"Yes, now take a seat and I'll microwave your food"
"Wow, Gordon Ramsey would be so proud of you"
#pete davidson imagine#pete davidson fluff#pete davidson fic#pete davidson blurb#pete davidson#pete davidson angst#pete davidson fanfiction#pete davidson headcanon#pete davidson one shot#pete davidson snl#pete davidson x reader#pete davidson x you#pete x y/n#king of staten island
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for Valentine's Day, number 7 and nicercy, thank you!!
“Tell me that’s not my ex over there.”
Ah, this was fun to write, thank you for the prompt!
Why the fuck am I still here, Percy huffed to himself, lifting his head to look around, trying to sport a guy he wasn't even sure how he looked. All he knew that the man had black hair, brown eyes, and a healthy tan.
"Thanks a lot, Thals," he murmured sarcastically. It wasn't like that description could be said for half of the guys in the restaurant. "You will know when you see him," he whispered in a high-pitched voice, imitating Thalia.
He huffed again. He wasn't sure why he was still sitting at the table; the guy might not even come! He had been sitting there for more than half an hour, waiting for the guy who was late for twenty minutes, even if he didn't have any big expectations about this whole blind date thing.
It has been a few months since he broke up with his last girlfriend, but he wasn't ready to go back to a fruitless relationship. All of his romantic relationships failed after a month or two, either because he couldn't feel anything for them, or because they felt he was not giving everything in. He tried, he tried so hard to fall for any of them, to show them his appreciation, but it was like even sheer stubbornness couldn't break through the wall he built around his heart.
He sighed, and nodded. Okay. He was going to do right for this one. He trusted Thalia, he was sure Jason's friend was going to be great. He could wine and dine, and then finish the date with the promise of another date.
He could do this.
"I have a reservation under the name of Grace," Percy heard. Grace? He must be his blind date!
He turned around to look at the guy talking with the server, as stealthily as he could, wanting to check out him before the guy could see him.
The man standing near the doorway was just like Thalia described him: kind of tall, messy black hair, dark brown eyes, healthy tan and very attractive features.
She just forgot to mention that he was Nico di Angelo.
Fuck.
“Tell me that’s not my ex over there. Tell me it's a coincidence and you didn't set me up a blind date with him,” he wrote to the group chat, ready to strangle somebody. Preferably the Grace siblings who were the cause of being on a blind date with his ex.
"You're welcome," Thalia replied, and Annie sent a winky face.
He was going to kill his friends.
He glanced back to Nico, finding he was now looking towards him. They locked gaze, and Percy felt the familiar warmth blooming in his chest area.
He was so fucked.
He should hate Nico. He had hated him for a while, for not having any faith in them, for giving up on them, but... Looking at him, Percy was swept away with the familiar emotions, and a sudden calm.
Nico looked good.
Not because he was handsome - he was always attractive -, it was the self-confidence he carried himself, and the overall healthiness that made him stand out. Now, he understood why Thalia put so much emphasis on the healthy tan aspect; he was nothing like the ghostly pale young boy he was when they broke up.
He looked... Good.
Looking back, it was the best decision, but... It was hard. They hadn't, in all honesty, been mature enough for each other's emotional baggage. Sometimes love just wasn't enough.
It had taken a long time for Percy to accept that even if Nico did it for the wrong reasons, it was the right choice. He resented him for so long, it took too much anger, too much hurt to realize that he needed help.
He went to therapy, learned that the way he lived, the way demigods lived and died, was not normal, and should have never been normalized by CHB and the gods. That the trauma from Gabe still lingered in his subconscious, that his fatal flaw was not being loyal; it was being afraid of abandonment. That the reason he was so loyal to his friends, more than it was healthy, because he was deathly afraid of being abandoned by those he loved.
That the reason why he hated Nico was because he abandoned him. Twice. Once, when they broke up, but he did it even before that, when he pretended he didn't know Percy at all, after he lost all of his memories.
It took a lot of time for Percy to accept that the way they were back then was doing more harm than good for their mental and emotional health. And looking at Nico now, it seemed their relationship wasn't doing much good for his physical health either.
Percy had loved him, he had been ridiculously, disgustingly happily head-over-heels in love with him, and Nico had loved him back so much, but they both hadn't been ready for any of it.
In the end, Nico had let the fear drive him instead of love. He was afraid of being loved, he was afraid of staying at one place, he was afraid of letting people in after running in all of his life, so he just left.
He didn't break up with Percy, per se, but he left, and it ended everything between them.
Nico broke Percy's heart that day.
"Perce," Nico said, already standing beside him without Percy noticing he was even moving, his voice surprisingly soft.
Percy, without meaning to, jumped a bit, his grip on the napkin he was torturing in his stress tightened briefly, before he relaxed.
"Nico," he nodded, "it's been a while." Four years, two months and eleven days, but who counted.
"Yes, it really has," Nico said, running his fingers through his curly hair. Percy's eyes followed the movement, his smile widening. He always loved running his fingers through those adorable curls.
"Sit down," Percy said, and the other man after a brief hesitation did so. "You look good," he noted.
Nico's eyes expressed his surprise, but it quicky turned into delight, and a soft, pleased smile appeared on his face.
"I... Yeah. I'm doing good, actually," he said, biting into his lips, drawing Percy's attention towards the pink cupid's bow.
"I'm glad," and he really was. What he was also glad for, was the fact that he was, evidently, single.
Bravely, Percy put his hand on the middle of the table, palm upwards, and said, "I know we've been through a lot together, and that we have lot a lot of things to talk, but... I've missed you."
He really did. He knew even before meeting with Nico again, that his relationships didn't work, because he was still in love with Nico. Because he still loved him, still wanted to have him in his life.
He was sure that he, that they could be what Nico, and what both of them needed now, now that they'd both seemed to have their life on the right track. Wasn't that what Nico wanted when he left? Wanted to find himself, wanted Percy to find himself?
Percy was pretty sure, they both found themselves, and it was time for them to find the other as well.
As the silence stretched, the initial rush of bravery Percy felt was dissipating, and suddenly, he felt terrified that Nico would reject him. It was a blind date, after all. He was expecting somebody else, not his ex boyfriend. Maybe he...
Before he could work into an anxiety attack, his breath caught in his throat as Nico laced his fingers though Percy's.
"I missed you, too," he smiled.
He could finally breathe again. He squeezed Nico's hand, and asked hesitantly, " Would you like to go on a date with me? Maybe I could make you dinner?"
Nico stared, then burst out in laughter. Percy felt conflicted, because Nico laughing was the most beautiful sight he'd ever seen, yet him laughing at his question didn't bode that well for their possible future.
After finally biting back his chuckles, Nico asked, wiping tears out of his eyes, "You... You do realize that we are in a restaurant, right?" Nico drawled, eyes sparkling with mirth.
Percy stopped, mortified. Oh, shit.
"Don't worry. I would love you to make breakfast for me," the other man winked confidently, and squeezed Percy's hand.
Oh, Percy thought.
"I... Yeah. That works too," he blushed, already ready for the continuation of the night.
They had a lot of lost time to make up for, after all.
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One Minus One Plus One
Pairing: college student!Mark x college student!reader
Description: In all of the years you’ve known Jungwoo, you should have figured out to not take his words at face value because, though you haven’t even met, Mark Lee seems to hate your guts.
Word Count: 9.9k
Genre: kind-of-enemies to lovers! fluff? angst? humor? I honestly don’t know how to categorize this
Warnings: vaguely suggestive ending, some minor swearing
A/N: This is my (late) holiday gift for a friend and to you all, I suppose. It’s an enemies-to-lovers but not really, as they’re not really enemies and it’s more passive-aggressive!Mark and very confused!Y/N. To the intended - I love and appreciate you so much; thank you for always supporting me and listening to me ramble about even the most ridiculous ideas <3 If you ever need anything, I hope you know that you can always shoot me a text or DM! Please enjoy c:
Mark Lee is always sweet. It’s the kind of sweetness that’s warm and fulfilling, leaving a pleasant feeling in the pit of the stomach, like a steaming up of hot chocolate rather than a strikingly sweet popsicle. His nature isn’t something he particularly prides himself on, as it’s partially unintentional, driven by awkwardness and politeness at times, or by the compulsion to simply make people happy. Jungwoo has told him that he’s allowed to be a little more selfish once in a while, he’s allowed to say no and take breaks sometimes. Except, he’s ever the people pleaser, ever the hard worker, ever the yes-man. Mark Lee is always sweet.
Except when he isn’t.
You’re fairly certain that Mark Lee has hated you since before you even met him. When you decide to transfer to the same university that your high school best friend Jungwoo attends, he talks your ear off about all of his great friends and all of the places he is going to take you and all of the fun you’ll have. He’s always been the descriptive type, telling you far too much about his good pals Mark, Donghyuck, Johnny, Taeil, Jaehyun, Kun, Lucas… and countless others, whose names you sometimes have a hard time keeping track of. Jungwoo has a lot of friends, something which has remained true since high school. Whenever you catch up with him, he speaks particularly fondly about Mark, who is one of his roommates and someone he considers to be one of his closest friends.
“You’ll love him,” he says, “but not too much, I hope. That would be super weird, you and Mark.” He wrinkles his nose at that and doesn’t make any more abnormal comments. You don’t think much of it.
In short, you let Jungwoo decide your opinion on Mark Lee before you ever met him. With everything else about moving to a completely different university occupying the majority of your thoughts, it’s easy enough to accept that Mark will be awkward and painfully sweet and that you will become fast friends. That’s your first mistake.
Before you even finish moving in, Jungwoo drags you over to his place to meet some of his friends, who he insists will become your own. It’s just past noon and he claims that everyone will be awake and ready to greet you once you get there. He’s half right, in the sense that only half of the apartment is awake. The early-risers, who Jungwoo didn’t even have to shake before he came over to get you, are at the table in their common area, sipping on various caffeinated beverages. These consist of Mark and Jaehyun. Donghyuck is presumably still curled up in his bed, asleep after a late night of playing games, and Johnny, who had stayed overnight and doesn’t actually live with them, is passed out on their couch, an arm slung over his face to block the light. Your friend has shown you enough pictures for you to recognize them.
Jungwoo practically deflates as soon as he walks in to see only two members of the current household conscious. “This is why we can’t have nice things,” he grumbles before striding over to Johnny and yanking off the blanket covering his long torso.
The elder groans, clearly having only been dozing and not deeply asleep, and moves his arm so he can glare at Jungwoo. “Your disrespect for my sleep schedule is why we can’t have nice things.”
“You don’t have a sleep schedule,” Jungwoo says back, glaring at his friend with the blanket in his hand. “Plus, Y/N’s here.”
Johnny lazily looks over and sees you in the entranceway, to which his response is to roll slightly so that he’s propped up against the back of the couch with one leg crossed over the other rather than just lying down. “Sup. Name’s Johnny.”
“Ew, don’t use your flirting voice!” Jungwoo whines at his friend, kicking him in the shin. In all honesty, you’re both amused and slightly flattered that Johnny is attempting to flirt with you when he’s just woken up. The messy hair is kind of a look. “Y/N’s a friend.”
“Yeah, we’ll be good friends, alright,” Johnny says, looking directly at you and wiggling his eyebrows in the most ridiculous way. That gets a giggle out of you while Jungwoo gawks, kicking Johnny again for good measure, slightly harder this time.
Jungwoo looks like he’s about to start arguing again when Jaehyun kindly interrupts, shifting the conversation. He gives you a small smile, perfectly polite and handsome, his hair straight and soft over his forehead. “It’s nice to meet you, Y/N. I’m Jaehyun.”
You lower your head to acknowledge him. “It’s nice to meet you, too.” You look towards the other boy at the table, who you now realize hasn’t glanced up at you once. Jaehyun had been at least half watching the mock fight between Jungwoo and Johnny, but Mark had just been staring at his cup from behind circular glasses, not even drinking it. His own hair is slightly damp, curling at the ends, making him appear somewhat young. “You’re Mark, right?”
Finally, he looks at you, but looks away quickly. “Yeah.”
That’s… that’s not right.
You try again, smiling as brightly as you can, even though he won’t glance in your direction again. His side profile is full of both soft shapes and hard angles, afternoon sunlight coming in through the window falls as highlights on his cheeks and nose and chin. He appears exactly as your friend had described him to you, but his attitude proves him to be a walking contradiction. You shift on your feet, grasping for the right words to say. “Jungwoo has told me a lot about you.”
“Uh… yeah. He’s told me about you, too.”
You almost outright frown at that. Isn’t he supposed to be super nice and friendly? Instead, it sounds like Jungwoo has been spreading all sorts of nasty stories about you. Hypothetical stories that, apparently, only Mark has been listening to. Neither Jaehyun nor Johnny are acting strangely towards you at all.
All three of the other boys do seem to notice the change in behavior for Mark, though. There are a few moments of tense silence before Johnny elbows Jungwoo. The latter speaks up. “Hey, Mark, can you go resurrect Donghyuck? I think he might be dead.”
The switch is instant and very startling to you. His face loses all of its tension as he looks at Jungwoo, nodding. “Yeah, sure. If I don’t come back in ten minutes, I’m the one who’s dead.” He pushes himself up out of his chair and exits the common area.
After he’s gone, you look at Jungwoo. He stares back. You make a motion with your head towards the front door, where you retreat to and he follows. You stand somewhat stiffly, hands linked behind your back. “Did you say something to him? About me?”
Jungwoo puts his hands up defensively. “Nothing bad, I swear!” He looks back towards the common area. “He must just be having a bad day or something…”
That doesn’t explain the sudden warmth when someone else spoke to him, though. You frown. “Okay… I guess I’ll just have to try harder to get him to like me.”
Your friend seems to perk up at that. “That’s the spirit!” He proceeds to grab you by the shoulders and steer you back to the common area.
You have an amiable enough time chatting with the boys who had remained there. Eventually, Donghyuck emerges from his room, looking even more ruffled than Johnny had, and Mark shuffles out with him. Once again, he doesn’t even spare you a glance. Every so often, as you’re talking to the others or just listening to their strange, all-over-the-place conversations, your eyes flicker over to him. He contributes to the chatter, but it’s like he’s purposefully avoiding you, even though you’re literally in the room with him. It kind of hurts.
Still, you try not to let it bother you too much. An hour passes, which you realize with a start, and you remember that you’re not even nearly done unpacking. As you’re rising from your seat on the edge of the couch, Jungwoo throws a comment out to you. “You’re welcome to bust in here any time!”
He’s met with a chorus of agreement from the others, except one.
The next day, Jungwoo makes a point to introduce you to the rest of his circle. Not long after, you’re added to a group chat with a whole phonebook of unfamiliar numbers. Most of them, minus several who your friend had told you in the past do a poor job of checking their messages, send their names pretty quickly. Jungwoo tells you who the others are. With a pang of disappointment, you realize one of the missing numbers was Mark.
On your first day of classes, you’re pleasantly surprised to find that you share an economics lecture with Donghyuck, who acts both very tired and also full of energy, chatting your ear off before and after class, but looking as if he’s about to pass out when the professor gives her introduction and starts to go over course material. That day, you also learn that you have an ethics class with Jungwoo’s friend Doyoung, stoic and serious and exactly the opposite of Donghyuck, but still smiling at your lame jokes and carefully making sure you get the homework down.
The second day starts out much more slowly. You settle down for your third class, a curriculum development course, and it takes you about a solid minute to realize that Mark Lee is sitting in the room with you. He had come in while you were busily typing out a text to a friend from your previous university. The classroom is not particularly large and you had taken a seat near the middle, so there aren’t many places for him to hide. When he walks in, he takes a seat by the wall closest to the windows. You consider greeting him, walking to his desk to try and talk to see if he had a change of attitude from the last time you saw him, but then your professor enters the scene. As he passes by the far side of the room, Mark looks up from his own phone and smiles, mouth instantly opening to greet him. You stay in your seat and try to look busy as you listen to them chat amiably. Mark laughs in disbelief at something your professor says about his vacation.
At the end of the lecture, you pack up your things quickly and make the effort to take a few small, light steps to catch up to Mark, who’s already leaving. “Hi, Mark! I didn’t realize we had a class together.”
He gives you a sort of half-shrug, keeping his head pointed straight ahead. Almost imperceptibly, his pace increases. “I guess we do.”
He opens a door to a stairwell, not making any particular effort to hold the door for you. Reflexively, you grab the door and slip through after him. You try again as the two of you head down. “Are you going to be home tonight? Jungwoo invited me to have dinner with you guys.”
“No,” he says, voice edged with irritation. He reaches into his pocket, fishing out his phone and a pair of earbuds. “I’ll be out.”
“Oh.” You slow down slightly. “Well, we should hang out sometime. My next class is this way, so… see you.” By the time you’re done talking, he’s slipped both earbuds into his ears and is pushing the doors at the bottom of the stairs open. You hold back a heavy sigh and shrug your backpack higher onto your shoulders.
As he told you, he’s not in his apartment that evening. Though Jungwoo had invited you to help cook dinner, he shirks his responsibilities, slipping away to play games with Donghyuck and leaving you and Jaehyun to cook, with relatively unhelpful commentary from Johnny, who was once again on the couch when you arrived. At some point, their friend Yuta slips in, steals some noodles, and leaves.
After the cooking is done, you and Jaehyun celebrate with a firm high-five, and Jungwoo and Donghyuck un-disappear, coming out of the younger boy’s dark bedroom. The lot of you are halfway through eating when Donghyuck perks up. “Wait, where’s Mark? He said he would do calc homework with me.”
You bite the inside of your cheek and hold back from saying that he told you he wouldn’t be home.
Thankfully, most of Jungwoo’s friends are nice to you and it’s easy enough for you to make friends of your own. You ease yourself into a routine of classes, homework, and hanging out with your new social circles. Mark doesn’t hide that he tries to avoid you about half of the time. At the same time, you try to split yourself between friend groups, as to not force him either to be around you or to not hang out with his own friends. There are the occasional large scale events that both of you are invited to, but there are enough people that you usually aren’t forced to interact. After a month of classes, you stop trying to start conversations, but you still greet him. He greets you back with the indifference of an overworked, tired stranger. During your class, he firmly ignores you. He does more than ignore you - he speaks to virtually every other person in your class except you. All of your friends carefully avoid the topic of his blatant dislike for you, though you know they all think it’s odd.
Finally, one of those large events comes to pass via the boy known as Zhong Chenle. He doesn’t go to your school, but is still somehow acquainted with all of Jungwoo’s friends, so he became acquainted with you as well. He’s eccentric and sarcastic and sometimes you see him playing basketball with Mark and Jaehyun in the school recreation center. So, when he rents out the local ice skating rink and invites you, you’re excited to go. It’s not often that you get onto the ice - it’s always a thrill after you re-learn how to skate, and you enjoy the feeling of the smooth gliding and wide, curving turns on the blades. You imagine that you’re painting with your feet.
Things go down smoothly, like you envisioned. After just twenty minutes, you’ve confidently found your ice legs and you’re racing around the rink with Donghyuck, playfully tipping each other off-balance with carefully or sometimes not-so-carefully timed pushes. A few minutes later, a new player enters the arena. Maybe if this new person weren’t Mark Lee, you wouldn’t have noticed their entrance, but your eyes are instinctively drawn to him.
The boy in question is clinging to one Lee Jeno, another friend of Jungwoo and Donghyuck and all the rest of them, as they both try to find their balance. Jeno seems to be having somewhat of an easier time with the skates on his feet, making slow pushes so that he glides short distances with Mark holding onto him. Mark is adorably flushed, in a way you haven’t seen before, his cheeks aflame with cold and embarrassment. His body is swallowed by an overly large hoodie, completing the cozy and cute look.
Your racing buddy has also slowed down to watch with you, staring at the scene. He suddenly nudges you with an elbow. “You should help him.”
“Jeno? I think he’s gotten the hang of it. Plus, I don’t know him that well.” It’s now a game of who can dodge implications rather than who can dodge physical pushes.
Donghyuck rolls his eyes, skating lazily alongside you. “You know I’m talking about Mark. This would be a great opportunity to get on his good side.”
“Why don’t you help him? He’s your boyfriend, after all.” If you weren’t focusing on turning your skates and keeping your balance because you’ve reached the short end of the rink, you would cross your arms and huff at him more dramatically.
He clicks his tongue sharply, something you know by now that he does when he’s irritated. “Mark isn’t my boyfriend. Doyoung and Taeyong are boyfriends. Mark and I are soulmates. And he’s still painfully single.”
“So are you!” As you protest, you realize that Mark and Jeno are getting closer. Donghyuck fires something back indignantly, but you’re just thinking about what he said before. The offer to help lies in front of you as a real possibility, but how would you feel if someone you hated came up and asked if you wanted help skating? If you really hated them that much, you would just think they were being condescending. The last thing you want to do is give Mark a reason to think you’re acting that way towards him. So, as you skate closer, you pick up your pace and speed on by, not even glancing at the two boys with their arms interlinked. Luckily for you, Jungwoo is just ahead, so you hook arms with him and jerk him forward with your momentum, making him yell out in surprise.
As you’re gliding along, laughing at your friend’s reaction and attempts to push you, Mark stares at you from behind with a small frown on his face.
“Mark?” Jeno’s voice snaps him out of it and he looks towards the younger boy. “Do you need me to slow down?”
“No,” he says rather grimly, “let’s go faster.”
You don’t speak to each other at all for the entire night.
The next month and a half passes unremarkably. Then, suddenly, midterms are rolling up and you find yourself swamped with work, especially in the class you share with Mark and your new friend Yuqi. At the current moment, you’re at your place with your head buried in your arms, groaning dramatically. “I can’t do this.”
Yuqi nods, looking somewhat dead inside. “Professor Lim hates us.”
“I don’t know what chapters we even covered half of the material in. Did he just make it up?” You lift your hand to paw through the textbook in front of you lazily, so much of it seeming foreign. “It doesn’t help that the Instructional Systems Design Model is such a big part of the project.”
“Maybe that’s in Chapter 1?”
You flip through her suggestion before slamming your book shut. “Nope.”
“I know!” You perk up at your friend’s revelation, looking at her from across the table. “We can just ask Mark! He’s good at this class, he probably knows.”
You stiffen at her suggestion. There was only one time you dared to ask him for help, in which he just brushed you off and said he was busy. Since then, you’ve resigned yourself to only asking Yuqi for help, no matter how clueless she is in this class sometimes. A brief moment of panic sends your heart racing as she whips out her cellphone. “Don’t mention me.”
She turns to look at you, finger poised to press call over her phone. “What?”
You put your head back down, muffling your words. “Don’t say my name when you talk to him.” She gives you a weird look, but shrugs, pressing the call button. “Wait! And put it on speaker so I can hear the answer. Please.”
Wordlessly, she rolls her eyes, but pulls the phone away from her face, setting it on the table in front of her. The call connects after two rings and you hear Mark’s voice with the staticky phone call filter over it. “Hello?”
“Hey, Mark! It’s Yuqi.”
“Oh, hi, what’s up?” He seems to brighten up, showing a pleasantness that you rarely hear from him these days.
“I just had a question about our curriculum development class. Do you know what chapter goes over the Instructional Systems Design Model? I can’t find it.”
“Oh, sure. Hold on, let me grab my notes.” From the other end, you can hear the distorted shuffling of clothes and paper for a moment. “It’s Chapter 4, I think. We didn’t really go over that chapter in class, but Prof. Lim told me when I went to his office hours.”
“Oh my god, thank you so much, Mark! You’re a literal life saver,” Yuqi gushes, about to practically kiss the phone in joy.
You press your hands together in front of you in a silent thank you. Mark laughs lightly into the phone. “No problem! If you ever need anything, let me know. I’m always happy to help.”
“Thank you, thank you, thank you! Bye, Mark!” After receiving a goodbye from him, Yuqi presses the hang up button. She claps her hands twice in excitement. “That makes things so much easier!”
You’re stuck thinking about what Mark said before hanging up. It’s exactly in line with how Jungwoo used to talk about him - polite, helpful, friendly. An ugly part of you has to wonder what you did wrong once again. What part of you is undeserving of his kindness? An even uglier part feels the green flash of envy. “How do you have Mark’s number?”
“We had a class together like a year ago and he’s a pretty cool guy. Also useful to have around.” The image of them studying together, chatting like close friends, heads bent closely over shared notes, makes the parasite of jealousy dig deeper in your belly. The logical side of your brain knows you shouldn’t be feeling like this, but the two sides of Mark Lee make you want to throw an uncharacteristic fit. She tosses her phone to the side before flipping open her textbook to Chapter 4. “Why?”
“Were you guys ever… like…” You bite the inside of your cheek, not wanting to say it out loud.
“Me? Mark? No, we just worked on a project together. I have no idea what gave you that idea.” She wrinkles her nose at you.
“You just talk to each other so casually,” you huff, trying to expel the negativity from your system, “I don’t know.”
“He’s like that with everyone,” she says easily, leaning back in her chair. “Except you, I guess.”
“Except me. I guess.” You parrot, not feeling any better about the situation. When you proceed to ask her if you did anything weird on your first day of class that would have put him off, she denies it, telling you that you were completely normal. Resigned to forget the mystery for the night, you open up your textbook.
Midterms pass with relative success. At least, with more success than you had at your old university. You’re excited for a break, a reprieve from the pain of studying. Johnny arranges a potluck and movie night at his place, assigning everyone a dish and putting you on dessert.
In your class with Doyoung, who is often assigned as the chef of the group, you pressure him for everyone’s favorites. “Something fruity? Chocolatey?”
“We’re split there. There’s not much you can do that would appease everyone, honestly. Some of them are the pickiest guys I’ve ever met.” He continues to scribble notes as you grill him for info, not even looking up.
“What if I did something different? Like matcha cookies?” You tap your chin in thought and Doyoung lifts a hand to point at you after the suggestion leaves your mouth.
“Yes, do that one. Basically everyone likes green tea.”
“Basically everyone?”
“Not Mark.” Doyoung shakes his head disapprovingly. “He’s not arriving until after we eat, though, so I’m sure it’s fine.”
You’re not sure what to say to that. That night, you work hard making your matcha cookies, setting aside a bit of time for a side project. When you arrive at Johnny’s apartment with two dishes, one quite a bit smaller than the others and labeled with Mark’s name, safely hidden in the pantry until everyone has stepped out of the kitchen area and you can put it somewhere you hope he’ll see it. You can only hope that he at least appreciates your effort. When he arrives a bit later into the night, non-gifting you his usual non-existent glance, you can’t help but impatiently squirm a bit. Before you leave, you make a pass by the kitchen and, disappointingly, but not surprisingly, the container is in the same place as you left it, your note still affixed to the top.
The mystery continues, however, when you approach Johnny a few days later to ask about retrieving your containers.
“There was more than one? I only have that big rectangular one that you brought the matcha cookies in. They were really good, by the way - I can only wish the cookies I make turned out like that…” He scratches his head and you feel like the gesture perfectly represents how you’re feeling as well. If he doesn't have the box… who does?
A small part of you holds onto the hope that the intended person retrieved them after you weren’t looking.
The class you share with Mark is not nearly the most interesting one you have, nor is it one that is particularly memorable most of the time. There’s something so terribly tedious about it that makes you suffer a disproportionate amount whenever you do a chapter of the reading, though you think that you’re usually quite good about your work. Still, though you’re not exactly the most studious of your classmates, you can’t stand resounding silences in the classroom. So, when your professor asks a question and no one volunteers, you try to at least say something somewhat intelligent. Today is one of those days. Except, as you speak, you realize with dawning dread that your words aren’t making any sense of all, are barely related to the question, and are progressively spiraling into completely different subject matter. Still, you find it hard to stop, eventually coming to a stuttering stop with your answer. Even Professor Lim can’t hold back something of a put-off expression. You sink lower into your seat and, as your professor says something along the lines of your comments being “not quite relevant,” your cheeks burn.
You spare a glance to the side, looking for some sort of pity or reassurance from Yuqi, but you end up looking past her at Mark. You half expect him to smirking at your failure, like a villain in a high school drama, but, instead, his eyes meet yours. He offers you the barest twitch of an encouraging smile before looking away, his face neutral again. You’re almost unsure about how to interpret the look - it’s the closest thing to a positive emotion he’s ever shown you. Confused, you fix your eyes on your open notebook and keep them there, scratching random notes and doodles into the margins for the remainder of the lecture.
When you think about Mark Lee, you feel like you’re going insane. It would honestly be pretty easy for you to make one of those crazy conspiracy theorist maps with the red strings and thumbtacks attempting to connect a bunch of pictures with all the strange, fragmented experiences you’ve had with the boy. At one position, you could put all the information you supposedly knew about him before even meeting him, all of the things Jungwoo told you, all the smiling pictures from before you arrived. Somewhere else, you could put all of the times Mark has brushed you off or outright refused to acknowledge your existence. In a third location, you could put all the things you’ve actively seen or heard him do that align with the person you thought he was. Finally, you could put the most recent developments of him subtly starting to not ignore you together. The whole diagram would be circled with giant question marks all over it and one question written in capital letters: WHY?
You’re trying to do your damn curriculum development homework and all you can think about is Mark Lee and the first smile he ever gave you. And, from the way your heart is beating, pushing heat into your face and ears, making you wistful and longing to see his smile again, you think you know the direction your feelings have headed.
The next few times you head over to Jungwoo’s place, it’s hit or miss as to whether Mark appears to be actively avoiding you. Finally, one day, you’re pressed shoulder to shoulder with Jungwoo, your eyes fixed on the small screen of your phone as you show him a funny video you found. You don’t notice Mark until he opens his bedroom door loudly enough that you look up and you meet his cold gaze. He’s in casual clothes, a hoodie and jeans, with earbuds hanging from his ears, his hair slightly tousled from the wind outside. The eye contact lasts for only a moment before his door acts as a barrier to your vision. You blink hard.
“Just when I thought we were getting somewhere…” You sulk, speaking lowly as to not be overheard by him.
“You and Mark?” Jungwoo asks, not even looking up. The video ends and your friend puts down your phone, folds his hands in front of him, and turns to look at you. “Did you ever figure it out?”
“Did I? How could I figure it out when he won’t even talk to me? Did you?” You lean away from him, crossing your arms. “Should we even be having this conversation over here? He’s just in his room.”
Jungwoo shrugs. “He has his headphones in, he can’t hear anything. To answer your question,” he pauses, leaning in closer to whisper like he’s telling you a secret, “I have no idea.”
“You must have some ideas at least?”
“I have many ideas, many theories, and quite a few formulas. Most of which don’t particularly apply to this situation.” You grumble something under your breath about engineering majors as he continues. “For Mark? He might be letting all the negativity he’s ever felt out on you, honestly. Maybe because you’re the same major?”
You sit up slightly straighter. “We’re the same major?”
“Yeah?” Jungwoo replies, giving you a look. “He’s trying to be music education instead of history education, though.”
“I never knew the specifics,” you mumble, letting your posture fall back into a slouch. In reality, it’s more than just not knowing the specifics - there’s very little you’ve managed to learn about Mark that you haven’t actively had to pry out of your shared friends. You know about some of the foods he likes, some of his hobbies, and a bit of general information. It’s awfully hard to get to know someone when they refuse to acknowledge you.
That notion makes your developing crush feel even stupider.
You attempt to turn the subject back to where it began. “Why me, though? Why not literally anyone else?”
“You’re a pretty cool person and you’re good at a lot of things. Mark’s developing an inferiority complex?” Jungwoo taps his chin as though he’s pretending to be some great thinker.
“I’m not going to lower myself to help some man’s ego,” you huff, your nails digging into your palms as you make tight fists. “Plus, there’s nothing I’m particularly good at that he’s not also good at, if not better.”
“It’s not really about ego, I think…” Jungwoo says, trailing off. “I dunno. He’s not like that with anyone but you.”
“No one but me, huh.” Honestly, you’re kind of getting sick of that expression. This isn’t the kind of exceptional you want to be to him. Not at all. You’re honestly not sure when it stopped being a simple need to be on pleasant terms with Jungwoo’s friends and started to get romantic. Your lips press into a thin line for a moment before you exhale sharply from your nose. “Everything is a big ‘I don’t know’ and I hate it. If it’s not an ‘I don’t know,’ it’s still stuck in the ‘why?’ stage.” You lay your head down and you have to resist the urge to scream into your arms. “I’m going to lose my mind.”
“You really make no sense at all.”
“It really makes no sense that I-” You bite your tongue to stop yourself to stop yourself from admitting out loud to the feelings you’ve just recently realized. Jungwoo just gives you a sly, knowing smile that you don’t like the look of one bit.
Before you know it, finals are around the corner and, with it, one of the last organized events you’ll have with your friends until testing is over. This time, it’s a group dinner where people can come and go as they please, and a few of you have taken it upon yourselves to do all the cooking. Namely, you, Doyoung, Jaehyun, Kun, and, surprisingly, Donghyuck. Suffice to say, the kitchen is not enough space for all of you. Still, you manage to pull it off, completing a hearty Korean-style dinner that slowly disappears from their dishes as all of the others eat. By the end, you’re worn out from the sweltering heat of the stove, the occasional bickering with the other chefs (‘Donghyuck, stop eating all the radish!’), and chatting with nearly every single one of your friends. Names and faces scroll through your head and you’re honestly not sure who you’ve seen and not seen by the end of it. Except for one person.
Mark Lee is, once again, nowhere to be found.
You make sure to smack away hands going for seconds in order to wrap up a moderately sized portion of food for him anyways. When all of the food, save for what you’ve set aside for Mark, is gone, Taeyong offers himself and some of the others up to clean, which you and the rest of the cooking boys eagerly accept. Most of them have headed out by now, but the few remaining begrudgingly agree to the job at Taeyong’s call.
You lean against the wall idly, watching the work being done and listening to the rhythmic sound of the water running and the sponge scraping against metal. Finally, Jungwoo happens upon the wrapped plate you had prepared for your missing guest.
“Who’s this for?” He asks to the room, almost salivating at the sight of the food. Damn, that boy can eat.
“It’s for Mark. You can give it to him when he gets back.” Your words are half informative, half threatening. Jungwoo takes the hint and carefully replaces the foil covering the food.
It takes another minute for him to look back over at you, seeing you looking bleary-eyed, close to swaying onto the floor from fatigue. He steps over, patting you on the head. “Y/N, you can go rest on the couch if you want. You look like you’re about to pass out.”
“I might just do that,” you respond, not clarifying which part of his sentence you’re talking about. At his behest, you shuffle over to the couch. It only takes a moment for your eyes to flutter closed. The music of washing dishes lulls you quickly to sleep.
You’re not sure how long has passed by the time you stir to the sound of the front door closing. You recognize that water is no longer running and that there are only two voices left in the kitchen area. Lying there for a moment, unsure of if you should make your presence known yet, you determine that the voices belong to Jungwoo and Mark.
“Oh, Y/N made sure to grab this for you,” you hear Jungwoo say, followed by the faint crinkling of the foil covering the plate.
“She did?” Mark’s voice is surprisingly soft, warm, everything you’re not used to from him.
The voices drift closer towards you, accompanying the slip of socks against the wood floor. “Don’t act surprised. Also, she’s on the couch sleeping right now. I’ll probably wake her up in a minute so she can go home.”
“Oh.” You’re listening as hard as you can, trying to determine whatever Mark is feeling just by his tone. “Is she okay?”
Your heart beats faster and you want to squirm, ask questions, anything. You remain still.
“Just tired.” A beat of silence. “Why are you looking at her like that?”
“Dude, I just…” Mark has some sort of lightness to his voice that you’ve never heard. “Nothing.”
“Do you think I can’t tell? Come on, I’ve known you long enough.” Jungwoo would normally be teasing saying something like that, but right now you just hear a kind of weariness that you’re entirely familiar with.
“Not as long you’ve known her.” The sentence comes out bitter, the first negativity you’ve heard from Mark all night, and Jungwoo sighs in response.
“Do what you need to do and then I’ll wake her up.”
They walk farther away. The telltale sound of the microwave opening and shutting after the foil crinkles again, followed by the beeping of the buttons and the hum of the machine, tells you that someone is heating up the food. Under the microwave ambiance, you hear what you think is plastic against plastic. The machine is stopped before it can beep shrilly. The smell of warm, reheated food fills the air briefly. There’s shuffling as Mark presumably walks.
“Night.” Jungwoo echoes Mark’s sentiment and you hear more shuffling towards you. A touch on your shoulder. You keep your eyes closed, trying to control your breathing for a moment longer. Your friend shakes you slightly. “Y/N, wake up.”
You try your best to play up your awakening act, like you hadn’t been listening to the entirety of the last conversation. Rubbing your eyes and blinking, you look up at Jungwoo. “What time is it?”
“Almost midnight. Everyone went home to sleep and study.” You get up slowly, rolling your shoulders once you’ve sat up. “I can walk you back, if you want.”
“That’s okay, it’s not a long walk.” You get to your feet, padding to the kitchen area. There, on the table, is the plastic container you’d brought Mark’s cookies in weeks ago. “Oh, that’s my container. Did Johnny find it?”
Jungwoo reaches up to ruffle his hair, looking between you and the container. “Mark did, actually.”
“Huh.” Shrugging, you pick it up and make your way to the door. “Tell him thanks for me.”
“You could tell him yourself?” Jungwoo offers, looking vaguely hopeful.
You smile, but cringe at the same time. “Yeah… you know.”
He shakes his head, seeming disappointed once more. “Fine. Text me when you get back?”
“Will do.”
As you walk home, your container clutched in your arms, you think about how more pieces are being unveiled, but nothing is really making that much more sense at all.
Finals pass as they always do. You study with Yuqi for your curriculum development class. The situation from midterms repeats itself almost exactly at one point, with her calling Mark for help and you staying quiet as he talks, and the test is no harder than any of the others you had previously in the semester. You force yourself to keep your eyes on your exam and to not glance over at Mark except when you’re walking out of the classroom at the end. All you can see of him is the back of his head, his hair slightly disheveled. Idly, you wonder if you’ll get over your baseless crush if you aren’t able to look at him and mull over the problem during class anymore. You think that’s the last you’ll see of him before you run into him at an event next semester.
On the last day of finals, your group chat receives two messages from Jungwoo.
JW: END OF THE SEMESTER PARTY TOMORROW NIGHT TO CELEBRATE FINALS BEING DONE BEFORE EVERYONE LEAVES. ATTENDANCE IS MANDATORY.
JW: I don’t care if you planned a “date” with your “girlfriend,” I expect to see all of you there :))
A minute later, your phone buzzes again with an individual message from the same boy.
JW: Y/N, my lovely best friend, you’re part of the planning committee and you’re going to help me set up. Be there an hour early xoxo
You know there’s no use fighting it so, the next day, you show up to his place as expected. Jungwoo, Lucas, Yuta, and Johnny are all milling about, trying to seem busy but, honestly, there doesn’t look like there’s much to do. Some of the furniture has been moved to the side, there’s a giant mysterious tub that is partly filled with a reddish liquid that Lucas and Yuta are leaning over, and Johnny is affixing colorful lights to a wall. As soon as your shoes are off, Jungwoo is steering you to the common area.
“Y/N, you’re late!”
“I’m like ten minutes early-” You start.
“No, no, no excuses. I have an important job for you!” It takes you a moment to realize that he’s not leading you to the kitchen, but towards someone’s bedroom. “You like crafts, right?”
“I mean, I guess? I-”
“Great!” He pushes open the bedroom door, Mark’s bedroom door, and pushes you not-so-gently inside. Mark is sitting at his desk, bent over something with a look of surprise on his face. He looks cozy, dressed in a simple red t-shirt and gray sweats with circle glasses perched on his nose. “I want to hang about one hundred paper cranes around the apartment to add a little flare to the party. You can’t leave until you’re done, Mark has the paper, bye!”
He shuts the door behind him.
You and Mark stare at each other in bewilderment as you process whatever just happened. You’re in Mark’s bedroom for the first time. You’re also being actively forced to interact with him one on one for the first time. None of your friends had ever forced you to try and work out your issues until now and you’re certain that Jungwoo’s implication was that you’re not allowed to leave until you’ve talked it through. Some part of you knew he would eventually snap and force you to interact, but you always ignored that possibility. Until now.
“Um,” you start, twisting your fingers together in front of you, “he said you have the paper?”
“Yeah…” he looks back at his desk, grabbing some of the myriad of square sheets and holding them out to you. “Here.”
“Thanks.” You carefully make sure to prevent your fingers from brushing against his as you take them from him. Stepping back, you settle cross-legged on an empty spot on his floor. After you sit, you take a moment to look around. His walls have the occasional band poster plastered on them, there’s a hoodie on the floor across the room, and some of his drawers are partly open, illustrating a pretty typical college boy’s room. A couple of books are pushed to the side on his desk as he works on folding the cranes. Remembering that’s what you’re supposed to be doing, you get to work, making careful creases. Your first crane comes to life on yellow paper slightly lopsided. Good enough, you figure.
You’re in the middle of your second crane when Mark’s chair screeches quietly against the floor and he stands up, gathering his paper. To your great surprise, he sits down a few away from you and mirrors your pose. When you meet eyes with him briefly, you look away as fast as you can, returning to your crane before you can even try and read what he’s feeling. The next three cranes pass quickly with your eyes locked firmly on your work. When you dare to look up again, you find that Mark is intently watching your hands. He startles when you see him. Realizing he’s been caught, he speaks of softly. “Do you… know how to do it?”
Even when he’s the one talking quietly, looking embarrassed, you feel so small. You look down at his own paper pile, which has a few crumpled sheets surrounding it. “I can show you.” He nods and you cautiously scoot closer so that you’re side by side. As gently as you can, you explain each fold and he copies your movements. Soon, you have a relatively even green crane and he has a somewhat lopsided pink crane, very similar to your first.
“Thanks,” he says, staring at his creation, “all of the tutorials I googled weren’t making any sense, but I think I got it now.”
“No problem.” You nod, moving back to your spot across from him. Not wanting the experience to end quite yet, you think about what Jungwoo said last weekend. “Thanks for returning my container.”
He instantly knows what you’re talking about. “Thanks for-”
Before he can say any more, he stops and his expression hardens. He proceeds to look back down at his hands, making slow, purposeful folds in the paper in front of him. You frown, but do the same. A few cranes later, you can’t stop it anymore. After months, months, of him treating you like this, you can’t go one more crane without finding the truth. You throw a half-completed crane to the floor and, though the noise isn’t loud, he looks up. “Mark, what did I do?”
He seems entirely too surprised by the question, which sparks a kind of anger that you didn’t even realize you were holding in. “What?”
“What did I do! What made you act like this to me? Did I do something? Do you just hate my face? What did I do wrong?” You squeeze your knees brutally, trying to resist doing something like tearing up the few pieces of origami you had completed.
“Nothing.” His simple, one word answer only serves to make you more upset. Though he appears initially dismissive, he sees that you’re about to start shouting and quickly continues. “You really didn’t do anything!”
“Then, why? Mark, you’re making me lose my mind!” Now, you feel like you’re on the verge of crying out of frustration. So far, you’ve managed to not cry at all about this stupid boy who has largely chosen to ignore your existence, but you can feel the telltale warming of your cheeks and the pout in your lips.
“It’s not something you did! Not really.” He takes a shaky breath, appearing almost as upset as you, though there are no tears in his eyes. “It’s about Jungwoo. Please, don’t cry.”
The initial confusion helps you swallow your building tears. “If you’re upset at him, why do you have to take it out on me? I really wanted to be friends with you, Mark. I really did.”
“I wanted to be different.” Now, he’s quiet, refusing to look at you for the months of shame he’s feeling rise to the surface.
“From Jungwoo?” You’re not quite following still. You just know that, even though he’s subtly broken your heart and led you in circles over and over for the past few months, you want to know why he’s hurting and you want to stop it. Even if he hasn’t been full of kindness to you, he has been to everyone else. And you know almost for a fact that this isn’t something he’s told anyone else.
“From you.”
Pushing aside papers, crumpled partial cranes, complete cranes, you move closer to him. You’re not sure if you’re overstepping your boundaries and you still kind of feel like one wrong move will make you cry, but the yelling has left your system and your instincts say proximity will help you understand. “Will you explain it to me?”
“There was a you-shaped hole in Jungwoo’s heart ever since he had to go to college and stop spending so much time with you.” Mark’s resignation is quiet, soft-spoken, like the boy you’d heard so much about but only now had gotten to truly meet. “Whenever he came back from breaks, he would talk about you so much and about how similar you and I are and it just made me feel… it made me feel… like… I don’t know. Like I’m just replacing you while you’re not here.”
“Mark…” You’re not sure quite what to say that he hasn’t logically figured out for himself already. Maybe it would help to say the obvious anyways? “You’re not a replacement. You’re you and I’m me and he has different places for both of us.”
He lets out a puff of air. “I know that. It’s just the type of feeling that you can’t really get to go away, even when you try really hard to believe the opposite.”
“I get the feeling.” And you do. It’s like the nagging feeling that you’ve had that you did something unforgivable to upset Mark even though you were almost certain you didn’t.
“I was mean to you because at least that would make me different enough to not be replaced, I guess. It worked because you never stooped to my level to be mean back.” Though he hasn’t quite apologized, he sounds genuinely sorry.
“It worked because you couldn’t have been replaced in the first place,” you say back. You look over and he has a small smile on his face.
“That too. Also-” He stops himself, seeming conflicted. “No, it’s a bad time. A really bad time.”
That piques your curiosity. “Huh?” He’s not smiling anymore, instead looking awkwardly to his side, away from you, and drumming his fingers on the bed. “Mark, you might as well say it. Whatever it is.”
“Okay, after a few months, I realized that you weren’t going to replace me and things were fine. But, you know that thing that kids do?” You’re confused and he’s growing red, practically steaming at the ears in embarrassment, which you can see even in the dim light of the room. “So, I kept being mean because then you kept looking at me even though whenever I thought about what I said to you later, I always felt really bad-”
“Mark, you’re rambling. What are you talking about?” You ungracefully interrupt him, touching his arm to get his full attention. He seems to grow even redder at your touch and suddenly exclaims his next words.
“You’re really cute!”
Slowly, his words make more sense. You try to piece them together out loud to make sure you’re understanding him correctly. “So… the thing kids do… where they’re mean to the person they like?”
He moves his head up and down in a tiny nod. Now, your face is heating up, too. Even more than it was when you were on the verge of crying. After a moment, he groans and presses his face into his hands. “Damn, I’m such an idiot. I know this is, like, what middle schoolers do, but since the beginning of the semester I’ve just been so confused, except you’ve probably been way, way more confused than me, and I didn’t even think about it, but all of our friends are probably confused, too, and-”
As he jabbers, when your thoughts and feelings had been processing slowly previously, you now feel like your whole reality is crumbling. You spent the last while beating down your feelings when he’s become a pile of mush in front of you about the same problem? At this rate, he’s never going to stop rambling either. Not that you particularly want him to. It’s the most he’s directly said to you ever. And it’s adorable. What else would be adorable? You wonder, teasing him a bit before you tell him the truth. For how long he kept you hanging, you deserve to create at least some tension of your own, you figure. Just for a moment.
“- you’re probably thinking about how dumb this is and I don’t know how you’ll ever forgive me-”
You sit up straight and cross your arms over your chest. “Mark.”
He stops talking and looks at you, more panic seeming to rise in his face at the serious expression you wear. “Oh shit, I never let you talk. Y/N-”
“Mark.” He finally stops, staring at you. “I don’t forgive you.” The panic turns into sheer terror. He clearly hadn’t expected you to put it so forwardly. However, before he can say anything truly depressing, you continue. “I don’t forgive you because you haven’t actually apologized yet.”
His eyes are like tiny suns, round and bright and holding all the feeling in the universe. “I- I thought…” He looks to the side, thinking about everything he had said, and realizes that you’re right. “You’re right. Y/N…” He presses his hands together in front of him. “I’m so sorry.”
It’s probably the most succinct and straightforward he’s ever been with you, but you don’t have much time to think about that before he’s leaning forward in a full bow, pressing his forehead to the ground.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m-”
“Mark, stop!” As soon as you realize what he’s doing, you shuffle forward, putting both hands on his shoulders so you can attempt to yank him back upright. “I was joking, please stop!” He remains upraised, once again looking confused. Slowly, you move backwards about two feet to put some breathing room between you. “You don’t need to do that. I like you, too.”
One slow heartbeat passes. Then a second. You’re not sure how long the thick silence hangs between you, but the tension is so heavy that you don’t even hear any outside noise from the other boys who are supposedly getting ready for a party.
“You… what… wait, no, really?” Mark’s baffled face as he stutters back to you paired with the anxiety of the entire situation makes a laugh bubble out of your chest. He seems to be entirely at a loss. He continues to just stare at you wide-eyed, like he’s witnessing some incredible event instead of just ogling you in the dim light of his bedroom.
“Don’t look at me like that…” You can’t help but reflect some of his flustered behavior, eye contact becoming almost painful. He’s never met your eyes with such enormous positivity and cuteness before and it makes you want to run laps around the building or something. “Mark, I’m serious!”
“How could you like me back? When I was so mean to you? For months?” He begins to twist in place, trying to lean over and look at your head from multiple directions. “Did you fall down the stairs on the way over here and hit your head or something?”
“Mark!” You uncross your legs and shuffle closer on your knees, reaching out to still his movement by grasping his shoulders once again. “Please stop.” When you touch him, he freezes, still moon-eyed. After he stops moving, your hands slide down so that you can hold his. His hands are warm and stiff, just like the rest of his body.
He finally breaks eye contact, looking at where your hands are connected. “I just really don’t get it. There’s no way you like me.”
“You almost sound like you’re upset about it.” You tilt your head, smiling at him softly.
“I am!” He’s insistant, his hands holding onto yours firmly now. Though his grip is tighter, he visibly deflates, his shoulders sinking. “It’s so unfair to you. I was such an ass.”
“But you’re not. One ass-like behavior does not an ass make.” You almost confuse yourself saying it, but you continue. “It’s not about the times you were weird to me. It’s about the times you were nice to everyone else. Like when you helped Yuqi with our class. Or when you helped Donghyuck with his calc even though you aren’t even taking it with him. It sounds kind of dumb, but because of that, I knew you weren’t a bad person. Even if you were trying to be one to me sometimes.” Your thumbs run over his idly, making soothing strokes over his skin as you speak. “Still, you weren’t really all that mean to me, per se. More cold, if anything. Then, when you stopped doing so much of that, it got really confusing. I do have a question, though.”
“I’ll try to answer it, I guess.”
“Did Jungwoo really say we were that similar?”
He blinks. “Maybe once or twice? It just really stuck out to me, for some reason.”
“You’re cute.” He blushes furiously at that. Carefully, you untangle one of your hands from his and bring it up to his cheek, cupping his blazing face. “Do you want to try this? The being together thing?”
“I want to, but-” He presses his lips together, making his cheeks puff out slightly as he thinks. “I don’t know. I feel like I don’t deserve it. I don’t deserve a chance with you.”
Silence sits between you for a moment. Your hand moves back down so you’re holding both of his again. “I know what you can do to make it up to me.”
His eager eyes on your face prompts you to continue. Slowly, a grin threatens to split your face in half.
“I guess you’ll have to kiss me at least once for every time you were mean to me. Maybe more than once.” Your brilliant smile changes form in the air between you and reappears as the stars in his eyes.
“Practice round? Just to make sure I get it right.” The subtle flirtatiousness of the idea that leaves his mouth absolutely appeals to you and you agree. You move as close as you possibly can, your knees pressed together, your breath on his lips and his on yours, his soft bangs grazing your forehead. The touch of his lips against yours is awkward at first, but transforms into something sweeter with a little time. Once you both pull away, it seems you have the same idea when you both go back in for a few quick pecks afterwards. Finally, when you’re content for the moment, he leans forward quickly to press a kiss to your cheek.
You figure that a return to the work of folding cranes will help calm down your rapid heart rate, but every time you steal a glance at Mark, the butterflies return. You know for a fact that he keeps looking at you, too. By the time the noise level outside of the room increases and music is being blasted through the apartment, you’re nowhere near being done with all one hundred cranes, but both of you are sure your mutual friend doesn’t actually care about that. Together, you emerge from his room. You don’t answer any prodding questions from your friends for most of the time you’re mingling, though you’re pretty sure that a good number of them see him sneaking kisses at least once or twice.
Some of them definitely see when you sneak off to his room again before the clock has even turned to midnight. At the same time, you could be damned if you really care.
#neowritingsnet#nct fluff#nct angst#mark lee fluff#mark lee angst#nct 127 fluff#nct 127 angst#nct scenarios#nct imagines#nct 127 scenarios#nct 127 imagines#nct fanfic#nct scenario#wonjaekook#i tried a slightly new sizing for the header :) hopefully it looks better now#there are definitely things I could have done better so let me know what you think!#<<<333
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The Goddess' Blessing (of a daughter)
Chapter One
(NOTES: the raylla adopts Tiffany fic everyone's been asking for
this is going on AO3 once I get home from my sister's but I wanted to post here first. If you'd rather read it there follow me and I'll post once it's officially in there.
Obs: Tiffany is six in this. Mostly because I wanted to write our witch moms carrying their baby and canonically she's like ten so..... and she's also like severely traumatized. We'll get to the healing soon enough though.
+ Edwin is the best papa. And Scylla has p much already adopted this kid, she just doesn't know it yet.
It's half past six p.m when their train screeches to a halt at the Chippewa station. In all the chaos of the last couple of weeks, Scylla hadn't realized Yule was well on it's way. It is still mid November, but the station has been prematurely decked in civilian Christmas decorations, and almost every wall and corner twinkles in golden speckles and fake pine.
Tiffany had been dozing in and out of sleep on the bench next to her, holding tight to her stuffed parrot as well as Scylla's coat sleeve with her restless small hands that spasmed in pure energy even as she slept. Since coming back from Nicte's mission, Scylla had been in a frenzy to get everything ready for their trip, and Tiffany had followed her around the (no longer safe) safe house, clinging on to her attention with wide blue eyes. She'd always liked kids. Before everything happened Scylla even used to babysit for dodger families.
It was never a lot of money, but she appreciated the levity and humor kids carried. They had hope Scylla prayed she could one day get back. Hope that could only come from the fleeting innocence of childhood. But even then, Tiffany was special, she still had all those wonderful, bright things, and she carried them in bulk, spilling out of her tiny little hands for anyone to see.
Yet she was also touched by things so horrible Scylla sometimes shuddered awake in the dead of night, when her mind conjured up terrible nightmares of being in her place. Of being squeezed into a tiny cage, fed dog food, strung up on a stage as masked psychopaths snickered and passed around stones bigger than fists. It showed, sometimes, in how every once in a while her expression became somber and reserved. How she stopped mid-sentence, and Scylla could see the glint of tears in the corners of her eyes.
It reminded her of Raelle - Raelle, who'd sat in her bed just yesterday and snacked on the stupid expensive popcorn her mother had bought - Raelle, who also carried so much darkness behind her strong, steady demeanor - those were the parts of her Scylla couldn't help but want to protect, and as a result, those feelings also extended to Tiffany. Scylla lost a lot of people in her life, and she'd decided the day she found the child's parents that she would do whatever it took to keep her safe. Just like she wished someone might have done for her. Because that sort of hidden, desolate pain could just as well transform itself into something entirely awful if exploited the right way.
People around her start getting up from their seats, reaching to the compartments for their luggage, there aren't many of them making their way up North this time of year but they still fill the cart in humming conversations, deciding on what to do next or where to get dinner. Scylla takes this as her cue to skim her fingers through Tiffany's hair, gently nudging her awake, "Hey, T, wake up, we're here."
The little girl sits up, bleary eyed, and yawns, looking around at the commotion, "it's already Christmas?" She asks, catching a glimpse of the boisterous decorations set up outside.
"Not yet, no." Scylla chuckles, getting up from her seat to retrieve their own bags - they had everything the two could think to bring, and yet were still not much. A duffel bag for Scylla and purple backpack for Tiffany, with unicorn stickers and colorful buttons sewn to the front. Scylla had retrieved it, along with some toys and clothes, from the girl's home, "People just love decorating early."
"Oh." Tiffany quips, as Scylla helps her fit her arms into the straps of her backpack, then takes her hand in a steady grip once they are done, pulling the young girl towards the door to leave the train, "The lights are pretty!" She exclaims happily, blinking in wide eyed wonder.
Outside, November has definitely made itself known, and Scylla is glad they are both warm in their coats as the wind bites her cheeks until they turn a dark blush. She looks around for Edwin, not sure she'll recognize him from the pictures she'd seen Willa scatter around the house, but still willing to try.
For a second, in that moment, she thinks this might not have been a good idea. When Scylla agreed to it, she'd admittedly not been in her full faculties, brain too preoccupied with seeing Raelle again after so long to completely comprehend what she'd been offered.
After everything that happened, she can't help but be a little nervous to meet the father of her ex (?), the same girl she still very much loved. The girl who had run back to her in that dark forest a day before and clung onto her face until all they could breathe was each other.
If she thought too much about it, Scylla could still feel the soft, almost painful impact of her lips as Raelle knocked her off her balance and breathed fire into her chest like molten lava. It'd been so long, she almost forgot the kind of power Raelle had when she kissed. Like she was always on the verge of tasting your very soul. Their whole day back together before was so very delicate and tentative, air fizzling with electricity like the tension of a bow, pulled tight with an arrow ready to shoot.
The time they've been separated her heart was squeezed tight under an elastic band. Whenever she stopped to think, even for a minute, she could feel it taught, so very strained, reaching from the very inside of her ribs. It was there from the very start. The tightness was what propelled her diaphragm into breathing Raelle in that very first night they spent together, even if she knew she shouldn't, and then, it was what kept them orbiting around each other like their very own solar system. Never too far apart. Always wishing to be closer.
When they kissed in the clearing, hairs messy with the wild strumming of the bat just a few feet away, for the first time, she felt like the band released. The invisible string, so very tight, loosening from under her heart to extend around the both of them and wrap them in what Scylla could only describe as exhilarating, shaking relief. The touch of Raelle's cotton gloves, that she never thought she'd feel again - the taste of her lips, like blood and rain droplets and a mouthful of just her.
It left Scylla running on a high since she walked away from Raelle just the day before, in the early hours of the morning.
It's not how she hoped she'd meet Raelle's dad. Deep down, no matter how much she tried not to, Scylla had imagined herself, more than once, coming to the Cession hand in hand with the blonde fixer. In love and together, going home to meet the parents. It's bittersweet to be here with Tiffany instead, and she has to squeeze the young witch's hand slightly to ground herself from the urge to run.
To just take the child's small body in her arms and run- leave the station in lieu of a cheap motel, one with vending machines, where they could hide from the world a little longer.
When the witch looks down, however, Tiffany smiles reassuringly back at her, squeezing her hand slightly in return, and Scylla can't help the wave of affection that washes over her.
"Excuse me? Are you Scylla and Tiffany?" A voice coming from behind wakes them back from the moment, and when they turn, both come face to face with Edwin Collar.
Scylla's sure it's him. If not because he does still look quite a lot like the pictures she's seen, then because the necromancer can definitely see the telltale signs of Raelle written all over his face. It's mostly there in the kind drop of his eyelids, and the way his mouth creates tiny wrinkles of soft skin when he smiles, but it's there, nonetheless.
"Yes, we are, nice to meet you, Mr. Collar." Scylla greets, settling down her bag to shake his hand.
"Of course, it's amazing to finally meet you. Raelle talked you up a storm," he declares, chuckling proudly, "only good things, I assure."
"Oh, I'm sure I don't deserve that." She let's out, hoping it sounded more playful than it feels for her.
"Nonsense. You seem like a kind girl." The man decides, with a solemn nod, before turning to Tiffany, "and you- Tiffany, I'm very happy to have you with me this week as well, I'm sure we'll have lots of fun together."
"Thank you, Mr. Collar." The small blonde replies, half-hiding herself behind Scylla's pant leg.
"Let's go then. It's getting cold." Edwin finally declares, taking Scylla's bag from the floor without a question. The girl goes to complain, but he cuts her off before she can - "and don't fight me on this. Raelle also never let's me carry her bags, for once I'd love to help."
Scylla still wants to protest. Mostly because she feels that they have already asked so much - and she doesn't quite deserve the kindness - but he seems sincere, so she nods instead, and with the affirmative, all three begin their way to the parking lot.
"Is Raelle your friend?" Tiffany asks innocently, skipping happily over her boots.
"Uh- she- yeah, I guess you could say that."
"Well, you said we were going to a friend's dad's house." Tiffany notes. "Where is Raelle then?"
"About that-" Edwin stops in his step, "did you see her? How is she?" He asks, an uneasy tension settling over his demeanor as he studies Scylla for answers, "they told me she was alive but that was it-"
"She's okay. I saw her yesterday, she was well." The brunette assures, and that seems to send a wave of relief over the man, who breathes deeply before continuing their walk along the various cars.
"Oh, thank goodness." He sighs, "when those people took her I thought- I'm so glad she's okay."
"Yeah. We were all worried." Scylla declares. And this, she can relate to. The way he cares so much for Raelle, it spills into the very movement of his expressions. It's familiar, and it warms her heart. She decides right then that she likes Edwin.
"Did the bad people take Raelle too?" Tiffany questions, frowning in scared surprise as they reach Edwin's old truck.
Scylla sighs, not having revealed much of the mission she'd gone on the day before. She knew it'd be scary for her. Tiffany was still very much traumatized, and rightfully so, after everything she'd been through. But Tiffany was also very smart- and observant. She'd catch up eventually and Scylla feels stupid for not dealing with this before coming.
"Yeah. They tried to hurt her, but me and her other friends didn't let them." The necromancer assures, as she helps the girl into the backseat and clicks in her seatbelt, "she's okay now. We're all safe here."
"Oh- Okay." Tiffany nods, but Scylla can see the doubt shining under her eyes.
Scylla wishes she knew what to say, but words fail her, so she squeezes the girl's hand reassuringly once more, winking in what she hopes is humorous solidarity, before closing the door.
***
Raelle's house is just like she imagines- small, rustic - surrounded by a thick canopy of trees and bushes. It reminds her of the places she used to stay with her parents, scattered over random cities all over the U.S. Scylla likes it.
"It isn't much, but we always have warm dinner and pancakes in the morning." Edwin quips, humbly, as he leads the pair of witches to Raelle's room, "you can stay here. Hope it is comfortable."
"This is more than enough, Edwin." Scylla smiles gratefully, "it's too much, really. Thank you for letting us stay."
"Nonsense." He waves his hand with a half embarrassed chuckle, "It's good to have people here again. After Rae and Tally left everything feels a lot quieter." Scylla nods in agreement, as the man turns to leave the room, the two witches inside watching him carefully, "You guys should change and rest a bit- I'll call you for dinner.
Scylla thanks him, and waits until the door clicks behind his back to turn her attention to the luggage that had been settled over a random chair. The room is filled with so much Raelle, she can't help but notice the letters, pictures, memories and song lyrics, glued to every single wall, from a time before Fort Salem, before them.
The blonde used to leave notes on her dorm walls back at Fort Salem. Lots of silly things like "I'll be back after training" or "You fight people in your sleep. It's cute.". Scylla wonders if they are still there or if they've been taken by the army when she was captured. It doesn't matter anymore, the necro realizes, and she shakes her head in an effort to bring her attention back to the room.
"You should put on some pajamas." Scylla says toward Tiffany, who sat, grievously quiet, at Raelle's bed.
She looked thoughtful, in a way regular six year olds don't quite show unless they have to go through way too much. Her small, bright eyes hide barely concealed darkness as she shifts her looks everywhere but at the older witch.
Scylla sighs, finding this place - this relationship - so very painfully familiar. She'd been the scared little girl last time, feeling so very small and alone. And now, as the adult, she was definitely going to try her best not to fuck it. As difficult as it might be. The world didn't need another suffering witch.
After a few minutes of silence, Scylla realizes she was not going to get an answer, so she opens the girl's backpack and fishes out a pair of mermaid themed leggings and t-shirt, along with the small bag that carried her tooth and hair brushes along with some other toiletries. Scylla places the items by Tiffany on the mattress, kneeling in front of the young witch and studying her clear, soft little face.
"Hey. Are you feeling alright?"
"Are the bad men coming here to hurt us?" Tiffany asks, instead of a response, and Scylla frowns in worry.
"No, of course no-"
"They came and took Raelle too." Tiffany notices, tears escaping from her eyelids that Scylla dries up with her thumb, "and they hurt Miss Willa, the other kids' at the office and my mommy and daddy. What if they come here again? What if they really hurt us this time?" As the questions stumble out of her mouth, sobs begin to wreck across her throat until she's shaking, ever so slightly, with the force of her tears and heavy, panicked breathing.
Scylla sighs and rises from the ground to cuddle the girl close to her chest, squeezing tight until she can feel Tiffany's little arms squeeze her back. Scylla's afraid too - most of the time, if she allowed herself to be honest - Ever since watching Raelle leave her in that cell the year before, the girl could feel even more perfectly the path of death and destruction that marked their (the witches') way through the world.
One of the bad things about being a necro - Death didn't like not being known, and it showed itself insistently, to anyone able to notice.
"We don't know whether or not they'll come again." Scylla ends up responding, sincerely, as she squeezes her arms even tighter around the little girl, "but I won't let them hurt you, you hear me? I dealt with them before, I can deal with them again."
"No" Tiffany shakes her head, frowning up at her in teary-eyed fear, "You too. You're safe too. I don't want you to get hurt either."
"Hey." Scylla forces out a chuckle, trying to lighten up the situation for the young witch's sake, "don't be silly, ok? I'm pretty much invincible."
Tiffany doesn't laugh, her breathing having somewhat returned to normal. The girl just stares back at Scylla with a seriousness that's all too unfair, coming from a six year old, and she reaches out, her pinky finger lifted in expectation, "Pinky promise you'll be safe too? Please?"
Scylla knows she shouldn't. The truth is, she doesn't know what will happen. After their plan to capture Nicte was said and done, Scylla barely had any idea what she would be doing now. But Tiffany obviously needs the reassurance, from the way she stares ever so desperately at the necro's face.
"Okay, I pinky promise." Scylla smiles, trying to convey some calm toward the other girl as she let her pinky link with the smaller one. It seems to work, as Tiffany's expression softens and her tense posture falls, "now let's get you under a shower and into some pajamas, ok? You're a very smelly little witch right now."
"Am not!" Tiffany replies, and Scylla can't help but full on laugh this time, pulling the small girl to Raelle's bathroom as she mockingly protests.
Second chapter is almost done, just needs to be read over for mistakes. For C2, Raelle calls home, Scylla meets old dodger friends and she also has an important conversation with Edwin.
Hope you guys enjoyed!
#motherland fort salem#scylla ramshorn#raelle collar#raelle x scylla#motherland: fort salem#raylla#taylor hickson#amalia holm#mfs tiffany#tiffany mfs
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